#eddiem

You parked off of a side street and strolled on down the sidewalk, feeling the sidewalk beneath your feet and a song in your heart. You walked to the beat of it, speeding up or slowing down depending on the tempo. You didn’t know exactly what you were looking for, but you knew that you would find it eventually. You usually did.

But you weren’t expecting to find something so familiar on the street corner. That head of hair could be recognized anywhere. Plenty of people, including yourself sometimes, had pretty big hair but it was nothing compared to the mop-top that Eddie Munson sported. The jacket, the ripped jeans. The city held a lot of punks and rockers but after spending so much time with him in high school, before you graduated, you knew that awkward, gangly walk anywhere.

“Well howdy-ho there,” You said, finally noticing as you got closer that he was holding a bunch of papers. “What the fuck are you doing here, Munson?”

He took in the sight of you, looking a little grumpy at it. You couldn’t blame him. You never were friends - just acquaintances. Lab partners in a science class in which he had nearly burned the whole school down. Any chance of friendship seemed like it ended when your life was put in danger. All because he was stubborn and didn’t listen to you - which is probably why he was still at Hawkins High. His eyes flickered from your Docs up to your hair, and he held the papers close to his chest.

“Nothin’,” He said, looking around to see if there was anyone else walking by. An older lady shuffled and gave those papers a look, and then towards Eddie’s outfit and scoffed, walking a little faster. “Well maybe I didn’t want to give you one, lady,” He called after her, making you laugh.

“Come on, lemme see,” You said, trying to reach for one from behind him but he moved too quickly, stepping one foot out onto the step.

“None of your business,” He said, though you could see a smirk starting to grow on his face. He was starting to have fun, it was written all right there in his expression. So you started to have a little fun yourself. You tried to reach for another one of the flyers but he spun out of the way and jumped right up on the sidewalk. It turned into a game. You’d try to get one and he just wouldn’t let you. Maybe it was all of those tricks that he did in D&D, the dramatics of it all, but Eddie had moves. At one point, he even hopped up onto a lamp post and did a spin around it to keep them out of your grasp. It was impressive - but it put an end to the game. Three of the sheets fell onto the ground and you snatched one up before it fell into a puddle.

“Corroded Coffin, playing tonight,” You read aloud. “Set starts at ten. Are you really out here giving out flyers for your band?”

“What else would I be doing?” He scoffed, raising an eyebrow, falling back down to the ground now that the cat-and-mouse flyer game was over.

“I don’t know, practicing?” You asked. “You’re the lead guitarist right, don’t you have a drummer or a bassist to be doing this kind of thing?”

He started to laugh at that, and I found it wasn’t as obnoxious as I remembered it being. “Now - how do you know that I’m the guitarist?” He asked, curiously. A teenage girl walked by and he handed out a flyer to her, which she took but kept on walking. She crumpled it up and threw it out, which made me whistle out loud - phwoah, that was harsh. You folded yours up and slipped it into your back pocket so it was sticking out.

“It was all you talked about back in chem,” You chuckled, remembering. “Guitar this, guitar that. Cool that you got a band together and you’re putting on gigs. Are you any good?” You reached for a flyer again, and this time he let you - so you took half of the stack. “First rule of advertising, sex sells.”

“Well, shit, I didn’t know I was going to get a whole marketing team,” Eddie said, watching you, scratching at his lower lip. It gave you a good view of how many rings that he wore on those fingers of his. “Good enough to get a paying gig for once,” He said, curiously. “What are you doing?”

And what were you doing? It was a good question. You tended to customize your clothes as much as you could, since you got them from thrift stores and they usually weren’t the ideal size. So you took the scissors and cut out a neck-collar here, some sleeves there, turning pants into shorts when they were too long, adding patches of different fabric to make a whole new look and voila. It usually worked out. But it also meant that a lot of the hemlines were cut off, such as the one around the neck of the shirt that you were wearing now, so you ripped it a little more, bringing it into more of a V-Neck. Showing off a bit of the chest.

“Did you not just hear me?” You asked, and let your eyes skim over the poster again, taking in the location and the time. You looked back up and spotted a guy walking down the street, his hair all spiked out in liberty spikes. You didn’t get that in Hawkins. You took a couple of steps backwards to approach him, catch his eye. “Hey. Kickass show tonight at the Black House. See you there?”

“Yeah, fucking rad,” The guy said, taking one of the flyers from your pack, obviously looked at your chest, and then continued walking on. You grinned and stepped back over to Eddie.

“Fucking rad,” You repeated the punk’s words. “But congrazzles, a paid gig, that’s pretty big. Anyone we know we going to be there?”

He was trying not to look at your cleavage. You could tell, which was kinda sweet of him. “Just the boys, the rest of my band,” He said, nodding, pulling you out of the way as an old man that you hadn’t seen went shuffling by. Look at Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munsen, being kind to the elderly. “Did you want to come?”

“Can’t think of much else that I’d rather do on a Friday night than see a show,” You admitted. You weren’t willing to admit to your rather lonely habit of just browsing what was going on and assimilating to it somehow. Eddie, with all of his non-conformity, probably wouldn’t get it. “Finally get to see if you live up to your own hype.”

“That’s - a -” He said, banging his head, his hair flying all over the place. “-definitely!”

“Save some of that energy for the stage, man,” You laughed. “I’m tough to impress.”

He must have been storing up all that energy for tonight. You couldn’t remember him fidgeting so much in class but maybe that was exactly what had caused the blow-up in the first place. He was handing out flyers and striking conversations. He knew a couple of the local metalheads that walked by and stroke up a conversation. You handed out flyers as well, advising anyone and everyone to come out to the show if they wanted to have a real good time. Sex sells - but it doesn’t always deliver, at the very least, you weren’t. But you managed to get rid of the bunch of flyers pretty quickly, even walking up and down the streets, removing other posters that were taped to walls, and using that same tape to put the new flyers up. Maybe it was a little bit vandalism but it was also punk as heck.  Then time began to come down to the close and you followed him towards the bar where they were playing tonight.

The Black House.

It was exactly what it sounded like. Right there, in an Indiana city, situated in the seedier part of downtown, was a black monstrosity of a house. With the right paint job, it could have looked nice but there were rumors that the builder went through a bad depression and that’s why everything - the windows, the door, the walls, the roof, the columns, all of it was painted in the darkest black paint one could get from the hardware store. And after the owner offed himself, it was bought up and converted into a bar, and then they added on a stage and it became one of the go-to places for the ‘alternative crowd’ in town. You were impressed that Eddie had managed to get a gig here. A paying gig at that.

“I should get going in the back, meeting the rest of the guys there,” Eddie said, throwing a hand over his shoulder to point to the thin passageway that lead to the back of the venue. You could just see a familiar dark van parked behind there. He’d start to take those couple of steps while you tried to figure out where the end of the line was. “You coming?’

“I was going to get in line,” You said, furrowing your brows.

“Come on, you’re with the band now - marketing team,” He said, licking his lips ever so slightly, allowing himself just the littlest glance, trying not to be obvious, but you caught on. He held out a hand to you, all of those heavy rings somehow not weighing it down. You shrugged and then took it, allowing yourself to be lead to the back.

“Oh, look at me, getting in without paying the cover, how do you think The Black House will ever cope?” You joked, catching eyes with one of the guys that you knew was in Eddie’s little crew. The Hellfire Club. They had actually approached you about joining in your Junior year, when you and Eddie were in the same grade, before he got held back again and again. But you liked having your free time away from most people, so you had said a big fat no. High school was a time full of regrets, even though you had graduated two years ago, and honestly, saying no to some of those clubs was one of them. Maybe you wouldn’t be alone on a Friday night if you actually put yourself out there.

But you weren’t alone anymore. “Hey, remember y/n?” Eddie said, bringing you around to the guys as they were loading the last of the equipment on a dolly to be pushed inside. “Gareth, Jeff,” And then a little grin, “Sloth.”

The guys laughed among themselves at the name of one of their members, who just rolled his eyes and ignored the lot of us, pushing in the drumkit. “Long time no see,” You said, but paused while looking at Gareth. “Except for you. You come around the arcade a lot.”

“Mortal Kombat champion of Hawkins - at least until that Max person came around,” He said with a smile. He went to help ‘Sloth’ push in the drums and then Eddie dragged you in along behind them. He was still holding your hand. He seemed to notice at the same time that you did and he let go, your arm dropping back to your side. “So what are you doing back here?” Gareth ended up asking.

“Y/N is Corroded Coffin’s head of marketing now,” Eddie said with raised brows. You grinned widely at that. Even if he was joking, which you were positive that he was, it was still a step up from being the person that watched over the arcade. “So they get free entry.”

“That’s a better benefit than dental,” You laughed, and attempted to move out of the way of the incoming instruments. You didn’t know much about all of the tech stuff behind it all, but watched as they set it all up, got it all together. Mostly Eddie though. He wouldn’t let anyone else touch his guitar, he was very adamant about that. He was the one who carried it fro the van into the venue, he was the one who plugged it into all of the amps and other equipment. He was the one who tuned it, even as people started to come in, heading to the bar after paying the cover and finding places to sit and stand, talk to their friends. This might be a paid gig but they still had to do their own heavy lifting, that was amusing. “Anything I can help with?”

“Nope, just stand back and enjoy.... the magic,” Eddie said, pausing to bow and then went back to tuning.

“Alright, I’m gonna go grab a drink and find a good spot to rock out. I’m sure the view is great from side stage but the best part of a show is usually the mosh pit.”

“That - is fair,” Eddie said, looking like he was going to say something. You gave him a pat on the shoulder for good luck, a grin at the guys and then hopped off of the stage onto the ground and headed to the bar. A flash of a fake ID and you had a beer in your hand. It wasn’t cold, but it tasted fine just the same. You chugged it down in preparation, gave the bottle back and then found a spot right up against the stage. There were no barriers for safety, anyone could go on up and dive right into the crowd if they wanted. You were even thinking of doing that yourself. You rested your folded arms across it, watching as Eddie kept shaking his hair out of his face, getting himself ready. You were situated right in front of him while others were gathering around the microphone. Vocalists did tend to interact with the crowd more but you were here for Eddie of all people. This was not at all how you saw your night going when you left the arcade and got into your car this evening.

Finally things were all set up and the show began. And Eddie - was - magnificent. It shouldn’t have been so surprising, he didn’t do well in things that he wasn’t passionate about so obviously he was putting that energy elsewhere. He was shredding that thing, even with his fucking RINGS on. That was what was so incredible about it.  The dexterity. That was a guy who knows how to use his fingers, you thought with a smirk.

They had the crowd going too. You saw a couple of people that you had handed flyers to. The guy with the spiky hair. He pointed at you and you pointed back at him and you both shared a laugh. You did eventually get pulled into the mosh pit, the sound of Eddie’s guitar all surrounding, but you didn’t mind. You could throw down with the best of them. You pushed your way back up to the stage though and climbed up upon it, all by yourself. Eddie made eye contact with you as you stood right in front of him. He even gave you a wink, which was surprising for shy Eddie. For being such a metal head, he really did have more of a complicated personality than you thought. You thrust your arms out like you were making yourself into a cross and fell backwards into the crowd, only to get picked up by the people below you and carried along. Yeah, you got groped a little bit but it wasn’t that big of a deal. They were respectful for the most part. You got put down at the back of the crowd and returned to the bar, getting a second beer. The night still felt young.

Corroded Coffin finished up their set to a lot of applause from the audience. You were among them, sticking your pinkies into your mouth and whistling. They all said their goodnights and started to pack up the equipment. You stayed up against the bar, happiness and enjoyment clear on your face. There were even calls of encore and you could see from Eddie’s expression that he liked that a lot. He sought you out in the crowd and you winked right back at him. He stared for a couple of seconds until Jeff called his attention away and they wheeled their stuff off. The second band had roadies to set their own stuff up, and it was only once it was apparent that they weren’t coming back on did the calls of encore quiet down.

Music played through the speakers. Black Sabbath, it sounded like. Yeah, you knew Ozzy’s voice. You nodded your head to the beat, wondering who the second band was. You hadn’t even got past Corroded Coffin on the flyer, you were just so happy for them that they got something like this. The fucking Black House. And here came Eddie now, walking through the crowd, heading over to you. He looked like he was on Cloud Nine. Lighter than air. He came in next to you and ordered a beer.

“No beer bottles thrown,” You said, putting an index finger against the bar. “And no tomatoes? I’d say that’s pretty good for a first paid gig.”

He laughed and put his arms around himself, looking bashful. It was sweet looking. You weren’t sure exactly what prodded into doing this but you leaned forward and put a kiss on his cheek just as the beer was set down in front of him. He just kept grinning at you, looking like he thought that he was the luckiest guy in the world. He brought up that beer and took a sip, nearly choking on it because he couldn’t actually get his mouth to close because of that grin. You grabbed him a napkin, chuckling softly to yourself.

“Oh, shit, you know what’s better than one paid gig?” He asked, giving you an idea as to what had made him look so happy.

“Oh shit,” You said, your eyes growing wide.

“Three more. The Black House booked us up for three more gigs over the next couple of months. Corroded Coffin is making it, baby, wooo!” He slapped down on the bar, raising his voice in that excited way he used to do in the cafeteria. “So uhh - keep your calendar clear, Marketing Manager.”

“Wait, you’re actually going to make me pass out flyers? Am I getting paid for this?"

“What?” Eddie asked, his eyes going wide. “If you want to, yeah, but you’re also like - a fucking good luck charm. We got three more gigs because you’re here. Because you and your...” As respectfully as he could, he pointed over your outfit. The still ripped up V that showed cleavage that he was trying to avoid ogling. “Three more fucking gigs. I can’t believe it.”

“It’s a good night for Corroded Coffin,” You said, watching as he took a sip of his beer. His hair was clinging onto his forehead, the usual shagginess turning into something looser, something stringier from the sweat. It was a cute look for him. You wondered what he would look like if you straightened it all out. but that was a question for another time. “Are you going to stick around for the other bands?” You asked, looking for the other three guys.

“They’re stuck until I drive ‘em home,” Eddie said with a big grin. “They’re outside having a smoke. I don’t know if it’s the adrenaline but I think I’m going to stay and rock out. You with me?”

You pretended to think it over for a minute, but then you thrust your fist up in the air, devil horns over your head. “Ready to fucking rock!” You smiled, and then stuck your tongue out. He was all for that response, replicating it perfectly. As the next two bands came and went, you were among the crowd, head banging and being pushed around, pushing others. When things got a bit too rough during the headliner, Eddie just stood in front of you and crouched down. “What are you doing?” You asked, thinking he was about to get trampled.

“Just get on, Marketer,” He said, and you laughed at the new nickname. It was horrible. It wasn’t catchy at all and yet you still had the feeling that it was going to stick. You climbed on, hesitantly. It took him a moment to balance your weight but he managed. Those arms underneath his jacket were surprisingly strong. From toting around that guitar maybe? Or the weight of all of those D&D campaigns that he used to come up with? Who knows. But he was holding you and nothing could get at you from the sides or in front. You were reaching up and the singer even reached for your hand, touching it lightly, making you whoop and holler at the attention. It felt - really funny. Really freeing. You hadn’t been to a concert in a while and you’d forgotten how fun they can be.

The show winded down, the encore was finished and the lights all around the Dark House lit up, though it was hard to tell exactly. A lot of the paint on the walls seemed to absorb it, making it appear to be so bleak in here. But the energy was still high, even as people were trickling out. Eddie was still carrying you on his back, giving you a spin as you went out through the back doors and back into the open Indiana air, making you laugh and hold on tighter. The other three members of his band were standing around outside of the van, drinking beers which they had gotten someone to smuggle outside for them. “Good show?” Gareth asked, noticing how enthused you and Eddie still were.

“Fuckin metal,” You laughed, sliding off of Eddie’s back and reached the ground. You’d been up for so long, you almost forgot how to stand, having to still lean against him for support. “And you guys - wow - Corroded Coffin shot up to the top of my favorites list - let me know when you guys have t-shirts.”

“T-shirts!” Gareth and Jeff said at the same time like it hadn’t occurred to them.

“That’s why y/n is our marketing genius,” Eddie grinned proudly. “You need a ride back to Hawkins?”

You thought about saying yes, just to prolong the night. Eddie was looking cute as hell right then. The big eyes. The messy hair. Even with sweat making it stick to his skin. You licked your lips so tempted. Your mouth went before your brain could catch up. “Only if you can arrange a ride for me tomorrow to come pick up my car.”

“I can bring you back,” He said with a grin, thumb tapping at his lower lip. “You’ve had a whole beer, I don’t know if you’re safe to drive.” The cheeky man, knowing that he had the same amount.

“Maybe you’re right,” You said. Your car should be safe - a parking ticket at worst but you could usually talk your way out of those by annoying the cops until they just give it up.

“Alright, let’s fucking goooo!” Eddie said, hitting the side of his van. “Y/N get shotgun.”

“What? No way!” The one that was jokingly referred to as Sloth protested. But you played along, beating him to the passenger side door and climbing in, claiming it by putting on your seatbelt. He grumbled and got into the back with the other two boys and all of the equipment.

You were all riding that post-concert high. The guys were all complimenting each other on things that they had done, on a really impressive drumstick flip, on Eddie’s solos, on the way that one or two people even sang along with their songs like they knew them, actually knew them. The excitement of the upcoming gigs, more paid ones, what they were going to spend the money on. You were enthused with them, pointing out the awesome things that you noticed, compliments all around.

The three boys got dropped off at Gareth’s house since it was the first one that could be reached upon getting into town, the closest to the outskirts. Then you had to guide Eddie towards your place, where you still lived with your parents, unfortunately. The noisy van pulled up really close to the curb.

“Well, tonight had been unexpected,” You admitted. “But probably the best night I’ve had in a while. Who would have thought?”

“And who would have thought that y/n y/l/n had good taste in music?” He retorted right back, lighting up a cigarette.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” You asked, turning your body to face him while your hand went for the handle. “What do you think I listened to?”

“I don’t know - Blondie?”

“Fuck you,” You laughed, all while knowing full well that you did indeed have a Blondie tape in your collection. “My favorite band was Black Sabbath, actually.”

“Was?” Eddie asked, growing very interested in the specific word. He leaned forward, the curls on his forehead touching your own. “So what’s it now?”

“Corroded fucking Coffin, you dingus,” You laughed, pushing open the door behind you. “You think you can rope me into working at a marketing person for some crap band? Please.”

“Ohh - I can’t tell if you’re trying to flatter me into giving you a raise or if you’re really speaking my language, y/n,” Eddie said with a big grin on his face. “I’m glad I ran into you, actually. Surprisingly. There’s a band meeting next weekend over at Gareth’s house, do you know where it is?”

“I think I can figure it out. Am I officially part of the band now?”

“Crew, at the very least.”

“Awesome. I can be there.”

“I was hoping you can do better than can,” He said, keeping that grin on. You smirked, because that grin was becoming more and more irresistible by the second. You couldn’t help yourself. You always were the impulsive sort - like helping out an acquaintance in handing out flyers for a band that you didn’t know was good or not. You leaned in forward and popped a kiss on top of those very nice lips. That grin disappeared real quick, turning into a quick look of surprise. As you backed away to try to see it better, to start laughing, his calloused fingers wrapped around your chin and pulled you back in. It turns out, he was as passionate a kisser as he was a guitarist.

Tongues flickered together. The taste of beer was still very apparent between you two. It tasted amazing. And finally, when he let you go, you had that taste lingering on your tongue for a couple of moments afterwards.

“Okay, I’ll definitely be there,” You breathed out with a smile. “Besides, you’ve still got to take me to get my car tomorrow, remember?”

“Thank fuck,” He said with a little groan. You backed yourself out of the car and saw the way that he tried to subtly adjust himself in the tight pants that he was wearing. Now that was more than a little flattering. You met his eyes and smiled, and he seemed to blush just a little bit. “G’night, y/n.”

“Get home safe, Munson.”

You closed the door and started to walk up the driveway to the front door. Your parents wouldn’t have waited up for you, you weren’t a child anymore. So you did have to dig the keys out of your pockets and put them in the front door. As it clicked open, you realized just how silent the street was, and looked over your shoulder to see the jet black van still loitering in front of your house. Eddie held up a hand as another wave. You shook your head with a laugh, and waved back before finally going inside. It was only then that Eddie seemed to leave, the tires making an obnoxious squealing sound against the concrete as he got out of there in a very Munson fashion. He’d been making sure that you got in alright, the fucking cutie pie.

Although you tried your best to avoid the cliche moments, this one had to happen. You had your back to the door and you allowed yourself to slide down it, the smile on your face, the taste of alcohol on your lips, ears still ringing from the concert and the music that he played loud on the drive back to Hawkins.

And you would get to do it over again tomorrow. A ride back to the city. Maybe you could talk Eddie into going out for lunch or going record shopping, looking through tapes, trying to find something good. You felt like squealing but it would wake up your parents so you kept it to yourself -