#hellcheer xmas

Day 22: Christmas Dinner

Chicago, Illinois 1988

“You’re hogging her!” Wayne exclaims from where he’s sitting on the couch, his hands out impatiently. “Let me hold that little munchkin.”

“No!” Eddie replies just as fiercely, only half joking when he tucks his infant daughter closer to him. “You just had her! She’s mine! I made her!”

“And I kept you alive long enough so you could make her, boy, you owe me,” Wayne counters warningly as he stands. “I can still kick your ass, you know, now hand her over!”

“No! Chrissy!” Eddie calls, putting up his foot to stop his uncle. “He’s trying to take my baby from me!”

“You get to hold her all the time, let Wayne have a turn.” she tells him from where she’s working in the kitchenette. “I need your help over here anyway.”

“You heard her!” Wayne quips.

Eddie puffs out a good natured smile, rising from where he and Olivia were cozy in the armchair and gently passing her to her great uncle.

Wayne chuckles in triumph and delight when those beautiful dark orbs turn up to him. Livvy’s a sweet, quiet child, all eyes. “Precious little blessing,” he coos, sitting back down with her. “Good lord, this brings me back.”

“Baby thief.” Eddie mutters, coming up behind Chrissy, who’s straining boiling water out of a pot. “Just watch, he’ll never give her back now.”

“He’s only got her till tomorrow afternoon.” she points out with a smile. “You let him hold that baby as long as he’d like.”

“Ugh, fine…” he mumbles. “What do you need me to do, sweetheart?” he scratches the top of her head from behind, making her smile up at him, arching her head up like a cat at his touch.

“You can start mashing… Oh! Check your chicken first!” she replies hastily.

He winks back at her as he grabs an oven mit. “I’m never going to live down last year, am I?”

“…You did set it on fire.” she giggles as he peers into their little oven. The bird is getting golden, but no grease fire in sight. Always a plus.

“Yeah, well, I’ve already set myself on fire this year,” he reminds her, motioning towards his hair with a tight smile. “Hopefully I’ve met my quota.”

“Please, do you know how many times he almost set the trailer on fire, Chrissy?” Wayne asks, in between making faces at Livvy, coaxing a quirky little smile out of her. “Take a guess.”

“Heh, just go ahead and tell her,” Eddie claps back at him with a grin and a careless wave of his hand as he starts mashing the boiled potatoes. “She can’t leave now, she’s bound by contract.”

“I’m going to say…” Chrissy looks him up and down. He wriggles his brows at her playfully. “Five.”

“Nine.” Wayne corrects.

“Eddie!” she gasps in astonishment.

“Nine?” Eddie snaps his head up in confusion. “Please, it was only ever seven.”

“You’re forgetting the pop tart,” Wayne reminds him. “And that time your dang amp overheated.”

“Oh, yeah…” he admits with a small snicker, looking upward in amusement.

“Are you counting the time when he built that bonfire…”

Eddie clears his throat loudly, shooting Chrissy a sharp warning look, making her slap a hand over her mouth, muffling a laugh.

They all sit down at their little table with the traditional Munson spread of roast chicken, refrigerated dinner rolls, mashed potatoes and green bean casserole. A meal Wayne always managed to put together for Eddie every year, despite his grueling hours at the plant. Quaint, but very hearty. Chrissy loves this meal because last Christmas was the first one where she was able to eat as much as she wanted.

“Christ, Ed, you were such a troublemaker.” Wayne muses as he hands Olivia to Chrissy so she can strap her into her highchair. “This little one is much too sweet for the likes of you.”

Eddie smiles smugly at that, remembering all of those times he was picked up at the school or the hospital or the police station and how Wayne would rant the whole way home about how he couldn’t wait for him to someday have a kid of his own so that they would put him through everything that he put Wayne through.

“Heh, that’s right! I lucked out, old man, she’s an angel, just like her mother.” Eddie crosses his arms, leaning back in his chair. “Guess they're just not getting those messages of yours upstairs.”

“You just wait, kid.” Wayne points his fork at him. “I’m praying on my knees every night for your next child to be a little boy just like you.”

HellCheer AU: Eddie is an upcoming rockstar and Chrissy is a model. They meet again at the annual Christmas party Eddie's record label is hosting.

New York City, 1990.

Eddie Munson has never been to a fancy Christmas party like this before. In one of those hotels that’s meant for the uber rich. It has a damned ballroom in it for fucks sake, which is where the party is being held. Normally, this would not be his scene but earlier this year Corroded Coffin was signed to big house record label Creel House Records, getting that big break they desperately needed after nearly five years in L.A. The record company was hosting this shindig and Victor Creel, the founder, was big on having his artists attend these huge Christmas parties in a way of showing that they were one big happy family.

The guitarist thinks it’s a bunch of bullshit, but he’s not about to step on any toes when Creel is helping skyrocket him and his middle school band to stardom. He won’t complain about being flown out to New York City when he didn’t have to pay for a damn thing. Sure, he hated the snow and cold weather but at least he didn’t have to drive in any of it. So no, he wouldn’t complain. He’s grateful to get the life he’s dreamed about since he was a pre-teen.

Still, he can’t help but feel out of place in this lavish party amongst celebrities and the rich. He was still dressed in clothes he wanted; a sheer button down shirt to show off his tattoos and nipple piercings, black slacks with chains connecting to his belt, and a pair of brand spankin’ new black combat boots. Ever the rockstar leaning into that rockstar look. But as it was; a rockstar is very out of place at this stuffy party. They weren’t even playing any rock or mental music! Just old Christmas songs that reminded him of his uncle Wayne. And he didn’t really want to think about his uncle right now. He wasn't going to be able to visit Hawkins this year for Christmas due to his new hectic schedule.

And now he’s sad at this lame ass party too. Just great.

Eddie is already uncomfortable as hell at this party, sipping on his very expensive but still shitty champagne when he feels Gareth’s elbow nudge harshly into his side. 

“Holy shit, is that Chrissy Cunningham?” Gareth exclaims, pointing across the room.

Eddie has the urge to smack his friend across the back of his head. He knows of his past with Chrissy; a crush he’s been harboring since middle school and one kiss they shared their senior year after getting high together. He hasn't seen her since they graduated in '86 and they both left Hawkins in the dust to pursue better futures. The guys teased him about his crush on the former cheerleader constantly. The last thing he wanted was to get teased at this stupid party he didn’t really want to be at.

But then his eyes follow where Gareth is pointing to and there she is. Chrissy Cunningham. Dressed in a long sleeved red dress that trailed all the way down to the floor. The lights of the room and decorations seemed to illuminate her. She looks like an angel.

“Chrissy…” He whispers in disbelief and as if she could hear him from all the way across the room, her head turns and her eyes meet his. A beautiful smile spreads across her red painted lips and he gulps.

@hellcheerxmas

She should look away, she knows she should avert her eyes. At the very least she should check to see if anyone else is catching her oggeling eyes, but she can't. 

Eddie Munson is at his locker just a couple down from hers and he is going to town on a candy cane. He's sucking and licking at it like there's no tomorrow.

It's erotic and obscene and yet she doesn't want to stop watching him. 

He's giving a whole new meaning to his title of freak and that thought makes her warm inside. 

After a while of watching him, he seems to feel her eyes on him and turns to look at her.

Chrissy makes a squeak of surprise and hastily turns, even though she knows she's been caught. The movement causes her to drop her books. 

As she's bending down she sees a pair of white Reeboks and town jeans walk in front her. After grabbing her books she slowly stands to face those big brown eyes head on.

"Want one Cunningham?" The candy cane is still in his mouth so the words come out funny. He's pushing a wrapped one out towards her.

She can't seem to find any words and simply stares at him. He quirks an eyebrow in amusement then places it on her books.

"Uh thanks." She says in a shy whisper.

Next thing she knows he's taking the candy cane out of his mouth with a wet smack and then plays with the sharp tip, flicking tongue back and forth and all around it.

"Any time sweetheart." 

Then he very obviously looks her up and down and with a wink he turns away.

She's left standing there watching him walk away. Her eyes wide and mouth hanging open. 

Day 16: Tradition

Chicago, Illinois 1986

“No,” Eddie shakes his head wildly, curls whipping back and forth. “Nope! Absolutely not!”

“Just a little?” Chrissy asks, sliding over to sit on his knee, her bottom lip swelling as she wraps her arms around his neck.

Very, very, cute. But, still no.

“Come on boy, it’s a family tradition,” Wayne objects, already a little slurred, reaching for the mason jar to fill a glass for her. “One shot after dinner, just let her try some.”

“Noooo!” Eddie replies, snagging it from him. It’s always concerning when he’s the voice of reason in the room. “I find myself a nice girl and you’re trying to fucking poison her, old man.”

“Excuse me, boy, you watch that mouth.” he scolds. “It’s Christmas!”

Eddie rolls his eyes. Of course he’s still sober enough to reprimand him.

“Aren’t I family?” she asks in a tiny voice, really overselling it with the big sad eyes and fluttery eyelashes. God help him.

He gives her waist a little squeeze to placate her. “Of course you’re family, sweetheart,” he consoles. “But you’re also a hundred and eight pounds and the strongest drink you’ve ever had is ginger ale.”

Her pout becomes less sad and more petulant. “I’ve had a vodka cranberry before.”

“A half of a vodka cranberry and that almost did you in.” he chuckles, taking her chin in his hand. “Don’t make that face, you know I can never deny you anything, so believe me when I say that this is too rough, baby.”

“But, I just want to try the tiniest bit.” she whispers, pressing her forehead against his, pinching her finger and thumb as close as possible without touching to demonstrate just how tiny she means.

He pulls back and looks her dead in the eye. “No.”

“Eddie!” she whines. “C’mon!”

“If she’s going to be a Munson, she needs to try it at least once. It’s a rite of passage.” Wayne insists. “Our girl is tough as nails; she can handle it!”

“See!” she cries, shaking his shoulder. “Wayne says it’s fine!”

“That’s because Wayne is toasted after two shots! Wayne!” Eddie tells her pointedly, holding up the jar for her to see, the clear liquid sloshing around inside. “Honey, this isn’t your regular everyday hard liquor, okay? It’s handmade, southern, backwoods acid.” he explains. “It’s pure moonshine. It burns holes inside your guts. You know all the shit I’ve done and tried, and I swear to God, this this is the nastiest stuff I have ever put in my body.”

She stares at it for a few seconds, then looks back at up at him. “Just a little drop?”

“Oh my God,” he sighs, head falling back in exasperation.

“Good lord, you know you’re going to cave eventually, just let her have some.” Wayne grumbles.

“Please.” she draws out at that sweet high octave that makes him absolutely crazy.

Eddie groans under his breath before snapping his head back up. “You know what, hot shot? Fine, you can take a sip off the top of mine, but just a sip, you hear me?”

She nods eagerly as he pours his shot glass.

If Eddie was a smarter man, he’d have taken his shot first and left her a little leftover to sip. But he did repeat the twelfth grade three times and this concept doesn’t come to him until after he hands her the full glass and she chucks it all back in one go.

“Woaw! Hey! Holy shit!”

Day 17: Angels

New York, New York 1994

“Daddy!”

His littlest angel runs down the school hallway, looking like an actual cherub in her white robe and the feathery white wings tied to her back. The slightly crooked gold halo on top of her curls is the only indication of her true nature under all that heavenly beauty.

“You made it! You made it!” she cries happily, before tripping on her skirt and falling face forward, wiping out with a slide, her halo flying off and rolling down the tile.

“Oof, Maggie, you okay?” he quickens his pace, reaching down to help her up.

“I’m okay!” she raises her arm in assurance.

Chrissy and Olivia are hurrying behind her after seeing her fall.

He lifts her up at arms length to check her over, making sure she’s alright. Luckily it looks like she landed on her tummy rather than her chin or her head. He breathes a chuckle, hugging her close. “Little fall from grace there, huh?” He kisses the top of her hair as he fishes around for her halo on the ground.

“There we go,” he tells her, straightening it on top of her. “Don’t want the rest of the angel choir to know which department you really work for.”

“Thanks, Dad!” she fluffs her curls with a big toothy smile. “Do I look beautiful?”

“Absolutely beautiful.” he tells her.

They’re quite the contrast, the both of them, his little golden-haired, blue-eyed angel baby and his dark-haired, dark-eyed self, still in his stage get up. He was short on time and had to hush over right after the gig uptown to make it. Nothing too edgy, but he's still all in black. Black jeans with chains, heavy combat boots, and a tight black t-shirt with his tattoos and scars on display. Relatively tame, but maybe a bit much for an elementary school’s Christmas concert.

Chrissy reaches them with a relieved sigh. “Maggie, you know you shouldn’t be running.”

“I’m okay, Mom,” she tells her, glancing over her shoulder. “Are my wings straight?”

“A little lopsided, believe it or not.” She looks skyward as she adjusts the feathery extensions of her costume.

“Livvy, you look so beautiful,” Eddie gasps when his oldest springs forward to hug him around the waist. She’s wearing an identical costume to Maggie except she has a pair of golden wings. She smiles brightly and sways her skirt a little.

“Thanks, Daddy, I almost thought you weren’t going to make it.” she tells him.

“And miss your solo, are you kidding me!?” he exclaims, turning to find Chrissy smiling up at him in amusement.

“What?” he laughs. “Why are you looking at me?”

She snickers, leaning up and brushing her pointer finger under his eye, giving him a sudden flashback to the Middle School talent show. It’s kind of pathetic that she still makes his heart race and his palms sweaty. “You still have your eyeliner on.” she giggles.

“No way!” he smiles slowly, finding a security mirror to see that he indeed forgot to wash off his heavy stage makeup. “Oops... better go take care of that.”

Chrissy’s smile grows. “But I like it!”

“Oh, you do, do you?” he smirks crookedly, leaning down.

“Mmhmm.” she nods, meeting him half way with a quick kiss.

“Ew,” Maggie makes a gagging noise. “Don’t kiss him, Mom!”

“Ahem!” Ms. Foltz clears her throat loudly in the doorway of the auditorium, clapping her hands sharply. “Excuse me, little Miss Munsons, I need all my angels backstage immediately, let’s go, let’s goooo!”

“Alright, break a leg up there, girls!” Eddie says, setting Maggie down and giving them both a quick squeeze before they scurry inside. Foltz gives him a disapproving up and down stare, nose slightly in the air, her pencil thin eyebrow raised high.

“Hey there, Peggy,” he shoots her a wink, wrapping an arm around Chrissy.

“...Edward.” she sighs tiredly.

“You sure you don’t need me up there?” he asks with a wolfish grin. “I’ve got my amp in my trunk, I can round up the boys, get this place really rocking, what do you say?”

She humphs audibly with a shake of her head. “I told you that I don’t appreciate that snark of yours, Mr. Munson.” she replies dismissively, following after the girls with a swing of her silk scarf.

“Watch out sweetheart,” Eddie cackles as they go to settle into their seats. “I think she has a little bit of a thing for me.”

Chrissy gives him a nudge with her elbow. “How was your show?” she asks.

“It was really great… up until Jimmy jumped out into the crowd.” he replies, nodding and smiling tightly at the other parents who are giving him the side eye.

“They didn’t bring him back?” Chrissy guesses as they sit down.

“They didn’t bring him back.” Eddie nods solemnly.

“He’s got to stop doing that.” she sighs.

“I told him he’s too pretty for that shit, one of these times he’s actually going to get kidnapped.” Eddie rolls his eyes as the lights begin to dim. “Gareth managed to fish him out.”

They quiet down as the curtain opens and about thirty little angels come shyly wandering out to serenade them with Christmas songs. It’s pretty damn adorable, Eddie has to admit.

They both get teary when Olivia steps up nervously on the little step and sings her solo line of Angels We Have Heard on High.

“Oh my God,” Eddie half whispers, half cries in amazement. “We made her!”

“I know!” Chrissy whispers back, placing a hand over chest.

Tiny Maggie spots him from where she is lined up with the other preschoolers on the stage and waves happily. He waves back, scrunching his nose at her. Her big blue eyes dart to where the shadowy figure of Ms. Foltz is standing backstage for a split second before she looks back at him mischievously, making a quick devil face.

Eddie’s mouth drops open with a shocked laugh as Chrissy gasps from beside him.

Pretty much everyone catches it and there is a muted snickering throughout the theater at seeing such a perfect little angel making such a devilish expression.

Day 13: Christmas Card

New York, New York 1991

“Daddy,” OIivia tugs at his loose shirt. “Can you write something for me?” She holds up a crayon and a folded piece of cardstock where she's pasted a cut out Christmas tree. There’s a sparkly star sticker on the top and glued sequins for the ornaments.

“I sure can, baby girl!” he replies happily. She’s only three and a half, but she’s always so shy about asking anyone for help. He lifts her to sit on his lap, moving his coffee and pile of notes out of the way. “This is beautiful, Livvy,” he gushes as he looks over her card, making her hide her face in her hands bashfully, whispering a quiet little “thank you”.

“Did you make it all by yourself?”

She nods her head. “Mommy cut the pieces for me, but I glued it.”

Eddie smiles over to where Chrissy is bouncing Maggie, still trying desperately to get her to go down for her afternoon nap. Although the one year old is snuggled comfortably against her chest, her big blue eyes are as wide as saucers. She has no intention of falling asleep anytime soon, despite her mother’s gentle humming and rocking.

Chrissy smiles back at him as she continues to shift her weight from one foot to the other.

“I love it,” he tells Livvy, taking her crayon between his fingers, unfolding the card. “Who’s it for? Santa?”

“No,” she shakes her head. “It’s not for Santa.”

“Pop Pop?”

“No.”

Eddie makes a face before leaning down to whisper. “Is it for Mommy?”

She shakes her head again.

He gasps. “Is it for me?”

She looks a little guilty, but still shakes her head. “No, not for you Daddy, I already made yours.”

He pouts.

“Mrs. Robertson? Miss Beasley?” he asks. “One of your friends at school?”

She shakes her head one more time, giggling now. “No, no, not a friend from school.”

His eyes widen incredulously, like a cartoon’s, turning her giggles into full belly laughs.

“Alright, bug, I give up, who is this pretty card for?”

“It’s for Davy, Daddy,” she tells him as if it were obvious.

Eddie feels something snap in the back of his head like a whip. He blinks slowly, mouth falling open. “Davy? You mean Davy Harrington? That Davy?”

“Yes,” she replies, folding her tiny fingers together. “I’m going to mail it.”

He glances back over to Chrissy, his eyes nearly popping out of his head. Did you just hear what she said!? he mouths. This isn’t supposed to be happening to him now, this is too soon. Good God!

Chrissy just purses her lips to keep from smiling.

Taking a deep breath, Eddie turns back to his oldest daughter, keeping his voice calm, casual. “Why are you making a card for Davy, honey?”

“Because he sent one to me!” she smiles brightly.

“He did!?” Eddie returns her smile with forced enthusiasm, shooting Chrissy another look over his shoulder, this one a little more accusatory than the last. “That was nice of him.”

“It was so bootiful! It’s by my bed,” she went on, her dark eyes sparkling. “So I can see it in the morning.”

Eddie covers his mouth with his hand. “Well, that, wow… that is a…”

What even is this!? His baby daughter is already being romanced! And by a freaking Harrington no less! Jesus Christ!

“It must be quite the card.,” he finally manages to grit out. “Um, sweetie, why don’t we send this to all the boys, Dusty and Charlie too? Wouldn’t that be nice?”

“No, Daddy,” she tells him seriously. “It’s just for Davy.”

“Just for… I um… Okay…” He’s going to kill Steve. “Okay fine, what would you like it to say?” he sighs, lifting the crayon to the right side of the card in defeat.

She puts a little finger to her chin, tapping thoughtfully. It’s so fucking cute. “Dear Davy… Merry Christmas…Thank you for my card…” she begins.

He nods as he writes.

Standard. Cordial. That’s fine.

“I miss you a lot…and I hope I can see you soon…”

The crayon digs a little harder into the cardstock. Okay. That's laying it on a little thick.

“Love, Livvy!” she finishes contentedly. “I can sign my own name.”

“...Love is kind of a strong word, don’t you think, bug?” Eddie asks her as she takes the crayon from him. “What about from or need not reply?”

“No, I do love Davy, Daddy.” she tells him matter of factly as she writes it out herself. Four big wiggly letters: L O V E. An arrow. An arrow straight through his heart. He can feel himself bleeding out. “Because he’s my friend, but, that’s okay, I remembered how to spell it.”

“That is so nice, baby,” he nearly gags, watching her sign her name beneath the more than complimentary close. “I think he’s really going to really like it.”

“Me too,” she stands up on the chair and kisses his cheek, wrapping her arms around his neck. They barely reach. “Thank you, Daddy!”

“...No problem.” he replies, voice breaking a little. She takes off with the card back to her room.

He spins around in his chair. “DID YOU…”

Chrissy silences his outburst with a finger to her lips, pointing to Maggie who has finally conked out.

“Did you know about this!?” he hisses quietly.

She just pouts her lips, shrugging her shoulders innocently as she makes her way over to the bassinet.

Saved by the baby.

Day 10: Scarf

Hawkins, Indiana 1984

With a deep inhale, he lets the smoke settle into his lungs and warm his insides for a while before releasing it out into cold afternoon air. He watches his gray twisted cloud unfurl and quickly disappear. It’s frigid out. Air thin, wind biting.

The crisp shrill of the last bell rings and within seconds the rest of the student body pours out of the school like foam from a pressurized soda can. He doesn’t move, doesn’t even flinch, safe and unseen in the shadows of the parking garage. Quietly, he watches them all quickly phase past him with something between indifference and disdain. It’s the last day before Christmas break, and no one wants to spend another minute at Hawkins High. They have places to go, people to see, all racing towards bigger and better things while he lingers behind.

He grits his teeth, thinking of earlier that afternoon.

Higgins all but told him that he doesn’t have a chance in hell at graduating in the spring.

Leaning his head back against the tan brick wall, he shifts his cigarette up and down between his teeth habitually before taking another hit.

Fuck this place.

Fuck them.

It’s then that something white catches his eye, blowing across the parking lot, hovering in the air in a mesmerizing, ghostly way before landing gracefully just a few feet in front of him along the snow smattered pavement.

It’s a scarf.

Scowling in confusion, he pushes himself up off the wall and bends down to pick it up. It’s soft and delicate in his hands, it looks like it’s homemade. He rubs his thumb along the stitches thoughtfully, hearing the light, hurried pattering of someone sprinting toward him. He glances up to see Chrissy Cunningham coming to a stop beside him, flushed and panting, wearing a jean jacket and a pair of fluffy earmuffs, the same color as the scarf.

Looks like she’s had quite the chase.

The tiny sophomore stares up at him with her large blue eyes, lips parting silently as she takes an instinctive step back.

He’s clearly startled her.

Dark and looming with his leather and chains, smoke filling the space between them from his cigarette.

The elation in his chest at her sudden proximity slowly collapses as he realizes their jarring contrast.

“Think you dropped this.” he mutters around the roll in his mouth, stretching out her scarf to her, trying desperately to maintain indifference.

But then she smiles, just a little one, a faint, shy curl of the lips. “Thank you.” she chimes as she takes it from him. The sweetest, quietest little sound.

He feels his cold, rough exterior beginning to melt, unable to stop the corner of his mouth quirking upward at her.

She lingers with him for a moment, watching him watch her.

“Chrissy!” Jason Carver calls sharply from where he’s standing by his brand new jeep, arms raised in confusion. “Let’s go, babe!”

She glances over her shoulder as if snapped out of a trance.

“Bye!” she whispers, giving him one final glance as she wraps her scarf back around her neck before bounding away.

He watches her go with a slight tilt of a head, smile growing.

Maybe another year here won’t be so bad after all.

Day 20: Gift Wrapping

Hawkins, Indiana 1985

The bell rings loudly and Eddie Munson slings his backpack over his shoulder, happy to get the fuck out of here, thanks.

“Hey, man,” Jeff says, coming up behind him from the entrance of the gymnasium. “Still on for tomorrow?”

“Yeah, and you better not be late this time,” he snaps as he turns toward him, doing a double take, brows furrowing in confusion at the sight of a neatly wrapped present tucked in his elbow. It looks professionally done. The ribbon on top is immaculate.

“Damn, that’s a fancy.” he nods down at it. “Who gave you that?”

“Oh,” Jeff follows his gaze. “Nobody, it’s for my mom, I can’t wrap for shit and there’s a gift wrapping fundraiser in the gym today.”

“Ah ha,” Eddie keens uncaringly as they continue down the hall.

“Yeah, the cheerleaders are putting it on.”

Eddie goes rigid mid step as if struck by lightning, spinning right round on his heels.

“You don’t say?”

“Yep, only five bucks too.” Jeff keeps walking only to pause in confusion, turning over his shoulder to see Eddie meandering back to the gym entrance. “Eddie?”

He peers in and wow, there they all are, the whole squad in their short little skirts and green Santa hats running a work station of three tables, wrapping gifts in an assembly line fashion.

Is she…?

Yep, there she is, at the end of the first table, she’s so short it’s hard to see her all the way back there.

He quickly pats around his coat and jeans, pretty sure he left all his cash in the van. “Jeff, spot me five bucks.”

“What!? No way.” His face twists up as he quickly makes to leave. “I don’t even have another five bucks.”

“Bullshit!” Eddie snatches him by the collar before he can get away, jumping on his back as he starts looting his pockets.

“Woaw! Woaw! Hey! Dude! What are you…?” Jeff chirps in surprise, trying to twist him off, but Eddie is too quick with the dexterity of a level 20 rogue. “Why are you like this, man?” he sighs.

“Ah ha!” Eddie grins chaotically when he finds and excavates a crisp rolled up fiver from his front pants pocket. “Lying to me.” he leers close, waving the green paper in Jeff’s face. “For shame, Jeffery!”

Jeff growls in annoyance as his oldest friend hops off him. “You don’t even have anything to wrap!”

Eddie gawks audibly at his honor being questioned. “Of course I do,” he checks around his own pockets, keeping eye contact, before finding the fresh pack of Marlboro Reds he bought at the gas station that morning. “See!”

“…Cigarettes?” Jeff monotones.

“Yeah, sure, they're for Wayne.” he tells him as if he’s an idiot. “Picked em out special.”

“You’re going to have the cheerleaders gift wrap a pack of cigarettes on school property?”

“What? It’s not like I’m smoking, it’s still sealed.” Eddie shrugs, patting his face dismissively. “See you later man, I’ll pay you back.” he promises, sprinting away. “You know I’m good for it.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure you will.” Jeff rolls his eyes as he turns to leave.

Eddie saunters casually into the gym and gets in line, handing his five dollar bill to the cheer coach, who shoots him that default ‘what are you up to, Munson?’ look that all the teachers give him. He just smiles back at her, big and innocent. The first cheerleader is some junior who audibly squeaks in mortification when the pack of smokes is placed in front of her. “Coach!”

“Eddie.” Coach Michaels sighs heavily when she glances over to see the red and white box, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“What? What? It’s a gift, it’s sealed!” He defends himself, placing a hand over his chest dramatically. “Are you trying to raise money here or not, Brenda?”

With a low frown she eventually waves it along, rolling her eyes. “Just wrap it up quickly, Janie.”

“Oh, okay, um, what paper?” she asks him.

He looks over his options briefly.

“You know what, Janie? Let’s go nuts, hit me up with the snowmen.” Eddie replies with a click of his fingers in her direction, his eyes on Chrissy who’s completely focused on her task of tying a ribbon around a medium sized gift box, doing this cool trick with her fingers that gives the bow several layers.

Janie makes quick work of her wrap job, sliding it down the table to the queen herself. He follows, coming to stand across from her. She lifts her eyes up to him and holy shit he did not think this through.

He feels his heart start to hammer in his chest and the back of his throat suddenly dry.

She looks a little surprised to see him, nervous maybe, but still smiles softly.

Her mouth parts slightly. It’s then that he realizes that she said something and he totally missed it.

“Sorry? What?”

Fucking smooth.

“What color ribbon?” she asks, tilting her head toward all the different rolls on a spool beside her. God, her voice is so sweet and dainty.

“Oh, uhm…” he lowers his eyes to the strands, noticing that the top of her fingernails are painted red and white to look like candy canes.

“How about whatever you um… you think is best.” he pockets his hands.

This is going so well.

She nods, glancing down at the small box, then back at the ribbons thoughtfully before going with white. Probably to match the snowmen.

He watches, mesmerized, as she ties up the box, doing the same layering trick for the bow as before, weaving the ribbon in and out between her fingers.

She’d be good at guitar. He thinks vaguely.

“That’s cool.” he mutters, making her glance back up at him.

“What?”

“…the um,” he points to the bow and then wiggles his fingers. “Loopy thing you’re doing.”

God, kill him. Kill him now.

“Oh,” She glances down at her work like she’s just noticed what she’s been doing for the first time. “Thank you.” she murmurs, her cheeks turn a little pink as she tapes the bow on top of the small box, handing it back up to him. He takes it, his mouth opening up to speak again on its own accord.

“Munson, move it!” Coach Michaels calls over in annoyance. “You’re holding up the line!”

He shoots her a bitter death glare, noticing that he has indeed clogged up the que with about five people waiting.

Chrissy ducks her head down, hiding a sheepish smile.

“Thanks.” he jingles the small box in his hand as he reluctantly moves on, letting the freshman behind him take his place. “Looks great.”

“You’re welcome.” she nods again, turning her attention to the next present.

He gives her one final, lingering glance, before he turns, heading back toward the exit, smiling to himself as his fingers trace the curves of her bow.