#corrodedcoffinfest

Wayne insisted that he would get Angie from the salon to try to fix it, but he knows what Angie charges and he knows Wayne doesn’t have that kind of money. That’s how he got in this mess in the first place.

Steve opens the door and somehow manages to keep his face neutral as he pulls Eddie inside. He silently leads him upstairs and into his bedroom, then into the connected bathroom because Steve is rich. Or at least upper middle class enough that he doesn’t have to leave his room to take a piss.

Must be nice.

There’s a chair set up in the middle of the floor with a variety of scary looking bottles and tools on the counter. He recognizes a hair dryer, and a comb, but nothing else. He’s a little worried he’s about to end up on the news, and not in the way everyone expects of him.

“Sit. I have a lot of work to do.”

Eddie sits. He’s not scared of Steve. Steve’s probably the only jock who hasn’t taken a chance to punch, hit, or kick him. He doesn’t even really say anything particularly rude or hurtful towards him. Maybe behind his back once Tommy and his gaggle of meatheads have had their fill, but never to his face. But he has a certain tone that makes him obey without question.

And if his dick twitches a little in his jeans, that’s between him and the tight Levi knockoffs wrapped tight around his hips and legs.

He starts picking up strands of his hair and sighing, moving around him to take in the disaster on his head. Eddie clears his throat, but before he can say anything, Steve speaks.

“I can fix it, but it’s gonna be a while. You got anywhere to be?”

Eddie laughs nervously. “Rather not go in public like this so. All yours for the day.”

Steve pats his head like he’s a dog and Eddie’s dick reacts like he’s a dog wagging his tail. He swallows and hopes Steve doesn’t suspect anything. His damn hormones are just all over the place and he’s nervous and embarrassed and—

“I need to wash it first. It’ll help the curls fall more on their own. You said he did this yesterday?” Steve drags the chair over to the sink and Eddie cannot think about how much strength it takes to pull him across the floor like this.

“Yeah. Not even sure he read the instructions.”

“Even if he did, he didn’t have the right tools. But it’s not the first bad perm from attempting one at home. Probably not the last,” Steve pushes his head back into the sink. Eddie’s tired of his dick thinking this is foreplay. “Close your eyes. The chemicals will burn if any gets in them.”

Despite how straight to the point Steve’s words are, his actions are slow and careful. Almost soft. His hands are gentle as he scrubs what Eddie assumes is his shampoo for what Eddie assumes is longer than necessary. It feels so good.

He rinses just as carefully, placing his hand across the top of his forehead to try to prevent anything from getting in Eddie’s eyes. It’s the most taken care of Eddie’s ever felt in his life, probably.

Steve guides his head up and starts scrubbing his hair with a towel, his stomach and chest rubbing against Eddie’s shoulder and arm as he does. He’s sturdy, muscular, but not built like some of the other jocks who spend all their free time in the gym. His muscles are less obvious, and Eddie’s dick is getting harder by the minute.

“That already helped a little,” Steve explains as he combs through his hair slowly. “I’ll use something to strip the rest of the perm chemical out and then wash it again. Then I’ll have to use a leave-in conditioner and let it sit for a while before washing again.”

“Okay.”

What else is Eddie supposed to say? Steve’s helping him and he’s enjoying it. He’s not gonna turn any of that down.

Nearly two hours later, as Steve’s blow drying Eddie’s hair to make sure he’s fixed it, he’s pretty sure he’s gonna come in his jeans. He needs to get the hell out of here.

Steve doesn’t seem to notice. If he does he hasn’t said anything.

“All done. You might want to wash and condition your hair again tonight or tomorrow. It’s dry.”

Eddie nods. He doesn’t even own conditioner, but he can’t tell Steve that.

“You can have this bottle,” Steve hands him one of the bottles on the sink. “I got a new one anyway.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

Eddie stands and takes the bottle from him, hoping that his jeans are arranged in a way that hides how hard he is.

Steve steps closer. Too close. Kissing distance away close.

He smirks. “I can give you a minute to take care of that.”

He glances down at Eddie’s crotch for a second before looking back up.

“Or I could help.”

Eddie blinks. “What?”

Steve rolls his eyes and grabs the bottle back from him, setting it on the counter before he drops to his knees in front of Eddie.

“Changed my mind on the weed. Let me suck you off instead.”

“Um. Okay.”

Eddie runs out the front door of the convenience store, and when he gets to the car, he grabs the fuel nozzle, yanking it out the car, slamming it back down on the cradle. 

Tommy Fucking Hagan spins around to look at the noise Eddie's caused.

"What the fuck, man?" Hagan asks, like he can't see the diesel spill. Can't smell it.

Eddie waves his arms, motioning to the huge, dark mess Hagan’s just made by not paying any fucking attention to his surroundings. He must be dumber than Harrington. He's definitely meaner. Eddie knows that firsthand.

"Can you not read? Do. Not. Leave. Vehicle. Unattended," Eddie says slowly, pointing at the sign, like Hagan's an idiot. Because he is an idiot. Eddie knows that, without a doubt. 

"It wasn’t unattended, you freak, I’m right here," Hagan says, looking at Eddie like he’s the idiot here. No fucking way.

Eddie waves at the mess one more time, "Sure looks like it was unattended."

Steve Harrington comes out of the store, and is just standing there like a slack-jawed fool, watching it all play out. 

Eddie looks at the dispenser, "That’ll be $14.15."

Tommy scoffs, "This car doesn’t hold that much, so unless the price of diesel has suddenly risen to over a dollar, then you’ve lost your goddamn mind, Munson. I knew you were a burnout, but that’s basic math."

Eddie narrows his eyes, "Well, that price accounts for the two or so gallons you ran out all over the ground."

Two gallons of fuel is a pretty big mess. Especially diesel. It doesn't evaporate like gas. And he's gonna have to clean this up, so that's on Hagan for not paying attention to what the fuck he was doing.

"No way."

"You pumped it, you’ll pay for it," Eddie snaps. He's not taking this out of his paycheck. No fucking way. 

"C’mon, just pay him," King Steve says, and Hagan rolls his eyes, but throws two bills, a ten and a five, at Eddie. Of course, they blow in separate directions. Fucker.

Eddie picks them up, and stomps back towards the store.

"I want my change!" Hagan yells, and Eddie turns around, walking backwards towards the door.

"Then you’ll have to come get it, this isn’t a full service station, sorry," Eddie says, and isn’t sorry at all. 

Hagan comes in for his eighty-five cents, and as soon as he leaves with it, Eddie checks the supply closet for the absorbent. Of course, all they’ve left him with is an empty sack, so he heads over the household aisle and grabs the clay cat litter. Uncle Wayne uses it at home to soak up oil spills, so Eddie knows it’ll do in a pinch. 

Eddie carries it outside in time to see Hagan driving through the diesel mess as he leaves, spreading it further. Eddie groans, and barely resists the urge to flip-off the car as it pulls onto the highway.

Eddie instead sprinkles the cat litter over the spill, trying to prevent it from running any further. Mr. Fairmont is going to be pissy with the stain already, and Eddie doesn’t want to make it worse by letting cars track it all over the fucking drive. 

As much as he hates it, he needs this goddamn job.

Steve

Steve looks out the back glass as Eddie Munson shakes out cat litter all over the spill. Huh. Steve had wondered how Munson was going to clean that up. Steve doesn't think diesel evaporates, like gasoline. 

Tommy is bitching about the extra money, and Steve is pretty sure Munson was in the right. You don't get to not pay, just because you spilled it. Tommy pumped it, even if it was out onto the ground. But Steve's not about to open that can of worms, so he just nods along. Going with the flow. 

That's the easiest thing to do, Steve learned that a long, long time ago.

"He's a fucking freak. Rumor has it he's not going to graduate this year. Just what we need, him in our class," Tommy says, stomping down on the gas pedal.

Is it still a gas pedal if the car runs on diesel? Steve's not really sure. 

The school year is barely underway, how the fuck could Munson already be is such bad shape that that he might not graduate in May? 

And if that's true, how would Tommy know about it? They don't exactly run in the same circles.

It doesn't matter, Steve supposes. 

Eddie

They are ships passing in the night these days, Uncle Wayne and him. So, Eddie scribbles Wayne a note, doodling on it as he sits at the kitchen counter and eats a bowl of cereal. 

He's not sure the last time they've actually seen each other. All they have for showing proof of life are these notes they leave on the counter, back and forth, and the mess of dirty dishes in the sink that neither of them have found the gumption to wash quite yet.

Today, Wayne left him twenty dollars with his note and asked Eddie to buy groceries if he has time tomorrow. 

Eddie will make time, even if he has to go late.

And late it was. The place is practically deserted as Eddie walks through the Big Buy, and tries to stretch the money as far as he can. He stands in front of the peanut butter choices, and squats down to get a generic jar from the bottom shelf. It's just as good, he thinks. Or maybe he's just not used to the name brand stuff. 

Either way, with the difference in cost, it will definitely do just fine. Wayne won't care one way or the other.

Eddie hopes he's just about done growing. Neither him, nor Wayne, had been prepared for the amount of food he would consume throughout his teen years. It's like he's always hungry.

Wayne always says he has a hollow leg, without judgment.

But when Eddie asked Wayne why he didn't remember eating nonstop when he was a teenager, it didn't take much of his hedging for Eddie to understand that Wayne, and Eddie's dad, had likely just gone hungry a lot. Maybe that's why neither one of them turned out very tall. 

Eddie's already taller, and he's been hungry since he's been with Wayne. Eddie's still thin, and he could probably eat twice as much as he does, but he's not truly hungry. Wayne's never allowed it to get to that point.

Still, Eddie looks at the price and adds it to his running total on the calculator on his watch. And his dumbass teachers said he wouldn't have a calculator in his pocket while they were struggling to teach him math. Well, he might not have one in his pocket, but one on his wrist is just as helpful. 

He stands back up, and there's Steve Harrington pushing a cart in his direction. Just his luck. He figured Harrington had a maid to do his shopping, or at the very least, a mom. 

Steve has always looked like a mama's boy. Not a hair out of place. Pleated khakis and polo shirts.

Eddie watches him out of the corner of his eye. Harrington's not paying any attention to prices, and doesn't even appear to have a list. He's just adding stuff to his cart all willy-nilly, like an animal. 

Two different kinds of jelly at once. That's how the rich live, he guesses. 

Eddie looks back at his remaining list:

Pretzels, bread, milk, eggs, bacon. Rice and beans. Some kind of cheap lunch meat. Imitation cheese-like slices. 

He's not sure he's going to be able to stretch twenty dollars into all this, but he has some of his own money he can pitch in and just not tell Wayne. He knows Wayne doesn't want him helping with household expenses, but he can. He's old enough to help. 

Plus, he's the one eating like a horse. 

"Did you get it cleaned up?"

Eddie is working over his list in his head, like it's a puzzle when he realizes Steve must be talking to him. They are the only two people in this place.

Looking up, Eddie furrows his brow, "Are you talking to me?"

Steve is staring at him. "Well. Yeah. The diesel. Did you get it cleaned up?"

Oh. Yeah. He did.

"Yeah, I guess. Still stained the concrete."

Steve nods, "Sorry 'bout that."

Eddie nods, taking his apology. Whatever. It's just part of his shitty ass job. 

Steve pushes his cart away, and Eddie continues to carefully pick and choose around the store. When he checks out, Steve Harrington is in front of him. Of course he is. 

Two people in the store, and there's a line. 

Steve sees Eddie, and smiles, just a little, but Eddie doesn't return the gesture. He doesn't need to be pitied by Steve Harrington in the fucking Big Buy checkout line. When Eddie doesn't smile back, Steve turns and hands over an amount of money that Eddie wishes he had in his wallet. And the fact that it was basically all used for junk food, is astounding. 

Harrington had a lot of TV dinners, and that kind of surprises Eddie. Surely, Steve Harrington isn't in the kind of family that sits around eating out of foil tins in front of the television. That's way more of a thing that Wayne and him would do. If they could afford it.

Eddie waits his turn with his basket, and his pre-figures are pretty damn close, and he hands over the money without any embarrassing incidents. He can remember those from his childhood, his mom picking and choosing what to hand back to the cashier, who often looked at her with contempt for just daring to be poor.

It was bullshit.

So, Eddie avoids it as best he can. He's gotten good at figuring up the cost of things, so he doesn't have to hand back a jar of peanut butter or a carton of eggs.

He takes his change and shoves it into his pocket.

He's still got homework, so he's gotta get all this shit home and put away.

Steve

Steve sits on the trunk of his car in the Fair Mart parking lot. Eddie Munson walks out to refill the liquid for the windshield squeegee. They make eye contact as Munson walks back towards the front door, and Steve looks away. 

He's embarrassed that anyone is seeing him this way, especially Eddie Munson. 

Tommy comes back out with a cold can of Coke and a bottle of aspirin, demanding payment for them right away. Like Steve's not good for it. Like Tommy doesn't have the cash to spare, even if he wasn't.

Carol and him both start in on Nancy, and Steve's over it. Fuck this. Fuck them.

He's out.

When he drives through town, he sees two theater employees trying to clean the spray paint of the sign at The Hawk. Steve feels ashamed. He may not have been the one that actually did the deed, but he was a full participant. 

He pulls over alongside the curb, and heads over across the street.

Eddie

Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan Byers are filling up gas cans. Lots of gas cans, and Eddie is standing there watching from the front window.

Huh.

He thought she was dating Steve Harrington. He looked like shit earlier, like he'd had the tar beaten out of him.

Now, Eddie might be bad at math, but it damn well doesn't take much to put two and two together.

Steve

Later that night, way, way later, Steve walks into the Fair Mart, and the fluorescent lights hurt his eyes. He doesn't know what he's looking for. Nothing, really. He's just moving on autopilot. 

Monsters are real. 

What the fuck is he supposed to do with that information? 

"Do you need help finding something?" Munson asks, from behind the counter. Only a little bit snarky. 

Steve shakes his head, "No. I'm just looking, I guess." 

"Byers gave you a hell of a shiner," Munson says, and Steve nods. 

"Yeah, I had it coming," Steve answers, because he did.  

That seems to stop whatever Munson was going to say next right in its tracks. Good. Steve doesn't want to talk about it. He wants to talk about the monster he just fought off with a bat that's now in his trunk, covered in blood and gore, but knows Munson would think he's crazy if he did. 

Maybe he is. 

He can't possibly have just seen what he thinks he saw.

His hands are shaking. 

"Are you gonna buy something or not? It's closing time," Munson asks, and Steve looks at his watch. It's splattered with blood. He tries to swipe it away, but it's dried on now. 

He didn't realize it was this late. He's lost track of time. That's probably normal, once you've been thrown headfirst into hell. All he wanted to do was make amends. Apologize. 

But no. Monsters are real and he feels numb.

"Oh. Sorry, looks like I made it just in time," Harrington says, and Munson looks at him, face unreadable. 

Eddie

Does this asshole not know how time works? Hours of operation? Eddie is incredulous at this bullshit. What an asshole.

"That's not how this works," Eddie says, "It's after ten right now. That means you should be in your car, driving away," Eddie adds, moving his fingers in the walking away motion, "Not milling around, forcing me to keep my register open."

Harrington stops, and looks at Eddie with some really sad eyes. He looks like he might cry, and Eddie wasn't expecting that. Now he feels like the asshole in this situation. Fuck. He's gotta be having a bad day. He totally admitted that he got beat up by Jonathan Byers. That kid is soft. Eddie'd never admit to that under pain of death.

"It's fine, just hurry up, man. I've still got homework," Eddie says, trying to soften his tone, just a little. Harrington has clearly been through some shit today, and while that's not any of Eddie's goddamn business, he doesn't need to kick a man while he's down. He's an asshole, but he doesn't cheat to win.

Steve finally grabs a few things, seemingly at random, pays, and is gone.

Eddie 

Eddie's sweeping the floor of the Fair Mart, the store closed for the night, when he hears the door rattle. 

He takes off his headphones and looks towards the glass door. He can't see anyone in the dark, not with these bright-ass lights on inside the store.

Ride the Lightning is still blaring from the headphones as they hang around his neck. 

"We're closed!" he yells, and pushes the broom further across the floor. 

The door rattles some more, and Eddie huffs out a breath of annoyance, leaning the broom handle against the table of the booth.

When he gets to the door, it's Steve Harrington. 

And his whole face is fucked up. Again. It's a mess of epic proportions. Eddie feels like he's getting déjà vu. He swears they did this last year.

Eddie unlocks the door. 

"Harrington?" 

Steve slips in through the door, and Eddie locks it behind him, out of habit. 

Eddie notices the red bandana around his neck, "You know, if you're gonna rob me, you're supposed to wear that over your face." 

Harrington laughs, just a little, but it must hurt, because he reaches up to hold his cheek. 

"Do you have anything to help dull this? Weed. Or morphine, preferably," Harrington asks, dryly. 

"What the fuck happened to you?" Eddie asks, looking at him.

"Billy Hargrove," he says. 

Eddie is pretty sure he's witnessing the fall of Steve Harrington in real time. You don't come back from this, not in high school, he's gotta be done for.

"You really look like shit. Are you sure you don't have brain damage?" 

"No more than usual," he says self-deprecatingly, and Eddie laughs, caught off-guard. 

That was funny. Harrington is funny? Who knew? Not Eddie. That's for damn sure. 

Eddie digs around in the drawer behind the counter, searching through what amounts to a very poorly stocked first aid kit. He comes up with a bottle of aspirin, and puts it back. If Harrington's bleeding internally, they shouldn't make it worse. He finally finds the Motrin, and takes it over to Steve. 

Then, he gets and fills up one of the little paper triangle cups of water from the employee water dispenser. Because a real cup would be too luxurious for Eddie and the rest of the staff. 

"Thanks," Harrington says, and Eddie nods, picking back up his broom. He supposes there's no reason Harrington can't sit there while he finishes up. He looks fucking pitiful, and Eddie? Well. Eddie likes to take in strays. It's kind of his thing.

So, he can't help himself. He goes over to the ice cream freezer, and pulls out a Choco Taco, and gets a Slice from the walk-in cooler. They're both  new. He'll give Harrington something else to think about besides his busted up face. 

Eddie slides them both across the table to Harrington, and Harrington nods in thanks. 

Eddie goes back to the register and puts a dollar in it from his wallet to pay for both items. He's a lot of things, but he's not a thief, and he'd like to keep this job. Even if he hates it, and all the people that come in here, day after day.

When he's done sweeping, Harrington is sitting in the booth, eyes closed. Ice cream wrapper and pop can, both empty.

"I'm done here for the night, you ready to go?" Eddie asks.

Harrington nods, but he doesn't look ready. Not at all. He looks a little shaky and pale. Traumatized. He looks traumatized. Which is a little dramatic from a fight. Eddie knows he's been in those before.

"I have a joint in my van, if you want?" Eddie offers, and he's not sure why. They definitely aren't friends. 

Harrington nods, "Thanks." 

Eddie locks the door of the store behind them, and Harrington follows him to the van and climbs in the passenger side. It's fucking weird.

But Eddie digs out the joint, and passes it to him with the lighter. 

Harrington takes a deep hit, and holds it in his lungs. Eddie's impressed. He figured this was gonna end with a bunch of coughing and carrying on. 

It doesn't. 

Then, he's offended. If Harrington's smoking weed, where's he buying it, if not from Eddie?

When Steve finally releases it, it's smooth, and he leans back against the headrest. 

Eddie takes it back, and takes a hit himself. 

"Are you sure you're okay? Why are you so dirty?" He smells terrible.

"I was down in a hole," Harrington says. 

"Literally, or metaphorically?" 

"Literally, unfortunately," Steve says, and takes another hit. Eyes closed. 

Eddie looks at him, as much as he can here in the dark. Harrington really has been fucked up tonight. 

"You look like hammered dogshit." 

"Thanks," Harrington laughs. 

Eddie smiles. 

"My ear is ringing," he admits, "Hargrove hit me with a plate. Knocked me out."

Eddie doesn't know what to say to that. Sorry? Not that long ago, he'd have been actively rooting for King Steve to be knocked the fuck off his pedestal. Unfortunately, he likes Billy less than he likes Steve. 

"You have to have a concussion," Eddie finally says, stating the obvious.

"Yeah," Harrington says, like he already knows that. 

"Maybe you shouldn't sleep then," Eddie offers, and that's about the extent of his concussion expertise. 

"Not a problem, I can't go home like this. My parents are actually home for once." 

Eddie is not dragging Steve Harrington home with him like an injured stray cat. He's not. No way. No how. Not a chance in fucking hell. 

That's never, ever happening.

"You can come home with me, if you want. It's just me. My uncle works nights." 

Fuck. 

Harrington turns his head, not pulling it up off the headrest, and looks at him. 

"Okay. Yeah. Thanks. That'd be great." 

"I live in the trailer park, so temper your expectations." 

Harrington laughs, and smiles at him as he closes his eyes again. 

"No sleeping," Eddie reminds him. 

"Just resting my eyes. My very, very sore eyes." 

"Are you okay with driving? Or are you leaving your car here all night?" 

"I'll follow you," Steve answers, moving to get out. 

Eddie watches him go. 

What the fuck was he thinking? Inviting Steve Harrington to his house. Steve Harrington doesn't want to come home with home, except he does, apparently. 

Steve

Steve's whole head throbs, but he concentrates hard, pulling out into the highway behind Eddie Munson. 

What the fuck is he thinking? Following Eddie Munson home. 

But he does, because it's not like he has anywhere else to go. He doesn't really have friends anymore. So, here he is, pulling up beside Eddie's van in front of the old, rundown trailer. 

Eddie ushers him inside, flipping on the lights. Steve looks around. Mugs and hats line the walls, and every surface in the place has stuff sitting on it. It's cluttered, and lived-in, in a way his house has never, ever been. 

People live here. 

Eddie leads him back to his bedroom, and it's more of the same. It's filled to the brim with stuff, Eddie's stuff. 

Steve's own bedroom is sanitized. Put together by his mother's interior designer, with no real thought given to his taste or interests. No clutter allowed. He's got a car poster that he didn't pick out, and that's about it. Set dressing. 

Steve feels like he is set dressing at home. 

But this room is like looking into the deepest recesses of Eddie Munson's brain. He likes it.

Steve thinks he must be stoned. He sits down on Eddie's mattress. 

Eddie digs around in his dresser, finally throwing him a t-shirt and pair of sweatpants. Steve stands back up and starts getting undressed, and Eddie turns his whole body away. 

That's weird. 

But Steve guesses he just hasn't spent the same amount of time in locker rooms that Steve has. 

He gets a whiff of himself, and he smells like decay. The demodogs, he's sure of it. 

"Can I take a shower first? I stink."

"Sure," Eddie says, and leads him into the bathroom. More clutter, and a little lime scaly. There are no women living in this house, Steve is sure of it. 

Eddie helps him with the trick to adjusting the water in the kinda gross shower, without scalding or freezing himself. Apparently, there's a very, very small margin of error. 

And then Eddie leaves him. 

Steve washes his hair, and his scalp is fucking sore. His whole face hurts. 

School is gonna suck tomorrow. 

Eddie

Eddie is trying to fall asleep on Wayne's fold-up in the living room, while Steve Harrington is in his bed. 

What the fuck is happening here? Did he fall into another dimension? 

Eddie isn't sure if Steve should sleep yet or not, but Steve said he was tired and going to risk it. 

If Steve Harrington dies in his bed, the town will have his head on a pike by nightfall. 

Steve

The next morning, Steve walks down the corridor at school with his head up. Fuck all these assholes. Monsters are real, and Billy Hargrove beat the shit out of him. So fucking what? Who cares?

He catches Eddie's eye, and nods, but Eddie looks away. Like Steve didn't sleep in his bed last night. Like they've never spoken, outside of schoolyard taunts. Like they didn't eat breakfast, standing, shoulder to shoulder, at the cluttered kitchen counter in the trailer just a couple hours ago. 

Maybe he deserves that. 

Steve looks away, too, and keeps walking. 

Eddie

Eddie sits in the lone orange, Formica booth in the Fair Mart, trying to do his homework while it's quiet. The end of the night is usually deader than shit, so he can often try to squeeze in some homework so he doesn't have to stay up so late once he gets home. 

He's gonna flunk Ms. O'Donnell's class. There's no way around it. He's not going to graduate. Again. He doesn't know why he's even bothering with this anymore.

If he does fail, he's not going back for a third time. He'll get his GED, if he can manage that, because he can't fathom another year in that hellhole. 

He does fail. Again. And Wayne is hounding him, promising that the third time's the charm, which Eddie knows is bullshit. But he appreciates the vote of confidence, anyway.

He's stuck in summer school, just to get himself into a position to maybe graduate next year. It's embarrassing. He's not this stupid, he's pretty sure. The teachers all just hate him, and will do anything to keep stepping on his neck.

Eddie thinks they'd rather just get rid of him, but no, he's gonna be stuck in their classes again come fall.

At least he has Hellfire, and he hopes the new class of Freshman will have some good recruits. Their numbers are dwindling, and he can't do it alone with just Gareth, Jeff and Goodie. That's not enough people for the kinds of campaigns Eddie wants to create and run.

There's been whispers that they aren't gonna let him keep it, anyway. That he's too old, and that his focus should be on finishing school, not having fun.

Wayne said he'd take care of it, and Eddie knows he will.

Summer school sucks, and it makes for some long-ass days, especially when he works at night. Mr. Fairmont decided they needed to stay open later than ever this summer, and Eddie doesn't understand why. It's deader than dead. But at least he's being paid to do his homework.

It's the Fourth of July and he can hear fireworks in the distance in all directions, and then a siren. And another.

Until it's a whole fleet of them rushing by on the highway, and Eddie stands out on the drive, watching as they speed past, wondering where they're headed. That's a lot of vehicles to respond to something, so it must be big. 

Eddie hopes it's not the plant. Hopes that Wayne is fine, and working, just like Eddie is doing.

Steve Harrington limps in, body stiff, with a horrible black eye and a missing fingernail, wearing a blanket over his stupid sailor outfit that has definitely seen better days. He looks rough, and sad. 

Worn out. 

And he reeks of smoke.

"Are you still open?" Steve asks, and well, that's an improvement, Eddie supposes. Usually, he just barges in and makes himself at home.

"Yes. What happened?" Eddie asks.

"Mall fire," Steve says, slumping into the booth. 

Yeah, Eddie had heard from several customers that the mall was on fire. News spreads fast in small towns with nothing better to talk about, but Eddie hadn't assumed there'd been anyone in the mall. Surely it was closed, it was well after dark, on a federal holiday, no less. 

But still, Eddie brings him a New Coke, and Steve cracks it open, nodding his thanks. Then, Eddie finds a clean-ish looking towel, and fills it with ice from the fountain machine, holding it out for Steve to take. "For your face."

Steve takes it, nodding in thanks as he presses it to his eye.

Eddie doesn't know how they've gotten to this place where sometimes Steve just turns up like a bad penny, bloodied and hurt, like he's looking to Eddie to fix it. 

Eddie can't fix anything. He can't even fix himself. 

He can't even graduate high school. He definitely can't fix Steve Harrington's internal or external wounds.

But he sits with him, looking at his purple eye, and blown pupils. Major head trauma? Or is he fucked up? He looks fucked up.

"Are you on drugs?" Eddie asks. And if he is, will he share?

Steve nods, adamantly.

"I got drugged by Russians. They pulled off my fingernail," Steve says, holding up his hand.

Okay. What's Eddie supposed to do with that information? Is it even true? Why would Steve have encountered Russians in the mall fire?

Steve

He shouldn't be here. He's gonna tell everything he knows. About the Russians. About monsters. About Hawkins.

"What do you know about linear equations?" Eddie asks.

And Steve is thankful for something else to think about. He's not the best at math. But he's not terrible either. He reaches over and takes the worksheet, and tries to focus his eyes on the problem Eddie's trying to work out.

Together, they figure it out, and for a few minutes of this godforsaken day, Steve feels normal.

Eddie

"She wanted to meet you in the woods and you said no?" Gareth asks, sitting behind his kit.

"Swear to god," Eddie says. Chrissy Cunningham wanted him to sell her some weed, but it felt like a trap, and Eddie wasn't into getting the shit beat out of him by Carver and his asshole friends. So he bailed. A last minute decision.

And then they found her dead outside Reefer Rick's. Brutally attacked and murdered. Eddie feels guilty, and he can't explain why. He didn't kill her. Rick didn't either, he's still serving time. But Eddie didn't help her when she asked. Maybe if he had, she'd still be alive.

He doesn't even understand how she knew about Rick in the first place.

Nobody else is as concerned about this as he is, clearly, and they start playing again. Eddie is turned towards Gareth, watching him drumming, when Gareth stands up suddenly, and the music cuts to a stop. Eddie turns to look to see what has caught all their attention. 

It's just Steve Harrington pulling into the driveway. 

"What the fuck is he doing here?" Gareth asks, rounding his drum set. Fire lit under his ass, defensive and hopping mad. 

Eddie catches his arm. 

"He's fine," Eddie says, and Gareth looks at him like he's lost his fucking mind. Maybe he has. 

"Since when is Steve Harrington fine?" 

Eddie shrugs. For a while now, though Eddie's been denying that.

Steve gets out of his car, looking so fucking tired and run-down.

There's a lawn chair right near the open garage door, and Steve sits down in it. Then he props his feet up on the upside down red milk crate that's sitting there, making himself at home. 

Gareth makes a sound of annoyed disbelief at the audacity of this action. 

Eddie cuts him a look, telling him silently to simmer down. Steve's not hurting anything or anyone by sitting there, even if it's weird to show up unannounced and uninvited. But their whole thing has been based on that. Steve shows up without warning, and Eddie is forced to deal with it. 

It's a thing they do, and by now. A habit.

So, Eddie walks over and digs into the cooler beside Steve, and hands Steve a can of beer, sliding it down into a foam koozie first, to hide it a little from the prying eyes of the rest of the nosy neighborhood. They are already unpopular in these parts for the music alone. 

No reason to add underage drinking to the list of complaints.

Steve nods in thanks, and cracks it open. 

Eddie doesn't ask why he's here, and Steve doesn't offer, doesn't say anything at all, so Eddie goes back in the garage, giving Gareth a little shove back towards his drums. Then Eddie looks at Jeff, at Goodie. 

Counting them back in. 

And they pick back up where they left off, like nothing has changed.

By the time they've finished, Steve Harrington is asleep in the lawn chair, warm beer perched on his knee, right there in Gareth's driveway. 

This is fucking weird. He's never sought Eddie out, at least not outside of the Fair Mart, before. He must think they're friends. They definitely aren't friends. That's ridiculous.

He takes the beer from Steve's hand, and pulls him up from the chair. 

Steve climbs in the passenger seat of his own car, and Eddie guesses that means he's leaving the van here. He puts Sweetheart in the backseat of Steve's car, and then gets behind the wheel. 

Gareth, Jeff and Goodie are just standing in a row in the doorway of the garage, looking at him like he's been possessed by the preppy devil. 

He gives them a pointed look, and they stop staring. 

If Steve Harrington knew how bad of a driver he was, this wouldn't be happening. 

But he backs out of the drive, very carefully. And takes them back to the trailer, not sure where else to go. 

Steve

Steve doesn't know what possessed him to just pull into Gareth Jones' driveway and make himself at home. He saw them, heard them, and was just so tired. Everything has been exhausting lately. 

It's happening again, and Steve's tired of it.

If he's gonna be backed into a corner of fighting monsters again, he at least needs a nap first. And when he saw Eddie's van, he knew that'd be a safe place to do it.

Eddie

Eddie is driving Steve Harrington in his own car while Steve dozes. 

"Your house?" Eddie asks, because he knows where Steve lives. They all know where Steve lives. 

There have been numerous house parties Eddie has crashed, and before that, it was the best neighborhood for trick or treating when they were kids. 

"Yours?" Steve mumbles, a question. 

Eddie sighs. He guesses. Though, Wayne might be home to ask questions that Eddie would really rather avoid. 

Steve is asleep on the couch, Eddie sitting on the floor in front of him, when Wayne opens the front door. Wayne looks at Eddie, then at Steve, and raises one eyebrow. 

Eddie shakes his head, begging for Wayne to just let this go. Wayne does, putting his lunch pail on the counter before he heads for the bathroom.

When he comes out, showered, he sits in his chair, quietly.

"New friend?" Wayne asks, in a low rumble. 

"No," Eddie says quickly, then feels guilty, "Yeah, maybe. I don't know."

"Fancy car he's got," Wayne teases, and Eddie smiles.

"Yeah, and I've gotten to drive it," Eddie teases.

"Lord, he's more trusting than I am, then," Wayne says.

Eddie laughs, and looks back at Steve, who's still sound asleep. Mouth slightly open, breathing in a soft snore.

"Where's the van?" Wayne asks. Eddie can read between those lines.

"It's fine. At Gareth's."

Wayne nods.

"He's…he's Steve Harrington," Eddie says, looking at Wayne, "and he keeps showing up for some reason, and I don't know why. This is the first time that he showed up looking for me outside of the Fair Mart, though. He came to Gareth's garage, and just…took a nap while we played."

"He slept through that racket?" Wayne teases, and Eddie grins.

"Shockingly, yes."

"Then you best let that boy sleep," Wayne states, and Eddie nods. That's exactly what he's been doing. He doesn't understand why Steve thinks this is a safe place, but it is, Eddie understands that, too. And has never taken it for granted.

Wayne's has always been safe, and he supposes there's no reason he can't share a little bit of that safety with someone else, even if that person is Steve Harrington.

Steve's laying on the couch, staring at the ceiling. 

"It's starting again," Steve finally says, and Eddie doesn't know what it is, but Steve seems resigned. Chrissy Cunningham died last night. Fred Benson died today. Eddie knows that Hawkins is fucked up.

Eddie still doesn't know what to say to any of this. He feels guilty. If he'd just let Chrissy come over, maybe whatever happened to her could have been avoided. It's eating him up inside.

But he says nothing, and Steve doesn't seem like he was looking for anything from Eddie anyway.

When Steve leaves, he stands in the yard a little too long staring off in the distance towards the Crawford's, like he's in a daze.

Then, he's gone.

Eddie looks up as a RV pulls up to the pump, way too fast, nearly out of control. It looks just like the Crawford's Winnebago, the one that usually sits a few lots down in the trailer park. But he's never seen it move that fast, that's for damn sure.

Nancy Wheeler and Robin Buckley bail out, both wearing camouflage fatigues. Robin in a beret, and Nancy starts pumping gas. Robin has a box of red kerosene cans in her arms, and puts them down so she can start filling them from the dispenser out front. 

Before he has time to really ponder what the fuck they're doing dressed like that, and in a probably stolen RV no less, Steve Harrington comes barreling down the steps. 

Eddie should have known he was involved in whatever the fuck this is. 

Steve's also in fatigues, and Eddie doesn't feel any way about that. He doesn't. Honest.

Steve runs across the pavement, up to the door, and Eddie looks down, wiping the already clean counter. Ignoring him. Ignoring this nonsense that he never understands. He doesn't want to understand, so that's okay.

Because Steve never explains, never has a reason or an answer. Everything he's ever done only gives Eddie more questions to ponder.

And this time is no different, apparently.

But today, Steve rounds the counter and grabs Eddie's arm, pulling him back into the employees only office. Where Steve's definitely not supposed to be. 

Eddie squawks at being dragged around. If he gets caught with Steve Harrington back here, he's definitely gonna get fired.

But then Steve Harrington pushes him up against the wall and kisses him. Hands in Eddie's hair, and Eddie can't do anything besides kiss back.

He fists his hands in Steve's jacket, and arches into him. 

Steve Harrington is kissing him, really kissing him, like it's the last thing he'll ever do. 

Then, the moment is broken by Robin Buckley screaming for Steve out in the front of the store, and Steve pulls away. 

"Steve," Eddie says, and he feels like he sounds stupid. Like he didn't see that this is where this thing between them was always headed. Maybe he didn't. He has taken his senior year three times.

"I just. We're. I don't know. I wanted to do that," Steve stumbles over his words, then looks right at Eddie. Strokes his thumb over Eddie's cheek. "I just wanted to do that."

Eddie nods, dumbly. 

He wanted Steve to do that, too. 

Staring at him, up close, he can see a bruise around Steve's neck that looks like he's been strangled. Eddie's fingers graze it, and Steve's eyes slip shut. "What happ—"

"STEVE!!" Robin yells again, more urgent, and Steve jerks back further. 

"Bye, Eddie. Thanks for everything." 

And then he runs off. 

When Eddie follows, Steve is already banging out the front door, following Robin, and they've left the money for the fuel on the counter. 

Eddie watches them all climb into the RV, sees Steve getting into the driver's seat, and then they pull away.

Eddie swallows. He thinks maybe this was the last time he'll ever see Steve Harrington, for some reason.

When Steve turns up in the middle of the night, he's filthy and the bruise around his neck has darked. He smells like kerosene and death.

Eddie grabs onto him, and pulls him close. 

Steve starts to cry and Eddie doesn't know what happened to him, to the town, tonight. The town is split wide open. Gareth's house fell into it. He's fine, his mom is too, nobody was home. But his house, the garage, Gareth's drums. It's all just gone.

Steve is clearly split wide, too. He's ragged and raw, and Eddie doesn't know what to do for him. If there is anything he can do for him.

"It's okay," Eddie says, and hopes that is true. 

"It's not," Steve says, and Eddie holds him tighter.

Eddie gets him out of his tattered clothing, and ushers him towards the shower. Steve lets him, like his brain has shut down. 

"Your back," Eddie says, fingers hovering, careful not to touch. He was dragged by something, that much is clear. A rope, maybe. 

Steve's standing there naked, covered in all these unexplainable marks.

There are puncture wounds all over him. His sides. His chest. They look deep, and on the edge of infection, maybe. 

Like he's been bitten by something. Gnawed on.

There's a deep, angry one on his thigh. Eddie tries to focus on it, and not anything else that's currently right in his face. For example, Steve's heavy dick, hanging soft.

Not the time, not the place.

"We'll have to clean those up," Eddie says softly, "Wash them real good."

Steve nods, and closes the curtain behind him.

Steve

Steve rests his forehead on the shower wall, letting the warm water beat against his destroyed back. It fucking hurts, everything hurts, but he's too tired to care. It needs to be cleaned anyway. He didn't think he was gonna make it after the bats had a hold of him.

Still didn't, even as Robin and Nancy showed up to help fight them off. Everything after was just tinged with unbearable pain.

They didn't win. Vecna disappeared. This isn't over. It'll never be over.

And he's so goddamn tired.

Of fighting.

Of monsters.

Of feeling so alone.

Eddie

Steve lays his face against Eddie's chest. His wet hair is damp and cold, soaking through Eddie's t-shirt. He's seen Steve in all manner of disheveled, but this is new. He looks younger, and older, both at the same time somehow.

Eddie had picked debris out of Steve's wounds, doctoring them as carefully as he could. Steve never flinched. Like he was checked out, somewhere else far away.

Now, he breathes heavily as Eddie holds him as tight as he dares.

"Monsters are real. This town is rotting from the ground up." 

Eddie doesn't know what the fuck that means. But he's not terribly surprised. 

He's seen how Steve comes to him, beaten, bloody and broken. He has been fighting something for a long time. Something worse than Jonathan Byers and Billy Hargrove.

The same Billy who died in the mall fire, and Eddie suddenly has a lot of questions about what really happened that night.

"I don't…"

"Monsters. Demogorgons. And the dog version. The Mind Flayer. Vecna."

"Those are from D&D," Eddie says, and maybe Steve has cracked. Maybe he's lost his mind.

"Dustin Henderson named them," Steve says, pressing his fingertips into Eddie's ribs. 

Eddie nods. That tracks. Henderson is his favorite little lost sheep.

"We tried, tonight. We weren't enough." 

"I'm sure you did your best." 

"Look at this place? We failed. I always fail." 

Eddie just holds him tighter, and doesn't say a word when it's clear he's crying.

Eddie had dozed off when Uncle Wayne bangs into Eddie's room, startling them both, causing Steve to tense up next to Eddie. 

"You're here," Wayne says, looking just a touch frantic. Eddie nods. He's here. "Half the plant fell into a hole. Earthquake, they say. Never seen no damn earthquake look like that. You're okay?" 

"We're okay. You're okay?" Eddie asks back, even if Wayne looks fine.

Wayne nods, and pulls the door closed. 

Steve is still tense. 

"Hey. It's okay. He's like me. He knows. He doesn't care." 

Steve relaxes, little by little. 

"What can I do for you?" 

"Nothing. This. Just this," Steve says, so Eddie does just that. 

In the morning, Steve gets up. He looks exhausted and dejected.

"I told Robin I'd take her to the Red Cross volunteer thing," Steve says. 

Eddie nods. 

"Do you want to come?" 

Eddie nods again. 

He doesn't, not really, but he'll go help if that's what Steve wants him to do.

They stop by Steve's house, which is still standing, and Steve changes clothes while Eddie sits perched on the edge of Steve's couch like he's in a museum. 

When Steve comes bounding down the staircase, he's dressed, looking like Steve Harrington. Not a hair out of place. Looking totally normal. 

A mask, Eddie realizes. 

Eddie's seen behind it now, and it hurts his heart to know that Steve is so adept at schooling his face into normal that nobody probably even realizes he's doing it.

They pick up Henderson and Robin Buckley, and bring in boxes of stuff to donate to those that need it. 

Once inside, Eddie sorts clothes alongside Steve, and folds them better than he's ever folded any of his own. Ever.

He stands next to Steve Harrington, and works. Quietly, comfortably. 

Later, Steve pulls Eddie on top of him, arms wrapped around him, squeezing tight. Eddie's sure he must be hurting Steve, with all those bat bites, but Steve seems to want this. Need it. So, Eddie kisses his cheeks. His bruised neck. And brushes soft kisses against his lips. He still can't believe he's kissing Steve Harrington.

"I'll take care of you," Eddie whispers. Someone needs to, that much is obvious.

Steve nods. His nose grazing Eddie's cheek. "You always have."

Eddie

Vecna returns. 

Steve was right when he knew that he would. This was just a lull in the action. A pause for them to try and catch their breath.

"Stay here," Steve says, holding Eddie by the shoulders. He has the trashcan lid shield and a spear that Eddie and Henderson had built in preparation slung over his shoulder. They made what they couldn't get smuggled in, and Eddie helped. Not really knowing what they might need, if. When. 

Eddie shakes his head. He can't just stay here. 

"I can help you, surely I can do something to help you guys?"

Steve is shaking his head adamantly. He's never waivered on his assertion that Eddie was not getting involved. He'd involved him enough by going to him, by telling him anything at all.

"Just be here when I get back." 

Eddie can't just sit here and do nothing now that he knows. 

He wants to kiss Steve goodbye, but there are too many people around. Too many prying eyes. 

Steve takes a step away.

Eddie follows, "Hey, Steve?"

Steve turns, waiting.

"Make him pay."

Steve nods, and then he's gone.

Steve

The radio tower jerks, lurching dramatically, and Steve is knocked off balance. Fuck. Shit. He knows he's going over. 

And then, he's gone. Tumbling over the ledge. He catches the edge, and tries to hold on. Fingers digging into metal. He thought his life would flash before his eyes. But it's not everything, it's just—

Eddie.

But the movement, Steve's momentum, his weight, it's all too much. He loses his grip, and falls.

Somehow, Jonathan grabs his hand and pulls him up.

Steve's breathing hard, adrenaline pumping, and Eddie can never know how close he was to falling to his death. He'll get too wound up. 

He's almost died lots of times. What's one more?

Eddie

When Steve comes home, he's wearing a backwards baseball cap, his hair curled around the edges, and is covered in some sort of dried gloop that smells like straight ass. 

"Jesus Christ," Eddie says, disgusted, despite being so happy to see him.

As is tradition, Eddie ushers Steve towards the shower, only this time, Eddie gets pulled inside with him. Crowding near him, running his hands over Steve's body. Checking for any visible injuries.

He doesn't find any.

"Is it over?" Eddie asks as Steve lathers his hair for the third time.

Steve looks lighter. Happier. Like the weight of the world has finally been lifted off his shoulders.

Steve cracks open one eye, swiping away the shampoo that's running down his forehead, and smiles.

"It's over."

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

Notes:

I'm so excited that this one is finally finished. I started it in, checks notes, June 2023. Just days after I finished posting Tuesday's, haha. Of course other things moved to the front burner, but when I was digging through my files, I realized this would be perfect for Bingo. It was always called Here You Come Again, based off the Dolly Parton song. So, I dug it out, dusted if off, and finished it.

Choco Tacos and Slice were both introduced in 1984.

The red milk crate, lawn chair and cooler are present on screen in the Corroded Coffin garage practice scene. Just waiting on Steve, apparently.

I didn't want to get into the weeds too much with what would have all changed without Eddie being involved in the Upside Down in S4. That way madness and 20k words lies, haha. This fic was always meant to only cover the very small pockets of time when the UD reared it's ugly head, and Steve was forced to go toe-to-toe. But I did assume that Steve was still (somehow) attacked by the bats, and that they would have worked him over even worse, because they were down a person, with Eddie not there to help bat them away.

Even under an umbrella he feels the heat on his skin, warming his sore muscles, making him sleepy. He drops his book onto his lap, his eyes slipping closed until he hears screaming and he wakes in a panic. But it’s fine, just Gareth’s boys out in the water, climbing all over their dad so he can throw them up into the air letting them land with a splash into the gentle waves.

“Here,” Steve says, helping him up from the lounger, and out into the sun. He spreads a towel on the sand and Eddie lays down on his front as directed. He hears the pop of a lid as it’s flicked open, the sound of sunscreen being warmed between Steve’s palms, and then strong hands are on his shoulders, massaging and kneading.

Eddie rests his head on his arm so that he can watch his friends playing in the water. He’ll go for a swim later, when the beach is quieter, when he can take his shirt off and not have to deal with the stares and whispers of the beautiful people of California.

He closes his eyes, let’s himself drift under Steve’s touch, let’s the smell of artificial coconut and salty air soothe him. The waves pick up and the sound of them lapping on the shore reminds him of that day with Wayne. A day where he finally let go and let himself be seen. A day where the Munson doctrine was temporarily drowned in Lake Michigan while he cried into his uncle’s chest. He learned it was okay to be vulnerable, you just had to show your soft parts to the right people. People who wouldn’t use it against you. People like Wayne. 

People like Steve.

It’s still new, this thing between them. So much time wasted, so many years they could have had together if they’d just taken notice, just been brave. “Better late than never,” Wayne had said to him. The thought of never makes him feel cold. Never would have been like living in a world where the sun never rises.

Steve’s hand runs over a painful knot in Eddie’s shoulder and he groans from the pressure. Using a cane helps his leg but hurts his shoulder; Steve knows that because he knows Eddie’s soft parts.

“I love you,” Eddie says, the sound of it smothered by a wave hitting the shore, but the pressure on his back pauses just for a moment, long enough to know he was heard.

They haven’t said it yet, it felt too early for declarations. They weren’t teenagers, they’ve been around the block. But so much time has been wasted. 

He feels a soft kiss on his shoulder and he smiles.

“I love you too,” Steve says.

Two months.

It had been two months since your newest album had been released to the public—copies of the vinyls sat in record stores far and wide while your top song played on every radio station on the top of every hour. 

It had been two whole months of Eddie Munson playing your album every day and night, no matter what he was doing within the four walls of his cluttered bedroom. 

Your pop sound and lyrics were a stark contrast to the usual heavy metal music that would ring through his room as he laid back on his bed, packing a bowl of the latest recommendation from his dealer. He’d play your music in the background while he messed around with his guitar, adding some heavy riffs to the poppy sounds that played from the record player. He’d sit on his bed, hand in his pants with his cock in his fist tightly; he’d stroke himself while your voice filled his ears, edging him closer and closer to release. The sound of your sweet and soft voice played late into the night, always seeming to help him drift off to sleep faster; and he wasn’t ashamed to admit that to anyone that would listen. 

Anyone. 

No, really, the Hellfire boys were so fucking sick of listening to Eddie bring you up in every conversation–during lunch at the cafeteria, between battles at Hellfire campaigns, during a late night smoke session in his van by the lake–it didn’t matter the occasion, your name was always rolling off of his lips like a prayer. It was like he was dating you; he spoke about you so highly and intimately, there was never anything negative spoken about you by that boy.

He was just such a love sick little puppy that thought about you every single minute of his morning, afternoon and evening. And the Hellfire boys always just shared looks and groaned while rolling their eyes when Eddie started talking about you. And Eddie noticed their looks, he noticed their annoyance with him but that didn’t stop him from speaking about you… it had actually gotten to the point where he would join the conversations of the cheerleaders just so he could talk about you and your music. 

You released a new song? He ran to the girls to ask if they had heard it yet before gushing over how good it was because, you never seem to have any songs that suck.

You announced a tour or a show near them? He was telling all the girls that he was going to do anything in his power to make sure he would be at that show, seeing you perform live yet again.

And, let’s be real, all these cheerleaders thought that was funny as hell, but they always allowed Eddie to join their conversations; in fact, some of the cheerleaders went out of their way and started the conversations with him. He was just like them—he was a fanboy at heart and he couldn’t help that you were his current unconventional musical hyper fixation at the moment. 

It had been two whole months of your posters and pictures being placed on his walls, hung up so carefully to ensure that they wouldn’t rip or tear. And, every time the guys came over he was constantly getting attacked and questioned by those pieces of paper. The posters were everywhere, there was one above his bed, there was one above his record player, hell, this motherfucker had one on the ceiling above his bed. You were the last thing he saw before he fell asleep and the first thing he saw when he woke up in the morning, cheesy, right? And, fuck, did the Hellfire boys tease him about that. I mean, it’s not everyday that the stoner Metalhead had pictures of a pop princess on his wall. 

But, could you blame him? You just happened to look oh so good in those posters. 

And his favorite to this day was still the one of you in that short fucking black dress; he made sure that poster was above his record player so he could look at you while sitting on his bed. He just couldn’t help it—that picture didn’t leave anything to the imagination. The way your curves were so full and perfect, god, he wanted to run his hands all over your body, feeling every single curve and divet of your plush skin. The way your cleavage looked like it could pop out of that dress at any moment, god, he wanted to reach out and squeeze your breasts gently, hearing the small moans and whines escape your mouth while he massages them between his hands, thumbs running over your hardened nipples slowly. Eddie just loved that dress on you so much but he desperately wanted to see it on his bedroom floor–preferably in a pile with his own clothes while you were pressed up against him, moaning and groaning his name with each and every thrust he made. 

He had countless thoughts about you since he had first listened to that album and somehow each one seemed worse than the last. 

He knows, he knows–he’s a pervert. You don’t have to tell him twice.

Seriously, though, each thought was worse than the last. He’s imagined you on your knees in front of him, hand wrapping around the base of his cock while taking it in your pretty little mouth. He’s imagined you on your knees on his bed while he's thrusting into you from behind, so deep and fast that you are screaming his name. He’s imagined hovering over you, kissing the soft skin of your neck as he thrusts into you slow and deep, whispering sweet nothings into your ear. He’s imagined you on top of him, riding on his cock with your tits bouncing in his face. He’s imagined quickies with you after your shows in the dressing room, directly backstage, in the bathroom. You name it he’s probably thought of it with you. 

Eddie was just so whipped and craved you. Craved to know how you felt, how you smelled, how you tasted, how you sounded… he craved to know every little thing about you; all your little imperfections, quirks, any skeletons you had hidden in your closet. He just craved to know you on such an intimate and personal level. But, sadly, you were just a celebrity crush who didn’t even know he existed. 

At least, until tonight.

Tonight you were back in Hawkins, Indiana for a concert. Tonight, on Eddie Munson’s 19th birthday, you were in Hawkins, Indiana. You were in his hometown for his birthday. God, it was like the stars were aligning to give him the best birthday he’s had in a while, if not ever.

Eddie had purchased his ticket for your show months ago, literally the day they went on sale; he had called Gareth and bought a ticket for both of them (and, Gareth wasn’t entirely thrilled about that, but he knew he had to support his best friend… especially on his birthday). 

He had his ticket, he had his best friend by his side, he knew your new songs front to back; he was beyond ready for your concert.

But, the Hellfire boys had a surprise gift for him. They all knew he had a concert ticket, hell, the entire school knew he had a ticket to your show tonight. But, what he didn’t have was a meet and greet VIP ticket… at least, until Jeff pulled some strings with his dad who worked at the venue you were going to be performing at. 

And, my god, you should have seen the look on Eddie’s face when he opened that gift. At first, he looked at the Hellfire boys with a questionable look, he already had tickets, he didn’t need them. But when he read the words “VIP Meet and Greet Ticket” with your name next to it? Yeah, he screamed. A literal scream left his mouth as he thought about meeting you, talking to you, hugging you. And Gareth shook his head because he knew he’d have to stand next to Eddie the entire time during this Meet and Greet. (But, come on, Gareth was also secretly excited to meet you and see you face to face as well; he was just… not excited to deal with Eddie the whole time…) 

So, now, Eddie stood next to Gareth waiting in the meet and greet line amongst a ton of younger girls and teenage girls that were all gushing to meet you. And Eddie was shaking from head to toe. He was both excited and terrified at the same time. What if you were mean? What if you hated him? What if you were a bitch? What if you aren’t like anything he has pictured you to be? What if everything he has thought about you was actually just something he made up and you weren’t that perfect little angel he has you made out to be?

He’s never met a celebrity before… are you really just a normal person like him? Do you enjoy going to the movies just like he did? Do you enjoy listening to music and getting high just like he did? Do you enjoy pancakes over waffles just like he did? Do you enjoy spending your free time with friends and family just like he did?

“Eddie,” Gareth said, looking at his friend. Eddie snapped out of his thoughts and looked at Gareth, raising an eyebrow. 

“Hm?” He replied, looking at Gareth.

“We’re next,” Gareth said, motioning to the nonexistent line in front of them. Eddie gulped, looking up in front of him. He caught a glimpse of you and your smile and panicked. 

“I can’t do this,” Eddie said, shaking his head. Gareth rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Yes, you can. Please, you don’t shut up about her. At least talk to her.” Gareth replied, looking at his friend. “She’s not going to bite you or anything.”

“She might.”

“Next!” The security guard called, looking up Eddie and Gareth. He raised his eyebrow slightly when he saw the two boys but shrugged, allowing them through. The pair walked towards the stage where you were standing in front of a pale pink and purple backdrop with hearts all over it. 

God, why was Eddie’s head spinning? He felt hot. He felt dizzy. He felt like the room was slowly melting away from around him as he stood there, looking at you. It felt like the heavens were opening up and shining down on you as you stood in front of them, glowing like an angel, a goddess, a beautiful princess that he wanted to sweep off your feet with his wit, charm and good looks.

You looked up at Gareth and Eddie and smiled, waving them towards you. “Hi!” You cheered. “Thank you for coming, oh my gosh!” 

God, when you spoke it sounded like a chorus of angels signing around you. Eddie had never been to church, but he felt like he wanted to fall to knees to worship you and sing your praises.

Gareth stepped towards you but Eddie didn’t, he just stood there frozen. He looked you up and down, taking in your appearance. Your hair and makeup were already clearly done for the concert—hair curled perfectly, not even moving as you moved your head side to side, beautiful soft pink eyeshadow with glitter overtop, making you sparkle each time you moved. You were wearing some baggy light blue jeans and a pink crop top that showed off your midriff perfectly. 

God, you were perfect. You were real, you were perfectly real, and you were standing right in front of Eddie, beckoning him towards you with those beautiful and subtle hand motions.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you,” Gareth said softly, stepping closer to you. You smiled at him, opening your arms for a hug. Gareth didn’t decline, he wrapped his arms around you gently before pulling away, looking at Eddie. 

Eddie watched Gareth hug you before he stepped closer, a nervous smile on his face. “Hi,” he spoke softly. 

You opened your arms and Eddie quickly stepped closer, wrapping his arms around your body as he pulled you close to him. Your arms wrapped around him, smiling as you stood there embracing each other. His arms moved down to your waist gently as he held you against his soft and warm body. It felt like it was just you two in the room as you hugged, sparks flying around you like fireworks. He was so happy to be embracing you, to be holding you, and you allowed him to. You allowed him to hug you and hold you as long as he pleased; you didn’t pull away, you didn’t back away, you just hugged him tighter and smiled as he held you close to his body. 

After what felt like ages, Eddie finally pulled away from the hug, looking at you with a goofy and giddy grin on his face. Gareth glanced at Eddie and raised an eyebrow slightly before looking back at you. 

You smiled at them both, “thanks for coming to meet me and hang out!” You giggled, looking at them. “You probably know my name, but I don’t know yours…” You pouted, looking at the two boys in front of you that looked like they were at the wrong concert. Heavy metal band tees on, ripped jeans, boots on their feet; why on earth were they here to listen to you?

“I’m Gareth,” Gareth said softly, nodding with a smile. 

“I’m Eddie, it’s uh, it’s really cool to meet you. I’ve been listening to your music for quite some time and when I saw you were coming today I just had to come see you. Makes for a really cool birthday.” Eddie smiled, watching you. 

“Birthday? Oh my gosh, is today your birthday?” You asked, Eddie nodded slightly.

“Yeah, nineteen. Scary number,” he joked. 

“Our friend got him a meet and greet ticket for his birthday,” Gareth piped in, looking at Eddie. “He’s like, your number one fan.” 

“Oh my gosh, I was your birthday gift? That’s so cool!” You gushed, “thank you for listening to my music and supporting me, really, it means the world to me. I wouldn’t be able to do what I love doing without people like you.” 

“Yeah,” Eddie stuttered out, nodding at you. “Anytime,” he added. 

You smiled, looking at the boys. “Well, can I interest you in a picture together? A signed poster? I have to make sure my number one fan has the best birthday ever.” 

Eddie blushed. You just acknowledged him and called him your number one fan. Fuck. 

“Yeah, that'd be cool,” Eddie smiled, Gareth nodded as well. 

“Perfect, come here and smile for the camera.” You said, motioning towards the boys. They walked to you, standing on either side of you. Gareth stood on your left and Eddie stood on your right. You wrapped your arms around their backs gently and looked at the camera and smiled with the boys. Once the photo was taken you looked at Eddie with a smile. “Want a picture of just the two of us?” You asked. He looked at you nervously. 

“You, uh, you’d do that for me? Can we? Really?” He asked. You nodded. 

“Of course! Consider it a birthday gift from me to you.” 

Gareth took this as a sign to step away, leaving you and Eddie together for your own picture. You wrapped your arms around Eddie’s waist and smiled, leaning closer to him for the picture. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him as a goofy grin appeared on his face.

After the photo was taken you hugged Eddie again, smiling at him. “Happy birthday, Eddie. It was nice to meet you and Gareth,” you said, glancing at Gareth. “I hope you both enjoy the show. I’ll see you around, yeah?” 

“Thanks, princess,” Eddie smiled. Gareth smiled as well, waving at you. The two grabbed their posters and were on their way while you turned towards your next fan here for meet and greet—a little girl and her mom. You were crouching towards the ground to get to the level of the little girl as she ran towards you for a hug. You hugged her tightly and smiled, rocking her back and forth gently. 

Eddie looked back and watched from afar as he left. 

Fuck, did he love you.  

“I’ll be back,” Eddie yelled to Gareth over the noise of the bar. Your concert was over and Eddie was bummed to leave, so Gareth suggested heading to the Hideout for a few drinks to celebrate his birthday. Eddie reluctantly agreed, even though he’d rather be at home right now thinking about you with his pants around his ankles and his hand on his cock, stroking himself in time to your music.

Gareth nodded at Eddie, before going back to his conversation with Jeff. They were having a heated argument about something, but Eddie didn’t really listen to the details because he didn’t really care. That sounded rude, oh well, it was true. All he cared about right now was you. 

“Jack and Coke, please,” Eddie said as he walked up to the bar, away from Gareth and the other boys in the crowd. He grunted as he took a seat in one of the uncomfortable bar stools. The bartender looked up at him and smiled slightly, nodding to get him his drink. “Thanks, Mark,” Eddie added, watching the usual bartender go off to fix his drink. Once the drink was in his hand he raised it slightly, giving a nod to Mark as he began sipping on his drink. He looked around the bar, eyeing his surroundings as he usually did. 

Your concert was over, you had left the stage long ago and were probably a long ways away from Hawkins by now. Why would you stay here longer than you had to? Eddie sighed to himself, finishing the drink in his hand a little too quickly.

He had finally gotten to meet you, to hug you, to smell you. That was weird, yeah, he’s weird, but, did you know you smell like a mixture of roses and strawberries? Like, he was walking through a strawberry field with a bouquet of roses in his hands, on the way to give you said bouquet before falling to his knees to confess his undying love for you. Begging you for a chance to let him love you and hold you for as long as you would let him.

“Mind if I sit here?” A feminine voice rang through his ear on his left side. Eddie didn’t look up, he just nodded, mumbling what sounded like a yes as he stared down at the ice in the glass his hand was wrapped around tightly. “Thanks. Hi, I’ll have a Rum and Coke, please.”

That voice. Eddie knew that voice, he had listened to it everyday for the last two months. Not to mention, he basically drooled over it a few hours prior at the concert.

He stopped, looking up to his left. His eyes widened as he saw you sitting on the barstool next to him. Live and in the flesh.

God, you looked perfect.

Your hair was still holding its curl perfectly while resting against your shoulders, your sparkly stage makeup had been removed from your face leaving a more natural look but, damn, you still looked drop dead gorgeous. Instead of the pale pink sparkly mini skirt and matching top you wore during the concert, you now had the same baggy jeans from the meet and greet and a sweatshirt with your name on it. Wearing your own merchandise, huh? Damn, that’s hot.

You smiled as Mark slid the drink your way, leaving you with a flirty wink. “This one’s on the house, princess,” Mark said and Eddie shot him a glare. 

“Oh, why, thank you.” You replied, grabbing the glass in your hand. You brought it to your lips and smiled, sipping on the drink slowly. You glanced at Eddie, nodding at him with that adorable smile of yours. Fuck. “Hi, uh… Eddie, right?” You asked, remembering him all too well from your Meet and Greet earlier in the night. And, I mean, how could you forget him? Not many others showed up to your show with a Metallica shirt, ripped jeans and chains.

Not many people showed up like that but, damn, did you love it.

“Yeah, uh, hi. Uh, yeah, that’s me… Eddie,” he replied, nodding as he set his empty glass down on the bar, releasing his grip from it. “You, uh, remembered my name?” He asked, turning his body towards you slightly in the bar stool.

You smiled, nodding your head before sipping on your drink. “It's a little hard not to remember the name of my biggest fan.” You murmured, setting your drink down on the bar. “How was the show?”

“It was amazing, really good, actually. You always seem to kill it on stage…” Eddie said softly, taking in your appearance yet again. He just couldn't believe you were here in the Hideout and sitting right next to him. He was so scared that he was going to embarrass himself in front of you and ruin any chance he may have with you. Because, he totally believes he has a chance with you, yeah. “What, uh, what are you doing here? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m really glad you’re here and sitting next to me but… I kind of figured you’d be on a tour bus driving as far away from Hawkins as possible right now. You know, getting ready for the next concert of your tour.” He rambled on, stopping at the end to take a breath.

You giggled softly, turning your body towards him. Your left elbow rested on the bar, your chin resting on your palm as a smile appeared on your face. “Why, thank you. I already said it once but, thank you for coming to my show tonight, it means alot. And, I don’t know; I don’t have another show for a couple days so I decided to stay in town for a bit… is that not a good idea? Is it not too fun here in Hawkins?” Your right hand reached for your drink, taking a couple sips as Eddie shrugged.

“Hawkins really isn’t that fun,” he admitted, smiling at the way you gave your full attention to him. Fuck. “But, I don’t know, with a gorgeous girl like you floating around… it might get better.” He smiled, leaning a little closer to you. You blushed softly, smiling at him. You finished your drink and set the glass on the bar. 

“Yeah? Is that so?” You asked, looking at Eddie again. You were able to actually take your time looking at him now, unlike earlier. Pretty brown doe eyes, beautiful yet nervous smile, long and shaggy curls that fell into his face a bit until he repositioned his head. 

“Absolutely. You might make it worth staying here,” he nodded. You smiled again, looking up at Mark as he came over towards you two, asking about drinks. 

“Yeah, I’ll take another Rum and Coke. And a drink here for my friend, Eddie, as well please.” Mark nodded at your words before walking off to make you and Eddie both another drink.  

“Woah, you don’t need to buy me a drink, princess. I’ll survive.”

“Actually, I do. Consider it a birthday gift,” you smiled, looking at Eddie with that stupid perfect grin on your face. “Speaking of, how was your birthday?” You asked, “I’ll have to admit, I’m still feeling slightly honored that you decided to spend your birthday with me.” 

“You already gave me a birthday gift today,” he argued, referring to the solo picture of the two of you from earlier. “But, my birthday was perfect. Actually, I didn’t think it could get better but, somehow, with you next to me… it’s definitely going to go down in history as the best birthday I’ve ever had.” Eddie replied, smiling widely at you. “Not everyday you get to spend your day with your favorite popstar, you know?”

“Oh, I’m your favorite popstar, huh?” You giggled, leaning closer to him. Fuck, that giggle. 

“Well, you’re definitely up there on my list.” Eddie smiled, a chuckle escaping his lips. Mark walked back over and set the drinks down on the bar before he walked away again. You both reached for your glasses, taking them in your hands. 

“Well,” you said, raising your glass. “Happy birthday, Eddie. And, cheers to many more for you.” You and Eddie clinked your glasses together before taking a sip out of them. 

“Thank you,” he replied, nodding. “Make it a note to come to Hawkins on my birthday every year?” He teased. 

“I'll see what I can do,” you responded with a flirty wink.

“You better,” Eddie replied with a goofy smile. You sipped on your drink more, smiling as you looked around the small bar.

“This place is cool,” you commented, looking back at Eddie. “And, you hate Hawkins?” He smiled.

“Not that I hate Hawkins,” he said softly. “More so that it’s a little… boring. Not much really happens here.” He added, shrugging. He watched you with a smile on his face as you continued to look around the bar, your eyes catching the stage in the corner.

“Is that a stage?” You asked, motioning towards the corner as you sipped on your drink. Eddie’s gaze followed your and he nodded, smiling as he took another sip of his drink.

“Oh, yeah! Tons of local bands play there every week, including mine. We play here every Tuesday night.”

“Woah, you're in a band?” You asked, suddenly a bit more interested in the boy sitting next to you. 

“Yeah,” he smiled, blushing slightly as you took more interest in him. “It’s, uh, it’s called Corroded Coffin; we play some more heavy metal sounds. I’m a guitarist and lead singer in it…” Eddied replied, nodding at you.

“Corroded Coffin, huh? Sounds cool,” you giggled, finishing your drink. You set the empty glass on the bar and looked at him, “heavy metal, huh? What makes me stand out so much that you listen to my silly little pop music then?” 

Eddie chuckled nervously, finishing his drink as well. “Well, you’re very pretty, you have an amazing voice and I do have a soft spot in my heart for pop music.” He replied, setting his empty glass down next to yours. “Guilty pleasure music, I guess you can say…”

“Well, I’m honored to be part of your guilty pleasure music.” You smiled, looking at him. “Oh, and I’d absolutely love to see and hear some Corroded Coffin songs, if you’ll show me, that is. I actually do enjoy listening to a heavier metal sound from time to time.” Eddie blushed, looking at you shocked.

“You listen to heavy metal?”

“Yeah,” you giggled. “It’s funny, I make pop music but I tend to not listen to that in my free time, actually.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow, smiling slightly as he learned more about you. “Huh. It appears there is a lot that I don’t know about you, pop princess.”

“Yeah, I get that alot,” you nodded. “So, you play guitar, huh? That’s a skill I wish I had, I’ve been pushing myself to learn but, I just have very little motivation.” You admitted softly.

“I could teach you,” Eddie suggested, looking at you with a goofy smile. “If you want me to, at least…” 

“I think I would love that, Eddie,” you giggled, looking at him. 

He smiled at your giggle, looking at you. “You’re really pretty,” he said softly, looking at you. You blushed, smiling softly.

“You’re not so bad yourself, you know that Mr. Metalhead?” You replied, causing Eddie’s cheek to turn a slight shade of pink.

And with that you were both leaning closer to each other, eyes glancing at each other’s lips as you moved closer and closer together. Time stopped. Eddie’s ears were ringing and he felt like he was vibrating. You were so close to him, so close. He could see the small freckles on your cheeks, wanting to connect them all like little constellations. He could see the tiny baby hairs that didn’t want to stay down no matter how much hairspray you used, wanting to push them back and play with them gently. He could see the small scar that sat on your forehead from when you face planted on stage one night. He could see everything, and you were so beautiful. 

You smiled your little smile, tilting your head to the side as your lips pressed against his softly. Eddie sighed, the feeling of your lips against his enough to make him weak in the knees. He moved his lips against yours, kissing you back softly as his hand moved to the side of your face. He held your cheek, caressing it even, as his thumb ran along the smooth skin. Your hand moved towards his face as well, pulling him closer during the kiss.

He suddenly forgot where he was. All the noises of the bar around; the clinking of glasses, the yelling of partiers, the sounds of men hitting on women… it was all gone. There was no one else in the room. 

It was just you and him. The way it was meant to be—the way he wanted it. The way he dreamed it would be for the rest of his life; you and him against the world. 

Eddie felt like he was dreaming. Or, he died and went to heaven. He wasn’t entirely sure which was true but he was counting his blessings, and mentally thanking Jeff for those meet and greet tickets because; fuck. That gift just keeps on giving. Literally. 

He wasn’t sure how, he wasn’t sure why, but, he didn’t fucking care about the logistics of all of this.

All Eddie cared about was the feeling of your lips on his neck as he struggled with his keys to the front door of the trailer. That, and the fact that his uncle wasn’t home, otherwise this would be awkward.

He finally got his key in the lock and turned it, pushing the door open. He stumbled inside the trailer, pulling you with him. He kicked the front door shut behind you both and led you to his bedroom, pinning you up against the back of the door. 

“God, you’re so hot,” he mumbled, lips crashing into yours desperately. Your arms moved to wrap around his neck, pulling him in closer as you kissed him back, your lips moving against his with the same desperate want and need. 

“Yeah, I get that a lot,” you replied, fingers moving through his curls gently. He groaned, his hands finding your hips. He pushed his hips against yours, grinding against you slightly. A slight moan left your lips as your eyes closed and your head fell back against the door. “Fuck, Eddie,” you sighed.

He moaned a little too loudly when he heard you say his name like that, a literal pitiful moan left his mouth as he kissed down your jawline to your neck. He attacked your neck with kisses and nips, his hips still moving against yours with a slow rhythm. “God, princess, you sound so good saying my name like that,” he mumbled, biting down on your neck a little rougher. ”You don’t know how bad I want you.”

You whined at the bite, eyes opening to look down at Eddie. Your fingers ran through his curls, tugging them gently before you looked around his room. Your eyes caught sight of the posters of you on his wall and an accidental laugh left your lips. Eddie pulled away from your neck and looked at you, raising an eyebrow.

“What?” He asked, looking at you. “Did I do something wrong?” He continued, hoping you didn’t think this was a huge mistake. 

You giggled a little, shaking your head. “No, sorry, just, you have posters of me on your wall?” You asked, glancing back at the posters that sat above his bed and above his record player. 

Eddie’s cheeks turned a bright red as he turned his head, glancing at the two posters you were talking about. “Look, I just, they came with your vinyl!” He replied, trying to prove a point. “What else am I supposed to do? Let them sit in my closet and collect dust, I mean, look at you!” He added, frantically hoping this wasn’t a weird deal breaker for you. 

Your right hand moved to his face, caressing his cheek gently before you turned his head back to face you. “You’re cute, you know that?” You asked, leaning in to place a soft kiss on his lips. “A perfect little fanboy,” you added, kissing his lips again. ”My fanboy.”

“Fuck, yeah,” he nodded, looking at you. “Definitely your fanboy,” he replied, kissing you again. “I wanna make you feel good, please, can I?” He asked, pulling you towards his bed. You nodded, following after him. 

He tugged your sweatshirt up, pulling it up and over your body before discarding it on the floor. He laid you back on his bed gently and crawled on top of you, kissing your lips softly. Slowly, he kissed down your neck and over your chest. Eddie left soft and sweet kisses between your breasts and down your stomach, stopping right above the button of your jeans. He looked up at you, brown eyes glowing and waiting for you to give him the okay to continue.

When you nodded your head, he undid your baggy jeans. You lifted your hips gently, allowing him easier access. He pulled your jeans off gently, tossing them on the floor with your sweatshirt. He sat up on his knees, looking down at you. 

His eyes roamed over your body, committing everything to memory as you laid in front of him in your bra and panties. 

“You’re so beautiful, princess. Fuck,” he said softly, leaning down to kiss your lips softly. “Can I taste you? Please? Been dying to know what you taste like,” he begged, looking at you. 

“Fucking hell, yes. Please,” you replied, watching him pull your panties down. He left soft and sweet kisses on your inner thighs, slowly pushing your legs apart. He looked up at you as he licked a small stripe up your folds, moaning to himself as he tasted you. 

Fuck. You tasted better than he had imagined. So sweet, so… perfect. 

He licked up your folds again, his hands moving under your thighs as he pulled you closer to him, thighs now resting on his shoulders. You moaned softly, fingers tangling into his hair as you watched him. He left soft kisses on your clit, looking up at you as he did so. 

“Fuck, Eddie,” you mumbled, tugging on his curls gently. “You’re good with your mouth, ah,” you added. He groaned at your words, tongue flicking over your clit gently before he sucked on it. His right hand moved closer to your core, his pointer finger and middle fingers teasing your entrance before slowly pushing into you. You gasped at the feeling, back arching up slightly as he slowly began pumping his fingers in and out of you while simultaneously sucking on your clit. “Jesus, Eds,” you whined, pulling on his hair tighter. He groaned against you, speeding up his movements with his fingers. 

“God,” he sighed, looking up at you. “God, you’re so… hot. You’re just so fucking hot. So fucking beautiful, you sound so pretty when you’re saying my name like that. You look so pretty like that. You’re just so… perfect.” Eddie said, leaving more kisses on your inner thighs before he bit down gently, leaving a small mark on your inner thigh. 

You moaned, grinding against his fingers. “Fuck, you gonna mark me up as yours?” You asked softly, watching him leave more bite marks across your thighs. He moaned against your thigh, his hips thrusting against the bed gently at the thought. 

“Yeah,” he mumbled, nodding up at you. “Gonna make you all mine.” He bit down on the plush skin of your thigh again, his fingers curling inside of you as he pumped them. He kissed back up your body, face now inches from yours as he slowed the movements of his fingers. He pumped them slowly, curling them with each pump as he kissed your lips gently.

You kissed him back, moaning as you tasted yourself on his lips. Your fingernails ran down his back gently, scratching at the fabric of his shirt. “Eddie–ah,” you whined, moving your hips up again, grinding against his fingers as he curled them perfectly, hitting your sweet spot. “Gonna, ah, shit, gonna cum,” you moaned, kissing his lips a bit rougher than before. 

“Fuck, princess, cum for me,” Eddie groaned against your lips, speeding up his movements again. You whined his name, head falling back on his pillows as you clenched around his fingers, releasing your juices onto them with a loud moan. He pumped his fingers a bit more, helping you ride out your high as you fell back on his bed. You caught your breath, looking up at him with a sigh. He pulled his fingers out of you slowly, bringing them to his mouth. He sucked his fingers clean of your juices and moaned, looking at you. “Good god, baby, you taste amazing.” 

You blushed and looked up at him, “yeah?” You asked, smiling slightly. You sat up carefully and kissed his lips. “I bet you taste even better,” you mumbled, reaching for his shirt. You pulled it up and over his head, throwing it to the floor. You pushed him back onto his bed and straddled his lap, kissing his lips desperately. Eddie kissed you with the same desperation as his hands moved behind your back, undoing your bra gently. You slid your bra down your body, throwing it to the ground. 

You left soft and sweet kisses down his neck, chest and stomach. When you reached his jeans you left soft kisses on his erection through the denim, looking up at him as you did. You left a flirty wink before you ran your nails along his lower stomach, running over the soft hair that sat directly above his waistband.

Eddie’s breath hitched as he watched you, groaning at the sight in front of him. He had dreamed of this moment more times than he could count but never in a million years did he think it would actually happen. Like, really? Were you real right now? Or was he passed out at the bar in the Hideout?

“Can I take these off?” You asked, looking up at him as you played with the hem of his jeans. He nodded, pushing your hair out of your face gently before running his fingers through it.

“Please, princess,” he said, looking down at you. You undid his jeans quickly, pulling them down. He moved his hips up, making it easier for you to free him from his denim pants. You tossed them behind you and they landed on the floor with a thud. Your nails ran up his thighs and over the fabric of his boxers before you slid your fingers under the waistband, tugging them down gently. 

As you tugged his boxers down, his rock hard erection sprung free, hitting his stomach. You looked up at him, sinking down between his thighs.

“Well, you’re so pretty,” you mumbled, hand wrapping around the base of his cock gently. “So pretty and so big,” you commented, pumping him in your hand slowly. “Not sure if I can take all of this in my mouth but, I really want to try,” you mumbled, looking up at him as you kissed the tip of his cock. “That okay?” You asked, your tongue flicking over the slit on his tip.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Eddie moaned, watching you. “More than okay, fuck. Please, do anything you want to me, I’m yours.” You smiled, wrapping your lips around the tip of his cock gently. You sucked on it slowly, moaning around him. Eddie whined, his hand running through your hair again as he gathered it gently at the back of your head. 

You moved your head down slowly, taking more of him in your mouth. He watched you, pulling your hair gently as you moved to take more and more of him in your mouth. You made it down about three quarters of the way before you gagged slightly, pulling back from him. You pumped him in your hand and looked up at him. “You’re so big, I’m not sure I can do it,” you said softly, moving back to suck on the tip of his cock gently.

“Fuck, princess, that’s okay,” he groaned, tugging on your locks again. You bobbed your head slightly, taking more of him in your mouth. 

Eddie couldn’t believe what he was seeing; this was definitely everything he imagined and more. Sure, he’d pictured you sucking his cock, but he never thought it would be too big for you to take fully in your mouth. God, you were somehow boosting his ego without even trying. Your sweet eyes looked up at him as you struggled to take him all in his mouth. Every so often you’d gag around him and pull back before going back to what you were doing. 

He moaned every time, watching you proceed to go deeper and deeper for him. He pulled your hair tighter and closed his eyes, groaning as you got him all in your mouth. You moaned around him, looking up at him. He bucked his hips up, causing you to gag loudly but stay where you were, trying to fight through the pain and uncomfort.

“Fuck, baby girl, keep doing that and I’m gonna cum.” Eddie groaned as you went back to bobbing your head slightly. He moaned your name as you took all of him in your mouth again, and he thrusted his hips up against your mouth. He tugged your hair so tightly as he panted, releasing ropes of cum into your mouth. You groaned around him, swallowing it all before you pulled away, leaving a soft kiss on the tip of his cock again. “Holy shit,” Eddie mumbled, shaking his head. “That was better than I had ever imagined.”

“You’ve… imagined that?” You asked, tilting your head slightly as you sat back on your knees on his bed. Eddie sat up, his face turning a bright red color yet again. Damn, he was really out here exposing himself to you, wasn’t he?

“I, uh,” he stuttered, looking around the room. “…no?” He said, sounding more like a question than a statement. “No, because that would be weird and not right.” He mumbled, a giggle escaped your lips as you moved closer to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“You sure?” You asked, tilting your head as you looked at him. “Because, I think you’re lying.” You mumbled, fingers trailing small circles on his chest. 

“And if I am?” He asked softly, hands moving to hold your hips. 

“I think that’s really hot…” you replied, leaning in to kiss his lips softly. He groaned against your lips and kissed you back, pulling you closer to him. He laid you back on the bed softly and hovered over you, looking down at you. 

“You are just so incredibly beautiful,” he mumbled, leaving soft kisses on your neck. “I still cannot believe this is happening,” he added, his right hand roaming over your body. He moved up to your chest, squeezing your left breast gently as he continued to kiss down your neck and upper chest. He kissed over right breast, tongue flicking over your hardened nipple. You moaned softly, hands tangling into his hair gently. 

“You’re so sweet,” you purred, tugging on Eddie’s locks. He moaned at the feeling and wrapped his lips around your nipple, sucking on it softly. You gasped at the feeling, head falling back on the pillows. “Fucking shit, Eddie, I think I’m going to need you to fuck me.” You mumbled, Eddie’s head shot up, looking down at you.

“Yeah?” He asked, sitting up gently. “You want me to fuck you, princess?” He asked, moving towards his bedside table for a condom.

“Want you to fuck me,” you mumbled, running your fingers over his bicep gently as he fished for a condom. “Need you to fuck me,” you added, nails scratching up and down his muscular biceps more.

“Fuck,” he groaned, opening the condom. He stood up, pumping his cock a few times before he slid the condom on slowly. He stood at the edge of his bed and grabbed your thighs gently, pulling you towards him. You squealed softly, looking up at him as he lifted your thighs, moving closer towards you. He teased your folds with the tip of his cock before he pushed in slowly, moaning as he felt you around him. 

You gasped at the feeling, looking up at him. “Eddie,” you whined softly, eyes closing slightly.

“Fuck, princess,” he groaned, filling you up completely. He stayed still for a second before he started to thrust in and out of you slowly. He pulled you closer and your legs wrapped around his body, holding him against you. “Shit,” he mumbled, hands moving down to your breasts. He squeezed your breasts, massaging them as he continued to thrust in and out of you. “So pretty like this, fuck. You look so pretty taking my cock,” he groaned out, leaning down to kiss your lips.

You groaned and kissed him back, hands wrapping around his wrists as he continued to thrust. He picked up the pace a bit, thrusting faster and deeper as he squeezed your breasts harder. 

“Ah, fuck, Eddie, shit,” you moaned, moving your hips against him as he thrusted. “Shit, fuck, you’re so big. You fill me up, god, fuck, made just for me, my perfect fanboy,” you whined, lips moving against his with desperate kisses. He moaned louder, thrusting deeper.

“Fuck, yeah. I’m your fanboy,” he groaned, biting your bottom lip gently before he tugged on it. “You’re my popstar, favorite one ever. Taking my cock so good and sounding so pretty, fuck, your moans sound prettier than your music.”

Eddie released your breasts from his hands and moved his left hand down to where your bodies were connected, rubbing slow and tight circles on your clit. A loud moan escaped your lips as your back arched off the bed, looking up at him. “Eddie, shit,” you moaned, nails scratching down his biceps again. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum.”

“Yeah?” He asked, thrusting faster. “Gonna cum for me, pretty girl? Gonna cum on my cock? Gonna cum on your favorite fanboy’s cock?”

You moaned, nodding your head repeatedly. “Yeah, fuck, gonna cum on my favorite fanboy’s cock,” you said blissed out as you felt your high come closer. Eddie made one more deep thrust and felt you clench around him. Your head fell back on the bed as you released around his cock, whining at the feeling. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you muttered.

“God, fuck, you’re so pretty baby,” Eddie groaned, “I’m gonna cum, fuck.”

“Yeah? Fuck, cum for me pretty boy,” you sighed, feeling completely blissed out. “My perfect little fanboy.” Your legs tightened around his waist, holding him close to you and inside of you. Eddie moaned at your words, his cock twitching inside of you as he released into the condom. He made a couple more thrusts before he groaned. Your legs fell back down and Eddie pulled out of you, helping you steady yourself so you didn’t fall off the bed.

He placed his hands out for you to grab and helped you sit up on the bed gently. You smiled slightly and sat on the edge of his bed, looking at him. “You’re so perfect,” he sighed, leaning in to give you a soft kiss on the lips. He reached for your panties and his Metallica shirt, handing them to you before he slid the condom off, tying it up before throwing it in the trash. You accepted the shirt and panties, sliding them both on before falling back on his bed. He chuckled slightly, looking at you. “You okay, princess?” He asked, you looked at him and nodded.

“Yeah, you just took a lot out of me, fuck, you’re amazing,” you said, smiling at him. “And, you’re coming to bed with me… right?” You asked, he shuffled towards you and smiled.

“As if that’s even a question.” He grabbed his boxers from the floor and slid them on before laying down in the bed, wrapping his arm around your waist gently.

You moved towards him, a smile on your face as you rested your head on his chest. He left a soft kiss on the top of your head and hummed, closing his eyes.

You giggled softly and he opened his eyes, looking down at you. “What?” He asked, pushing your hair out of your face gently with his finger tips. 

“A poster on the ceiling? Really?” You giggled more, pointing to the poster of you on the ceiling. He blushed softly, groaning as he covered his face with his hand. 

“Please don’t start with me,” he mumbled. 

“My perfect little fan boy, huh?” You teased and he turned bright red. 

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.” He sighed, leaving another soft kiss on your forehead. 

“Oh, I will.” You said, snuggling into his side more as you closed your eyes again. 

Eddie held you close to his body and smiled a little. Tonight was different for him, he didn’t need to listen to your music to help him sleep. Instead, he was able to hold you in bed, listening to your breathing and soft snores.

Yeah, this was way better. 

Eddie woke up the next morning to some knocks on the front door of the trailer. He grunted, rolling out of bed gently. He found a dirty shirt from the floor and slid it on over his body. He stretched, groaning as the knocking continued. He looked at your sleeping form and smiled, remembering everything that happened the night before. He leaned down, leaving a soft kiss on your head before he shifted towards the front door of the trailer.

He glanced around and shrugged when he didn’t see his uncle, huh, must be working a double. 

Eddie opened the front door, Gareth and Jeff standing on the other side. “What?” Eddie groaned, rubbing his face as he leaned against the door.

“Well, good morning, sunshine,” Gareth teased, crossing his arms over his chest.

“We’re just checking in on you,” Jeff added, shooting Gareth a glare.

“I’m fine, why?” Eddie yawned, looking at his friends with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, how were we supposed to know? You left us at the Hideout and just disappeared.” Gareth shot back with a snark tone.

“Damn, chill,” Jeff said, looking at Gareth. “It was his birthday, he probably got wasted and came home to sleep it off.”

Eddie went to open his mouth and reply but he was cut off by you. You called his name and walked towards him in your panties and his Metallica shirt from the night before.

“Eddie,” you whined, wrapping your arms around his waist. “You left me alone in bed,” you added, leaving a soft kiss on his neck.

“Sorry, princess,” Eddie said with a small smirk, arm wrapping around your shoulder gently. 

“It’s okay,” you shrugged, looking up at his friends. You remembered Gareth but didn’t know his other friend. “Oh!” You smiled, nodding at his friends. “Gareth, right? And, I’m so sorry, but I don't believe we have met yet,” you added, looking at Jeff.

“Gareth, yeah,” Gareth replied, staring at you.

“Jeff,” Jeff said, sticking his hand out for you to shake. You smiled and shook it gently.

“Nice to meet you, Jeff. Good to see you again, Gareth.” You smiled at the boys before turning your attention back to Eddie. “Come back to bed when you can, yeah?” You asked, placing a soft kiss on his lips before you turned back towards his room. 

Gareth and Jeff both stared at you as you walked away, retreating back to Eddie’s room with a slight shake of your hips. 

“There’s no fucking way.” Gareth said, looking back at Eddie. “Seriously?! You took her home?!” He questioned, the sound of jealousy evident in his voice. 

“Yeah, I did; so what?” Eddie smirked, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the door. 

“Fuck,” Jeff muttered, still looking in the direction you went.

“Oh,” Eddie mumbled, remembering something. “Thanks for those VIP meet and greet tickets, Jeffy boy.” Eddie smirked. “Now, I must be going, have a good day.” 

Gareth and Jeff just shared a look as Eddie closed the door in their faces, making his way back to his room to be with you again.

They put a prize over his head. Quite literally.

Eddie's life has been absolutely miserable for days since Jason Carver decided to prank him in a way he's not able to escape. He's offering a hundred dollars for whoever has “the courage to kiss the Freak” until valentine's day, which means today. So, for the entire week, he's been getting mocking notes, cards, flowers, mockingly flirtatious proposals that vary from pity-partyesque to straight up mean.

After a sophomore guy from the basketball team interrupted his math class to give him a fucking old teddy bear with a bouquet of flowers weeds and read out loud a note from Tommy Hagan saying his girlfriend Carol would kiss him if he got tested for rabies first, Eddie decided it was enough.

He should've left school grounds altogether, but Wayne is home and he doesn't want to come up with an excuse. Plus, the rumor has gotten so big that people around his age are approaching him on the streets as he goes along with his day. It's mortifying. Not that he cares about the fact that those people pity him or are disgusted by him, that's a known fact and he pities them back for doing such stupid shit just to stay in the graces of some popular shitheads with nothing for brains. But it's still humiliating.

That's why he ends up going to hide under the bleachers hoping that nobody is there or that he can scare off whoever is.

He just wants to dwell on his misery alone.

Except Steve Harrington is already there. Sitting on the floor, walkman by his side, headphones on, writing something on his notebook. Great. His hiding spot ended up being right at the lion's den.

Eddie tries to go back unnoticed, but Steve looks up at him with a puzzled look right before he can leave. Shit, shit, shit!

“Dude, you're ok?” He asks.

“Please, whatever ya wanna say, don't even start. Just pretend I was never here, please.”

“I wasn't gonna say anything. You just look… Distressed.” For a second he seems genuinely confused and concerned, but Eddie is just waiting for the other shoe to drop. He can't afford to get his defenses down, even if Steve doesn't seem that close to the others anymore.

“Of course I am distressed. I'm sorry I'm a fucking human being and got fed up with your bullshit. Just cut me some slack, ok? I don't wanna hear about how your girlfriend will kiss me or how we can split the money, or–”

“My– who? What the hell are you talking about?” now he looks confused for real. Eddie's not buying it.

“What are you doing here?”

“Trying to get some peace and quiet?” He answers with arched eyebrows “Listen, Munson… I have no idea what's this about but– Pretend I'm not here, stay if you want. Just… Cut me some slack. I need peace, that's all.” that takes Eddie by surprise, because King Steve seems distressed. Worse, exhausted, maybe just as miserable as he is.

“You really don't know? About the prize?” He inquires and watches as Steve looks at him like he's talking an unknown language. “A hundred dollars to kiss the Freak?”

“What freak? You? You're charging people for kisses? The fuck, man. Are you insane?”

For the first time since the whole thing started, Eddie laughs.

“No! Was I just called a harlot?” He mutters to himself “Carver is offering it. The money, for whoever has the courage to kiss me or whatever.” Steve's face goes from confused to disgusted and Eddie is ready to explode in agony for the millionth time when he continues.

“That's some new level of dick.” he sighs “Well, welcome to the hiding place. Sit, no one comes here.”

“Thanks?” Eddie sits, not exactly close, hugs his own knees and rests his head over them. He's so tired of all this. It's hard to admit, but it's taking a lot of effort not to cry. He hears a noise of something sliding through the floor and feels a small impact against his thigh. It's a package of M&M’s. Eddie looks at it, then at Steve, who didn't put his headphones back on but went back to scribbling. Maybe he should question, but he's sad and tired and it's chocolate, so he takes some and slides the package back.

“Sorry, but it doesn't make sense to me?” Steve starts “Like, this prank. If it can be called that. Makes no sense at all. Why would anyone need a hundred fucking dollars to kiss you?”

“Word on the street is that I have rabies, or herpes, or that I'm overall disgusting and a fag?”

“Jesus, just because you're weird doesn't mean you're disgusting.” Steve rolls eyes “I mean– Weird as–”

“Relax. I know I'm weird. I like weird. I don't care, if I'm disgusting then be it.”

“You're not. You probably clean your shoes and put your clothes to wash a lot more frequently than Tommy does.”

“Whatever. Dunno. They probably think it's funny that I never kissed anyone or something.”

“Well, you should kiss someone. When you want to do so.”

“Because…?”

“You're handsome? You're attractive? It's normal for attractive people to make out, if that’s what they want.”

“Why are you hiding?” Eddie changes the subject, ignoring the strange warm feeling Steve's last words gave him.

“Tammy Thompson keeps giving me notes talking about why she likes me. Your hair's pretty this, your smile makes my day that. I can't get any studying done.”

“At least she didn't make a song.”

Steve laughs.

“That would be worse.” She does have a point, his smile can make someone's day. “Be welcome to hide here too whenever you need.”

“Cool. Let me know when you need the space for your making out with attractive people endeavors so I'll give you space.”

“Knock it off, man.” Steve forces a laugh, pushes Gareth back, watches as he grins maniacally, all too similar to –

“Promise I don’t bite.” Eddie grins, cocks his head to the side as he licks his lips. “Unless you want me to, sweetheart.”

A chorus of oooohs surrounds them, breaking the last of Steve’s composure.

“I didn’t realize we were back in 9th grade.” Steve glares down at the group as he stands, their bodies formed in a spindly semi-circle around a mostly empty wine bottle. There’s a few drops just beneath the spout, a deep red seeping into the rug.  “Jesus, you couldn’t at least rinse it out first?”

Robin grabs the bottle, chugs the remaining liquid, their friends cheering her on. She releases it with a smack and a smile before thunking the bottle back down onto the stained carpet. “Happy now?”

“Not even a little bit.” 

“Steeeeve. C’mon, it’s fun!” 

Steve focuses his glare on his best friend. “Yeah. Fun. I’m gonna–” He waves his hand at the door, “--have a cigarette. Or three.”

She furrows her brow. “Wait, Steve–”

“No, Robin.” He steps through the circle, feels a hand grasp his calf, warm and strong, fingertips grazing the skin peeking out from beneath his sweatpants. He turns, looks down at the hand, traces his eyes slowly up. Up the wrist, the inked forearm, the sleeve bunched around the elbow, the broad shoulder, the pale expanse of neck, the stubble-lined chin, the soft open lips, the pinkness, the dampness, the–

“Harrington. Hey, man, you good?”

Steve blinks hard, tries to focus his eyes anywhere but those lips. Lands on eyes instead, full and warm and so, so brown. “Ye-yeah, I’m good. Chill. Fine.”

Eddie squints, those beautiful, warm brown eyes filling with concern. He opens his mouth to speak, but Steve stops him.

“Seriously, I’m fine. Gonna go smoke. Have fun.” Steve wrestles his leg away from Eddie’s burning grip, and retreats into the cool night air, only allowing himself to breathe once he feels the cool brick exterior of the pool house against his back as he slumps to the ground.

“Can I sit?’

Steve shrugs.

Eddie slides down next to him, starts fidgeting with his rings. “Hey, man, look, I’m so–”

Steve shakes his head. “Don’t.”

Eddie turns, eyebrows pinched together. “But–”

“No, Eddie. It’s fine. I told you, I’m fi–”

“Jesus, Harrington, you gotta stop with that.”

Steve blinks, slowly turns toward Eddie, pressing his cheek into the cool brick as Eddie’s heated gaze locks on him. “Excuse me?”

“Sorry. I mean, you don’t gotta do anything, but like – fuck, I mean–” Eddie groans, rubs his hand down his face. He takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly. “I’m sorry. I made you uncomfortable and that’s not okay. I crossed a boundary – no, listen, please.” Eddie holds up his hand imploringly, watches as some protest dies on Steve’s lips. “I crossed a boundary. Even if I didn’t know it existed, it’s still wrong, and I'm sorry.” Eddie lowers his hand. “You don’t have to accept it. Just want you to know, I never want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

Steve blinks, swallows down the sweet taste of Eddie’s words, feels them settle thick inside of him, warm and real. He sees the sincerity in Eddie’s gaze, the anxious fiddling of his fingers along the zipper of the jacket Eddie must’ve slipped on when he came out. Tears burn in Steve’s eyes as he realizes it’s his jacket Eddie’s wearing. 

“I– fuck, man.” Steve laughs, wipes his eyes. “Thank you, yeah – seriously, thanks. I just– the game, it–” He lets out a breath, worries his lip between his teeth. “It’s stupid, but–”

“Hey, it’s not stupid if it’s bothering you. I prom–.” 

“I’veneverbeenkissed.” 

Steve avoids Eddie’s gaze for all of three seconds before he has to see the expression there. It’s one of confusion, major confusion. 

“You’ve…never been kissed?”

Steve nods.

“But– but, you, high school, all those girls–”

Steve laughs, a hollow, weak thing. “Yeah, I know. Turns out you get a girl off once on a dare as a freshman and, next thing you know, you become king of some hollow court where people only swing by to get off. No one wants to kiss when they could get a quick and dirty orgasm and leave.” He shrugs. “It’s not what I’m wanted for.”

“Fuck that, I want to.”

Steve’s eyes widen. “What?”

“That’s not exactly how I meant to–” Eddie mutters, but smiles, anxious, soft, real. “I want to. Kiss you, that is. Hold your hand. Take you on a date, if you’d let me.”

Steve swallows down a lump in his throat, whispers out, “Don’t lie to me, Eds.”

“I’m not. I promise.” Eddie reaches out, tentatively grabs Steve’s shaking hand. “All those girls – they’re idiots, frankly, for not wanting to kiss you or keep you around. And, uh–” He clears his throat. “I’d really love the chance to try to give you even an ounce of what you deserve.”

Steve lets out a shaky breath. “You’re…serious?”

“Most serious I’ve been about anything since moving in with Wayne.”

Steve pauses, looks at this beautiful, kind man, thinks of how much he wants this, and decides fuck it. “Okay. You’ve got your work cut out for you, Munson."

Eddie grins, squeezes Steve’s hand. “I’m gonna woo you so hard, sweetheart. Just you wait.”

taglist (open): @sunshine-daydreams0809 @saramelaniemoon @probablyin-bed

divider credit: @saradika-graphics

thank you for reading :)

“You ladies need anything?”

His stomach flips as you hit him with a smirk.  “Stop snoopin’, Ed.  This is a closed-door club.”

That elicits a round of giggles from the group of women currently lounging in the sunroom.  

“I would never,” Eddie scoffs dramatically, laying a hand over his chest.  “I’m merely trying to be a gentleman, procure another bottle of wine for my wife and the fair maidens of her book club.”

It’s the same schtick, every time.  Eddie finds a way to interrupt, lay on the charm, and get promptly kicked out.  He loves it, and even more than that – he loves that you love it.  Between hammering down a touring schedule for Corroded Coffin, working part time at the clinic in town, juggling the kids and their activities, it’s nice that you have something for yourself.  

Plus, you’re always keen to share the dirtier details of whatever romance novel the club’s got its hands on once the kids are in bed.  

Eddie’s never been a romance reader, but damn.  He’s more than happy to share your interests, and yeah, maybe get a little frisky if you’re in the mood.

Which is why it surprises him as he sits at his desk, working on his latest mixes for Corroded Coffin’s album when he hears you admit with a groan,

“God damn, I wanna be kissed like that.”

Eddie freezes, hand hovering above his mouse.  

What in the hell do you mean by that?

Straining to hear more, he’s left only with bits and pieces about up against a wall from Gareth’s wife and a bunch of snorting laughter from Robin Buckley.

Until he hears your voice again.

“When he comes up behind her in the laundry room?  Blocking her in with his arms?  And the neck kisses?”  You trail off then, and Eddie can only imagine your expression from the laughter that filters in through the office’s cracked door.  

Where it should amuse him, it doesn’t.  Instead, he’s got a hole in his chest because he knows without a doubt he hasn’t kissed you like that in a long, long time.

Self-reflection is a bitch.  Eddie’s stunned still as he wracks his brain, trying to remember when the last time he kissed you – like really,  truly kissed you.  It’s not that it’s never happened – fuck, no.  Chemistry has never once been lacking in the twenty-three years he’s been yours.  Sex with you has always been so connecting.  And yes, at times – fuckin’ explosive.

But lately?

It’s been more… routine.  One he’s happy to have, of course – he wouldn’t wanna do this crazy life with anyone else.  But… 

When did it get like that?  When did a peck on the lips become satisfactory?  Become the norm?

No.  Nope.  

He waits.  He’s overly patient, biding his time as all of your friends leave, making doubly sure the kids are asleep before he creeps down the stairs and finds you at the sink, washing the last of the wine glasses.  

Eddie’s not some ruggedly bearded MMC with bulging muscles and a fourteen-inch cock.  This isn’t a storybook and you're certainly not in a laundry room.  But you’re his, and he’s about to prove it.

The hardwood creaks under the strain of his steps as he advances slowly across the kitchen, long, tattooed arms caging you in.  He bites back a groan as the warmth of your body seeps into his.  

His name is a barely-there gasp as your fingers still in soapy water.  “Ed…”

“Shh, sweetheart,” he whispers against your ear, dragging his nose along the slope of your neck., reveling in how the simple act has your breath stuttering.  

God, he wants this.  He needs this.  Smoothing your hair away, his lips make contact with the skin behind your ear, humming as he feels your pulse bound.  He presses a series of hot, slow kisses, both loving and hating how you whimper at his touch.

More than anything, that sound is proof it’s been too fucking long.

Eddie sucks in a breath, deepening his passion in how his mouth blazes a trail over your throat, hands wandering across familiar curves as your fingers grip the edge of the sink.  

As soon as you arch your spine, pressing round flesh into his body, he snaps.  With a gritty moan, he spins you, slamming his full lips against yours.

It’s not sweet or subtle, slow or sultry.  

It’s not a goddamn peck, either.

No.  This is a fucking kiss.  Desperate in the way that he molds supple skin to yours, he’s rough and punishing and greedy, tasting that lingering sweetness of wine as the heat of your mouth welcomes him in.  He’s exhilarated, blood thumping through his veins as he’s lost to what’s been long forgotten – this fiery passion that burns for you, a torch he’s honored to carry, always.  Swallowing your every sweet sound, Eddie’s hands engulf your face, holding you steady as he kisses you senseless.

Tongues dance in a rhythm built upon decades of love, but move as if the song is brand new.  It fills him, reminds him that though you may lead busy lives, he’s never too busy for this.

Losing himself, he’s unaware of how long you succumb to his ministrations, pliant in the best way as the urgency eases.  He slows his pace, delighted but never surprised with how you match his every move.  

Soon, your adoring gaze meets his as you gasp out, “Where did that come from?”

A breathless chuckle slips out.  “Just love you.”

“Yeah, but I mean… wow.”

The heat for you rises again, and he pins you in a molten whiskey stare.  Angling your body to an open swath of countertop, he hoists you up and falls to his knees, making his intentions known.  

“You think that kiss was good?” he husks as his fingers hook around the band of your leggings, dragging them down trembling legs.  “Just you wait.”

next: JULY 29: The Office

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