#queerwrites

You glared at him, although there was no bite behind it. "I can't wear Christmas socks all the time, Eddie!" 

Eddie smirked and slowly reached over to your side of the couch. Your first thought was that he was going for your second-to-last pair of beloved fuzzy socks and you stiffened to prepare for a fight to protect them. Instead, though, Eddie reached around them to tap a finger on your nose. "Not with that attitude, you cant."

You snorted and leaned forward with a snap of your jaw. Eddie yelped in mock fear and yanked his hand away before his finger ended up a chew toy, then tsked at you. Shaking his hand as if he'd been severely burned or otherwise wounded, he murmured, "Oh, feisty this evening."

You both burst into a bout of comfortable giggles before relaxing back into the laundry routine. You huffed again and tossed the folded socks to the side, then waved your hands around at the small trailer that made up your home. "I just don't know where they could've gone. It's not like I have the space to lose them in!"

~~~~~

“Knock knock! Hey, Ed, caught Wayne on his way out. He said I could—“ You broke off in a gasp.

There Eddie was, lounging at the table nearby, freezing mid-roll of a joint. He sat in one of two chairs with his feet kicked up on the other. On his feet, a pair of your missing fuzzy socks. Black with little ghosts dancing all over them. He looked up from his task, eyes practically bugging out of his head, and slowly raised his hands in a symbol of attempted peace. 

“It’s not what it looks like,” he said.

It was too late. Your body was already gearing up like a wind-up toy, getting ready to pounce. “You!”

“Shit, shit—!”

You leaped into action, practically jumping over the table with arms outstretched to wring Eddie’s neck. Somehow, he managed to avoid you by falling backward out of the chairs and your reach, knocking both chairs over in the process while you ended up shoving most of the table’s contents to the ground in your flailing. If the table hadn’t been bolted to the trailer’s wall, you probably would’ve quickly joined Eddie on the floor. You had to clamber down from the table first instead, which gave Eddie time to jump to his feet. He got a head start running down the short hallway to his bedroom, one hand holding the side that had hit the ground particularly hard when he fell. 

As you found yourself chasing him down the hallway, Eddie picked up speed and practically threw himself into the room, managing to shut the door just as you caught up with him. You threw yourself against it, then yelped as pain shot through your shoulder.

“Shit, you okay?” Eddie asked, immediately shifting into serious mode. He slowly, partially opened the door—only to scream and fling himself against it as you started pounding on it from the other side. 

“Charlatan!” you cried.

“Hey, rude!” Eddie yelled back.

“Rogue!”

“Sometimes!”

“Criminal!” 

“Also sometimes.”

“Thief!”

“Okay, well, in this particular case, possibly, maybe—“

Eddie’s spluttering while trying to cover his own ass took mind off guarding the bedroom door enough that you could give it a hard and proper shove. It was Eddie’s turn to yelp as the door knocked into him, sending him flailing away toward his bed as you prowled into the room. There was a moment of tense silence as the two of you stood, staring and panting, across from each other in the small space. 

Then Eddie jolted back to yank a pillow from his bed. Not just one, but two, the other which he threw at you with an “En garde!”

You caught the pillow, only distracted for a moment. Then the two of you were on each other, smacking pillows and yelling like a couple of young children. Luckily for you, Eddie was already starting out from a corner, so it didn’t take long to block him in between his bed and nightstand under a flurry of pillow attacks. He managed to shield himself with his own pillow before you swiped downward with a hand. He flinched in anticipation for a dick-punch and his grip loosened on his pillow enough for you to grab it with your free hand and toss it away, leaving him defenseless. You raised your pillow above your head.

Eddie started, “Jesus fu—“

“I will have retribution!” You yelled, swinging the pillow down on him with full force. 

Eddie received a face full of pillow and toppled over onto his bed, releasing a sound between a gasp, a laugh, and a yell as he did. He had no time to recover, as you immediately jumped on him and continued wailing on him.

Over another series of pillow attacks, Eddie broke down into a laughing, surrendering mess. Throwing his hands up to try to block his face and grab your arms in equal attempts, he hollered, “Okay, I'm sorry! I’m sorry! I concede!”

"You! Stole! My! Socks!" Four more hits to punctuate your words before you threw the pillow aside. Gripping Eddie’s shoulders and shoving him back down onto the mattress as he tried to sit back up, you glared down at him. “Where are they, Sockface?”

Eddie looked up at you, breathless and rumpled. Under other circumstances, you would have found him unbearably attractive to look at. 

“Why…” he huffed out, “and how is that one of the most scathing insults I’ve ever received?”

You started reaching for one of the remaining pillows on Eddie’s bed. “Boy, if you don’t—“

“Okay, okay!” Eddie whined. He threw up his hands to protect his face, then slowly withdrew them again when he realized you paused. Pointing over your shoulder to where his closet was located and putting on an overdramatic voice of defeat, he wailed, “Second drawer, on the right. Please, I’m begging, be gentle.”

You snorted, gave his outstretched arm a flick, then crawled off him. Hopping off the bed and strolling over to his closet, you flicked back the cheap panel that separated the space from the rest of the room. Underneath where most of his clothes hung haphazardly was his cheap three-drawer dresser that had random items of clothing, as well as even more random bits and bobs, poking out of random places. None of this sight was new to you, considering you’d stayed over at Eddie’s more than once while Wayne was away.

You smirked. “Disaster as ever.”

Behind you, Eddie writhed around on the bed, as if in terrible agony. “I said be gentle!” 

You chuckled. To make sure it wasn’t a misdirect, you took your time popping open the other drawers Eddie mentioned. After some poking around the mess with no fuzzy socks to be found—there were, however, shirts, underwear, necklaces, change, baggies of weed, single condoms—you finally opened the second drawer down. More underwear, regular socks, a couple of Eddie’s lesser worn rings that you took and popped onto your own fingers. Then there, where Eddie said they’d be, was a collection of your missing fuzzy socks—in a surprisingly organized and well-folded manner.

“You absolute motherfucker!” You laughed in disbelief and, grabbing a handful of your socks, turned back to Eddie who was now curled up in a protective ball on his bed and peaking at you through his fingers. “Look at this! Look at this, Eddie! This is like 70 percent of my winter socks you’re hoarding in here!”

Eddie whimpered like a dog being scolded for having an accident, but you could see the smile poking out from behind his hands. Your initial surprise and irritation regarding the discovery had worn off at some point during the pillow fight, and now you were just curious about the why of it all.

“I know, I know,” he said, “I’m sorry. They’re just… comfy and they remind me of you, and you accidentally left them with me that last time we did laundry and decided to dry our clothes together, and I don’t have a whole lot of money—“

You rolled your eyes and dug out the rest of your socks from Eddie’s drawer. Kicking your shoes off and walking back over, you plopped back down on the bed next to him, and he immediately unfurled himself to stretch out next to you and toss a lazy arm across your lap. He nuzzled his head into your hip as you laid out the socks on your lap and began picking through them.

“I was going to give them back, you know,” he grumbled. “‘S why I folded them so nicely.”

“If only you could do the same with your own clothes,” you teased.

“Oi!” Eddie went to pinch your thigh but you used a pair of socks, dark purple with random shapes in brightly contrasting colors, to swat him back to pliancy. He went on, “Wrinkles add character.”

“Remember that when we’re both in our forties.” You quipped back with a snicker. You finished sorting out your missing socks of various lengths and patterns, then picked out a pair of particularly thick ones with a chocolate bar pattern—arguably your favorite pair. You briefly leaned over your pile to tug off the regular socks you were wearing to replace them with your fuzzy ones, then sat back up and leaned back on your hands. Gesturing to the rest of the socks on your lap, you said, “Now, pick a pair.”

Eddie looked up at you from under his bangs, narrowed eyes searching for something in your own. When he didn't seem to find what he was looking for, to his relief, he started curiously picking at the socks. “Why?”

“Because I'm giving you a pair, you goof.”

Eddie kicked one of his legs up and wiggled his toes, still encased in the ghost socks. “What about this pair?”

You pouted a bit—you really did like that ghost pair—before letting out a dramatic sigh. “I guess you can have that pair too. If you get me a new pair for Halloween.”

“I don’t even know where you find these things, but deal.” Eddie sat up a bit more, as much as he could without detangling himself from around your waist, and eyed the socks more thoroughly. After a couple of minutes of cozy, warm quiet, he finally picked out a red pair with green and black plaid. Tugging them over to him, he pointed a lazy finger at the blue pair with the same pattern. “We can match.”

“Match we shall.” You grouped the rest of the socks into a pile and shoved them over to the far corner of the bed. Then you flopped back onto the bed next to your partner; he jolted away briefly to avoid getting knocked in the head by an elbow, then sunk down to wrap around you properly. His arm—and one leg—found themselves sprawled across your lap while the other arm slid behind your neck to pillow your head and play with your hair. You curled into his side and nuzzled his shoulder, one of your own arms finding its way around his neck so your fingers could run through his own mane.

Some more time passed as the two of you cuddled in comfortable quiet. When you were finally feeling a little discomfort at the crunched-up position, you let out a sigh and rolled back onto your back to stretch out a bit. Eddie accommodated like liquid, taking his turn to nuzzle your neck.

“You know,” you murmured, “you could have just, like, asked.”

“Mm,” Eddie hummed back, and you could feel his lips break out into one of those cheeky grins of his. “Maybe, but getting to experience your wrath on occasion is… electric.”

Your head dropped back in a cackle at that, and heat that you knew Eddie would see, feel, licked at your neck. So did Eddie’s grin against your flesh, which grew even wider before he decided to chase that heat with a trail of kisses up the side of your neck. He and the heat both reached your ear, and he continued to grin as he nuzzled the soft spot there.

“You’re such a nerd.” You couldn’t let Eddie’s affections fog your brain so much that you lost the thought that had been rolling around in there since you finally found your stolen sock collection, so you gently prodded at him until he pulled away from teasing you to look at you properly.

Then he leaned foreword to place a soft kiss on the tip of your nose. “Yeah, but I’m your nerd.”

“My nerd that likes fuzzy socks apparently.”

You felt him wiggle his toes again where your feet had become tangled together at some point. “What can I say? The trailer gets fuckin’ cold in the fall until Wayne breaks out the space heater. Which doesn’t reach the back of the trailer very much, mind you. These do the job of saving me from cutting my feet off due to hypothermia.”

You hummed thoughtfully, walking your fingers up the length of Eddie’s arm. “Wanna play a game?”

Eddie hummed back again, nuzzled his nose against yours. “Always. What kind of game?”

“A game where I buy you your own pair of comfy, warm fuzzy socks,” you replied. He was looking at you so softly, only for that to fade as he narrowed his eyes back at you when you broke into a smirk. “You just have to pass your science exam coming up.”

There was a moment of silence, not tender this time but tense. Then Eddie shot away from you to collapse on his bed, caterwauling and gripping at his chest as if you’d just shot him. Then the wailing cut off as Eddie threw his arms outward in defeat and put on one of his character voices, this one reminiscent of a medieval knight. “Oh, my darling love, how dare you torture me so! All for my crime of—what—holding onto a couple of items of clothing to keep as loving mementos of you? The cruelty!”

"Hey, kiddo!" you said. You gave him a few moments to get settled in the passenger’s seat before shifting out of neutral and kicking it down the road. "Sorry for the upset. Jon got forced into a few extra hours of tag-along photography for a few last-minute stories, so he tapped me in. Hope ya don't mind."

"No, not at all!" Will paused his fiddling with fitting his backpack between his legs to shoot his smile in your direction. "Good to see you. You look… tired."

Comment aside, your smile grew when Will didn't deflate upon seeing you. Will was a pretty easy kid to read when you got to know him, something that quickly had become a mission of yours when you and Jonathan started dating and you had realized Will was probably in the first slot of Jonathan’s Important People list. He was an easy kid to get along with too; Will loved to be acknowledged and wanted, especially these days with his friends growing up and spreading out a bit more. Your genuine interest in getting to know and spending time with him, and Jonathan’s family as a whole, made you a fast and very welcome edition to the family— although that last part had yet to be said aloud. During your second dinner with Jon, Joyce, and Will, you had even helped Will convince the others to test out a beginner D&D campaign with Will as the very giddy DM.

You shrugged and admitted, "I am tired. Publication’s kicking our ass. Holidays, festivals, sports, elections, blah, blah, blah."

Will's grin cracked a bit wider. He loved when you cursed around him, treated him like a person instead of a fragile, broken little kid. What exactly happened to him, you had no idea, but you noticed not long after meeting him that he took to what little pieces of normalcy he could get these days like a fish to water.

"Sorry," he said with a sympathetic furrow of his brows. "Are you hanging out until Jonathan is off? My mom keeps these little eye ice packs in the freezer for when she gets headaches. You can use them, if you want. They might help… your… eyes."

Will became flustered as he trailed off, realizing what he said could be considered unkind. He let out a little huff of relief when you just laughed at the comment instead.

You’d seen yourself in the mirror these days. Hair always a little unkempt no matter how hard you tried. Bags and deep shadows under your eyes and red tinging the edges of your scleras, evidence of not having a proper rest in weeks. The one thing you had managed to keep track of these days was eating properly—spending most nights, and thus mornings, at the Beyers household where Joyce insisted everyone eat meals together helped considerably with that—and yet you were still starting to look gaunt, like you hadn’t eaten anything other than coffee and plain toast for the last month. 

Will went to apologize for his comment but you waved a dismissive hand at him. "I might take you up on that offer. I dunno, you mind hanging out with an old loser until your family gets off?"

Will snorted. "I mean, I hang out with Jonathan all the time."

You cackled again. 

"You wanna help me with my english homework?" Will asked, as airily as he might have asked his mom or Jonathan himself. "We’re writing a sequel story to a novel we read in class. I got the story-writing down, I just need someone else to proofread. Mike was going to but…"

You tsked, albeit goodnaturedly. "Those Wheelers."

Will chuckled, more on the sad side. Out of the corner of your eye you could see him deflate a bit. "Yeah, yeah… Those Wheelers…"

You pulled up to a spotlight and glanced around at the shops nearby. Spotting a local pizza joint that you knew was good, you clapped your hands on the steering wheel before veering into the nearest turn lane. Will yelped and clung to his seat as the car lunched in response.

"Sounds fun," you told him. "Why not make a deal of it? Pizza sound good? Your ma and Jon are both out late this evening and I know you know your way around the kitchen about as well as I do, meaning not at all."

Will smiled again as you jerkily pulled into a spot in front of the pizza place, accidentally cutting off another driver in the process. While you were busy parking, he threw a half-assed apologetic wave out the window. "Yeah, sounds good."

You pulled the keys out of the ignition and popped your door open. "Hell yeah. Now tell me what happened in science class."

~~~~~

A few hours had passed, long enough that any light outside had finally vanished. A pizza, a proofread, and some chatting later, you were sprawled across one side of the Beyers' couch. Your head was tilted back against one of the couch’s arms and Joyce’s ice packs rested across your eyes. Will was right; they were certainly helping the perpetual burning feeling that you’d been dealing with lately.

Will was sitting in an arm chair nearby, scribbling away at a sketch book. The cheap TV Joyce picked up from work on a holiday sale droned on with some movie from the 50s, but you and Will were busy enthralled in a character creation game.

You heard the clatter of dice as Will rolled it on the coffee table twice. Then he asked you, "Okay, 5 or 13?"

You hummed and danced your fingers across the back of the couch as you thought. Both were solid numbers. "What are we picking for again?"

"Class," Will answered. "You know, like bard, paladin, barbarian."

"Mm. 13."

"Ooh, paladin orc," Will mumbled, more to himself. You heard him push the dice to the side as the sounds of him drawing picked up again.

"Now, did you say you were making this guy for me or—"

A shrill ring from the nearby telephone cut you off, followed by shuffling as Will put his things to the side. "I got it."

You shot him a thumbs up and remained otherwise immobile as he got up and walked over to the phone. It was attached to one of the walls closest to you, so you didn’t have to strain your ears too hard to hear Jon’s frantic voice on the other end.

Will chirped as he picked up, "Hello?" 

"Oh thank god," you heard Jon’s staticky voice breathe, "you did make it home."

Shit, you thought, knew I forgot to do something when we got here.

"Hey, uh, is Maddock the Magnificent there?" Jonathan went on. "They were supposed to pick me up. I stopped by their place and they’re not home either…?"

"Shit!" You sat up fast enough to give yourself a head rush. The eye pads dropped into your lap, and you picked them up with one hand while you used the other to hold your head. You groaned and raised your voice enough for Jonathan to hear. "I’m so sorry, Jon! We got busy with homework, and I bought a pizza, and then we were playing games—!"

Something akin to a sigh came from the phone’s speaker, then Jon was raising his voice as well. Will quickly veered his head to the side to avoid the ear damage and held the receiver out in your direction.

"No, no, it’s fine!" Jonathan said, and you could vaguely hear the shuffling of fabric as he waved his hands despite you not being there to see it. "I just wanted to make sure you and Will were safe. Your bike was still here from when you took it to work the other day, I just grabbed it. I’m ten, maybe fifteen minutes away."

Head rush abated, you stood and took the receiver from Will. He smiled and side-stepped you to go back to his project; you gave him a shoulder squeeze as he went before scooting closer to the phone and putting the receiver to your ear. "You sure you don’t want me to come get you? It’s dark out and my light is shit. Where are you?"

Jonathan chuckled. "Yeah, no, your light is definitely shit. Public pay phone near Melvald‘s, I stopped by to bring Mom dinner. Bought you a new light while I was there.”

“Aw, hon’…”

Jonathan interjected before you could go off rambling again. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it. Just stick with Will, okay? I'll be home in a bit.”

You sighed. 

“Dont pout.” You could hear the teasing lilt in your boyfriend’s voice. 

You pouted harder. “I’m not pouting.”

Jonathan chuckled again, soft and sweet and kinda shy like it always was, even after months of dating. “Yeah, you are. I can hear it.”

You clicked your tongue at him before finally giving in. “Fine, but if you’re not here in twenty Will and I are going Jonathan hunting.”

You and Will grinned at each other as you shot him a conspiratorial wink.

“Deal,” Jonathan said.

“Oh, also we bought a couple pizzas, since we weren’t sure how long we’d have to fend for ourselves. There’s quite a bit left, I can warm up some for you?”

A little bit of a shuffle as Jonathan nodded. Then he realized you still couldn’t see him and vocalized, “Oh, uh, yeah, sure. Sounds good. See you soon.”

~~~~~

Jonathan made good time, biking up the hill to the Beyers house with a couple minutes to spare. Damn, the new light he put on your bike was a nice one.

You were keeping an eye out for him near the living room window, so you walked out to meet him, huffing and puffing, on the porch. You quickly collected him in your arms, and he gave you a gentle lift into the air as he hugged you before setting you back down. Then he pressed a kiss to your forehead and pressed his face into your neck. Even over the fabric of your shirt and sweater, you could feel how cold his hands and face were.

You tsked at him, grabbing his reddened face in your hands and squishing his cheeks in attempt to warm them. “Look at you, you're freezing. You couldn’t have waited with your mom for a few minutes while I came and got you?”

Jonathan just smiled, squishy-faced, at you before leaning in to give you a kiss—which you begrudgingly gave into. Even his lips were frozen. When he pulled away, he asked, “How’s he doin’? Was he mad?”

“Nah, Will likes me,” you answered. You switched from squishing your partner’s face to cupping his hands in yours and blowing warm air across them. “Homework done. Food taken care of. We played a game where he designed a D&D character for me, so Maddock the Magnificent might have a new face soon. Maybe you and he can play and give Philip the… the Ph-Ph-Ph… Damn, what was it?”

“Philanthropic, I think.”

“Mm. Give Philip the Philanthropic a new face too.”

Jonathan just kept on smiling, and rested his forehead against yours. “Sounds fun.”

“It is fun,” you replied, smiling back and gently bumping your nose against his. “Mike called to apologize, he was supposed to proofread a story for him. They’re chatting now.”

“Hm.” Jonathan pecked your lips again before stepping back to pull you back toward the front door. “You're good with him.”

You shrugged. “What can I say? The Beyers are an incredibly easy family to love.”

A quick jolt of satisfaction surged through you when Jon’s smile grew wider, his cheeks blushing red from warmth this time. The satisfaction settled into something softer and fuzzier in your stomach as he pulled your hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to your knuckles. Ever a gentleman, then he pulled the front door open for you and guided you inside with a hand pressed into your lower back.

You could practically see the theoretical ice melt off Jonathan’s form as he stepped into the warm house, shoulders and head immediately sagging as he let out a grateful sigh. In better light, he looked just about as exhausted as you felt these days. You knew Will saw it too, as soon as he looked over from his place hovering by the phone, but that didn't stop Jon from doing his protective older brother shtick that made him puff up to full height again. He let you go and walked over to ruffle his little brother’s hair and ask if they could talk a second.

“Yeah, of course,” Will answered. He quickly turned back to the receiver to let Mike know he’d be right back before setting it aside and giving Jonathan a proper hug. “What’s up?”

Jonathan hugged Will back tight, like he was forever worried the younger boy would slip right through his fingers. You supposed he probably was. 

“So,” Jonathan started as he pulled back from the hug and rested his hands on Will’s shoulders. “Mom’s not coming home tonight. Boss stole her for an overnight for the last weekend before Thanksgiving.”

Will frowned. “What? That’s bullshit!”

“Hey, language,” Jon scolded, but you caught the amused twinkle in his eye. “… Not wrong, though. She’s going to be fine, though. I checked up with her before I headed here, brought her food, and I’ll swing by in the morning and pick her up so she doesn’t have to drive. Anyway. On the bright side, I heard you got all your homework and stuff done?”

Will, still clearly disappointed, nodded. 

“Kid’s a goddamn whiz,” you piped up, “it’s crazy. Science. Math. And and writer and artist? What can't he do?”

You walked over and gave Will’s a ruffle of your own, and he perked up a bit under the attention.

“And you ate?” Jonathan asked.

Will nodded again.

“Meds? Good?”

“Yeah, Jonathan, relax.”

Jon snorted at his brother’s attitude, then smiled. “Alright, then, here’s what I’m thinking. Invite Mike over. Dustin and Lucas too, if you want.”

Will straightened up, eyes sparkling with excitement. From sad to almost vibrating with energy, at a drop of a hat. “Really?”

You could most see Jonathan absorbing some of the energy Will was now giving off, standing straighter and brushing off some of his own tiredness as he went on, “Yeah, really. Play a campaign, hang out, have fun. They can sleep over or something if you want. We—“ Jonathan paused to nod his head in your direction. “—are still going to be around, though, so try not to wreck the place, alright?”

Will nodded his head so fast it made your neck ache sympathetically. “Yeah, yeah, okay! That sounds great! Thanks!”

“Consider it an apology for the messy afternoon.” Jonathan finally released Will, who immediately picked up the phone again and startled babbling again. He took a moment to go drop off his bag and jacket by the front door before moving toward the hall that would lead back to his bedroom. He beckoned you with a tired crook of his finger, and once you trailed after him, nodded at Will to get his attention again. “Hey. Just let me know what you decide on doing. If anyone needs a ride, we can pick ‘em up.”

~~~~~

You were sprawled out across Jonathan’s bed, foot bouncing to the beat of the music playing low on his stereo. You were gnawing on a pizza crust as you waited for him to return. Work clothes long forgotten in a pile near his closet, you were now dressed down in one of Jonathan’s old sweatshirts from high school and a pair of your own pajama pants that now basically lived in one of his drawers.

After a few more minutes, the wait was over. Jon shimmied in and quickly shut the door, turning the ruckus of six children building a couch fort in the living room to a steady buzz of background noise. Yes, six children instead of four, because Will had been convinced to invite Eleven and Max as well, after a Lucas-Max duo of suggesting a superhero-themed D&D campaign instead of the usual medieval setting. Not only was Will appreciative of Max and El finally taking a chance on his favorite game, despite the offer apparently sounding half-assed, but the creative in him couldn’t stop the sudden myriad of campaign ideas from bubbling up. Either way, it sounded like everyone was enjoying themselves for the time being. 

When Jonathan finally turned to you, you flopped back on the bed with a laugh. He was grinning like a thief having gotten away with the perfect crime, his crime of choice being sneaking into the kitchen and stealing a few more slices of pizza before the gremlins outside ate them all. He held a single plate with a leaning tower of pizza, and an additional piece was hanging by the crust from his mouth as he shuffled over to the bedside. When he was close enough, he leaned down so you could rescue the piece dangling from his lips—which you immediately claimed as yours by taking a bite out of it—before setting the plate on the makeshift table of hardcover books near the foot of the bed and crawling into bed next to you. 

“Everyone doing okay?” You asked, then grinned as you watched him flop over in a heap next to you.

Jon’s own work clothes were long gone, replaced by the most basic combo of grey sweatpants and a grey sweatshirt. He just grunted an affirmation and remained in a pile on the bed, looking vaguely like a corpse. Or, perhaps, a somewhat sentient pile of grey fabric.

You snorted and tossed your pizza on the plate with the others. After wiping your hands and mouth clean from grease and crumbs, you half-wobbled, half-crawled across the bed closer to Jonathan. Then you let yourself fall, draping your body awkwardly across your boyfriend's form with a comfortable little oomph. Underneath you, Jonathan was smirking—and let out a groan of fake pain. It earned him a swat to the shoulder, which made him snicker and lightly paw you back. 

What followed was the sleepiest, slowest, least competitive slap fight known to man as the two of you batted each other back and forth. In the process, you found yourselves rolling around amongst the bedding until finding a more comfortable position of Jon lying stretched out on his back with you resting across his chest and lap. The slap fight settled as you and Jonathan cozied down, what little energy either of you had left after the long day—and week, and month—finally drained out of you. One of Jon's arms stretched out above his head while the other found its way around your back, fingers massaging circles into muscles that you hadn't even realized were beginning to ache. You rested one of your arms on his chest to put your chin on and your other hand carded its fingers through his increasingly unruly brown hair. The two of you just rested there in silence for a bit, admiring each other with slow blinks and lazy smiles despite your matching exhausted, unkempt, baggy-eyed appearances.

Finally, Jonathan let out a deep sigh and grumbled, "I think I might be 50 by the time busy season finishes. They'll have sleep-deprived the age outta me."

You chuckled and nodded. "But, hey, a publication almost entirely of your photography? With your name in the credits? That's pretty awesome work, Jon."

Jonathan hummed in agreement. "Front page story, plus a full spread in the paper isn't too bad either."

"Look at us, doing things. Go us." You let out a tired whoop and did a partial fist-pump before collapsing fully against his chest. Jon's arms settled around you in response.

The conversation lulled again for a bit. You closed your eyes and were letting yourself being pulled into a partial doze by the steady beat of Jonathan's heart before he spoke up again.

"Thanks again for picking up Will, by the way," he mumbled. He had his head nuzzled into the top of your head now, his warm breath against your scalp sending a tingle down your spine. 

It took a moment or two for your brain to boot back up enough to respond. Still, your words were a bit slurry. "Yeah, 'f course. Sorry I forgot to pick you up. And that you and yer mom both had to work late. It is total bullshit she got stuck there overnight."

"Yeah, no kidding. But Thanksgiving and all, I guess..." Jonathan trailed off, and you thought for a moment that he dozed off himself. Then one of his hands picked up their gentle massage of your back as he went on, "Speaking of Thanksgiving... You doing anything for it? Traveling home or anything?"

You shook your head slightly, which quickly turned into a nuzzle into the crook of neck. "Nah. Never been a Thanksgiving fan, much more of a Halloween and Christmas person. Hell, even Easter. I love candy eggs."

Jonathan's chuckle was soft. It paired with the dance of fingers along the ridges of your spine sent warmth flurrying throughout your body.

"Well," he said, "maybe it's not your thing but, uh... If you don't have plans and want a place to go, I'm sure Mom and Will would be happy to let you join."

You smirked and finally raised your head to look at him again. You narrowed your tired, burny eyes and ran a single finger down the bridge of his nose before tapping the end of it. "And you?"

Jon spluttered and blushed in the way you've now realized all Beyers did when they got embarrassed about saying something wrong. When you snickered at him, the spluttering turned into a playful scowl. 

"Teaser," Jon grumbled at you. 

You mock-gasped back at him. "Me? No! Just admiring how much you and Will are your mother's kids. Will gave me the exact same look earlier when he thought I was going to get pissed about a comment about my eyes."

Jonathan quirked a curious eyebrow at that. "What'd Will say about your eyes?"

"That I looked tired, and he was right." You chuckled and tapped Jonathan's nose with your finger again. "Now quit avoiding my question. Mr. Jonathan Beyers, are you inviting me to Thanksgiving?"

Your boyfriend released an incredulous huff of a laugh at his brother's shenanigans and rolled his eyes. Then those eyes shifted immediately, turning a much softer gaze back on you. 

"Yeah," he said quietly, arms tightened around you,"I want you at Thanksgiving with me, if you want to be there. Christmas, too. All holidays until further notice."

A ridiculously cheesy grin found its way onto your face before you could do anything to stop it. You feigned considering the offer with a hum before moving in close to press a peck to his lips. "Yeah, okay, I think I'm free all holidays until further notice. I'll make sure to pen you in."

Jonathan, who had melted against you when you kissed him, let his eyes flutter back open. He smiled in that crooked, still somehow shy way of his as he gave you a little kiss of his own. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," you repeated, giving him a firm nod. "I like you guys quite a bit, you know. Certainly like you."

Jon's smile grew bigger and he rested his forehead against yours. "Mm. Like you a lot too."

You leaned in for another smooch and he quickly followed your lead—only for a jarringly loud stomach grumble to interrupt.

Jonathan flopped back against the mattress and flung an arm over his eyes. "It shouldn't be allowed for me to be both tired and hungry. That's illegal."

"The truest of crimes." You chuckled as you sat up. You took a moment to get comfortable on his lap, and smirked when you felt his thighs clenched in response to your new position, before leaning over to drag the pizza pile closer. 

As if Jonathan's hungry stomach had unleashed all hell, there was suddenly a loud pounding on the bedroom door, followed by Dustin's yelling. "Jonathan! Jonathan! Did you take the last of the pepperoni pizza? I know you did! I saw you sneaking out of the kitchen earlier!" 

You gaped at Jonathan as he jolted up into a sitting position. "You stole the last of the pizza?"

Jonathan gripped your shoulders and stared at you in an overly serious manner. "Take what you can. Run. Hide. I'll hold them off for as long as I can. If I don't make it back, just know that I love you."

"I love you too," You said mid-cackle, then slipped off his lap. You grabbed the plateful of pizza and balanced it in your arms as you hopped to your feet. Jonathan jumped to his feet after you and, after tossing him a slice from the top to quell his growling stomach, you went to squeeze into his closet while he headed for the door to fend off the younguns.

~~~~~

You were woken up the next morning by a hand brushing your hair out of your face so Jonathan could press the sweetest of kisses against your forehead. Your body reacted immediately, stretching deep under the warm covers and breaking into a yawn as you squinted up at your boyfriend. He was smiling down at you, already dressed for the day in faded jeans and a plaid flannel. 

As you moved to sit up, he waved a hand at you to pause. While your mind pouted at the action, your body—screaming with the soreness of sitting hunched over a desk for several days—appreciated the care.

Jonathan whispered, "It's really early, go back to sleep. I'm going to pick up Mom and maybe grab some breakfast so no one has to cook. Be back in a bit, okay?"

Your body was already sinking back into the mattress while you half-asked, half-slurred, "S... Y'sure y' don't wan' me... to come with?"

Jonathan shook his head, smiling bigger at the fact he'd won the practically nonexistent battle of you trying to join him. He helped you snuggle back down by re-tucking the blankets around you, then dropped another kiss on the top of your head before making his way out of the bedroom. He left the door cracked when he went, as per Joyce's rule when you were staying over, even despite your and Jonathan's ages. 

You listened, already half-asleep, and Jonathan padded down the hall and to the living room, where it sounded like he also woke Will up briefly. Some mumbling between the siblings occurred before more footsteps, then the sound of the front door opening and closing as quietly as Jonathan could manage. In the quiet of the early morning, you could hear his car start up and start its slow descent down the hill from the Beyers house.

"Are you sure you can’t stay the night?" Steve asked, somehow making his eyes wider and puppier. He tugged your hand to his lips and pressed kisses across your knuckles. "I’m serious, you say you can and I’ll turn this car right back around."

You laughed, letting your thumb brush across his lips as he turned your hand over to kiss the palm as well. "You know I would if I could. I have a job interview tomorrow and I promised to meet Eddie this evening for some school and campaign talk." You paused and glanced over at where your house’s lights were on. "See, looks like he’s already here. I gotta go, you dork."

Steve’s jaw dropped in fake offense at that last comment, before letting out a sigh of defeat. He pressed another kiss to the back of your hand before releasing it, then leaned over to kiss your forehead too. "Fine. Want me to walk you up?" 

You rolled your eyes again, but grinned as you returned the forehead kiss. "The walk up is two steps, Steve. I’ll be okay."

Steve let out another pouty grumble. He moved to put the car in park anyway and got out of the driver’s side, tossing a wink at you over his shoulder as he went. He walked over to your side of the car and popped the door open, holding it as you grabbed your things and stepped out. 

You remembered you were wearing his jacket and moved to take it off. "Oh, here’s this back."

Steve immediately waved his hand at you. "Keep it." He paused as you leaned in to kiss him properly goodnight and met you halfway. When you parted, he murmured sweetly as your noses bumped together, "Have a good night, hm? Promise?"

You snorted and gave him one last peck for the road. "Promise. G’night, handsome."

"Night," he said after you as you made your way to the front door of your place. He stayed where he was, watching, until you unlocked the door, stepped inside with a wave, and shut the door behind you. Peeking through the window, you saw him offer a final wave back before finally strolling back to his side of the car and getting back in to drive into the night.

Inside, you were greeted with low, warm lighting and soft noises coming from the kitchen. You would have maybe been a little concerned, if it weren’t for Eddie’s bag, that he rarely used, and jacket-vest combo tossed on a nearby chair, and his shoes propped sloppily by your door. Thus you took your time putting away your—well, Steve’s—coat and boots, and grabbing your clunky cell phone and a notebook from your own bag. Then you padded to the kitchen, socks muffling the sound of your feet on hard wood and tile flooring.

A familiar mixtape was playing metal at a low volume from the boombox sitting on your dining room table nearby; Eddie must have gone into your bedroom and snagged the electronic from its usual place on your desk. Spread out across the table was a mess of papers a couple of unopened textbooks, what was probably a vague attempt at studying turned into full-on Dungeons & Dragons brainstorming. Across from the island that separated your dining area from the kitchen itself, Eddie was bent over your stove with his back toward you as he messed with something in a pan. Whatever it was, was causing black smoke to plume around him.

"Jesus. Get off the pan then, ya bastard." He coughed a bit a fanned a hand in front of him, seemingly unaware of your presence. 

You grinned and creeped your way over to him. After carefully placing your things on the table, you even added overdramatic creeping T-Rex hands for your own amusement. When you were close enough, Eddie none the wiser, you snuck your arms around his waist and nuzzled your face into his neck.

Well, you thought Eddie had been none the wiser, but he certainly didn’t jump entirely out of his skin like he normally did when he was spooked. Sure, you got a little bit of a bounce, but he quickly adjusted and leaned back into you, keeping busy working at a very burnt grilled cheese with one of your spatulas. 

You pouted a bit at the lack of response before shrugging it off and running a hand through his curly mane. "Hey there, pretty boy. How’s it goin’? Honestly expected more of a reaction."

Eddie finally freed the grilled cheese from its hellish prison and moved it over to the nearby plate where three others were resting, each one a little worse looking than the last. Then he pointed the spatula he holding to the nearby window, where you could see yourselves reflected. Eddie’s eyes caught yours briefly in the reflection before dancing away, his cheeks red. He never quite knew how to handle a compliment, you noticed.

"Damn," you mumbled against his shoulder, "here I was, thinking I was sneaky."

Eddie, moving as little as possible to keep himself in your arms, flicked the stove off and nudged the pan and spatula to a different burner. Then he leaned further back against you, letting his hands tap beats in tune with the music playing against your exposed arms. "Hope you didn't eat yet because I have the world’s shittiest grilled cheeses waiting for you."

You snickered and gave his waist a squeeze before releasing him, much to his visible disappointment. You reached around him to snag the plate of grilled cheeses before pulling away completely and walking toward the dining table. Picking up the second most burned sandwich and tearing a bite off one corner with your teeth, you mumbled, "You know I’m a burnt food lover. This is perfectly made cuisine to me."

You pulled out the nearest chair with a foot and plopped down into it. Eddie followed shortly after with a couple of steaming, chocolate-scented mugs. 

"Ooh, hot chocolate," you purred, pulling out Eddie’s seat next you for him. "How sweet."

Eddie set the mugs down before sitting and throwing out his arms in a flourish. "Dinner of champions. So, how was Stevie-boy?"

"Pouty," you replied, "but he’s alone in that giant house again and getting a little attention-starved, I think. I mean, I get it. Also, no, told Steve I was hanging with you tonight and had to come hungry."

Eddie nodded. He took two of the grilled cheeses, the worst and second-best, for himself before passing the nicest looking one over to you. So attentive. The sweet domesticity of it all was almost enough to make your teeth ache.

Eddie put on a vaguely European accent as he lamented, "Ah, the rich and their gluttony for much land. Other than that?"

You hummed in agreement as you took another bite of your sandwich. "Can't imagine the why of it. Things were good, though. It was nice!" 

"What’d ya do?"

"Well, I helped him format a better resume. He asked if he could let Robin use it, too, and of course, I said sure. Neither of them are really into the movie store scene. Anyway, we also ended up going to a movie. Shit, what was the name…? It had Meryl Streep and Jack Nicholson…"

Eddie was as good a listener as he was a talker when he really wanted to be, nodding along while commenting and questioning about your day. He didn’t have too many opportunities for it, being the talky leader of a pack of not super talky younger folks and the only other people involved with him being his quiet uncle, teachers who were none too fond of him, and, well, you. You, talker supreme. You, who matched his energy to a T most of the time and were happy to pick up the reigns whenever he decided to let them loose. He let the reigns go to you quite a lot, especially these days.

You didn’t mind. 

"So," you said when you were done rambling, and gave Eddie’s foot a tap with your own, "what about you? This… does not look like studying to me, Mr. Munson."

Those couple of sentences, and maybe the casual footsie, sent an array of emotions flickering across his face. First, his cheeks turned pink and both his gaze and foot darted away from your attention, quickly followed by a scowl at himself as he tried to play it off cool with a rebuttal nudge to your shin. Then he blushed for a different reason—you had set up study hangouts for the purpose of helping him finish school, which he was continuously neglecting in favor of the hanging out part—before his face finally twisted up into a look of clear and visible disgust at being called "Mr. Munson." That last one made you laugh.

"This whole thing is unfair, and also a cruel and unusual punishment," he said, pointing an accusatory finger at you. "How come you're never doing homework?"

You smirked at him. "Because I graduated when we were supposed to."

Eddie’s outstretched hand clapped back to lay over his heart as he gasped at you. Then, in another accented, incredibly offended tone, he said, "Cruel. Very cruel."

You snorted before, deciding to play along, whipping up a character voice of your own. Putting your sandwich aside and leaning over, you slowly walked your fingers up Eddie’s arm nearest to you. "And, now, see, since you’ve defied me and the rules of the game… you owe me not only the two assignments from the previous study sessions where studying didn't happen, plus all of your catch-up work. So—" You paused, moving your hand to catch his jaw in your hand. "—what are we going to do about that, hm?"

You had Eddie squirming in his seat with the walking fingers shenanigan, but the grip on his jaw turned him rigid and beet-red. After a moment of silence and big, pretty awestruck doe eyes staring back at you, he tried to play off his flustered state again, give some kind of quip back. He practically choked on his tongue instead. 

You took a moment of your own to admire your handiwork. Then you gave his jaw a tender squeeze and he released him to turn back to your food. As you tore a piece off your sandwich and dipped it into your hot cocoa, you heard Eddie wheeze next to you, "Fucking Christ… You're going to kill me."

"Well, if I do, I’d prefer you to be out of high school when I do it." You tossed a cheeky grin over your shoulder at him before popping the chocolatey piece of sandwich in your mouth. You waved your hand over to your notebook and continued once your mouth was free to talk again. "So, here’s what I’m thinkin’. Those two assignments and a chip into the makeup work. That’s it. Tonight, or you don’t get to see my new D&D sketches."

Eddie scoffed and slumped over onto the table with a clattering thud. Initial embarrassment faded, he wailed, "But that’s so much work!"

You gave him a sympathetic pat on the back but continued on anyway. "Ed, it’s honestly a miracle they keep letting you back in the first place, let alone even giving you makeup work. Makeup work is a big win! And you don’t even have to do it well, you just have to do it. You got this."

Eddie huffed and turned his face toward you. It took some fighting with his hair to get it out of his face, but then he turned to you with a defeated pout. You rolled your eyes. Apparently Hawkins was home ground for pouty boys.

Then the pout turned into something more sincere, visible insecurity, and you found your edges softening. "You really think I got it?"

You reached over to brush his hair back with a hand, a touch that made his eyes flutter as he gratefully leaned into it. "Absolutely you got it."

Eddie sighed, but at least the sound didn't come off defeated this time. Maybe a bit harrowed. Brooding worked for Eddie, though, as little as you saw him act that way. He let the mood sit and settle before sitting back up and pushing his hair back, once again in a dramatic nature. Dropping his head to the side and looking at you, a bit more determined this time, he said, "Fine. Let’s do it, baby."

You threw up a devil horns symbol in celebration as you grinned at him; a smile of his own slowly formed in response. "Woop! Let’s do it, baby!"

~~~~~

After dinner and cleanup, the two of you moved to your living room to properly spread out and work, the kitchen left designated for D&D talk later. A few different textbooks were cracked open and set up in a haphazard semicircle on your living room floor, Eddie stretched out on the carpet in front of them. Also surrounding him were an array of barely used notebooks, uncrumpled pieces of loose paper—both notes and homework printouts—some much more well-kept folders and notecards courtesy of you, and various writing utensils. Currently, Eddie was lying on his back, one foot using his history textbook as a footrest, and tossing your empty notecard holder into the air with one hand to catch it with the other. He was waiting for you while you sat on the couch chewing on the end of a red pen as you graded his work. 

"Shit, Eddie," you mumbled with a growing smile as you nudged the paper to the side, "I knew you could do this shit." 

Eddie, mid-toss, shot up into a sitting position. The little holder he was throwing came down at the same time, colliding with his forehead and getting flung across the room. You both stared after it, dumbfounded, before Eddie turned to you with eyebrows raised up into his forehead. The movement made him wince and reach up to poke at the reddening spot on his skin. "Seriously?"

You grinned and handed the paper over to him, which he looked over with increasing curiosity. "Seriously! It’s not perfect, obviously, but definitely not an F! Not even a D! I mean, one of your biggest hobbies includes insane amounts of math and writing, it’s really not a surprise. You just needed to find a way to make it stick. And… probably not be in a classroom where people are assholes all the time."

"Well," Eddie murmured, running a hand through his rumpled hair, "it, uh, helps having a good-looking teacher that does their job, too."

You chuckled, watching the way his gaze danced away from yours as you tried to meet his eyes. You would never get tired of flustered Eddie. 

"Maybe so," you agreed. You capped your pen and slipped to the floor, picking up another of Eddie’s assignments and a notecard with a fantastical map sketched out on it. Looking over both, you hummed in approval and slid the card over to Eddie. "It helps having the time and space to do things your way, too."

Eddie ran his fingers across the card, over the detailed sketch you did in just a few minutes with red and black pen. You had basically built a campaign around his schoolwork. It actually seemed to be working. 

"I don’t know, sometimes I just think it’s you."

It was your turn to blush this evening, but you waved the compliment aside. You weren’t going to let Eddie take his work for granted. "Sweet. Very, very sweet. But everything on these pages is that big, beautiful brain of yours at work, Ed. It just needed a little extra time and a push."

A sound rumbled in Eddie’s chest, a strange mix between a sigh and a groan. He still wasn’t sure about that fact, and you knew it, but he had no chance winning such an argument with you. So he flicked the notecard with a little smile and leaned back on his hands. "Well, how far did we make it? Make up for my indiscretions yet?"

You hummed again, this time thoughtfully and to the tune of the boombox now sitting on the coffee table nearby. You gathered up the assignments scattered around the floor and flicked through them, going through your mental checklist. "It looks like… two assignments that are currently due—check, and O’Donnell can suck it both times—and, damn, at least one makeup assignment for each class. Not bad! If we can knock out some those heavier extra credit ones over the weekend, you might be sitting pretty by Monday, Eds."

Eddie groaned and flopped over. You went to correct yourself, thinking he misunderstood, but stopped when he then threw two fists into the air. A few triumphant air punches followed, then a full-body shake as he half-whooped, half-yelled in celebration, before collapsing completely onto the floor once more. 

You watched him and laughed. When he was done with his fit of excitement, you leaned over and clapped a congratulatory hand on his shin. "Nice job, m’love. Told you that you could do it."

Eddie released another grumbly sound. "We did it."

You rolled your eyes and but smiled at the sentiment regardless. Sitting back up proper and starting organize the mess around you, you said, "Yeah, we did it."

There was a comfortable lull in the conversation, the only sounds being the rustling of the papers and the boombox switching over to the next song. Eddie, tapping a toe to the beat of the music, basked in the afterglow of finally doing something academically right while you chipped away at cleaning up. His finished assignments that needed to be turned in went into a highlighter yellow folder that the two of you had agreed upon as something that would be hard to lose and too ugly to forget about. The rest of the notes and chaos got a little less care, being organized into general piles by subject and moved over to their respective textbooks for later use or better pickup in the future, depending on what Eddie decided to do. You had a feeling he would pick the latter, having done his fair share of work for the day.

After a while, Eddie’s voice sounded, loud in the otherwise quiet of your home. "I like we."

You snickered and leaned back against the couch, happy with your cleanup for the time being. "I like we too."

Eddie didn't respond right away but you could see his restlessness kick up in the quicker bouncing of his leg and the way he started fiddling with his rings. You watched him with a quirked brow, curious but wanting to give him his moment. 

He piped up again after a bit. "Can I ask you kind of a weird question?"

You nodded even though the way he was laying wouldn’t allow him to see it; it obstructed you from seeing his face as well. "Of course. You can ask me anything, Eddie."

"Why…?" Eddie started, then faltered with a thoughtful hm. He swapped his rings to different fingers before trying again. "So, you don’t owe me anything. Obviously. Just putting it out there. That’s not what this is about. I don’t feel, like, entitled to you or anything like that. I’m just… confused, I guess? Wondering. Seriously. It’s just pure interest. Anyway. You date Steve, and that’s cool. And then you’ve got that girl in… New… York? Jersey? Right?"

You answered slowly. "Yeah. Sure. Why?"

"So—" Eddie cut himself off again, this time to clear his throat. Both legs were jiggling anxiously now, and he had played musical chairs with his rings enough times to make you forget which one was originally on which finger. He apparently got bored of that finally, too, because he switched to tugging on the fraying hem of his long-sleeved band tee. Then he moved to pushing up his sleeves.

Finally, he took a quick, deep breath, and on the exhale, blurted out, "So why not me?"

You blinked at him. "Why not you? Why not you what?"

You watched Eddie raise his arms from his position lying on the floor and wave them around as if it would help conduct the flow of his words. "Like, what’s so different between me and, say, Steve? Or anyone you date? I mean, besides the obvious. Now, again, it’s fine that you don’t pick me. I get it. We’re best friends, that’s weird, whatever, it’s cool. I’m just wondering what… flicks that switch, I guess. Why not me, y’know?"

Eddie sat up suddenly and got to witness the incredulousness blooming across your face, brows furrowed in confused fascination and a little smile playing on your lips. Aside from a slight raise of his own eyebrow, he didn’t comment on it, and instead waved an anxious hand you. "You get what I mean, right?"

"No, Eddie," you said, your smile still slowly growing, "I actually, really, don’t think I do."

Eddie huffed out a breath, getting more flustered the more he rambled on. "Why don’t you pick me?"

"Eddie, I did pick you."

Eddie’s hair fluffed out around him as he shook his head and waved his hands in a you're not getting it manner. "No, no, I don’t mean like— I mean—"

You were fully grinning now. "Eddie, we’ve been on like three dates now."

That statement stopped Eddie in his tracks, quite literally freezing him in place with his hands still mid-wave; it was a full freeze frame in real life. He blinked, bug-eyed, as he looked at you, and it took several tries of opening and closing his mouth before words came out again. "What’s that now?"

You threw your head back in a laugh, the action so fast it caused your head to smack against the couch with a sharp thud. You choked out a gasp and grabbed at your head, but the giggles continued as you then crumpled to the floor. It was a long, loud, deep laughing fit that left you curled up on the carpet, your lungs begging for breath and your stomach muscles burning by the end of it. As the snickers eventually died down, you rolled over onto your back, breathless and wiping tears from your eyes, to see that Eddie had crawled over and was now looking down at you. His eyes were still wide and doe-like, and he was pink from neck to ear tips.

One last giggle escaped you as you reached up to brush his curtain of hair back. You slowly made your way back into a sitting position and Eddie followed your lead, moving back from leaning over you to sit back on his heels. His hands rested awkwardly, restlessly in his lap, back to fiddling with his rings.

"Eddie," you finally breathed, "I asked you out on a date."

Eddie just blinked at you and said in an embarrassingly strained voice, "When?"

Your grin was killing your jaw. Even if you wanted it to, it wasn’t disappearing any time soon. "Last month? I asked you out to dinner at that cute new diner."

Eddie blinked again. His brain was short circuiting. 

You went on, equally disbelieving of the situation, "I picked you up? Paid for everything? I told you to dress up nice. Eddie goddamned Munson, I know you knew that I was stressed out the entire time. I bought flowers for the table. There was a candle."

"Wh… when was the second one?" Eddie wheezed out. He had fallen almost entirely still. 

"Well, I thought it was when you returned the favor when you took me to the arcade," you admitted. You scratched your cheek as Eddie’s blush became contagious. "You picked me up—"

"I always do that."

"You paid for everything—"

"I was returning the favor!"

You barked another laugh. "You kept trying to win my favorite prize for me! You called it a date! Like twice!"

The blinks of pure shock kept coming. At least you could finally see the gears behind his eyes start turning again as he raised a hand and dragged it through his mane. 

Mostly under his breath, he muttered, "Oh my god…"

"And— And then I took you to the record store— Your birthday— I bought you— Eddie. Eddie, I made you a mixtape."

He waved a hand weakly at you. "I’ve… done that for you?"

"It consisted of love songs of the rock variety." Your entire being was a mix of embarrassment-induced pain and general elation from being able to witness Eddie’s realization firsthand. You leaned forward and grabbed Eddie’s face in your hands, forcing his dancy-glance to look at you. "Eddie. I call you my love and tell you I love you all the time. You get baby and pretty eyes and pretty boy and puppyface— Do you think I’m going around calling everybody that? Steve could tell you we’re dating. We’ve cuddled damn near naked more than a couple times, and have definitely showered together at least once. Quick question, Ed, are those things you're doing with just your friends? Does Gareth come around hugging you from behind and digging their hands under your shirt to play with the happy trail you got hidden down there? Just curious."

"Oh my god," Eddie repeated, the puzzle pieces finished clicking into place. You watched, between too much blinking, as the realization—quickly followed by excitement—caused his eyes to light up. He was still blushing and his chest rose and fell like he was out of breath, but a borderline childish grin was crawling its way onto his face. There was suddenly far too much energy wound up in his body again, causing him to shift restlessly in his seated position as he finally reached out to touch you. It was to grasp at your arms, gentle despite everything, as he leaned his face into your cheek and laughed out, "Holy shit, I am… so fuckin’ stupid."

You laughed with him as you relaxed into him, letting your face nuzzle against his. Your hands dropped from his face to drape around his shoulders. As much as you could with Eddie still clinging to them anyway. "Not sure about that but apparently I haven’t been very good with my communication skills. Although… not sure what else I can do outside of asking you to go on a date with me… which I did in fact already do."

Eddie nodded against your face, his flushed skin warm against yours. He used one hand to poke a finger against the side of his head. "No, I am actually a dumbass. Seriously, there might be something wrong with my brain."

You shushed him, Eddie gulping so big you actually heard it, with a light smooch to his temple. "Quiet. I like your brain."

Eddie did quiet, opting to just sit and absorb your attention instead. Eddie had never necessarily shied away from you—he would lean into most of your affections, and even if your handsiness made him flustered, he would play into it; he would even try to fluster you back sometimes, if he was feeling bold—but you noticed the shift in this moment immediately. It was like a total and complete surrender, his lean body curling into and around yours, without a lick of tension, as your fingers dragged through his hair. Keeping your lips pressed into his skin, you suddenly realized you had been silly before. This, this is what it was supposed to feel like.

"So…" Eddie’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts, and he slowly pulled himself back from you. His trailed down your arms to catch your hands in a much shyer action than you were used to when it came to holding hands with him. It was a very strange conflict between that and the half-lidded, mischievous look in his eye as he unabashedly eyed your lips.

You felt your cheeks burn and you looked away. "Here we go again…"

Eddie’s dimpled grin reappeared. You could hear it in his voice, see it shining in your peripherals. "So. We hold hands and cuddle, stuff like that. I guess we’ve been out on a few dates. We really are kinda couple-y, huh?"

"Mhm," you hummed. "So?"

"So—" Eddie suddenly leaned in close enough to let his nose bump against your cheek. "—why haven’t ya kissed me?"

You scoffed. The flush pulled its way up to your ears. "Did I not just kiss you?"

"You know what I mean," Eddie lilted.

Still not looking at him, you quipped back, "Well, why haven’t you kissed me?"

Eddie’s lips moved against your jaw as he grumbled in playful frustration, "Because I just found out we’re dating."

You snorted and pulled farther back from him. Chancing a look his way, it must’ve been your turn to look all soft and flustered, because you watched in real time as Eddie’s brain fogged over momentarily. Pupils blown wide and exhaling all the air in his lungs, Eddie’s lips parted in a silent, wordless Whoa as he stared back. All there was to him, in that moment, was you.

The initial blushing was now gone, replaced by a full-body tingling heat of… embarrassment? Shyness? You weren’t sure. Eddie shooting longing glances or looking at you in a way that you thought was lovingly—perhaps a misunderstanding on your end, at least at the time—was nothing new. The pure, unfaltering look of adoration and infatuation that he gave you now, however, blew any other previous look out of the water. It was like basking in the heat of the sun. Staring directly into it. You had to look away, chewing on your lip.

"Dunno," you said after a bit. You shrugged and slipped one of your hands from his to pull at the suddenly too-tight collar of your shirt. "Thought of kissing you… Kind of intimidating, I guess."

"Me? Me. I’m intimidating." Eddie’s voice was dumbfounded.

You looked at him again from under your lashes as he slumped against the nearby couch, his expression matching his voice as he continued staring back. You smiled a bit and nodded, and his eyes nearly popped out of his head in reaction.

"Not every day you realize you’ve fallen in love with your best friend and kinda wanna kiss ‘em on the mouth. Dunno, it’s just…" You trailed off, waving a hand at his general presence. "I mean, it’s you. It’s… different."

Eddie didn't seem to be taking in any air at this point. Just wheezing out breathless huffs. 

Being polyamorous was an interesting thing. Every crush and relationship was a little bit different. With Steve, it was easy. The most natural thing in the world. You had pined after him in high school—because who didn't at one point or another—but only ever really met and became friends after the summer of bouncing around part-time jobs in the mall. He, surprisingly, remembered you from school, and the two of you lamented over having a poor time keeping a job and not being able to get deal with college. Your crush rekindled, he apparently picked one up. He asked you out on single date and was wildly surprised when you asked him out for a second, and a third, and a fourth. It was about a month in when he realized you were serious about him and, more importantly, realized that he was just as serious about you. The rest was history.

Your girlfriend, Jackie, was a little bit trickier. Directly out of high school, you had tried the college route and ended up in Iowa—not New York or New Jersey, but you weren’t going to give Eddie flack for that. You went for half of a semester, had a breakdown, dropped out, and moved back to Hawkins. During this time, though, you met a girl named Jackie, who, despite all this, thought you were cute and wanted to keep in touch. She asked you out mid-panic attack one day, which was so surprising that it actually snapped you out of said attack. A couple weeks and two dates later, you told her that you were moving back home, and the two of you agreed to try out a long-distance thing. Your relationship with Jackie was considerably more low-key and casual, but it was filled with love letters and postcards and gifts and holiday visits. Perfect in its own way.

Eddie was your friend from childhood turned best friend during high school. You had stuck it out and helped him through scraped knees and black eyes and bad parenting until he was eventually turned over to his uncle Wayne’s care in eighth grade. Eddie supported and encouraged you through all your self-exploration, bad ideas, and advancing your art skills when you were at the point of believing they weren’t worth anything. You defended Eddie’s love for Dungeons & Dragons and blossoming metalhead nature with tooth and nail, and Eddie—darling Eddie, "would never hurt a fly" Eddie—went to war with the entire Hawkins sports culture when rumors of slut and whore and fag started spreading around about you in high school, headed by cheer and wrestling captains alike. 

There had never been a time where you didn’t love Eddie Munson, and you would continue to love him regardless of whether it was in a platonic or romantic fashion. You were simply each other’s forever and always. It just had happened as a slow shift over the past year or so that your feelings shifted to be more romantically-inclined, and you got lucky that Eddie was feeling the same way these days. Even if the two of you had been a bit clueless about it thus far.

So there you were, a couple of awkward, blushing kids in your early twenties, sitting on your living room floor. 

"You do wanna kiss me, though?" The question came out in another exhale. He must be breathing.

"I mean… yeah," you mumbled back. It was the first time you were admitting it aloud, you realized. "I’ve think I’ve kinda always wanted to kiss you. To be fair, though, I think everyone who has ever lived wants to kiss you. Don't see how anyone couldn’t."

Eddie snorted a laugh and rolled his eyes, but you could tell he appreciated the compliment. At this point he was playing with a strand of his hair and eyeing you under his own long, pretty lashes. He was looking bashful in a way that new to you and you were honestly surprised that you hadn’t already completely melted under his gaze.

"I think there’s plenty of people would disagree with you there. Don't really care about them anyway, so…" He continued to eye you, then gave you a little nod as the  small smile tugging at his lips pulled a little wider. "Why don’t you then? Kiss me?"

You blinked at him. "… Like now?"

"Yeah."

"Well… why don’t you kiss me?" 

Eddie simply shook his head at you. He pushed the hair that he had been playing with back, showing off his full, cheesy grin, as he shuffled closer to you again. Not nearly close enough— He just pushed away from the couch and kneed his way closer until your legs were barely brushing against his own. 

You felt the need to yank him the rest of the way to you but something stopped you. One part curiosity and two parts that trouble-making hint to Eddie’s smile. So you let the electric tension vibrate between your bodies for a bit longer. "Why not?"

"I don’t want to kiss you," Eddie answered simply. "I want you to do it. Missed your first move once. Don't wanna again."

You huffed a flustered breath and turned to look away, feeling prickly under his gaze. Your jaw, however, was caught by a ringed hand and maneuvered back to keep you in place, eyes on him. 

"It belongs to you, you know," Eddie went on. His voice dropped lower, still playful but also incredibly sincere, as his thumb ever so gently traced a line against your cheek. "Has for a long time."

You raised your eyebrows at him, a bit surprised. "How long?"

Eddie’s restlessness got the better of him again finally, and he shimmied forward. His knees and thighs slotted perfectly into place between yours, and he leaned forward. The movement was a little too excited, causing your noses to knock together in a way that shot a dull pang of pain through you, but it barely registered as Eddie’s hot, chocolate-tinted breath landed on your lips. "Forever, I think. So take it from me. Whatever you what. It all belongs to you."

The sound you made was, simply put, inhuman. You pushed the rest of the way forward and captured Eddie’s lips with your own. 

The first touch of contact was an electric pulse. The first chord of a guitar playing into the silence before the rest of song kicks in. It was slow motion, a moment quivering alone in time and space. Then your lips started to move and the dam cracked, shattered, collapsed completely.

Steve’s kisses were usually calm and sweet, sometimes a bit silly and awkward. Jackie's were excited welcome-homes, lipstick marks on postcards, and blowing kisses and you boarded busses and cars. Eddie’s was that of a man starved and waiting for who knows how long.

Not that you were any better. Maybe you should have been a little embarrassed about how hard you threw yourself at him but… oh, well. It was like a shaken champagne bottle finally bursting open, overflowing with light, excited bubbles. Liquid emotions—joy, excitement, want, adoration, love, things you weren’t even sure how to name yet—frothing and mixing together.

If Eddie was bothered by it—hard to believe; you didn’t think there was anything you could do to anger him at this point in your lives—he didn’t show it. Quite the opposite, actually. 

Eddie moved with you like a surfer following a wave, a singer’s riff dancing with the notes of their bandmates. When you gripped at his face, awkwardly and shaky in your excitement, fingers scratching cheeks and tangling in the strands of hair framing his face, he just laughed against your mouth and caught handfuls of your waist with ringed fingers that caught on your shirt. His giggly exhales travelled down your throat like oxygen while you traded him giddy gasps and pants in return. His lips followed yours, slotting perfectly into place when flustered teeth weren’t getting in the way, and his tongue chased after yours whenever it tried to dance away, creating a playful push and pull as they flirted from his mouth to yours. When one of you finally had to pull away for a breath, the other retreated like a tide pulling back—only to crash back over the other as soon as an inhale was taken. 

For the second time that evening, you felt the fleeting feeling of silliness. How have you been going months thinking you and Eddie were already together when this—whatever this was; power? Passion?—had been missing until now. You couldn’t even remember what things had felt like before. Nothing between you two would ever feel that way again. 

Eddie tugged on you. You followed the pull and the two of you tumbled over in a heap on the carpet, entangled in each other. Eventually, the initial exhilaration lessened into something more comfortable and slow as you and Eddie fell into rhythm in movement and kiss. You basked in each other’s touch, Eddie’s fingers leaving tingly trails down your sides and back—and occasionally, almost hesitantly, over the slope of your backside and thighs. When your fingers weren’t playing in his hair, they were taking languid strolls along his jaw, the length of his neck, the exposed parts of his neck and shoulders thanks to the worn out, ill-fitting fabric of his shirt.

The makeout ended with a kiss that was sweet and lingering. Followed by another, quicker smooch. Followed by one more for good measure, edged with a returning giddiness as the moment to speak again was quickly approaching.

When your eyes finally fluttered back open, Eddie was already staring at you with irises of melted copper and pupils twice their natural size. His expression was that of dreamy surprise, a smile of shifting intensities playing on his lips as he tried to figure out whether what had happened was actually real or if he was just in a really fantastic dream. 

You leaned in and pressed another kiss against his smile, hopefully proving reality to him.

One of Eddie’s hands moved up to gently caress your cheek and jaw. You snagged it with a hand of your own and entangled your fingers with his, which he welcomed with a squeeze. He continued watching you, starstruck, as you pushed a smooch against the back of his hand too.

Then he finally inhaled, held it a moment, and breathed out, "Go out with me?"

You laughed softly against the skin of his hand before nodding. "Mhm. Where?"

"Movie or somethin’?" 

"M‘kay. Sounds fun."

The least tangled of Eddie’s fingers reached up to run along your bottom lip. You caught it in your teeth and gave a gentle bite. 

Eddie chuckled, partially to cover the low sound that rumbled in his chest, one that you certainly didn’t miss. "Love you."

You let your combined hands fall to rest on the carpet and you leaned forward to rest your forehead against his. He was pliant underneath you, completely content to simply let his eyes follow you as you did whatever you pleased with him. Right then, all you wanted to do was lay there and watch him back, noses and foreheads nuzzled together.

"Love you too," you softly replied. Eddie’s eyes crinkled at edges, indicating a grin just out of sight. You smiled back. 

"Hey, let’s go!" Eddie shouted with a grin while you let out a whoop before collapsing against the panel you still had to fit back in place. Eddie finished stringing up the last of the lights in the skinnier-than-preferred hallway. When he finished, he started to climb down the ladder again, hollering as he went, "That work for you, Volt? Not sure what else we can do to fix the stage lights if it didn’t."

"Checking the switch now. Standby!" Volt’s voice sounded back from the Breaker Box’s main room, which currently still seemed dark from what little you could see of it at the end of the hallway. 

There was the clicking of Volt’s boots as he walked backstage, followed by a sizzle of electricity and a clang as the stage lights were flipped on. Once again, the lights overhead flickered, but still remained in tact, causing you and Eddie to grin at each other. From the end of the hallway, the Breaker Box finally lit up, its lights flickering in time with the others before settling.

Volt’s voice sounded relieved when he spoke again. "Ah, a few old bulbs, but we have replacements. Other than that, we are a go! Nicely done, you two!" 

"The miracles of replacing a fuse and getting a new extension cord," you said. You pushed yourself up onto your knees with a grunt and carefully replaced the panel you had removed. Then you bumped the cabinet shut with a hip as you gathered up your tools and the old bits you had replaced so they could get properly tossed rather than end up back in the equipment closet. The exact reason this mess has happened in the first place.

"That and the rest of the backed-up electrical work," Eddie grumbled, but his scolding gaze at you was teasing. He walked over and helped you up, then started taking the equipment from you. 

"Hey, we’re getting there," you said. You quickly pressed your lips to his cheek as he leaned in to unwrap the old extension cord from around your shoulders and neck. "One task at a time."

Eddie hummed appreciatively and returned the kiss. "As long as this show goes well and you, me, and Volt spend the rest of the night in peace and in front of Telly, I can’t complain. Go help him out with the bulbs, yeah? I’ll be out in a sec."

"Not before I watch those pieces go into the trash where they belong," you replied. You crossed your arms and leaned against the cabinet, snickering as Eddie made a show of walking to the far end of the hall and tossing the trash into the trash chute there. "Alright, fine, off I go. See you in a minute."

"In a minute," Eddie echoed back. He gave you a little wave before rolling up his sleeves and getting to work cleaning up the aftermath of his and your handiwork.

Meanwhile, you strolled back into the Breaker Box showroom, which was decorated charmingly simple for the holidays. Small yellow-white Christmas lights were hung and twinkling around the perimeter of the room, keeping the bar’s signature low lighting but with a more festive touch. Garlands hung from the bar counter and a charming bowl of complimentary peppermints was put out next to the tip jar. The tables where customers could sit and drink and enjoy the show were provided a little extra lighting via fake candles—which would be to the disgrace of Scandalabra if he decided to show up… not that Eddie, Volt, or you particularly cared—wrapped in simple holly adornments. In a far corner of the room, near the bar’s main entrance, a Christmas tree was done up all pretty and topped with a custom Breaker Box topper as its "star".

Speaking of stars, Volt was strutting around the stage up front, fiddling with the curtains and making sure the onstage sign’s limited-time red-and-green LEDs were behaving properly. Ever the showman, he was dressed in what would be his holiday garb for the next few nights leading up to Christmas, a deep pine green suit with a red tie and red overcoat somehow staying put while hanging draped over his shoulders. After a playful argument between the two of you ending with the threat of you not giving him any kisses for a whole week, you had managed to convince him out of the general winter theme he was originally planning on doing. 

"Ah, there you are, live wire," Volt purred upon catching sight of you. He finished adjusting the sign to make sure it hung just so before spinning on his heel to hop offstage and make his way toward you. "How does it look from over there?"

"Pretty," you replied with a nod as you took in the space. "Christmas-festive but if we pop out the red and green stuff again after Christmas, we could shift into New Year’s-festive pretty easily. I really like the little twinkly lights."

Volt hummed in approval as he met you in the center of the room, although it was hard to tell, with the way his hooded eyes were taking you in, whether that hum was for the room or yourself. He moved closer, slipping behind you and slotting you between his arms. 

"Careful," you warned, arching away from him a bit. "I’m nasty from crawling around on the floor. You’ll get your clothes gross."

Volt reacted with only mild amusement, smirking. He leaned in to press his face so close to your ear that you could feel his lips brush against your skin, hear the faint crackle of electricity in his hair and voice, when he spoke again. "Oh, live wire, I can handle a bit of grease just fine, I assure you."

Not only was there the crackle of electricity, but a humid tension grew around you, like that before a lightning storm in summer. Seemingly sourced from the lips against your ear and the fingertips pressing into your hips, a gentle shockwave wracked your body, causing the hair on your arms to rise and a shiver to pass through you. A swirling spike of heat jumping down your spine to curl in your lower stomach quickly followed.

When the strange—albeit very welcomed, when it came to Volt—series of sensations faded, you let out a shaky breath as you shook your head to clear it. Volt just chuckled against you, the sound vibrating low in his chest. You gave him a light swat on the arm for the teasing before clearing your throat. 

Pointing toward the rounded bulbs bordering the stage, a few of the lights remaining unlit or flickering like they were close to going out altogether, you mumbled, "So. Think that's a bulb issue or something bigger?"

Volt sighed a sing-songy sound against your ear, sending another soft prickle of electricity down your spine. "Luckily, I watched those ones fizzle out a couple nights ago. Fairly certain it’s just the bulbs. Want to hear my idea?"

"Of course." Since Volt seemed so adamant to hold you, griminess be damned, you let yourself relax into his arms. 

He happily pulled you closer, finally flush with his chest against your back, with one arm while the other pointed out a few key bulbs. "I think every third and fourth bulb we replace with red or green. Adding some Christmas flair but much easier to switch back than if we do the entire thing."

"Fun," you chirped back. "Let’s get it done!"

You clapped your hands together and started stepping away from Volt again, who let you go this time in favor of strolling after you as you walked for the stage. Once close enough, he swiftly hopped up onstage before you could to offer his arm, giving you a gentlemanly bow before pulling you up next to him. As you two headed backstage to snag the bulbs for the stage, Eddie’s grumbling sounded from the hallway as he walked in with the ladder.

"Damn hallway," you heard him mutter. "Who makes hallways that small anyway?"

You and Volt shared amused smiles before picking up a box of lights each and walked back out onto stage.

"Need help getting the ladder up?" You set your box carefully down on the stage next to Volt’s and popped the lids off. One of white and one of red and green bulbs. 

"I got it," Eddie grunted as he began the ladder’s ascent onstage. He leaned the ladder up against it before crouching below and lifting it by its bottom half. The ladder wobbled as it tilted forward.

Volt was the one to catch the other end pull it up onto the stage as Eddie pushed. He kindly chided, "You always do. Doesn’t mean you have to dislocate a shoulder in the process, spark plug."

Eddie annoyedly clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes, but you caught the glimpse of a smile before he joined you and Volt onstage. "Let’s get this finished, yeah? Doors open in a hour. Who’s doing what?" 

"Do we wanna do red and green on both top and bottom, or just the top row?" You asked. You stepped to the edge of the stage to look up the bulbs overhead, keeping tabs on which bulbs would need replacements. "Looks like the top row is the one with the burnt out bulb issues."

Volt waved a meek hand upward, feigning weakness. "Just… so far away…"

You snorted and moved to help Eddie get the ladder opened and stood up. "Up I go, I guess. You do the bottom row then."

"I guess that makes me the ladder-watcher and bulb distributor then," Eddie said. He stomped the ladder’s lock in place and planted a sturdy boot on the bottom most step for good measure. He waggled the ladder a bit to confirm its steadiness, then gave you a beckoning hand once he was happy with the result. "Get on up there."

Volt went to turn off the stage lights before jumping back down offstage while you climbed up. With you, Eddie, and Volt divvying out the tasks between you, the flight replacement went smooth and quick, nothing but the occasional chatting and blatant flirting to disturb it. Thanks to your reputation preceding you, Eddie helped guide you safely down the ladder with hands hovering near your lower back in case you slipped. 

All that was left to do was get the mic set up and turning the low pre-show music on. Volt offered to handle those with a shooing wave toward you and you moved to help, instead sending you off with Eddie to grab some celebratory drinks. Then it was Eddie shooing you, with a smooch and a wink, off to the table in the center-front position of the bar— Your designated table, it had quickly become upon meeting your two boys, perfectly placed in front of the stage. As Eddie made drinks for your trio, you begrudgingly went to sit down. Begrudgingly became oh so welcomingly as you sank into your seat with a sigh, the pressure of hours of hard work finally easing off your feet and joints. 

"See, we’re not the only ones who need a break," Eddie’s voice sounded from above. 

Your eyes, which you hadn’t realized even flickered closed, fluttered back open to see him standing above you, drinks and a basket of chips balanced in his hands. He handed the snacks and your drink off to you before getting settled into his own seat next to you. 

"Maybe," you admitted, "but I’m not the one spreading myself thin every single day. Speaking of, Bev has been having a hard time with her bar. Maybe you could get some help from her bartending from time to time?"

Instead of replying, Eddie picked up a chip and shoved it toward your face with a smirk. "Stop think. Eat chip. Enjoy self."

You snickered and caught the chip in your teeth, yanking it from his fingers like a dog with a chew toy. As you popped it the rest of the way into your mouth, jazzy instrumental Christmas music tuned in from the bar’s main speakers. You sunk farther down into your seat and took a sip of your drink, swaying slightly. "Ooh, thats nice."

Eddie took a drink from his own glass before nodding. "Better than some of the stuff Holly likes to play." 

"Oi, be nice."

"Just an observation!" 

"And hello, beautifuls." Volt waltzed over and settled into the seat on your other side, smoothly sliding his drink over to himself to take a sip. Then he reached his drink-chilled hand to run a finger down your cheek as he glanced sweetly between Eddie and you. "My oh so exhausted beauties."

You leaned your head into his hand. One of Eddie’s hands found its way to your shoulder nearest to him and started gently massaging the stiffness there. 

"Honestly, not super tired," you murmured, letting your eyes closed as you soaked up the attention. "Feet hurt, but I think I’m just not super used to crawling around on the floor for large portions of the day. It was fun though!" 

Eddie let out a low hum of agreement. "Better shoes might help."

You shot a playful glare his way before digging into the bar snacks, Volt following your lead. "Well, Christmas isn’t too far away, so there. I do feel a little… sticky… though. Can’t imagine how I look. Do we think I have time to run and catch a shower?"

"If it’s looks you're worried about," Volt crooned, leaning close into your space, "you look as lovely as the day I met you. You’re welcome to use the bathroom here to freshen up a bit if you like, though."

You smiled into the kiss he pressed against your jaw. "Not saying much, considering I stumbled in here in pajamas that day, but I’ll take it."

Eddie, sunk back in his seat and nursing his drink, stretched his legs out with a groan. Then he kicked one up to lay across your lap, effectively trapping you in place between your men. "Shower later. Then we can fall asleep to the oldest, worst holiday movie we can find."

"Ooh," Volt sounded, "that does sound nice. The showering part, especially, if we're all involved."

With comfortable pressure closing in on both sides and the soft Christmas music and lights convincing you further, it wasn’t too hard to sway you. It wasn’t like you would be trying to impress anyone at the Breaker Box anyway. The only men you had in mind at the moment were sitting right next to you and already perfectly pleased with you just by your being around. 

After freeing the tiger of its stuffing innards from the hole that had been worn under its right frontmost leg, you had popped out the tiger’s eyes and given the pieces of fabric a good washing. The fabric’s color had been restored to the best of your ability, and you had to order some custom fabric to patch up said right leg and hole—the fabric there was just too thinned; you guessed that this spot was the most grabbed at and cuddled—but now you were the process of putting it back together. When Steve found you, you were just finishing up putting the stuffingless tiger’s back in place and checking to make sure that they looked right from the outside.

He hovered nearby, watching you work somewhat impatiently and creeped out. When you were finished, you set the tiger carefully aside and pushed your glasses up on your head.

"Need something?" you finally asked, not moving from your position other than turning your head. 

Steve pointed at the radio sitting at the edge of your desk, playing nothing but low-volumed static at this point. "Broadcast finished like fifteen minutes ago. Robin already went home. You staying the night here or what?"

Sometimes, when you were bored and not working, you tagged along to The Squawk tower and chilled the basement while Steve and Robin did their thing. Today was an entire day off for you, so you decided to haul just a portion of your restoration equipment with you—a large duffel bag’s worth—and stowed away in the crawl command room, listening to the radio show as you worked. Apparently you had gotten a little too engrossed in your project.

"Ah, damn. My bad." You moved to stand and groaned as the aching and popping of your joints. You shook out your limbs and gave yourself a long full-body stretch as Steve looked on with mild amusement, then got to work carefully organizing and clearing your makeshift work station. "I, uh, don’t suppose you’d be willing to give me a ride? I tagged along with Robin today. How nice of her to leave me behind."

Steve snorted a soft laugh. He had started out leaning a hip on the desk with arms crossed over his chest, but now moved to help you by holding the duffel bag open as you used both hands to gently place your work inside. When you shot him an appreciative look, he smiled back and said, "She had a date."

"Ah," you vocalized again, "well, my fault anyway. So, ride? Or are you gonna make me haul this thing home with my own two feet?"

Steve stood up straight again as you zipped the bag up and, despite its weight, hauled it over one shoulder with relative ease. He let out a low whistle. "Well, you do look like you could manage it."

"Maybe if I wasn’t suffering from crafter’s knees and gargoyle feet," you replied. You gave one of your poor aching joints a pat before grabbing your jacket from the back of the chair. You tossed it over your arm and headed for the stairs. "You comin’?"

You heard a grumble of "Yeah, yeah" as Steve’s footsteps trailed after you.

At Steve’s car, he snagged your duffel bag from you and tossed it into the passenger’s seat. Because of course he wasn’t going to let you walk home in the late night, especially the hill the radio tower sat on getting more slippery as the seasons changed. Then he popped a backseat door open for you before he moved to the driver’s side, starting the car up as you crawled into the back to fully stretch out on the seat. It was a routine he was comfortably used to at this point.

"Oh, hey, I snagged you a creature," he said, immediately drawing your attention. When he leaned back from grabbing it from his glove box, your head was poked between the front seats, eyes sparkling. Even though he knew it was going to happen, he still jumped and yelped, then glared at you as he pressed a trinket-holding hand over his chest. "Jesus Christ, you really are a gob… gorb… whatever those weird little guys from D&D are. The kids call you one all the time."

"Oh! Goblin," you said with a grin. "Yeah, maybe. That’s fun. Now, what’cha got for me?"

Steve tossed the dirty keychain over his head and into the backseat, smirking as he watched you duck back to chase it. Once you got settled again, he shifted his car out of park and started driving.

You were sprawled out across the entire back row of seats, except for your shoed feet kept on the floor where Steve had demanded they belonged until you’d finally given in and started listening. In your hand was a tiny, ugly, dirty keychain of what looked like a greaser-themed teddy bear standing upright. It looked like a paw was supposed to be running through his pompadour-styled hair, but the lifted paw was mangled and hanging on by the thinnest of wires and his hair was more like that of a badly maintained clown wig.

Your eyes welled up, probably due to both the cuteness of the design and the sadness of seeing an abandoned toy. That was why you did what you did, after all—rehabilitating toys, sometimes or clients but often just to restore and sell or donate—because there was something about seeing a broken toy that just made your heart ache. If he weren’t such a dirty little bugger, you’d probably be giving him a bunch of little teary-eyed kisses on his little messed up head of hair.

"Oh," you breathed, gingerly trying to flatten his rumpled little outfit instead, "he’s perfect. Just a darling. This is awesome, Steve, thank you."

You couldn’t see him from this angle, but you could hear the proud smile in his voice. "Saw him on the street during a wait in the last crawl. Dustin got pissed at me stopping, but…" he trailed off and you heard the slight shift of fabric as he shrugged. "Figured if anyone knew what to do with it, it’d be you. And I knew you’d be pissed if you heard a left him behind." 

"Mm, and you’d be so right." Your brain was already working up with ideas for the little guy. You had to hide him from yourself in the pocket of your jacket, shaking your head, to keep from kicking into high creative gear again. You had to work tomorrow evening and that meant not staying up the rest of the night.

"His fur looked better, by the way," Steve said suddenly, "since the last time I saw him."

After a particularly long all-nighter at the radio tower and knowing you would be burning the midnight oil like you normally were, Robin and Steve had stayed the night at your place a few nights back. Half-asleep and chewing on some leftovers you’d offered them, Steve had dead-eyed watched you work a bit on the at-the-time new tiger restoration while Robin had chewed her food with her eyes entirely closed. This was before they both had almost passed out into their food, you coming to their rescue and shooing them to your couch being what saved them from their fate.

"Thank you," you purred. You relaxed back into the backseat cushions, tucking your arms and your folded jacket under your head. "I do what I do for love."

~~~~~

A few weeks—a few new scars and a few less monsters—later, you, Steve, and the rest of what the youguns dubbed the adventuring party were throwing a Christmas party at the Squawk, matching music playing over its airwaves. Joyce, Hop, and even Murray were hanging out over by the designated drink and snacks table, chattering their older adult chatter. The aforementioned younguns—the usual Will, Mike, Lucas, Dustin, and El, with a newly returned Max in a wheelchair that was manned by the newly inducted Holly—were all piled on or around the couch, arguing about something or other. From what it sounded like, Will—with the completed tiger plushie you'd handed off to him earlier that night stuffed under one arm—was finally giving Mike and Dustin shit for bailing on Lucas’s basketball game while he was away in California, El and Max backing him in full force. Holly was just there for the ride, but seemed to enjoy having a lighthearted reason to snark at her older brother anyway. Eddie, technically one of the young adults but an honorary child, was posted up against a nearby wall, listening to Will’s playful commanding of the situation with an amused grin—and the occasional respectful nod when the kid made a good point. Kali was hovering closely near El, mostly observing. Jonathan and Nancy had disappeared to a different part of the building to do who knows what. 

Finally, you, Steve, and Robin were hanging out in some shitty folding chairs laden with blankets to make them marginally more comfortable, a couple of drinks and some piles of snacks between you. Well, mostly you and Steve now, as Robin was beginning to get antsy.

You playfully huffed before rolling your eyes. Reaching over to nudge her with a toe, you said, "You can go, you know. You don't have to be here."

Robin's head jerked toward you from staring into space, her bouncing leg ceasing briefly. "Are you sure? Wouldn't that be rude?"

"You have free will, friend," you replied before sipping your drink. "Use it."

"Also, nobody cares," Steve chimed in. He was sitting across from you, mighty handsome in a nice button-up shirt and dark jeans. He had abandoned proper fancy attire like suits and such when the chaos in Hawkins had really begun to kick up. "Who's gonna stop you? Me? Them? Certainly no one else is, and we—" He paused, pointed a thumb at himself before swinging it toward you. "—aren't gonna do anything about it." 

You nodded with a hum of agreement.

Robin still looked torn. Steve sat his drink off to the side so he could start manually removing Robin from her chair via pulling at her arms and actually shaking the chair until she smacked him and stood up herself. She took a minute to breathe and gather herself, adjusting her jacket over her outfit which what quite similar to Steve's aside from an added pair of suspenders and a tie.

Finally, she looked back at you, her gaze bouncing between you and Steve. "Do I look okay?"

"Well—" Steve started playfully, earning him a smack from you this time.

"You look perfect," you insisted. You shooed your hands at her until she huffed and finally headed for the stairs. "Go."

"And have fun!" Steve called after her, still rubbing at his shoulder. When she disappeared upstairs to leave, he turned a puppy pout on you. "Look what you did to me. Ouchie."

You rolled your eyes as you emptied your glass of its contents. "Shut up, didn't hit you that hard."

Steve released a huff of annoyance, but the annoyance quickly broke to make way for a smile. He offered a hand to you and, after you passed him your glass, he refilled it with your drink of choice. After handing it back, he lounged back in his chair—too far back, and you saved him from falling backward by locking the chair’s front legs in place with a boot, laughing—and asked, "So, any other plans on this fine Christmas Eve?"

You rolled your head in thought before ultimately shaking it. "Nope. Finished all my end-of-the-year orders and I have off until the 27th. So probably just hanging out. You?"

Steve shook his head as well. "Nah. Parents are out of town until New Year’s. Everyone here’s got family stuff to do. Even Robin’s got her mom, so…" 

He trailed off with a shrug forced nonchalance. You nodded quietly for a moment before shrugging yourself. Fuck it. Why be alone when you had each other?

"Wanna come over?" you offered. "We can have… I dunno, Christmas pancakes or something? Watch Christmas specials and stuff?"

Steve immediately perked up at the offer. You smirked as he gave you one of those fast nods he did when he was trying to be cool but was way too excited about a thing. "Sure! I mean, why not? That sounds fun. Better than sitting alone at home, anyway."

The conversation then shifted to other things. How things have changed over the past few years. What might come of the years to come. Jobs and colleges and life things. 

The energy of the conversation was changing, you could tell, to something sadder. Everything was over now, and yet, Steve was no less closer to knowing what he wanted to do, or what he was good at. Past monster-hunting anyway, and now even that part was over. 

Similar to your heart squeezing over the sight of a dirtied toy laying on the side of the road, you found your heart aching at the sight of Steve deflating the more you discussed life.

You casually thumbed at the small package in your pocket. Well, now was as good a time as any.

"So," you said, cutting Steve off from his current self-deprecating rant, "quick question for you. You're coming over tomorrow. Does that mean you want me to wait to give you your gift until then?"

Steve’s eyebrows raised high on his forehead and his eyes widened with a surprisingly boyish wonder. Then he started peering at you, eyes dancing over your form to figure out where the gift was hidden. 

"What kind of gift?" Steve asked suspiciously. Then something in his brain must have told him that was a bad move because you got to watch him quietly scold himself under his breath before looking at you apologetically. "Sorry. You didn’t have to get me anything."

You shrugged and leaned your cheek against a fist, watching him with mild amusement. "Wanted to. So?"

"Do I… Do I get something else tomorrow if I get it tonight?"

You snickered but thought about it anyway. You did have cards you were going to deliver a little belatedly. "Christmas card and I’ll make tree-shaped pancakes?"

Steve clapped his hands together and shot you a single finger gun. "Deal. Gimme the thing."

“Please?" you lilted, already fishing the package out of your pocket. It was about the size of a container of mints, maybe a bit thicker, and wrapped with shiny green   paper with a red ornament pattern. It was tied with a thin red ribbon that you had curled and tied into a bow yourself.

"Yeah, right, please," Steve stammered. At the sight of his gift, he was scooting to the edge of his seat like a dog that was trying to sneak a treat from its master’s table while still trying to stay in the sitting position it had been told to keep.

You simply watched him wriggle impatiently in his chair for a bit before finally handing over the gift. Steve was quick to snatch it away and start tearing into it before, again, he realized in real time that that might’ve been the wrong move. He looked over at you, embarrassed, for a proper okay; you gave it to him in the form of an excited smile and a nod, and he continued his wrapping paper rampage.

Beneath the paper was a little brown, lidded gift box. Inside the box, a restored teddy bear keychain.

Except the teddy bear was no longer a 50s greaser. You had removed the bear’s patchy flocking fur for a thicker and more vibrant brown, which matched the newly styled coif of hair on his little bear head. Instead of a little leather jacket, he was wearing a yellow long-sleeved shirt with a dark blue tee over top, and the dark wash jeans had been swapped for those of a lighter color, a teeny tiny belt included. Finally, his leather boots had been replaced with a pair of white sneakers.

Steve stared down at the keychain. His expression was unreadable. "Is that… Is that me?"

"Yes!" you replied with a grin and a clap. "Isn’t he cute? I didn’t know where to take him when he was done and I definitely don’t need another thing sitting around, so I figured… little Christmas gift! Steve Bearington, if you will. I think I did a pretty good job, especially with the hair."

Steve didn't say anything else, just kept looking at the thing. Your smile and pun-enthused giggled died down as you squinted at him, trying to discern what he thought of it. You were entirely unsuccessful in doing so, which almost made the moment worse.

The longer the silence drew out, the more awkward you felt. This might’ve been too much. Steve did often give you weird looks when it came to your toy restorations. 

Your cheeks burned as you mumbled, "Is it too much? I can take it ba—"

"No!" Steve yelled, a little too loud. He held the keychain tight to his chest while waving a hand at the other party-goers that were now looking over. When the two of you were back to your own devices, he said at a regular speaking volume, "He’s mine. No take-backs."

You watched him pull his key ring from his pocket and, right then and there, attach the little Steve-bear to it. Now, that surprised you; you didn’t expect him to wear it, just keep it in a dresser drawer as a trinket or something. Instead, though, he jangled his keys in his hand, getting used to the new weight, before holding the set up to his head. Then he finally looked at you with a bigger grin than you’ve seen on his face in a while as he pointed between the bear and his own face. "Cute set of twins, aren’t we?"

You sighed, relieved, before setting your once again empty glass off to the side. You stood up, threw your arms over your head, and stepped up in your tiptoes in a full-body stretch. Then you relaxed again and moved to Steve’s chair as you snagged your jacket from the back of your own and started pulling it on. "Well, if I'm getting up early to deal with you tomorrow, I should probably be heading home. Got my own vehicle tonight, so I’m good on a ride. See you tomorrow, Stevie."

With that, you leaned right down to place a peck on his cheek. When Steve’s head jerked up to look at you with bugged out eyes, you pointed above his head and shot him a wink. "Mistletoe, silly. Robin helped me set it up while you were in the bathroom. Goodnight!"

Knock knock!

It may have been closer. Farther away. You couldn't tell. You didn't want to. You wanted to yell at whoever it was to go away but your mouth was busy being completely clamped shut. Your jaw was definitely going to ache tomorrow.

Breathing exercises didn't work. Neither did that one where you were supposed to count down the senses. You would get hyperfixated on your breath or other senses, which would only serve to make you panic more. Gods, you were a mess.

Crash!

You curled tighter into the fetal position. First, unwelcome guests. Now a break-in? Something falling off a shelf? You were never going to be able to break out of your panic attack like this. Maybe you would die of a heart attack instead?

"[Y/N]?"

Johnny?

"[Y/N], honey, you in here?"

The tiniest of smiles escaped your scrunched-up face. It was Johnny, your partner, having somehow gotten into your little apartment. Gods, you hoped that crash hadn't been him.

Oh, hey, you were able to focus on something else! Maybe it would last.

"[Y/N]?" Johnny called again. You listened intently to the rushed sound of his footsteps and he flitted around your apartment, opening and shutting various doors as he looked for you. Finally the footsteps made their way down the hallway, the bathroom and closet doors that he would reach before your bedroom banging open as well. 

A pang of warmth shot through you, breaking through the panic. Your hero was coming.

The bedroom door swung open so fast that it slammed into the wall. The sound was far too loud for your overstimulation but a welcome jolt to your heart, which jumped out of the erratic rhythm it'd been stuck in and immediately began recalibrating into something more normal. There was Johnny standing in the doorway, clearly in a panic himself, until his frantic eyes landed on your curled up form. A deep sigh of relief left him and he let his body sag against the door of your room—after catching it so the force of him opening it wouldn’t cause it to bounce back and knock him in the side.

"Jesus, [Y/N], you scared me," he said, "Galactus kidnapping members of my family and all that."

The more you were able to focus on Johnny instead of yourself, the shivers began to die down, leaving you with the occasional tremor rather than being a completely shaking mess. As you let your eyes dance across the lines of his form—he was in a simple but handsome outfit of dark belted jeans, boots that could manage the fall weather, and a white tee poking out from the collar of a ruddy brown cable knit sweater that you were actually pretty sure belonged to you—the static began to slowly recede from your brain, from the edges of your sight. You tentatively tested out your jaw, which pulsed with pain as you rolled it, but at least it was no longer locking your mouth shut.

With his own panic quelled, Johnny honed into yours. His whole demeanor softened with a nod and soft click of his tongue. He took a minute to kick off his boots and set them aside in the hall, then made his way over to kneel by your bed. Resting his arms on the bed near your head and laying his head on top so he could meet your eyes where your face was half-smushed into the mattress, he murmured, "Bad day, huh? That why you didn’t pick up your phone?"

You didn’t quite trust your voice yet, so you simply nodded. You stretched your jaw again, this time rolling your tongue and parting your lips a bit to try to get your oral faculties back in order. Johnny watched with a slight smirk dancing across his lips; you paused to glare at him.

He just chuckled in response. Another tremor shook you then, so he reached over and ran a warming hand through your hair. He trailed it down your neck and shoulder blades, across the hunched curvature of your spine, chasing the shivering away and giving you something else to focus on. Then he brought his hand back up to your face, where he cupped the side not pressed into your comforter and began applying gentle pressure to your aching jaw.

Feeling yourself slowly relaxing under the heat and soft touches, you hummed softly. It came out hoarse and only went on for a moment before the sound caught in your throat. You turned your head away to clear it.

"How long has it been since you talked?" He asked as his hand dropped to massage the dip between your shoulder and neck. "Since you got off work probably. A couple hours then, hm?"

Your face turned back to him as you nodded again. At least your mouth was feeling less like it was filled with sand. Now you just had a piece of carpet for a tongue.

He nodded back and took a moment to card his fingers through your hair again before getting back on his feet. "Let me go get you some water, yeah? I’ll be right back."

When you didn’t protest, he headed for the door. He paused to pick up his boots and headed to the kitchen, and you caught him grumbling under his breath, "Also I might need to fix the front door."

Similar to an ice pack on the chest shocking some people out of their panic attacks, that sentence was like a hammer to the glass shell that had been frosting over you. You wheezed out a surprised laugh, which broke into a cough, as you tried to call after him, "Wait, what did you do to my door?"

There was a pause.

You found yourself scrambling up into a sitting position, albeit weakly. You cleared your throat and tried again, your voice coming out clearer this time. "Johnny, what did you d—"

"You weren’t supposed to hear that part!" He hollered back, farther away now. He must be back by the living room or kitchen now. "Hang tight, I’ll be back in a minute!"

You wobbled a bit as you stood up. Now that the various shakes and sweats and breathing issues had died down, you could feel… just how gross you probably looked physically. Your entire body was damp, as were the now-crumpled work clothes that you hadn’t bothered to take off when you had gotten home—honestly, it was a miracle that you had made it home on your own at all—and your hair was plastered to your forehead and neck in stringy pieces. Soon, you knew, aches would set in at your joints and back, and the weakness would shift into a deep fatigue that would knock you out when bedtime rolled around, if not before. 

At least you’d be getting one hell of a night’s sleep for your trouble.

You hobbled your way out of your room and down the hall. You passed your bathroom, its door still hanging open, and briefly debated hopping in the shower and changing clothes before you joined Johnny again. You despised the layer of gross that still clung to you but opted against a shower for now and kept walking. You weren’t sure you would have the strength to manage one anyway. 

You entered the living room and immediately saw what Johnny had been intending to hide. Across from you, your front door hung halfway off its hinges, the deadbolt partially melted. 

"Jesus, Johnny, my door!" You half-spoke, half-laughed. Feeling what little energy you had back quickly fading, you shuffled over to the couch to lean against it as you shook with snickers. "What did you do, kick it in?"

Johnny pointedly stood with his back to you, probably to hide his embarrassment. He held a glass of water in one hand while the other scrambled around in your medicine cabinet, looking for painkillers. He knew you—and your panic attacks—too well.

He said, "Listen, I was worried something happened to you! … Now that I think about it, the lock should’ve been an indicator that you were here but… Whatever! Okay? It’s fine, I’ll fix it after we’ve got you settled. Didn't I tell you to stay in bed?"

You hummed as you watched him turn and make his way over to you, marveling at the pink tint on his cheeks that you knew wouldn’t stay long. When he reached you and passed you the glass and a couple painkillers, you took the pills and downed a couple large gulps of cold water; you could feel the chill travel throughout your body as you swallowed, further helping to regulate things. Then you shook your head at him. 

"Didn't want to," you replied, your mouth significantly less cottony now, "Bad in there. Gross."

Johnny softened again, nodding in understanding. He moved in closer and took you in his arms, letting you sip your water and zone out a bit in peace while he rested his head on top yours. 

Considering how disgusting you felt and definitely looked, you were surprised that he was willing to touch you at all. Then again, if you thought about it for any amount of time longer, you knew Johnny had never shied away from such things. Those negative thoughts were just residual anxiety and overstimulation nipping at your ankles, trying to draw you back.

You squeezed your eyes shut and burrowed further into your partner’s arms, trying to block out the noise. You grumbled against his neck, "Harder."

Johnny reacted immediately, squeezing you tighter against him. You let your fingers dig into the fabric of his shirts, hoping they protected him from the bite of your nails. The pressure was nice. Comforting.

"Warmer?"

Once again, Johnny complied, letting his body temperature rise considerably until you felt like you felt like you were hugging a mini heater, or standing in a slightly too hot shower. Not used to this level of heat, your body reacted with a different kind of shiver and goosebumps rising where the heat touched down strongest. It was almost a type of panic in of itself, your body trying to inform your brain that you shouldn’t be content with these temperatures, but those were worries you were easily able to push back. After all, if you weren’t sure of anything else in the world right now, you knew where the heat was coming from and you knew the man causing it would never hurt you.

The pressure and heat combo was a godsend, like being wrapped in a heated, weighted blanket. The gentle burn pulled most your senses’ attention—making your skin tingle in a comforting manner, the smell of heat mixing with and enhancing Johnny’s cologne, ears honed in on the sound of tiny crackling flames that were undoubtedly dancing along Johnny’s ears and hair—and it was much easier to ignore the bad thoughts when you could focus on the way your favorite person’s body tightened around you instead. Your living, breathing, loving heating pad allied with the painkillers you took earlier as well, combating the aches and fatigue before they could ever properly set in. After a few minutes of hugging in almost complete silence, you were basically a puddle of melted person in Johnny’s arms. 

"You seem to be doing better," Johnny mumbled against your hair after what could have been an hour or a minute. He let his arms loosen around your waist as he began trailing his hands up and down your back and arms, lightly massaging where he felt particularly tight muscles.

You released a pleased grunt in response, which made Johnny chuckle, and snuggled further into his chest to bask in the attention for a few more moments. Then you finally leaned back just enough to look at him properly. You reached a hand up to cup a hand near his ear, far enough away that the embers there couldn’t catch you. 

“Wish I were fireproof,” you said when he gave you a questioning eyebrow quirk. “I kinda wanna touch ‘em. They’re cute.”

Johnny snorted and you felt his body temperature lowering again. Although still keeping plenty toasty for your coziness, the flames licking at his hairline and ears eventually died down altogether. Then he turned his head into your outstretched hand and nuzzled his cheek into it, briefly closing his eyes like a comforted cat receiving cheek scratches. 

You grinned for probably the first time that entire day. Johnny had no business being that cute and handsome at the same time.

“Next best thing, though,” he said, opening his eyes again to look at you from under pretty blond lashes and immediately smiling upon seeing your own. “Boyfriend who can control how hot he gets.”

Johnny gave you a teasing eyebrow wriggle. It wasn’t nearly guffaw-worthy, but coming out of your panic and the protective nature of your partner had you feeling light and floaty. Johnny’s smile widened and he laughed softly with you before you both fell into each other in a flurry of bumping noses and cheesy kisses. 

When you finally pulled away again, you chanced a glance at your front door that was still hanging in an awkward tilt. You laughed again and collapsed against Johnny’s chest, whining, “I can’t believe you destroyed my front door.”

“No! No, no, no,” Johnny protested, waving his hands as much as he could without actually letting you go, “I promise it’s not as bad at it looks. It’ll be a ten-minute fix, tops.”

“One of the hinges is no longer attached to the wall!” You insisted as you waved your own hand at the mess. “You melted the deadbolt.”

Johnny eyed the door and awkwardly scratched at his jaw, something he did when embarrassed but didn’t want to show it. He huffed out a breath and amended, “Okay, twenty minutes. There’s a hardware store on the corner. Can get there and back in ten, probably five if I run it.”

You snickered, which drew Johnny’s attention back to you. He gave you a playful glare and grabbed your jaw in his hand, gently squeezing. “Hey, don’t laugh at me. Thought you got kidnapped by a giant weird spaceman. That somehow came back out of the portal we destroyed. I… am a rational man, I promise.”

“Weird spaceman a horseshoe head,” you replied with a solemn nod, “I remember him well.”

“Kind of, yeah. And who sniffed dirt. He was a very weird dude.” Johnny then tilted your head so he could place a kiss on your temple before dropping his hand to join the other where it was resting on your lower back once again. “You’re looking a lot better. Much more like a person again.”

You inhaled deeply and then released it, hoping to send the rest of the day’s weight off to die in the void with it. You murmured back, “Feeling better. Much more like a person again too. And desperately like I need a shower.”

Johnny hummed and nodded, finally stepping away from you. “Tell you what. You hang out on the couch here, let me put the door back up. I’ll run down to grab a new deadbolt—“

“I think my landlord should be able to replace that?” You thought aloud, although you weren’t entirely sure on the policy when it came to superhuman damages, or if your landlord would even do it.

Johnny pointed at you as he moved away and back toward the kitchen, continuing on, “—and I’ll stop by that little takeout place nearby. You probably need some good food and way more water after all that, anyway. I come back, finish the door, we get you into a hot shower and some comfy clothes, you pick out whatever movie you want, and we make a night of it. Hm? Sounds like a good time to me.”

You chuckled as he threw up his hands in a victorious “Whaddya think?” type of gesture before he disappeared behind your counter. Listening to him dig around under your sink for your toolbox, you briefly debated on kicking him out. You probably needed some peace and quiet and understimulation after the day you’ve had, and Johnny Storm was nothing if not stimulating, but…

“That sounds… really nice,” you decided. You laughed when Johnny whooped, then took a few minutes to finally rid yourself of your work shoes, work vest, and belt before getting comfortable on your couch in your remaining long-sleeved shirt and pants. As you curled up, you watched Johnny round back to your living room and head toward the door with your tool bag slung over his shoulder.

“By the way,” he said as he dropped the bag on a nearby table and popped it open, “want me throw a load into the washer before I go? Your bedding and work clothes and stuff? You said it was gross and I know you’re not happy that you had your outside shoes on in your room.”

Again, Johnny knew you so well. The mere mention of it made you cringe.

“Might as well throw in yours too, if you want, since I've been clinging to you,” you said, then waggled a finger at him despite his back between turned to you.  “That’s my sweater, you know. You don’t wear cable knit.”