#rentfic

You knew bringing Wayne into would get him up so you go outside to help, because you’re sure if Eddie does he’s going to turn into a god-honest icicle. He unlatches everything from inside and you pull both units from outside, leaving them on the front porch to molder until at least April. You only end up with a little gross water in your shoe when you pull the unit out of his bedroom; Eddie ever the sweetheart, has a dry pair of socks for you when you get back inside to ditch your shoes.

“Look I know that was a good idea, and the space heater is working better but now my toes are freezing.” Eddie is whining at you from the spot he’s stolen on the couch. He’s looking at you with big, hopeful eyes while wiggling his toes and you catch his drift.

“Okay fine, you can shove your ice cubes under my leg.” You sigh at him, crowding up next him while he props himself against the arm of the couch, immediately shoving his socked feet under your thigh. You get the blanket re-situated around yourself and over his ankles, laughing at the feeling of his toes wiggling under you.

Now the thing that you haven’t seemed to have caught on to yet is that Eddie has been using the recent freeze to get closer to you. Not only do you run hot like a brand new kerosene heater (and he is absolutely using that to his advantage), he’s also able to use this as an excuse to be as impossibly close to you at any given time. He can’t seem to get enough of you lately and though he’s been aware of his growing feelings for you for quite a while, this new turn has felt…almost fanatical. 

Anytime you breeze past him and he can catch a whiff of your perfume? Absolute goner. 

When you lean over him at lunch and you prop your hand on his knee for balance? It’s all he’s focused on for hours. 

When you lean back on his van in the morning, legs crossed at the ankle, trying to finish your cigarette before first bell? He’s never wanted to be a cigarette more in his life. (He’s not even sure what that means but he means it).

The other day in History, you’d been seated towards the front with Eddie fully planted in his normal back row corner. The room was darkened while your teacher moved through slides on their projector and you…oh you had been running your fingers through your hair, trying to put it up. Fingers combing through your dark locks, pulling everything up high on the crown of your head. You’d been doing it absentmindedly with lazy fingers trawling through loose curls, pulling at a handful of knots. 

It was all he could do to keep his mouth shut, keep his noises to himself. That it should be his hands running through your hair, his hands gently pulling out tangles, his hands collecting your hair together in his fist, pulling it all back away from your face, letting him see your smirk before you open your mouth for him, small metal ball that sat so perfect on your tongue glinting in the low light of his bedroom.

He had to reel his imagination in so fast it felt like it physically snapped him. He would rather die than pop a boner in fucking History class like a freshman.

So! Toes under a thigh. A thigh he’d spent many a night thinking about. It wasn’t like he hadn’t ever felt this thigh before, in fact he’d grabbed it many times either giving you a piggyback ride or in some pit at some show or one of the million times you two roughhoused. It’s just that now that thigh, and its twin, had brought new meaning in his life. It was warm, so god damn warm and he loved the feel of it under his hand. It was soft and powerful and if he could lay his head in your lap again he swears he’d never leave it this time. He’s tempted to do it right now, just roll over and nuzzle up to you. He knows you’d giggle and probably lay your hand on his hair and muss it up and throw the blanket over him because he’s just always so cold. Maybe he could sneak his finger tips under your thigh, wiggle them around like his toes. 

Basically feeling her up at that point way to go idiot. 

He gives himself a shake to try to get his thoughts back on the TV and firmly away from your thighs and how warm they’d feel on his ears probably. 

Get it together you fuck.

~

You’re unknowingly also drifting on your side of the couch, thinking about reaching over and grabbing his face and kissing him stupid but the idea of him firmly pushing you back with that sad look he gets sometimes would actually kill you. At least you think he might do that but then you remember the phone call from a few weeks ago, him drunkenly whispering into the phone about you hating him if he told you…something. He wouldn’t say what but he did keep saying your name over and over like it was keeping him grounded. 

Or from throwing up, same difference. 

Honestly, you think he might even be fine with a kiss, a make out marathon let’s be real. He’d been extra close lately, more so than normal, and so much more gentle with you than he’d ever been. 

You know for a fact that he’d struck out with Gwen, his current cheerleader-looking-for-weed. She’d been nice enough about it but you could tell he’d actually tried with this one, not just using one of his normal quick-cute one liners. He’d told you about actually turning on his charm, being sweet and all it got him was a giggle and soft ‘Oh, Eddie no I’m sorry.’

Would you be okay with a pity fuck? Absolutely! You lie to yourself. 

The remote has fallen out of your hand while you’re staring through the TV screen, really mulling over your choices here. You start thinking about your most recent mornings at school, with the cold biting through everyone, especially Eddie wearing his fucking ripped jeans when it’s 20 outside. How it’s not out of the ordinary for you to hold his hands together to warm them up, or give him your already worn gloves. Sometimes he’ll shove his hands in the pockets of your second hand peacoat without preamble. You’ll never tell him (hell you barely admit to yourself) but it makes you blush deep down, all the way to your chest when he does that. The feel of his fingers wiggling around deep in the pockets near your hips while he talks over your shoulder to Gareth. The front of him close to you but just barely not touching and it takes everything in you to not reach out and grab the lapels of his vest, dig your fingers into the denim and leather under that and pull him in close.

He’ll laugh at something Jeff said and his breath, hot in the cold morning frost, ghosts over the shell of your ear and it should be considered an Act of God that you don’t lean forward and bury your face in his long neck. His hair would tickle your too cold nose but like, it’d be so god damn soft you know it. You’ve touched his hair before so many times but not like that. Not nuzzled into his throat where you could kiss up to the back of his ear, could run the bar in your tongue against his skin. You wonder what kind of noises he’d make, out in the cold, in front of god and everybody.

Eddie pinches the underside of your thigh with his toes and it snaps you back to the present.

“Earth to Major Tom.” He’s grinning at you with a playful gleam in his eyes. He’s obviously been trying to get your attention for a hot minute.

“What?” Why do you sound so annoyed?

“Got something on your mind?”

"I’m thinking.” You lie (only a little) pulling your legs up to tuck under his bent knees, keeping his toes under your leg still.

“Something more important than this?” He gestures at the TV, some PBS thing on. 

Oh my god Munson believe me it is. 

Between the picture clutched in your fingers and the intense look on your face, Eddie thinks he might just turn inside out. 

“Ed?”

It sounds like an accusation in his ears. You’ve found him out, evidence catching the light where it waves around between the two of you. Forget trying to tell you his feelings, he’s got a date with  buckshot later. 

He takes it back actually, this feels the same as the day you accidentally met his dad. The sudden visit on a rare stint between prison stays. The lead weight of fear and sadness and pure fucking rage making him go cold and numb.

Eddie is so tired of shit going wrong in his life. 

“Eddie?” How do you sound so soft when he has clearly screwed up so bad?

Also, he went for one shower after making a stupid mess and you decided to what, go through his shit?

Don’t start 

There’s a black mood he gets in sometimes. It creeps up his insides, stains him dark. It makes him mean and he doesn’t want to be mean, not to you. Not to anyone really. 

He knows on a deeper level this is his fault, it was only a matter of time before you found the picture. Tucked in books and forgotten in his sheets he’s honestly surprised it’s taken this long.  

“Eddie!” The sharpness of his name jerks his head out of the haze he’s in. Sees your eyes clearly and you’re not mad, in fact he thinks that might be a smile hidden under all the confusion. 

“Where did you get this?” Even and calm. Could you lend him some of that? His throat clicks when he tries to swallow. 

“I think uh, I think I took it. On ha-Halloween. Last year.” He doesn’t recognize his own voice, the deep scratch of it. “We were drunk at Hagan’s. I don’t know wh-“

“You took this?” Another wiggle of the polaroid. Your grip on the box of weed is still white knuckled. Okay, maybe that wasn’t a smile. He can’t really tell anymore, the panic settling in firing off all his alarm bells. 

“You weren’t supposed to find it.” He’s so quiet, hasn’t been quiet like this in a long time. Wasn’t even this quiet sneaking into bedrooms. 

You take a step forward and he launches back. Head hits the door frame and if god is real he would let the paneling swallow him whole right now. 

“Why do you have this? Why all the-” you gesture behind you, “why all my shit? You told me you hadn’t seen my Theo figure anywhere and she’s in the drawer with all my shit!” Your voice gets tight, face scrunching up in complete confusion. “I thought I was loosing my stuff but you’re just stealing all of it! My zippo! Eddie what the fuck?!” No, right, there’s the anger. He’s pressed so firmly against the door jam it’s guaranteed to leave marks for a week. You take another step forward and he has nowhere to go, pinned under your scrutiny and words and the waving hand holding his shame. But where your voice was rising in anger, it drops suddenly, slides into something softer. “Why do you have this?”

Yeah Eddie, why do you have it?

It’s a total accumulation of, let’s be real, two years of unrepentant pining. Two years of being a dick and going after easy girls because you were off limits in his own doctrine. Too good a friend to ruin the relationship, and too good a person to ruin with himself. It’s nights spent at the bookstore waiting for you to get off, watching with a burning in his gut as the dipshit college guy you work with tries to edge his way into a date. Blunts and cigarettes shared like kisses between lips he isn’t allowed to taste otherwise. It’s the grappling like two idiots fighting, breathless giggles and rough shoves that end in headlock hugs and usually him tapping out first, unable to stand being in your embrace if it isn’t for keeps. 

“I…” the space in his room is somehow bigger than it’s ever been, leaving him adrift in the chaos of his things and your things and the too thin air that you’re somehow breathing in just fine. There’s a stutter in his chest where he’s not catching his breath, the familiar heat behind his eyes where the tears are trying to rush forward. “It’s just-fuck! It’s such a creep…move I know and I just didn’t want to l-let it go because it was a good night and-and a good picture and your hand…” he’d dropped his eyes to stare at your feet, unable to say his half-assed explanation to your face. “Your hand. On my leg.” Just a whisper. Swings his hand limply toward you. “I just, it was a nice thought.”  His throat is tight and he’s afraid if you keep looking at him he might cry. 

He’s watched you take enough steps forward so you’re practically toe to toe with him. In his peripheral he watches you toss the box behind you onto the bed, your other clutching the evidence lightly taps against his chest and rests there. 

He looks up through his lashes and his hair, keeping his sight obscured like it’ll protect him from whatever you’re about to say. 

“I can’t believe-“ you cut off with a laugh and a shake of your head, that small smile he thought he saw turning back up. “I feel so fucking stupid.”

Eddie’s stomach has disappeared along with the rest of his insides. There’s never been a real foundation of proof for him, just stolen glances he’s caught you in. That lingering look you’d give him, the way you’d hang onto him longer during a hug sometimes. Mostly just blind hope and his own low simmering ego to egg him on. 

“Do you want to know what I did this morning?” He nods, he really does want to know. There’s the smallest drip of warmth trickling down his back with your words. 

“I woke up and I thought about you. First thought of the day.” A deep breath and he can see the pink blooming up out of the collar of his shirt you’re wearing. “I thought about you and I felt so stupid after, for sitting in the dark and pretending that you’d ever-“ You stop yourself again and drop your eyes to stare at your hand on his chest. 

“You thought about me?” He asks and you nod slowly. He’s got an idea about what that might mean. “Do you maybe also have a secret polaroid?”

A break in the tension and you take a step back, laughing. A real one he knows, warm and happy. The photo hits him in the chest where your hand just was, where you’ve just flicked it at him. “How long Eddie?” 

“What?” He grabs for the photo but it flutters to the ground. 

“How long have you liked me?” Your wide eyes and breathless question challenge him. When he doesn’t respond fast enough for you, you reach out and push his bangs away from his face, smoothing them back. His wispy armor is gone and with it, surprisingly, some of his fear. Your eyes are clear and waiting, smile still pulling at your lips. 

“I don’t, I don’t have like, a date. Like, a-awhile.” Eddie stutters like he’s never spoken these words before. Nerves replacing fear when it starts to finally dawn on him: this isn’t going to end in flames.

The hand at his forehead slides down and rests on his cheek. He hasn’t taken a full breath in since you pushed his hair back, never mind now that your cradling his face, but the fear has been slowly melting off his shoulders while you’ve been staring at him and when your eyes trail down his face, it and the sudden nerves all just disappear. 

He feels your fingers flex along his jaw and he finally takes that breath. 

“I’m not reading this wrong am I?” Barely a whisper but he hears you. Shakes his head and opens his mouth to talk but you cut him off, just as quiet, “I don’t want us to make a mistake.” 

“You think this’d be mistake?” The hurt leaks through without his meaning to. 

“God no, Eddie I-“

There’s a bloom of confidence he hasn’t felt before, something that twist up through his ribs and around his spine. “Good.” 

Reaching out for you feels natural. He’s reached out to you a hundred times before but he’s never slid his hands into your hair. Tucked them up behind your ears and pulled you in close, felt you gasp when he brushes his lips against yours. Your hands pull at his shirt where they’re both fisted in the thin material, keeping him close. When you push into him he feels your mouth open, tongue grazing along his bottom lip; white static across his thoughts. 

It’s 10pm on a Thursday night and your kissing him in his room. Wearing his t-shirt and pushing him against the wall while your kissing him. He feels one of your hands flatten against his chest and his heart rockets off and your still kissing him. There’s your tongue again begging entrance and he yields, feels that barbell slide across his own tongue and he’s done for. It’s better than he could ever fantasize. He wants more of it but you just aren’t close enough. He grips at your hair to pull you in, to try and deepen the kiss but there’s no where else to go. You mumble something against his lips but he just swallows the sound and slides a hand down your back till he can get his fingers up under the hem of the shirt, palm laid flat against the small of your back. 

“Eddie.” You sigh his name and he makes it a personal goal right then to get you to do it again. Your hands wander down his chest and he starts his own wandering down your neck, lips finding any open skin he can kiss. “Hold on, Eddie-“

“I’m not holding on for shit.” He says in between kisses. “I’ve been thinking about doing this for months.” Your laugh vibrates under his mouth and it makes his eyes roll. “Do you want me to stop?” He pauses under your ear, panting against you. 

“No.” You sigh and shake your head, leaning into his hand still in your hair. “No I don’t.” 

He spends a few more minutes pulling little sounds out of you that he’s filing away for later. Nipping at your skin when you run your hands under his shirt and push it up. 

“Can I?” The question isn’t even finished before he pulls the shirt over his head and throws it behind you on the dresser. “Oh!” A giggle when he lays his hands back on you, hands rucking up your own shirt where he can run his palms over your midriff. There’s no finesse to his kisses anymore, just laying them wherever he can, anything to make you giggle again. He moves his hands higher, pushing your shirt up so he can finally see your tits again. It’s been a whole ass year since your wore your dress and he’s dreamt about this every day since. He kisses the tops of them and is mesmerized by the way they bounce back under his touch. 

“Hello old friends.”

“Old friends?!” When you laugh they move with you and he has to force himself to look back up at you. 

“Yeah, you saw the picture. We’re well acquainted.” He buries his face down in your cleavage and you hear him take a deep breath. “How do you always smell so good?” He’s layering kisses again and you’re trying to move around until you can pull your own shirt off. “Hey don’t rush this, I have this perfectly planned.” 

“Oh, so you left the drawer open on purpose?”

“Absolutely, it’s been my months long plan.” He takes a step forward to force you back one. Eyebrows scrunched together he scoffs, “I almost let you catch me for a while and then it happens by mistakeand I act like it’s the biggest fuck up ever and now I’ve got you shirtless. Listen, I plan campaigns babe. You know I can write ten steps ahead.” He’s walking you backwards till your legs hit his bed, fingers holding onto your belt loops to keep you close. 

“Eddie?” You hook your fingers into the waistband of his flannel pants, pulling down till they shift off his hips. 

“What?” He’s distracted by your fingers sliding around his hips. 

“You’re so full of shit.” He laughs when steps out of his pants and sees you look down, an immediate tilt to your head. Your fingers still against his skin, skimming the elastic of his boxers but he knows you’re staring at the growing bulge. The clever remark he had ready dies in the back of his throat when he hears the quiet ‘hmm’, watches your tongue poke out to swipe across your lips.

“If you keep staring I’m gonna get self conscious.” One hand covers his mouth to muffle the end of his sentence while the other lightly rubs up against his dick through the thin cotton. Somehow he stays upright, mouth falling open under your hand to pant against your palm. 

“You got any other surprises for me Munson?”

Are you talking to him? He can’t get a braincell to function with the heat of your hand pressed against him, barely moving at all. The button on your jeans is about all he can fathom, getting them opened and remembering how a zipper works is next. Your breath bouncing off of his chest makes him shiver and kind of brings some of his brain back up and running. 

“I uh, I got a few tricks up my sleeve.” He tips you back till you sit and he follows close, making you lay down. You laugh when your back hits the bed and you keep laughing, body shaking as he works your jeans down your legs. 

“What’s so funny, giggles?”

“I’m just…this is the first time I’ve had sex in a bed.”

Eddie stops moving and looks up at you from your feet. “I’m sorry, what?” He hopes he’s just hearing wrong, on account of his brain short circuiting a moment ago.  

“Yeah, it’s just always been in the back of cars.” You say it so flippantly, like it’s just a thing that happened to you. “I mean, It’s whatever. I just realized no one’s ever pushed me back on a bed before.” Your grin is hazy when you look down your body at him but he’s stone sober now. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to any of those assholes and he knows it. You’re the best thing to happen to him, and somehow you’ve gone this long with shitty car hookups. 

“No.” He shakes his head and pulls your jeans off fully. Slides your socks off and tosses them in the pile of your clothes. “You’re lying, please tell me your lying.” 

“I’m not! There’s so much more room!” You wave your arms next to you like you’re making a snow angle in his sheets. You sit up quick, bracing yourself on one hand to reach behind yourself to undo your bra when he stops you. 

“You don’t have to do that, I can help.” He’s crowded up against your legs where you’ve dropped them both sideways. 

“I know that, I was just making it easier.” His face must drop because you huff at him. “Look, I’m not stupid Eddie. I just, haven’t had the best track record I guess. I just assumed-“

“That I was gonna be like the other guys.”

You shrug. “Yeah, Hawkin’s finest. You know.” 

That’s a little bit of a blow, he won’t lie, but watching you slam up your walls when they’ve been nonexistent all night makes him switch tactics. 

“You deserve better than that.” He swings his legs to the side so he can lean over you, one arm braced against your hip, the other tilting your chin to look at him. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen you pout before, your bottom lip sticking out pink and wet and he wants to bite it. “I’m serious.” He leans in close, lips brushing yours. “Can I be nice to you?” He whispers against you and your face flushes immediately, eyes darting down to stare at the bed. He can’t stop the grin spreading across his face, delighted with how flustered you get. 

“I-you’re always nice.” You mumble, chin fighting to get away from his hand holding you still. 

“I can be nicer.” He closes the small gap and kisses you again, still holding your chin. He can feel your breathing speed up when it ghosts over his cheek where you’re nose is pressed. When he’s certain you won’t pull away he moves his hand to your back, unhooking the clasps one by one. Eddie pulls back to look at you properly, fingers lightly pulling the straps down your arms. “Can I?”

“You don’t have to ask.” You say, still nodding your head at him anyways. 

“It’s good manners.” He says simply, wiggling your bra off of you, tossing it to join the growing pile. You’ve shifted back to your elbows, further away from him but giving him a better view. None of his fantasies are measuring up to real life. Just watching the way your tits lay when you shift has him practically drooling. He runs a fingertip from between them and down to your navel, marveling at the softness of your skin. Runs that same fingertip over to a hip and you jump just a little. “Ticklish?”

“Maybe.” Your voice is wobbly, chest rising and falling faster. He lays his palm flat against your stomach and runs it up your side, thumb brushing the underside of your breast and you sigh, letting your head fall back between your shoulders. 

“You are so fucking pretty.” Eddie means it. Even before all the crushing and jealously he could see it. With your head back he can watch the blush creep down your chest and he marvels at that too. 

“Eddie you can’t just say shit like that.” You sound strained from the angle your at. He runs his thumb under the swell of your breast again just to watch you shudder. 

“What, that your pretty?” He leans down to place a kiss on your chest, can feel your heartbeat tick up faster. He’s only got so much restraint before he grabs you up into his lap but he’s trying hard to be a gentleman about it. You deserve that much for your first time. Well, not overall but with him? Eddie’s determined to make you forget about every other guy who’s even looked at you. 

“Look at me.” He’s dropping kisses along your collarbone trying to get you to lift your head up. His hands have been itching to grab your tits but he wants you to stop being shy for a minute. “Please.” He’s trying to kiss up your neck when you finally lift your head. “Can you scoot up for me?” He asks and you oblige. As soon as your head hits his pillow he’s leaned back, pulling your knees back up so he wedge himself between them. He grabs your hand and pulls it up to kiss your open palm and you close your fingers around his cheeks, making him laugh. 

“Will you stop being cute and just touch me?” 

“How?” He kisses down your wrist, watching you get more flustered. 

“I don’t know, whatever you normally do?”

“No, that was with them, they don’t matter anymore.” He makes it to the crook of your elbow before he lets go and crawls over the top of you, getting in your face to stare you down. “What’d you think about this morning, hm?” He’s keeping track of all the little whimpers your making, the way you bite your lip when he makes you nervous. You won’t meet his eye so he follows your line of sight and you huff at him. 

“Stuff, Eddie. Oh my god.” You cover your face with your hands and he thinks he can feel the heat radiating off of you. It’s driving him crazy in the best way, he doesn’t think he’s ever had this effect on anyone before. 

“Aw c’mon. Tell me.” He kisses each finger before moving down to your knuckles and honestly, he just can’t help himself anymore when he brings a hand up to knead at your tits, a quick pinch of a hardened nipple and you gasp into your hands. “Was it this?” He pinches again and you wiggle under him, hips jumping up against him and he drops his head. You’re hot everywhere, and the core of you pressed up against him through his boxers is going to do him in if he’s not careful. “If you don’t tell me I’m gonna have to guess and this could be a long night.” He rolls his hips into you to try to get his point across and to try to get some relief. 

“Is that such a bad thing?” You ask, pulling your hands down to just cover your mouth. Your eyes are wide and glassy, pupils big and dark. 

“No, but I want to know what I do in these dreams of yours.” He moves back to your neck to make a path to your chest where he laps at your nipple. “Something like this?” He asks before wrapping his lips around and sucking, tongue flicking over sensitive skin. You arch your chest up and there’s a laugh caught in your moan. He moves over to your other side, nipping at you before mouthing at your other nipple, hand teasing at your hip. He snaps your underwear against you and you let out a quiet ‘ow’ and try to swat at his hand. “Or was I somewhere else?” His fingertips graze under the band and inch down. Your knees pull up tight around him and he’s so close to saying fuck it to his own game. 

“You were-fuck Eddie, you were going down on me.” You get so quiet, the one hand still on your mouth muffling your voice. 

“Oh?” He lets your nipple go with a wet sound, big grin already set in place. 

“If your gonna make fun of me…”

“Absolutely not.” 

You watch him over your hand place a scattering of kisses down till he hits your underwear, giving you one last questioning look before he hooks his fingers in and pulls them down. You’re also starting to feel a little self conscious when you realize he hasn’t taken his eyes off you. 

Payback

“Ed.” He just runs his hands up your legs, big palms warm against your thighs. He pulls your knees out a little further before leaning down and re-situating himself between your thighs, leaving open mouthed kisses along the inside. You’re torn between wanting to watch him and wanting to cover your face in embarrassment when he makes the decision for you, pulling at your elbow to drag your hand down to his head. He’s got that lazy smirk on his face and you can feel his breath skipping across too sensitive skin. 

“Give you something to hold on to.” You want to laugh but he’s too quick, fingers moving in to hold you open for him. Your head drops into the pillow when he licks a broad tongue from your center right up to your clit, your back arching up and Eddie’s laugh vibrates through you. 

“Oh fuck.”

“I haven’t even started yet.” You can hear the proud smirk in his voice and if you’d like to say something smart back you won’t, too focused on his mouth working you over. His tongue is soft, even when he points it, uses it to prod at your opening and you forget any remarks you might have had for him. 

“Eddie.” You pull at his hair when he wraps his lips around your clit and he groans. You’re stuck concentrating on his mouth until he slides one finger in and you choke on a gasp. He pulls his mouth away and lays his head against your leg, watching you from under his wet hair. 

“Is this what you thought about?” He can see you nod into the pillow, hand twisted next to your head in the fabric while he pumps his hand slowly. 

“It’s what I thought about.” He hooks his finger up, trying to find that soft spot to make you melt. “I think about it all the time.” The grip on your thigh is tight, keeping it close against his cheek. “Ever since you told me about those shitty dates.” 

“Seriously?” You lift your head, eyes half lidded and face scrunched up. 

“I should have nutted up and said something. They didn’t deserve you.” He pulls his finger out and you watch him suck it into his mouth, watch his eyes roll in his head. You groan and he adds his middle finger before he pulls his hand out, spit slick fingers running up over your clit, teasing you before he slides both back in. He leans in to run his tongue through your folds, watching you from under his lashes while you wriggle around and clutch at the pillow. The hand in his hair grips tighter and your legs squeeze up around his ears and he’s surrounded by you, the low chanting of his name keeping him planted in place. He finally finds that spot, feels you shudder under him before you moan, tilting your hips up to chase his touch. 

“Eddie Eddie Eddie fuck!” You keep rolling your hips against his face and he can’t help himself. He’s been pathetically rutting into the mattress listening to you whine and he can’t take it anymore. He taps under your thigh to get your attention, really gets it when he fully pulls away and you look down at him all concerned. “Why are you stopping?” 

“Good reason.” He stands up and pulls off his boxers, rooting around his nightstand for the condoms he knows are in there. He’s oblivious to you on the bed, sitting all the way up now and staring. Of course they’re not where he left them, instead tucked behind his lamp but he grabs one and climbs back on the bed before he realizes what he’s done. “Oh.” Eddie feels his face heat up when he looks down at himself. “I probably should have done that better.” He’s expecting you to laugh or sigh or say something witty but you just snatch the foil out of his hand and tear it open. You only pause for second before wrapping your hand around him and he’s positive this isn’t going to last as long as he’d hopped. When you roll the condom down he hisses and drops, head falling into your shoulder. 

“You okay champ?” 

He just nods and whines when you give him a few easy strokes, watching your hand move up and down his cock. You’re so much more gentle with him than he is with himself. Eyes half open and mouth hanging he’s sure he looks fucking stupid but he doesn’t care, doesn’t want you to stop touching him. When you scoot closer and pull his face up it takes him a moment to realize you’re kissing him, for him to react and do something. 

“C’mere.” He shakes out of his haze enough to move back between your knees, pulling your hips so your ass is flush against his thighs. He pulls your leg up to hook over his hip, placing a quick kiss on your knee before lining himself up.  He rubs the tip of cock against you, catching on your clit twice and making you whimper. 

“Please Ed.” He doesn’t need to be begged twice, grabs the base of his dick and sinks in slow. Sees your breath catch and your eyes roll, “Oh fuck it.” He bottoms out, can feel you clenching around him tight and hot and gasping and laughing and he looses all composure. Fingers dug into your leg wrapped around him he snaps his hips back and into you, punching out a sharp peal of laughter. He does it again, loves the way he can hear the choked off gasp in your throat. When he picks up his pace you grab at the sheets, twisting them up off his bed. 

“Fucking th-thank you-u!” It’s stuttered out between thrust, your face flushed and twisted up in a smile. 

“You know how many times I thought about this?” He has to talk, if he doesn’t talk he’s going to blow his load and he refuses to let your first time together end before a full minute passes. “Every time I looked at that picture I thought about it. I should have fucked you in that bathroom.” Your nails scratch at his thigh where they try to find purchase. “All the rides out to the lake oh fuck- I should have done this sooner, yeah?” He licks his thumb before bringing it down on your clit, running tight circles around it. Your back arches off the bed and he feels you clench around him. “Is that it? Right there-ohmygod.” It almost sounds like you’re crying his name just before you come, nails digging into his thigh when it crashes into you. He watches you tense up and then collapse against the bed, pliant under him where he starts to loose his rhythm. The heat that reached up fast burns up his spine while he watches you revel in your aftershocks, already trying to grab him down to you. The hazy look in your eyes and that grin you’re flashing him send him over the edge, burying himself with a deep groan, your name scattered between curses. He’s whited out until he can catch his breath, gripping your thigh until he can see straight. In the distant ringing in his ears he can hear your giggle under him, soft like the hands trying to pull him closer. 

“Hey.” Your eyes find his in his own haze, slowly coming back down to earth. “Come here.” Gentle tugs to get him to lay down but he shakes his head, asks for minute. He pulls out to get rid of the condom and disappears into the bathroom for minute, leaving you to roll around his bed. When he comes back he turns off his light. Sees that you’ve pulled the blankets up under your chin, one finger poking out to beckon him back in. “I’m cold.” 

Eddie would like to pinch himself just to make sure this is real. In all of his imaginings he never let himself have this part. The sex was easy to think about but this hurt too much to ever linger on. He finds his pants first before crawling back into bed, snaking a hand around your middle and pulling you into him. He wedges his nose up under your jaw and hums, leaving a few soft kisses in his wake. 

“Are you always this cuddly?” 

“I don’t normally get to cuddle.” You’re both quiet in the dark, hushed tones under the blankets. 

“Huh.” Your fingers tangle up in his hair, nails lightly scratching over his scalp. It sends a deep shiver down his spine and he has a split second where he feels like crying. “Their loss.” He feels the kiss you leave on his forehead and just buries his head further into your neck. You smell like you always do, sweet and deep and now a little like him. He drifts off without meaning to. 

It’s not daylight yet, but his room is lighter. There’s no alarm clock going off next to his head so he looks around, trying to find whatever it is that pulled him out of his warm cocoon. 

Bleary vision in the dark, he can barely make out your form jumping quietly into your jeans. He’s peering at you from under the covers, watching you get dressed. You stop mid jump to pick something up, staring at it before padding over to his dresser and tucking it into his mirror. He’s basically awake when you turn to open his door and he quietly asks you where you’re going. 

“Jesus fucking Christ you’re gonna give me a heart attack.” You clutch you chest and try to search through the dark for his eyes, finally see him when he pulls the sheets back a bit. 

“Seriously, where are you goin’?”

“It’s almost 5. I figured Wayne was gonna be home soon so I cleaned up the living room and like, I didn’t know if I should hang around?”

“You sleep over here all the time.” He slides a hand out from under the covers to make a grabby hand at you. “He won’t care.”

“Well I mean, I’m not usually naked in your bed dude.”

“Then leave your shirt on.” Eddie doesn’t understand what you’re not understanding. “I mean it, Wayne isn’t gonna care. If anything he’ll be happy I stopped bitching about you.”

“You bitch about me?”

“No, I bitched about not having you. There’s a difference. Now come here, I’m cold.” He lifts the blankets up quick, making a sweeping motion for you to get back in. “Plus, he won’t say anything unless you do. He likes you too much to embarrass you.” You’re out of your jeans again and crawling over him, trying to avoid kneeing him. 

“Aww, he likes me?”

“Well I like you too.” You’re barely settled before he’s wrapped around you, leg hitched over your thighs and pinning you down. “What’s that get me?” He’s nosing along your jaw again. 

“Depends what you’re looking for.” 

“Mm. Concert tickets to see Ozzy in Indy.”

“Oh that’s a big ask.”

“I see. How about a kiss?” He pulls back to smile lazily up at you. 

“I can do that.”

❣Tag List❣

And no matter how many times she’d sucked his dick (it’s been six, he’s got the mental tally going), or invited him to climb into her room, or slid into the back of his van, it didn’t actually matter because on the whole of it: 

She. Wasn’t. You. 

He’d been waiting to find fault, honestly counting the days down at one point, because it was bound to happen. She would finally slip and say something abhorrent to him. Something about his music or his club or, the worst, his life in general. He thought you’d be the trigger this time, considering how often Gwen brought you up. 

“So your friend, the conjoined twin.”

“What about her?” He’s kissed halfway down Gwen’s stomach, pausing to look up at her. He has no fucking clue which way this is going and he’ll be god damned if he’s got fingers in underwear if it’s mean. Hackles raised and-

“She’s like, really funny.” Oh thank god. 

“Oh she’s a riot. You should hear her and her friend Jackie get going. They got a whole bit about being Stepford Wives that’s actually pretty clever.”

“I’ve never seen that.” The course correct is strong; he wants so badly to explain that it’s a book as well. He instead reminds himself of the naked girl under him and becomes intimately acquainted with her bellybutton.  

“She’s like, so good at making people laugh. I think she would have made a great cheerleader.” Gwen is a little toasted, propped up in the back of Eddie’s van while he kisses down her neck and tries to avoid the joint she’s waving haphazardly around his head. His fingers have crept up to the button on her jeans and she’s dazedly helping him pull them open. 

“I’ll have to tell her that, she’s gonna laugh her ass off.” And he sure as shit will, as soon as he can get the image that has just been borne into his mind, out. You? In a cheer uniform? He’s clutching his metaphorical pearls over the idea of you in nothing but the cardigan and the bobbie socks, all pliant and willing and on your knees with his fingers pressed in your mouth-

“Oh? You talk about me a lot?” Gwen is looking down at him all soft and open and he feels guilty for a second. 

Focus, asshole. You got real girl in front you. 

“All the time.” He wonders if she can hear the white lie in that. 

“Why’d you call her Sam?” Gwen asks this in a kind of airy way, like she’s trying not to care. Eddie catches the tone, tries to explain as easy as he can. He feels like he’s trying to keep a horse calm. 

“Samwise.”

“What?” He doesn’t want to roll his eyes but she asks so quickly, like she doesn’t want to actually listen.

“Samwise. He’s one of the Hobbits from Lord of the Rings. Frodo’s best friend.”

“And that’s you?” She’s smiling again. 

Crisis averted, filly is calm. 

“I like to think so.” There’s a self depreciating ring to that but Gwen doesn’t hear it. Sidles up to him and grabs his vest to pull him closer. They are very obviously out of eyeshot of anyone of any importance. 

“I’ve never read it before.”

“I could read it to you next time I come over.” He runs a fingertip down the side of her face, pushes some strands of hair back. They’re silky and straight and blonde and he likes how it catches the light. 

Nothing like your’s though. 

“Will we have time for that?” She’s trying to be coy but she hasn’t quite got the foundations of being sexy down. Eddie grins, his soft spot for naive preps seeping through. 

“Baby there’s always time for hobbits.”

He keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop. For her to come fully out of her woodwork and ‘Carrie’ him, to borrow your phrasing.

“No, not her as Carrie. You as Carrie.”

It’s what’s kept him from admitting to himself that he’s being an asshole about this whole thing. She’s actually just…nice. She’s flippant about them sure, but for the same reason he is.

It ain’t that serious. 

He can’t deny he isn’t having fun with Gwen but it’s literally just sex and weed.

If he was better with his own emotions, he wouldn’t have let this go on for so long. It’s not like he’s deluded himself into thinking him and her are dating, but she’s gotten comfortable with him. It’s been so easy lately for her to call, drip the suggestion of sex down the phone line and wait approximately 15 minutes for him to pop through her window. 

And yeah sure, woe is Edward Munson, 18 year old social outcast, fucking around on the regular with one of the popular girls. He isn’t expecting any laurels and accolades for his heroism here, but he did think he had a little less cowardice in him. 

If he could just figure his shit out with you, then he’d be golden. 

You, both the figurative and literal woman of his dreams. 

The denim clad goddess, the pit dwelling priestess, the nerd loving oracle! 

You, who always had his back. 

You, who never cared when he whined about his girls or his games or his guitar. 

You, who had hung around longer than anyone he could remember. 

You, who was his best friend. 

Ah, the other problem. 

If there was one thing Eddie refused to do, it was ruining the best friendship he’d ever had by thinking with his dick. 

…Even if he really did want you to like, maybe consider his dick. He’s been told more than once that it’s great! (Big even! But he’ll get back to that…). Hell, he’s even 5 for 5 by his own mental scoring in bringing all the girls he’s been with to their screaming highs. Multiple times in the same night!

I’m a pleaser, sue me. 

None of them really matter at the end of the day though, when he’s alone and lonely. The whole trailer vacant and dark and quiet save for his music playing softly from the tape deck. He’s running his finger along the edge of the sacred polaroid like he’s trying to summon you right out of it. 

All of his past experience boils down to practice in this moment. 

Practice for when he can get his head out of his ass and just tell you how he really felt. 

Practice for when he’ll hold your head in his hands and whisper his feelings right into your open mouth. Tilt your head back and dip his tongue in, lick your own confessions right out of you. He knows he could do it too, he’s heard all about your exploits. Half assed fucking in the backseats of too small cars and not one asshole to even try and go down on you! 

And what a crying shame that is. 

God, I’d treat you right.

Eddie knows the warmth of thighs pressed up around his ears, fingernails running running running over his scalp, hands pulling at his curls. Knows the little sighs, the shivers that run up a spine when he licks right up their hot center, tongue dipping inside for a taste. Knows how to roll the flat of his tongue right up to that little pink button and go in for the kill. The way hands will grab at anything they can find purchase with and hold on while they come sighing and squealing and moaning his name EddieEddieEddie! 

All that’s just been practice for you. 

He’s driving himself insane thinking about your legs wrapped around his head, fingers dug into his hair, chanting above him. The low timber your voice gets when you’re Very Concentrated. 

It’d be his pleasure, and his alone, to waste an hour or two between those thighs making a mess out of you. He’d bury his fingers in your cunt and find that spot, the one he knows will make you see galaxies. The one that’d make you lock his head in place with your legs. He’d be relentless in his pursuit of your orgasm (and your second and third and fourth), have you whimpering and moaning and loud for him. 

Eddie knows he’s truly good at a few things in life, and this is one he prides himself on. 

The thought of you trembling undone under his hands is the catalyst for him to finally drop the picture and reach down under his sheets to let his dick free. Four quick strokes is all it takes and he’s coming, eyes rolled so far into the back of his head he sees white. His breath catches in his throat and he can hear himself letting out a low whine, warmth splashing over his stomach. When he floats down to a more even breathing he picks up his shirt from beside his bed to wipe himself off and can feel the plummeting beginning to take hold. 

Oh here it comes.

For all of his grandstanding by himself in the dark, he’s not going to grab you round the head and kiss you stupid. Post jerkoff clarity is settling in and reminding him of who he is. Which is your friend first and foremost, and also someone who has never quite grasped how to vocalize his emotions. Someone who’s still being led by the dick by a nice set of eyes in a pleated skirt. Someone who’s gonna get tossed to the side once prom season gets into full swing. Eddie covers his eyes with his forearm, takes a few deep breaths and wills the stinging in his eyes to go away. A new kind of shaky breath fills the quiet of his room and if he lets himself cry for a while it’s a secret between him and the four walls. 

~

Later when he’s outside letting the cold air clear out his lungs after his cigarette, his red face cooling in the night, he has his come to jesus moment. He’d decided after his little crying spell that he’d break it off with Gwen. It’s not like he was going to be her date for anything (not that he even really wanted to), and not like he’d ever even consider going to something as conforming as prom. 

And they weren’t even serious! 

So, he cuts her loose, she gets to look like the good guy and he’s free again. 

Free to hang out with you and go to shows, go eat and drink and get high and share smokes. 

Free to get his shit together and finally sit you down for a little talk. If he couldn’t find the balls to breathe his confession into you the way he fantasized about, then he could put coherent thought to paper with pen and write himself a little speech. 

💕Tag List💕

@edsforehead, @fracturedarkness, @munsonsguitarpick, @bebe0701

The chill of the morning lingers, tips of your fingers cold where you groggily try to move your arms and hands to warm them up against your stomach under your shirt. 

It’s when the grogginess is gone but you’re eyes haven’t adjusted to the light that you start the little patterns, dragging your finger tips over your skin and slowly inching the hem of your t-shirt up. Under the blanket is warm and you wiggle in further to tuck your nose below the edge of the comforter. Fingers continue their featherlight dance across your ribs, pulling goosebumps up along their wake and in the quiet alone you have for another hour, you can pretend they’re not your own. 

Heavier, bigger. Thumbs calloused, rough where they drag just under the swell of your breast and the shiver runs right up the back of your neck, over the crown of your head. A little sigh and one hand roams lower, splayed wide and flat against the soft skin of your belly. Traces over your hip and up your thigh where it digs into the supple skin there, pulls it out and down towards the bed. The hand still at your chest pulls up on the shirt to get a handful of your tits, rolls the already hard nipple between thumb and forefinger earning a low gasp from you. 

Haven’t even gotten to the good part yet. 

You’d asked Eddie once, jokingly, just what he was doing to keep these girls around. 

“Need pointers?” He’d laughed when you’d pushed his shoulder. Shrugged all cool and casual, chewing on the straw of his drink for moment.

“Got a talent for eating out.” A smug grin across his face when you’d coughed, choking on the sip you’d just taken. 

“What, too crass? Are you blushing?!”

That had turned into a night of secret spilling and Eddie finding out you’d slept with some ‘real fuckin’ losers’, his opinion.  

“So they just like, never offered?”

“No? Why would they? We were already fucking.” You’d mumbled that into the worn cushion of the couch, face down to hide your embarrassment. 

“Because it’s fun?”

Fun. 

He’d said it was fun. 

Head buried between thighs and mouth searching, hands grabbing. 

Hands that move from the inside of your thigh to your underwear to slide under the band and dip right into the heat of you, running lazy fingers through your folds, dipping lower to tease and gather slick to pull back up and right over your clit. Your head slides to the edge of your pillow and you let it hang over the short edge while a string of curses float out of you. 

You imagine him in a dozen different ways. Hovering over you, laying kisses from your cheek down your neck and finally to your chest. Nipple between teeth while he buries his fingers deep in you. 

Or leaned back on his heels, watching himself spread you open while he lazily jerks off, heavy cock twitching in his palm, whispering all the things your desperate to hear him say. 

Mostly you picture his halo of curls, laying soft across your lap. Thick fingers dug into the meat your thighs pulling you closer to his face, keeping you pinned to the bed. Tongue hot while he runs the point of it through your folds, smiling against you when that sigh escapes you again. 

The slow circles you’ve been working over yourself speed up, hand still kneading your breast and you hone in on the things you are familiar with. 

The heat of him standing close. How his hands feel against you. The smell of clean laundry and smoke and whatever the hell deodorant he wears. That impish grin with his stupid dimples bracketing his pink lips. His mouth that never fucking stops. All the little personal ways he hangs around your life you play on repeat. 

The white noise of quiet in your room turns to ringing in your ears, drowns out the pathetic little whines and moans falling out of you. The heat that’s been building low finally breaks, burns up through your abdomen and licks up your spine. A breathy sigh of “Eddie” and the heat hits your face, the blush creeping in fast enough to make you feel lightheaded. 

There’s a few minutes where you’re locked up, knees pulled in tight together and back arched up off the bed while you come back down to earth. 

Under the covers is still warm. Your limbs are pliant now. Your brain is buzzing and awake. 

The clock is loud when it goes off next to your head, pulling you out of any kind of daze you were lingering in. A sigh puffs the blanket up around your face and you ignore the knot of guilt starting to form under your ribs. 

Cold bites through your open coat while you dig around the inside pockets for your zippo. The two of you are close, leaned up against the front of Eddie’s van to absorb the left over heat. 

“I think I left it at home.” You look up and he flicks his lighter to life in front of you, grinning over the flame. 

“Figured.” 

Cupping your hand around it to shade it from the wind gives you a little kiss of warmth from the fire. The early morning sun warming the back of your neck where it peaks out of the clouds. The van warming your thigh through your jeans. It’s cozy, this little moment. A breath in and a puff of smoke escapes your lips. Eddie pockets his lighter but doesn’t lean away so you stay close too and ask him if he actually did his homework for English. Share the cigarette between the two of you, foggy breath and smoke mingle with your voices while he tells you about his essay. 

“It’s probably fine, I got wordy again, you know how O’Donnell feels about that. Figure I can scrape a C out of it.”

“Just a C?”

“She fuckin’ hates me.” He laughs and you let your eyes wander over his smile, watching the cigarette move in the corner of his mouth. “You wanna see it?” He’s digging through his bag where it’s propped on the small hood. 

“Yeah, lemme see it.” 

His fingers brush yours again when you grab for the smoke and you think about your early morning solo tryst. You cast your face down briefly so he doesn’t catch the stupid little grin on your face. He’s unaware when he fishes out his notebook and flips it open for you to glance at. You scan the page fast, it looks like yours and honestly, he might slide a B out of this. 

Maybe. 

“I think this was just busy work before break, so you might get lucky.” 

“For once in my life.” He scoffs and you let out a sour little laugh. 

Oh, just once?

“What?”

“Aren’t you always getting lucky?” 

“Oh come on.” His grin is shy and he reaches out and snatches the cigarette right out of your mouth, earning him a gasp. 

“Excuse me?” You slap at his chest and mange to push his shoulder away from you but he’s planted firmly in place. He raises his eyebrows at you, still grinning and laughing. Another little push and you hold your hand out, waiting for him to drop the cigarette back between your fingers. 

“It’s not all the time.” 

“Oh only when she sends out the call to arms?” 

Eddie just sighs at you. Shakes his head and takes one last pull before handing the cigarette back. Around a mouthful of smoke he says, “You can kill it.” He gathers up his bag, stuffing the notebook back in and starts to turn around the corner of the van. 

“Hey, I wasn’t trying to upset you.” You’re voice is small behind him and your tug on his bag slung over his shoulder makes him pause to look back at you. “I was just teasin’.”

“I’m not upset, I promise.” His expression is soft. 

“Come on, I don’t want O’Dick bitching at me for being late too.” He flicks his head toward the front of the school, setting off again and you stub out the smoke, hot on his heels. 

Her footsteps are light in the crunch of the gravel walking over the trail that leads out to the picnic table in the woods. Normally she tries to not meet him during school, just sneaking over to his van after the last bell before anyone can see. Today though she’d slipped a note in his locker when the hallways were dead. 

‘Picnic during 3rd?’

She’s not embarrassed to be seen with Eddie. Well, not exactly. He’s just not her type per se, if he’s anyone’s really. She just doesn’t want to be seen with him is all. It’ll cause a fight and everyone will talk and that’s the last thing she needs, especially if Mark is actually trying to ask her to prom.

Look. Eddie is just…Eddie. He’s loud and obnoxious and arrogant and always smells like cigarettes and his hair is too long and and and-

And what. 

He’s a nice guy. He didn’t make fun of her like her teammates when she didn’t even know how to smoke. He’d talked her through how to roll it, how to smoke it, how to hold her breath in till it didn’t hurt. All smiles and small talk and by the end of it they were something like acquaintances. 

So back she went, another $30 in hand, to the picnic table in the woods and he’d been all jokes again. Asked if she needed help again. Made her feel comfortable again. 

And then he had to go and ask her out. 

Not out-out. He knew better than that. This was one of those quiet things that she’d heard some of the other girls talk about. 

Fool around when parents aren’t home kind of thing. 

Date with the back of his van kind of thing. 

A little stoned stargazing and wandering hands at the lake kind of thing. 

Still, she’d said no. She didn’t want secondhand dates, she wanted Mark and his first class ones. 

Mark and Gwen. Gwen and Mark. 

But Mark hadn’t said anything yet, all she had were the cheer teams whispers and her own intuition to go on. 

(Maybe she did want those dates.)

Cornering him at his van, angled so no one could see her, she’d gone back on her own promise. 

“Does that offer still stand?”

Of course it did, and she was sure he could draw a map from memory of her room by now. Eddie was fun because he was nice and because he was different but she could see the pit just in front of her now. How easy it’d be to say fuck it and walk him out in public in front of everyone. Show him off to all her teammates and turn her nose up at anyone who scoffed. Take a swan dive right into the dark depths of that chasm. Eddie was nice and he was good, and he was very nice and very good to her. He could be her little trailer park boyfriend and when she would inevitably ship off to Barnard next year she could drag him with her to New York and then!

And then? What? That pit again. Eddie was good and nice but he was what, a drug dealer? A failing senior? A trailer park kid with a dad in jail and a dead mom? Eddie was a pit. 

Mark’s mom was a librarian downtown and his dad was a property lawyer for Harrington Development. He lived in Loch Nora, two streets from her own home. He didn’t even smoke weed, that’s how committed he was to basketball and making varsity. He was gonna go to Purdue and be a Boilermaker. 

Gwen stops short when the table comes into view and she sees the back of your head, dark locks spilling onto the splintered wood. 

“Oh.” It falls from her mouth before she can really think and you spin around, eyes wide and cigarette hanging from your lips. 

“Hey! Uh are you-“

“Did Eddie send you?” Gwen’s gripping the straps on her backpack in an attempt to stop her stomach from plummeting. Did he send you out here to…to what? Beat her up? She’s heard about your temper and how short your fuse is and-

“What? No, this is my free period I just snuck out to smoke.” You’re up now, holding the cigarette in front of you as evidence. Gwen unwinds a little. “I didn’t know you two were meeting out here, sorry. I’ll make myself scarce.” You shoot her a tight smile and go to grab your stuff, ready to head back the way she just came. 

“Wait, please?” 

You pause, eyebrows raised in question. 

“Can I…ask you something? Or talk?” She doesn’t even know what she wants to say to you. Gwen’s interactions with you have been third party through Eddie and she’s gotten the vibe that she wasn’t quiet popular with you or the rest of the gang. 

“Sure.”

“You and Eddie aren’t like-“ 

“I’m gonna stop you right there.” You hold a hand up to her. You look annoyed and now she’s starting to feel it too. 

“I’m just asking.”

“I know, and I’m telling you. We’re not an item, never have been. Just friends.” You’ve shifted back to sitting, this time facing her, leaned forward on your arms. Gwen keeps watching the cherry on the cigarette your fiddling with between your clasped hands like it’s keeping her focused. “I get what it looks like but he doesn’t-we don’t feel that way about each other.” Her eyes snap up to yours and she swears she can see a hint of panic in the crease of your forehead. 

He doesn’t he doesn’t he doesn’t. 

Gwen nods lightly and makes for the opposite bench. A long sigh escapes when she sits down before looking up at you again. 

“I know you don’t really like me.”

“I never said-“

“Let me finish. I know Eddie’s canceled some plans with you guys because of us and that isn’t going to win me any favors. I also know y’all aren’t stupid. You know what this is. I’m not part of your little group of misfits. He’s your friend first, I get it, and I’m not…I’m not his girlfriend,” another big sigh and she shakes her head to clear it, “and I-I don’t want to be.” 

Oof. 

The silence sticks like the snow clinging to the roots around the trees out here. Gwen is still looking at you, looking for a response. Anger maybe, on behalf of your friend who’s being used. Sadness or jealousy even, over something you’ll never have with him. What she’s not expecting is the loud laugh you bark out. Loud enough to startle a bird out of the tree near you two. You take a long drag and rub a hand over your eyes. 

“Listen, Gwen. I don’t hate you, but you don’t belong here.” You gesture at the space between the two of you. “That little confession isn’t news, did you think Eddie was trying to go steady with you?” There’s no cruelty in your voice and that stuns her more than if there was. 

“I-I mean-“

“Sorry I know how that sounds, but Eddie? This isn’t his first time playing this game with your type. You guys fool around for a while and then you dump him when prom rolls around, or some jock finally notices you and takes you on a real date.” It’s so matter of fact, like you’d read her mind on the walk over. 

Am I that transparent?

“I mean, he’s like king of the nerds around here and still pulling cheerleaders. Do you really think he cares about having to also take you on a date?” Okay that one was a little harsh, Gwen can feel the teeth sinking in to bite. 

“He did ask me out, that first time.” She snaps. 

He did ask me out. 

“I don’t doubt that. He still hasn’t learned his lesson from Francesca. You don’t date cheerleaders if you don’t have a Letter.” 

Fran had been one of the girls who’d told Gwen about Eddie, albeit a little cruelly. 

“I took his virginity, your welcome.” She’d giggled at Gwen over her lunch, swatting playfully at her hand. “He’s a lot of fun, but he gets all googly-eyed if you’re too nice to him. Gets it in his head he has a chance.” The group had laughed and Gwen had felt a little cold. 

“I wasn’t trying to hurt him.”

You stub out your cig in front of you and neatly avoid her gaze. 

“I didn’t think you were. It’s…look, you’re breaking it off right?”

She nods. 

“Better offer?”

Gwen wishes you wouldn’t say it like that. There’s no pretense anymore though. 

“Yeah.”

You hum and nod a few times and cast a look over her shoulder, past her into the woods. 

“Is he nice?”

Gwen’s taken aback again. Why would you care?

“I think so. His name’s Mark. I don’t know if you know him, but he plays basketball and he’s….the JV…” She’s trying to keep the quiet at bay but just trails off softly. Feels stupid for talking. 

You pick at the table, face screwed up in thought. You’re quiet for a little too long and it has her looking around, wondering if Eddie even got the note. 

“I don’t hate you Gwen, I’m just…jealous?” That brings her head snapping back around and you wave her off with an air of avoidance. “Don’t read into that. I’m glad you found your basketball prince or whatever just, don’t be mean to Eddie.”

“I won’t.” She means it, she was just going to be truthful. 

There’s a beat before you slap the table and stand up. “Okay, I’m gonna get the fuck out of here because I don’t really need to see that in person. Try not to ruin his whole day, yeah?” You’ve already gathered your bag and started towards the trail back to the baseball field. All Gwen can do is nod, the nerves seeping back in with the cold that’s climbing up her legs. 

Ahead of you there’s the shuffling of dragging feet through gravel and the familiar huff of someone who never runs the mile in gym. Eddie sees you first though, coming to a stop a few feet ahead of you. 

“Hey trouble, what are you doing out here?” His face is screwed up in confusion, wondering if he’s misunderstood who the note was from when he sees your face pull into a tight frown. 

“Ditching the library but I ran into your girl.”

“She’s not my girl.” Too quick to respond and he sees you chuckle. 

“Yeah not for long man.” He wouldn’t say it’s glee written across your face, but there isn’t any regret there that’s for sure. 

“The hell does that mean?” Eddie has an idea, had a feeling in the pit of his stomach this morning when he woke up. He’d planned on telling Gwen it was over by Friday, but it looks like she’s beat him to it. There’s a small sympathetic smile on your lips and you cross the space between the two of you to clap a hand on his shoulder. 

“Just let me know if you need to drink about it later.”

He nods and rolls his eyes, a big sigh working it’s way out of his chest. The knot that’d been sitting heavy loosens a little under the warmth of your fingers. 

He wants to walk back up to the school with you, leave this sphere of guilt out in the woods where he can forget it. He could just slide your hand off his shoulder and link it with his to drag you back up the trail and the two of you don’t even need to go back to class. It’s cold out, but he still has blankets in the back of his van and he can think of a few ways to keep you two warm. 

Another nod, this one final and he steps around you to go find Gwen out in the clearing. 

You don’t see him again until lunch when you rush him. So engrossed with whatever Gareth is telling him he doesn’t hear the squeak of your converse barreling up beside to tackle him into the wall. 

“Jesus Christ!” Eddie’s elbow comes down in the middle of your shoulders and you just laugh. Bent over and smushed up into his ribs you get a face full of leather and clean laundry. Gareth jumps away to avoid his flailing but he’s laughing. Everyone else around you seems unimpressed with the display. You give him a big squeeze before letting go. 

“Oh unclench.” You say to a passing group, all holding on to their lunch trays like your gonna slap them on the floor. 

“You coulda broken my ribs.” Eddie is rubbing his side, mock hurt pulling at his features. 

“You have flipped me clean over your shoulder and I’m fine! You’ll live.” You see Gareth’s eyebrows raising and before he can open his mouth you shove his face away, eliciting another laugh from him. 

“Don’t be a pervert.” 

Eddie is uncharacteristically quiet during lunch, both Gareth and you keeping an eye on him. He told you two the gist of it, his little woodland meeting. 

“She told me about Mark.” He sticks his tongue out. “I should have know, prom is right around the corner.” He’s creeping in on himself, shoulders pulling down. “It’s whatever. I was getting bored anyways.”

The way he says it sits weird with you. 

“Bored with sex?” You’re trying to lighten the mood. Gareth laughs into his pudding cup and he’s just full of giggles today it would seem. Eddie kicks him under the table. 

“No, that’s not what I said.” Eddie is blushing now, floundering for his next words. You keep looking at him and it keeps making him stumble and blush more and mission accomplished. 

“What, were you gonna break up with her?” Gareth asks like it’s the dumbest thing in the world. Yeah, why would he break up with the hot cheerleader?

When he doesn’t answer or look up from his chips, Gareth drops the sarcasm. 

“Oh shit you were.” 

Eddie does shoot him a look then, a silent ‘shut up’ if you ever saw one. 

You keep it to yourself, but there’s a warmth that grows up the inside of you with the knowledge that he’d made the decision this time before it was made for him. 

The crumpled up paper all over his floor is a testament to his stupidity. At least he thinks so because why god why is it so hard to write a letter to someone. He’s tried every iteration of ‘I’m obsessed with you, will you please kiss me’. Some of them had turned into half ramblings about some dream he’d had and he’s absolutely not giving you some R rated fantasy to try to win you over. 

(The thought keeps crossing his mind though.)

In desperation he’d even thought about trying to write out some kind of solo player campaign that involved a maze and a riddle. He’d been halfway to writing it, stressed and sleep deprived when he realized how long it’d take and this was supposed to be a love letter for fucks sake.  

He hadn’t given himself a timeline really, had just been thinking in afters. After he called it off with Gwen. After he wrote you an epic poem. After he got his head out of his ass. 

But one of the afters, the most important really, had kind of happened out of step and it left him adrift. 

When would he tell you? He couldn’t let this go on much longer, he’d run out of little trinkets to steal from you. He’d collapse in on himself if he had to suppress any urge around you much longer. He figures two weeks off of school would give him time to clear his head. Get to the new year. Hell, maybe even make his and yours New Years Eve a nice memorable one for once.

With one after out of the way he thinks maybe he doesn’t need the others. 

Maybe…maybe it didn’t need to be a letter. He could just tell you. Just lay himself out, heart on his sleeve. 

(Head would be firmly out of ass too.) 

Even if you said no he knows you wouldn’t be cruel, not to him. 

What if she doesn’t want to be friends anymore?

No. No he won’t let that happen because he’s so good at pretending. Pretending everything is fine and pretending he’s okay and that nothing is going wrong ever for him. Pretending that he’d be over you in an instant. 

She’s gonna see right through that, genius. 

Okay new thought. 

You say yes. Of course you’d say yes, it’s Eddie! You’re already up each others asses enough everyone thinks your dating anyways. You’re comfortable around each other, you share secrets like you share food and drinks (and that lollipop that one time.) There’s no one else he’d rather hang out with normally, except maybe Gareth but he’s never wanted to pin him up against a wall and kiss him till he can’t breathe. 

He’s pacing his room, small little lazy circles in the cramped space, chewing on a hangnail on his thumb. He’s lost in thought enough that he almost misses the phone ringing and he bounds down the hallway to the kitchen. 

“Hello?”

“Took you long enough. What, were you jerkin’ off? Too busy to answer me?” You joke around a mouthful of something. Eddie can hear the clink of a spoon in a bowl from your end. 

“Ha ha.”

“Seriously, what are you up to?” You cut to the chase. It’s Thursday so both Wayne and your mom are working overnight and Eddie’s brain starts working overtime. Could just tell you tonight, force his own hand and spill his guts. Could be a Christmas miracle instead, one thing going his way for once. 

“Nothing special. Wanna come over and waste a perfectly good evening?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

20 minutes later he hears you outside, coming up the steps and before you can knock he swings the door open. 

“Thanks for dressing up.” He smirks, looking you up and down. Ratty jeans under oversized hoodie under secondhand peacoat. You scoff hard, one of his favorite sounds you make. 

“Oh fuck you Munson. I bring you booze and you critique my attire?” You half pull out a bottle from the folds of you coat to show him. “Like you’ve got any room to talk.”

“My apologies, I didn’t know we were partying.” His hand slaps against his chest and you push him out of the way, smiling as you filter into the trailer. The bottle goes on the kitchen counter and you toss your coat over the back of the recliner. 

“I figure we could skip tomorrow. Last day before break, you know we aren’t doing shit. Also I figured you could use a drink or three.” You’re busying yourself in the kitchen, finding glasses and grabbing a soda out of his fridge. Eddie hasn’t said anything because he’s realizing a fatal flaw in his plan, where if he tells you how he feels then you’ll know how he feels. Having you in the same room as his thoughts makes it evident that he needs to figure his shit out. 

“I told you I’m fine.”

“I know, but getting dumped for Mark the Hoop King can’t feel great.”

“I mean, honestly I wasn’t that invested.” He shrugs, coming over to lean on the outside of the counter and watching you crack open the fifth of jack you definitely stole from your mom. You shoot him a doubtful look under the cabinets. He feels like he might start vibrating if he keeps thinking about telling you anything ever. 

“If you say so.” The glass you push towards him is more liquor than soda and Eddie grimaces before even taking a sip. Knows it’ll burn. Knows it’ll loosen his tongue. He downs half before he can talk himself out of it. You cheers the air in front of you and follow suit, sucking your teeth when the glass hits the countertop. 

“What are we watching tonight?” The strain on your voice makes him chuckle, your own drink working against you. 

“I got The Dead Zone if you want to watch something horror, and I also snagged the last copy of Year Without a Santa Claus because I know you can’t get enough of the snow miser.” 

You let out a gasp and clap your hands together, gathering up your glass and shimmying over to the couch. You look at him expectantly where he’s still leaned up against the counter and gesture at the tv set. 

“Well come on! Santa’s not gonna get fat without us.” 

Eddie gives you another smile and heads to his room to grab the cassettes off of his dresser. On his way back into the living room he sees you pulling your feet up onto the cushion, adjusting around until you’re comfortable. 

Down deep he lets himself have a moment. 

He can pretend when he sits down next you he could snake his arm around you and pull you close. Smush his nose into your hair while some claymation character sings about the joy of the season. 

Instead he grabs the bottle from the kitchen after getting the tape set up and drops down on the opposite side of you. Swings his legs up to shove his socked feet under your calf. You laugh through your nose and settle into the couch further and he supposes this is good too. 

When the credits roll the both of you are tipsy, more so you since you’d taken Eddie up on his game. Any time you felt the need to recite along with the movie, he’d pour a little more into your glass, effectively turning it all into whiskey. He took a few swigs in solidarity with you but he was finding your rosy cheeks and giggles a little distracting, loosing count of how many sips behind he was. 

“Laugh at me all you want, I love Rankin and Bass. There’s an Easter one I’m gonna make you watch in April.” You’ve stretched out alongside Eddie, feet wiggling beside his shoulder while you nurse the half full cup clasped between your hands. 

“You’re not gonna make me do shit.” His laugh rumbles quiet in his chest. He sounds a little buzzed, voice deeper from the drinks. His own feet are stuffed behind your back and he moves them around, jostling you lightly. You laugh and tell him to stop, slapping his knee. 

“I’m gonna spill my drink!” 

He does it again and you dip your fingers into your cup and flick the liquid at him. 

“That’s low!” 

“Stop kicking me!”

He sits up and leans forward, hands reaching for your glass and you try to pull it away but he hooks a finger on the rim. 

“Ed-!“ and tips it forward right into his lap. Neither of you jump to move out of the way, accepting the sticky fate right off. The hand you’ve slapped over your mouth is doing nothing to hide the laugh that’s shaking your shoulders. Eddie stares down at this lap and then back up to you which seems to send you into a harder fit of giggles. 

“Here let me-“

“I just need to move my legs-“ It’s a scramble to get off the couch before anything sinks too deep into the cushion. You can see Eddie trying to hold back laughter himself but refusing to break a smile in front of you. He stands awkwardly in the middle of the living room with his hands out to his side and you just can’t seem to stop laughing at his awkwardness. 

“Okay. I’m gonna go change, try not to make any more messes while I’m gone?”

“Me?!”

He’d shuffled around his room before heading into the bathroom and you’d taken the opportunity to switch the movie out. Standing in front of the tv waiting for the credits to roll you notice a wet patch on your hoodie that’s soaked through to your shirt. “Ah, Eddie what the shit.” Wobbling slightly down the hallway to his room to root around for a t-shirt that would fit, you hear the shower kick on. 

It makes you pause, the haze of liquor whispering at you to lean forward. Press your ear up against the door lightly. There’s shuffling and a small bump followed by Eddie’s quiet cursing. The shower curtain pulling open and closed. The heavy thud of your heartbeat in your ear. You trail a finger down the door, hand hovering near the handle before you startle and pull your hand back. 

What are you doing?

Getting a shirt. Yeah. A head shake to get your brain right, you aren’t even drunk what are you doing?

You shut the bedroom door behind you and strip off your sweatshirt and top, pulling open the bottom drawer of his dresser where all his shirts are shoved in haphazardly. 

“How do you find anything in here.” Mumbling while shuffling through all his shit, you find a faded out ren fair shirt and when you stand up a glint of metal catches your eye. His little secret drawer he was gatekeeping his weed in is ajar and just inside is…your zippo? You’d thought you’d just left it at home this morning but now it’s here. 

You shove the shirt on and open the drawer completely to see, yep, your silver VFW zippo slide fully into view. 

Along with an assortment of things. 

Frowning, you sift through some smaller hair clips that you swore you’d lost at school or in the chaos of your car. There’s two eyeliner pencils that you’ve replaced twice now. A lipstick you’d bitched about misplacing. 

And your tiefling minifig. 

Eddie had been adamant you hadn’t left it at his or Hellfire. Had said he hadn’t seen the little purple figure you’d spent a few hours painting delicately. 

What the fuck. 

You wrench the drawer open all the way and and see a handful of picks and two rings you reallythought you’d lost in the mayhem of the locker room after gym. Some folded up notes you’ve passed him in classes. There’s fabric bunched up at the back that you shake out. It’s the Dead Kennedys shirt you’ve been missing for months. 

What the fuck Eddie. 

You pick up the little wooden box, expecting to find more of your shit in it but it’s what’s underneath that catches your attention. 

You only pause for a moment, an upside down polaroid could be anything, or anyone really, but you don’t care right now because he has a drawer of your shit and-

The edges are worn a little like it’s been handled frequently, a corner of the white tab bent just a little. 

The wooden box is clutched against your chest, knuckles white with the tightness of your fist holding it to you. 

You’ve never seen this photo. You’ve got an idea of when it was taken, you’ve only dressed up like Elvira the one time. 

Your eyes are roaming the photo, looking for…what? Your hand in the bottom of the photo keeps snagging your attention. Dark nails dug into dark denim. 

Is this how he saw you? There’s an itch at the base of your skull that feels like fire and your mind rolls in it. Maybe you weren’t crazy after all, pining after Eddie Munson. Your stomach does a somersault at the notion. 

The trailer is quiet around you, some truck going by outside but otherwise nothing. The creak of the hinges being flexed under your hand where you’re blanking out in the quiet. 

You don’t hear the bathroom door open or Eddie wandering out to living room to see you gone. 

Mind going a mile a minute piecing the puzzle together. 

This was last year, so he’s had this for a whole year and then a drawer full of shit he said he hadn’t seen and my zippo that I just talked about this morning did he take it out of my pocket-

“I see how it is, you snoop while I’m in the shower.” Eddie’s voice is a clear cut through the tornado sirens going off in your mind. The door opens behind you and you see him in the mirror toweling off his hair. 

“I keep telling you you’re gonna find-“ He’s dropped the towel and pushed his hair out of his eyes to see your back to him, watching him in the reflection of his mirror. His eyes flick down to the top of his dresser where the contents of the drawer are sprawled out. Panic blooms over his face when his eyes find yours again and he notices your hands in the mirror, clutching the box and-

Oh my god no. 

He thinks his heart has ceased beating, might even have brain leaking out of his ears. He watches you turn around, sees your eyebrows drawn together. He can’t tell if you’re angry or worried or scared? Maybe all three. Holds his breath till you say something because he hadn’t thought about this outcome. Had thought he’d been good about keeping it hidden, his stupid fucking crush on you. Tucked under boxes of weed or in pages of books. Under a mattress. In a breast pocket. 

Eddie can hear the deep breaths you’re taking and he wonders how you’re finding oxygen in this room. 

Your voice is quiet when your eyes search his, holding up the picture. 

“Ed?”

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It’d been maybe an hour since you kicked his bedroom door in, a McDonald’s bag held in either hand.

“Oh my queen, is that what I think it is?”

“Literally six large fries dude.”

You toss one bag at him where he’s laying on his bed, and beeline for his dresser to drop your stuff. You glance up at his first love while you shuck your jacket off and he’s obviously watching you because he playfully says “Go on, give her a kiss. You know you want to.”

Looking over, you’re 100 percent right. Fries sticking out his mouth, he’s got that shit eating grin plastered on his face, his dimples deep and soft and you just want to grab him there with your thumb and middle finger pressed in and push him back into his pillow.

“I’m not kissing your guitar.” You say flatly.

You on the other hand…

He pouts at you while you start digging around the top drawer, looking for the party supplies.

“You know, I wouldn’t go all haphazard in my drawers like that if I were you.”

“What, afraid I’m gonna find something dirty again?” You throw that over your shoulder while you search for the pre roll you know should be in there.

“Ha ha ha”, Eddie mock laughs, getting up from the bed to open a different drawer in the dresser. “I moved it, made more sense over here.” He pulls out a small wooden box and closes the drawer quick. You quirk an eyebrow at him and dart your eyes between him and the drawer his hand is still on. He just smiles easy and shakes the wooden box at you.

“Oh look at you, a whole box now? What, loose weed in your socks not your thing anymore?” You tease him and pluck it out of his hands to dig through it.

“Aha!”, the blunt you had so lovingly rolled on Wednesday in his van, parked outside of your own trailer before you went in for the night. Made like a pinkie promise for Friday afternoon, he’d taken it with a bow of his head; a knight receiving the fair lady’s favor.

“I’ll guard it with my life.” He meant it too.

Eddie had watched you, completely enraptured, run the tip of your pink tongue along a seam of the blunt, the smallest glint of metal peaking out of your mouth. He had tried being as sly as he could be, but he was sure he’d been actively panting by the time you handed it to him. This little fucking thing clutched in his hand had seen more action from you than he ever would. For that, it stayed in his possession.

“You better, that’s the last of that bag.” You’d held the empty ziplock up when you got out of the van, shrugging at him. Eddie promised to pick up only the best from Rick before Friday, so you dug forty bucks out of your wallet for him.

He’d long ago stopped arguing with you about paying since you were the one with an actual job. The bookstore downtown took up three of your afternoons normally, which is why Friday Fundays were created. If Hellfire wasn’t meeting and he didn’t have band practice, he’d sometimes bum around bothering you and your few coworkers.

They had all taken a liking to Eddie, firstly because he was pretty well read, and could quote Tolkien at them fast as lighting. Most of the older women you worked with were just as easily charmed by his big dimpled smile and his abundance of ‘ma’am’s’.

Secondly, he was typically quiet but always respectful so because of this, every single one of them had asked you on multiple occasions if you two had started dating yet. Always prefaced with a big sigh, you’d tell them ‘Why no, of course not, he is actually just my friend.’ It would always end with them tittering and smiling, talking about how boys were never friends with girls like that when they were younger.

“Georgia, it’s 1983, times do change.” You’d reminded your coworker one evening while you both watched Eddie rifling through books on a bottom shelf. Georgia had leveled a look at you and said, “I think after 62 years, I’d see when a boy likes a girl.” You’d wanted to remind Georgia of her coke bottle glasses but kept that one to yourself.

Eddie didn’t like you, not like that. You were positive. The two of you had come together as friends, nothing more. It wasn’t his fault you’d turned 16 and suddenly became aware of his dimples when he smiled at you, or how big his hands were when he’d grab at you when the two of you roughhoused. You’d kept this attraction on complete lockdown for two years and you weren’t about to let Georgia from the bookstore pry it out of you.

Firstly, and Most Importantly, he was your pit buddy. Very early on in the friendship, still both 15 and fresh faced and trying desperately to get into local shows, you’d realized you were both pretty hardy individuals. After saving Eddie from a beating by a Senior boy and then the next week starting a fight over one of the first uses of ‘Freak’ towards him, it’d given both of you an idea of what you could handle.

And it was glorious.

You’d only ever had girlfriends before meeting Eddie and while you did genuinely like doing the girly things, no one ever wanted to do the tomboy things with you. Now though you suddenly had someone who wasn’t afraid of getting into it with you, especially in the middle of a crowd of moving bodies. The first show had been some local band playing just outside of Hawkins, they were metal-ish and loud and fast and it was everything Eddie had promised it’d be. The two of you had spent the hour after the show waiting for your mom and wrestling in the grass next to the venue, taking turns throwing each other on the ground. That night had been the most fun you’d had in a long time and by the time you both climbed into the back of your mom’s station wagon you were breathless and covered in grass and laughing.

Your mom dropped Eddie off with Wayne, apologizing for the dirt child she was leaving on his doorstep.

“I have no idea what happened in an hour.” She’d kind of laughed, and Wayne waved her off telling her Eddie had come home looking worse.

“Tell Ms. Helen thank you.” Wayne said, herding him inside while Eddie yelled out goodbyes and thank you’s. On the short ride to your trailer on the backend of the park, your mom had tried to grill you for information about Eddie. You were honest with her, that the grass and dirt was from play fighting and the few cuts on your knees were from going nuts during the concert. Obviously she was concerned, but she admitted to you before turning the car off,

“I’m just happy you’re making friends hun, that’s all I want.”

~

Holed up in Eddie’s room, the window cracked just barely to help circulate air and keep as much warm in, you take your normal position on the floor, leaned up against the bed. His head is hanging off the edge while he tries to blow smoke rings.

He waves the blunt in front your face and you wave him off while you dig through your book bag to find your D&D notes. Diamond Head is on low in the background and you hum along while you look for the scribbles you’d jotted down during lunch earlier.

“What tragic character have you created now?” His voice is deep from the smoke and the angle he has his head tilted at. You don’t even chance a glance sideways, just clench your jaw and flex your toes in your shoes.

“No one new, I was thinking of some like, extra story for my cleric.”

“Oh Christ, not the corn god again.”

“Yes the corn god, all praise Helio.” You say it with no emotion but hold your hands up in praise above you. Eddie rolls his eyes and copies you, muttering ‘Praise Helio’ under his breath.

The two of you fall into quiet conversation, passing the blunt back and forth until it’s hard to pinch, stubbed out in the ashtray next to your leg.

Honestly you thought Eddie had fallen asleep with how quiet he was so you’d shifted away from the bed to lay next to it on the floor. Engrossed in notes from one of Eddie’s DM binders (and a good steady high), you don’t notice him slowly moving to keep you in his line of sight. He had been close to sleep but you shifting had stirred up your perfume from your hair and pulled him from his daze. Something sweet and deep that hung around his room long after you’d left.

He had only recently really admitted to himself just how head over heels he was for you so this attention he was leveling at you was still surprising to him. In fact, he’d picked up a new little habit: small things of yours that just happened to find their way into his pocket. Stuff you’d never really miss but little things that made him think of you. Hair clips that he actually used sometimes. A few chapsticks and one of your eyeliner pencils, a guitar pick you’d use when messing with his acoustic and a minifig that he knew you were looking for but it wasn’t important to this campaign so it didn’t matter right now. If a t-shirt of yours found its way in there it was none of his business.

Under the assorted stolen tchotchkes was a single Polaroid he kept tucked deep in the drawer under the little cigar box he’d handed over to you earlier.

That lived face down in the drawer lest you almost accidentally ever see it again. He’s not a pervert (Don’t lie to yourself Munson) but this was an accidental photo taken at an opportune time. Halloween the year before and you had shown up to his trailer in an Elvira getup that had Eddie clutching the counter to stay upright. Complete with black wig and tits out to the universe he was sure he’d never seen so much of you on display. Standing in the doorway you’d had to call his name a few times before he invited you in, Eddie stuck in a staring contest with your chest. You’d done a little half turn for him once inside where he all but vomited compliments at you over your painfully accurate costume. If he followed you around like a dog all night, it was only to make sure he was somehow marking you as untouchable to everyone else.

This was just one of the rich kids parties so Eddie was there to sell and you had tagged along for an excuse to dress up. Normally Eddie would plant himself in his van for an hour or two and then head home but you seemed to be enjoying the party, even though you barely left his side. He never actually partied with this crowd of rich assholes but the combination of you, beer, and everyone being moderately decent to him all night lent to him letting his guard down. By the time midnight had rolled around the two of you were a drunk giggling mess, looking everywhere for the wig you had eventually torn off in the heat of the house.

The morning had snuck up on you though, both of you jolted awake by an errant ray of light seeping through the blinds in the strange living room. You found your shoes by the front door and you two snuck out to Eddie’s van and headed home.

It wasn’t until he was sat outside his own trailer, smoking before heading in, that he found the Polaroid in the breast pocket of his jacket. Eddie had found a camera at some point, he can vaguely remember that. And he had taken this crooked photo of you, legs stretched out and propped up in front of you with the slit of your dress hiked up around your hip. Your head thrown back against the couch while a cigarette hung out of the corner of your mouth. The long line of your neck mapping a trail down to the deep cut neckline and just cleavage for days. Eddie stares and stares for so long before he notices in the bottom corner of the photo, your hand resting on his thigh, painted black nails digging into the dark denim.

It takes his forgotten cigarette burning down to the filter and burning his finger to snap him out of his lust daze.

That photo had lived beside his bed for a good while, serving as a bookmark in many things. (Which is how you’d almost found it one afternoon in his copy of Salem’s Lot.)

He’d stare at it before bed, imagining whatever scenario he could that involved you crawling over that couch and devouring him. Your lips painted dark red, leaving marks all over his neck and you hair, curled and soft from being pinned up all night dragging over his shoulder. He’d never been with a girl that had really taken her time with him but he imagined you would. He knew how soft your hands were, could imagine what they’d feel like dragging down his ribs over his stomach, tugging at his belt. You’d push his shirt up while pulling his jeans down and look up at him with that glint in your eye, the one you’d get before you really threw yourself fully into something.

Sometimes this would be the softest imagined scenario all quiet moans and gentle kisses, you handling him so carefully. Featherlight touches down his thighs, your hands soft around him while you whispered little praises up at him from between his knees. Those were nights where he was feeling especially lovesick (like when you were out on a fabled date). Getting deep into his feelings in the dark, sometimes not even actually jerking off, just thinking of you while he lay in his bed trying to sleep.

The other times though, those times he’d grab you up in front of everyone at that party and find a dark corner of that rich kids kitchen. He’d walk you backwards, up against a wall and cage you in with his body, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other ghosting down your side to grab at your hip. Without shoes on your only a few inches shorter than him, but you’d still have to look up at him from under your lashes. Your hands would wrap up the sides of his face and wind in his hair and you’d pull him down to you, lips soft and warm. He’d hook a finger in the neckline of your dress to try and get your tits out and he just knew they’d fit so perfect in his hands. You’d mewl at him and make all the little noises he could imagine you might make when he runs his fingers over the lace of your bra. He’d smirk at you while you pulled at his neck, trying to get him closer, pulling your body flush up against his. Slot your leg between his and grind up on him to feel the hard length of him against your thigh.

It didn’t take much for him to picture you bent over a bathroom vanity, hands braced on the sink in front of you and crying for him. His hand fisted in the velvet of your dress and pushing it up to your waist so he could watch himself bury his cock in you while you whined and moaned for him to not stop, never stop, keep going your gonna make me cum-

The shuffling of paper brings him back down into his room. Remembers that you are also in his room and he has to keep his fucking imagination in check because you can clearly see the raging hard on he has from your place on the floor. Only if you looked over that is, just a turn of your head and you could see him straining against his jeans-

He mentally slaps himself back in place and takes a deep breath to try to focus on something literally anything that isn’t you and your tits and your thighs and your breathing…

From your position on the floor you can see Eddie lying face up on his bed, eyes closed, fingers tapping on his chest along with the drum beat. The notes you’ve been looking at are held at such an angle that you’re actually just peering at him like a little creep over the top. Watching his fingers tap, watching his chest rise and fall, watching his face scrunch up when he hears the bass really kick in. It’s lulling you into a stasis of sorts; you’ve been good and toasty for a bit now, the two of you no longer essentially hotboxing his room. The floor was supposed to be grounding you so you’d stop imagining things like climbing up on the bed with him. Would he even open his eyes or would he just smile?

Assume you were trying to get comfortable.

You could surprise him. Tangle your hand up in his hair and pull his head back to hold him in place while you attacked his neck, leaving little red marks up and down the column of his throat. Maybe he’d laugh, all breath and a little gasping, the vibrations making you smile against him. You could move your way up to his mouth and he’d taste just like you’d imagined a hundred times before. Tobacco and weed and a little salty from the fries he’d been eating earlier.

This is not the first, nor will it be the last time, that you sit and wonder what secrets that mouth beholds.

You are slowly spinning out on the floor of his room, your mind going…well, more like an inch a minute rather than a mile. Eddie’s notes long forgotten next to you in the carpet, you’re just about to drift off into your daydream about his fingers tap tap tapping down your sternum when he clears his throat and turns his head to look at you, says something you don’t catch.

“What?”

“I said ‘can I ask you something?’” He repeats himself and rolls over to lean on an elbow. His eyes are fixed on you, a notch between his brows making him look worried.

“What’s up?”

“Can I rain check next Friday?” He asks you almost hesitantly. It takes a few seconds for you to catch up before you frown a little yourself.

“And postpone the Friday night french fry extravaganza? What, you got a hot date or something?” You think you’re being slick but a blush starts to creep up his neck.

“No way! Did Gwen change her mind?!” You sit up from the floor to crawl over to the edge of the bed where you prop your chin to grin up at him. Your daydream is left with the notes while you rush into his space, face close to his own. Weed is still hugging your faculties pretty warmly so you don’t get a chance to stop your eyes drifting down his face to his lips.

He absolutely does not miss that look, but he’s also dipped pretty deep in this high so he lets it go because this is new. He’s never seen you look at him like that before; bites his bottom lip because he’s not entirely sure what’s happening in this moment.

No harm in letting you stare.

No harm in him watching you worry at your own lip.

Please let me bite that for you.

Your eyes finally snap back up to his with a questioning look in them.

Yes yes yes do it first please I’m too much of a coward.

Time is molasses the way the guitar in the background is molasses and you’re just staring at each other when you huff lightly.

“So…Gwen?”

Yeah, Gwen. Who’s Gwen?

“Uh yeah kind of? Nothing like crazy or whatever.” He breaks eye contact with you to stare at his blanket and pick at it. He’s not even sure why he’s still set on hanging out with her honestly, not with this huge fuckin’ crush he’s got burning for you. That first time he’d asked Gwen it had been with some actual feeling behind it. It’d only taken her a week to come back after turning him down though, a quiet question on her lips. Cornering him in the parking lot after school she’d made it a point to get him alone by his van where they were out of eyesight of everyone else. That should have been his first clue that this wouldn’t be a real date, but he’d been too caught off guard by the god damn cheer outfit.

“Does that offer still stand?” She’s sweet and a little naive maybe and he’s kind of weak for that so of course it does. Anything to get you off of his mind.

“For what?”

“Going out for a bite.”

“I mean sure, if you’re free.”

“Of course silly. Next Friday though.” She giggles and tucks a note with her number into his vest pocket.

He tells you all this, not looking up from his blanket the whole time. He admits that he knows she probably isn’t really interested in going out with him but she seems fun and nice and like who cares right?

“Yeah, she gets to test out what kind of freak I am and I probably get laid so…” he trails off. You’re still all up in his space so you can see his eyes darting around his blanket, looking for a distraction. This isn’t the first of these kinds of conversations between the two of you and you’ve seen that hurt in his eyes before. It’s not like Eddie is laying waste to all the girls of Hawkins High. He’s got maybe a solid handful of conquest under his belt, but they’ve all mostly treated him like a big secret. Something they got to do on a weekend or three and then moved on to something better. Something brighter. Something more well rounded and presentable.

“It’s not like she’s gonna take me home to meet mom.” His laugh is small and hollow when he rolls back over to stare at his ceiling. You pull yourself away from the edge of the bed, the cozy little spell broken.

“Listen man, you don’t have to go out with her. Just cancel it. What’s the worst that’ll happen? She doesn’t talk to you anymore?” You’re trying to break the sad tension with a joke and a gentle punch to his shoulder. He doesn’t budge, just sighs real big and continues to stare up at nothing.

You’re not super worried about this. Either he doesn’t hang out with her and you two get to have your normal Friday, or he does and you wait it out like you have with the others.

See, Gwen is an easy obstacle. She’s one of the nice cheerleaders, and she’s a year below you guys but she has no idea what she’s dipping her toe into. Eddie is a special brand of person and with his ability to talk an ear off, he’s sure to scare her off quickly. They’ll go out on their date and probably fool around a few times and then she’s going to comment on Hellfire. Or his band. Or his music. And then Eddie is going to get bored. He’ll remember what it’s like to talk about his interest unhindered with his little group of misfits and he’ll come back, acting like nothing ever happened.

So you have nothing to worry about.

Gwen will be easy.

💕Tags List💕

@edsforehead, @fracturedarkness, @munsonsguitarpick

“Daniel.” Eddie replies with a tip of his chin. Likes the way his dad’s shoulders scrunch up at his full name.

“Boy, don’t start that shit-“ He’s cut off when Wayne puts a hand on his arm.

“Danny.” Just a warning from an older brother. Wayne looks down the steps at Eddie, concern in the small smile he shoots him. “Ed, your dad was just telling me about how he got here.” He watched the two of you walk up the road, laughter ringing out. Watched Eddie hitch you higher on his back. Wayne’s heart sinks knowing he’s about to ruin his nephews week.

“By bus I assume, isn’t that how they always drop you off?” Eddie’s defiant and still, hasn’t realized you’ve slid off his back yet. “Did they drop you off or did you just steal another car?”

Wayne moves first, cuts his brother off and leaves him to angrily suck down his cigarette on the top step. He gets close to Eddie, grabs his shoulder to pull him in. Doesn’t like that you’re here to witness this bullshit, it only ever goes south.

“Listen son,” he says this quiet. Danny never liked it when Wayne called his boy that. “He surprised both of us. Make nice for the afternoon and he’ll be gone by dinner time. He’s got a place to stay over in Elwood so he ain’t hanging around.” He gives Eddie a good shake to try to get him to look at him. Wayne sees a flash of rage in those brown eyes and for a moment Evelyn is staring at him. He straightens up, hand still clamped on Eddie’s shoulder and looks past him to you.

“Listen Dee, why don’t you head on home? Your mother’s got the night off right? Might like to see you for supper.”

You nod a bunch at Wayne, thankful for him noticing your dilema. You only get three steps backward before Daniel speaks up.

“Well you don’t need to send his friend away. Jesus Christ Wayne, I’m not gonna bite.”

“Danny, don’t turn this into a thing. She’s gotta go home. Probably got homework, like this one does.” He pulls Eddie forward a step, feels like he’s pulling an empty box along with him. “They spend enough time together, we can make introductions later.” They make for the steps and you try to high tail it but Daniel’s voice rings out between the trailers.

“Dee? What’s that short for?”

Now, your mother had taught you manners. How to be respectful to adults and authority though it rarely stuck. This man was neither in your eyes, however you can feel the backslide of nerves kicking in. Grown men asking questions never boded well.

“Candice, sir.”

His mouth pulls down in contemplation, slaps a hand on the metal railing and turns to go inside Wayne’s trailer.

There’s quiet before Wayne lets out a deep sigh. “Ed?”

Eddie moves quick then. Snatches up his book bag you dropped by his feet when you tried to leave. “I don’t fucking care.” He beelines for the front door and Wayne turns to you.

“Listen, I’ll call your mama when we get settled. Have her come get you.” You nod again.

“This’ll be fine.” He lies.

- - - -

Borderlines are clearly drawn through the small living room and Wayne is sadly stuck in the middle of it all. Him and Daniel have been talking for the tenses half hour you’ve ever witnessed. They make it seem like the conversation is easy but you don’t think you’ve ever seen Wayne sit so straight in his recliner. Eddie has posted himself against the countertop outside of the kitchen, just out of your reach where you’re seated at the tiny table. Any fidget you made had Eddie looking over his shoulder at you, only to snap his head back when his dad reclined on the sofa.

This is a whole side of Eddie you’ve never seen. Both him and Wayne hold the tension like a line between them, but where Wayne lets out a quiet laugh every now and then, Eddie just doubles down on his glare. Daniel makes it a point to ignore his kid for a bit.

It’s wild how much Eddie resembles his dad. The same nose sloping into full lips; same angled jaw and slightly too big ears. The same crossed arms and wide shoulders. They’re even the same height almost.

But that’s where that ends.

Eddie must have his mom’s eyes. Her long curls. Her smile. Because Daniel’s blue eyes are flinty and cold blue. His hair short and lighter brown. You haven’t seen him actually smile since sitting down even though he’s huffed a laugh or two.

“So did you just forget to call or what?” Eddie cuts across the conversation. You immediately look down at your feet to try and avoid everyone’s eyes. There’s so much sighing in this small space it’s a wonder there’s any air left to breathe.

“Edward-“

“It’s Eddie.”

His dad fully turns his body to face him. “Edward,” he enunciates it like Eddie is hard of hearing, “if you opened your ears you’d have heard me say I was trying to surprise you and Wayne.”

“We don’t like surprises.”

“Well I wouldn’t know that on account of you never visiting me.”

“Why would I do that when you just spend thirty minutes behind glass telling me everything wrong with me?”

The quiet is fucking unbearable so you set your glass of water on the table and shoot up, mumbling about needing the bathroom. That’s not allowed apparently.

“Candice?” You don’t like how Daniel says that. Like he’s testing the name out in his mouth. Eddie is on that immediately, steps in front of you like a shield and oh how you’d love to just crawl into the back of his ribs and burrow and get you both out of this excruciating visit.

“Nah, you don’t need to ask her anything.”

“Wayne, you sure they hang out all the time?” Daniel scoffs and stands, shoves his hands in the pockets of his faded blue jeans. Wayne looks questioning and Eddie takes a step back toward you.

“Well she seems to have some manners, would’ve thought that might’ve rubbed off on Eddie here.” He sets his shoulders wide when he looks down at Wayne and then over to Eddie playing knight to you. The confidence you get to speak is like a ray of sun peaking through a cloud momentarily. “Well those are questionable on a good day.” Eddie looks over his shoulder at you with cold eyes.

“At least you have them. Thought my brother would have done a better job than this. Father would’ve never put up with this.”

It’s Wayne’s turn to stand. “Danny, it’s been a few years since you’ve been in polite company so I’ll let that slide right now. Why don’t we let the kids go cool off while you and me have a little chat.” It’s not a question. Eddie realizes that as soon as the last word leaves Wayne’s mouth. He spins around and grabs your upper arm to pull you with him to his room. Before the door closes you can hear Daniel say something about an ‘ungrateful kid’ and the quiet anger in Wayne’s voice.

- - - -

The room is still with the door closed. Eddie stays leaned against it for a while, taking deep breaths to calm down. He can’t believe this is happening. Had no intention of you ever meeting his dad. Had no idea he was even close to getting out. It’d been such a good day too. He’d managed two B’s on two separate test and then you’d agreed to finally let him make you a character sheet for his new campaign. God this was wrong, he wanted to lash out at something but you’re here and he doesn’t want to let himself fall into that stupid rage. He can feel the tendrils of black creeping up the back of his head, invading his thoughts, when you let out an exasperated bark of laughter.

“Holy shit dude that was fucking tense!” You whisper yell at him. “I haven’t felt that weird since my dad came to visit last Christmas. Shit.” You draw out the middle of that ‘shit’ and turn around his room once. “I can like, go out the window if you want?”

No. Eddie doesn’t want that. If you leave he’s gonna stomp right back down that short hallway and punch his dad in the face. He’ll call the cops and tell Hopper his shitheel dad showed up and punched him first. Get him tossed back in jail for a few days, he doesn’t care.

No, Eddie wants to sit on his bed and show you how roll your stats. Wordlessly he walks across to the stack of binders and user guides next to his night stand and pulls out a notebook.

“Eddie?”

“C’mere.” He kicks his shoes off and throws his jacket down at the foot of the bed. Throws himself too against the pillows and tucks a leg under himself. When you don’t move to the bed he looks up from the notebook, through his hair and stares for a second.

“Dude, we don’t have to do that right now. I mean, we can do it la-“

“Please.” Quiet quiet quiet. Eddie’s never quiet and rarely does he use the ‘p’ word. Everything about today is sitting like a lead weight in your stomach. He’s pleading for something normal you realize and before you sit you turn his radio on, the low drone drowning out any utterance from the living room.

Twenty minutes later and you’ve decided on a purple Teifling fighter named Theodora. Eddie thinks it’s funny how into the horns you are and starts a little basic sketch in the corner of the page he’s writing your stats on. You’re asking him about the different dice when his dad’s voice cuts through the little dome of warmth you two are under.

“Well he’s my fucking kid Wayne, I know you like to forget that sometimes!” His voice hits Eddie hard and that’s all it takes for a sob to fall out of him. The tether he’d been hanging on by was thin apparently and he buckles.

“Hey, you okay?” Worry slides into your words.

“No.” His face is buried in his hands and the minor shake of his shoulders tells you the rest. Wordlessly you reach over and pull him to you, head resting on your shoulder and arms going around to squeeze hard. It’s a few minutes of Eddie sniffling into your shirt while you rub little circles on his back. He can’t seem to stop the slow leak of tears and he can feel the shame spreading red hot across his face. He’s only ever cried like this in front of his uncle and now, you. He’s never clung to you like a life raft, stuttering in breath and trying to wipe his eyes on his sleeve. Feels foolish but still doesn’t let go, needs to have some kind of grounding.

You’d been sitting next to him when you’d pulled him in and now the position feels like you’re being pretzeled in half. “Hey, scoot over.” You whisper and nudge him. He does, unwinds himself to lean back against the wall, props his arms on his raised knees. You spin and sidle up right next to him to fit your shoulder under his, arms wrapped around your knees. “I’m sorry your dad is such a dick.”

Eddie laughs wetly, “Yeah well, yours isn’t much better.”

“Fair. Maybe I’ll take you to Indy and we can just have a repeat of today?” You joke, nudging him. He laughs again and you watch him out of the corner of your eye. Tear tracks cut through his cheeks and you reach over without thinking to wipe them from one side with your fingertips. He just turns his head slightly, quirks an eyebrow and you just shrug.

“I’d tell you to not cry over him but he’s your dad.” Your dad may not be in prison but you get it. Spent enough time hating him to not get it. Still, seeing Eddie not loud and not smiling and not himself has changed your view of him a little. Nothing bad but there’s depth to him he was keeping hidden, another dimension of his personality that you hope he’ll let you into more if for nothing more than to help.

“You know if you want to talk about it…”

“I know.” Sniffles again and rocks his head back against the wall. “Thank you.”

- - - -

His dad leaves before you, evening settling when the roar of an engine pulls up outside. You and Eddie have been laying in bed side by side while he explains your new creation to you when the murmur of voices outside makes him get up to look through his blinds.

“Fucking asshole can’t seem to make new friends.” He flicks the blinds and settles back onto the bed with his back facing you. You want to reach out and place a hand between his shoulders to let him know it’s okay. Wayne cuts in though and it only annoys you a little when the door swings open and he just looks in. Worn and tired he tells Eddie his dad is gone.

“Yeah I saw him leave with Rob.”

“Don’t worry about that. I’m starting dinner okay? Coast is clear now.” He nods at you and you know a cue. Eddie stops you before you leave his room to shove the notebook at you.

“Hang on to that, I’ll finish it up tomorrow with you.”

“Thank you.” You smile at him before giving him one last hug. He’s still stiff but he does hug you back, arms squeezing your ribs a little longer than normal. Making your way out of the trailer, past Wayne who gives your shoulder a squeeze, you feel that familiar giddiness again. Try as you might it keeps getting harder to squish down, and as you grip the notebook close you can feel it pushing up around your invisible hands trying to stuff it down.

- - - -

The storm door closes and Eddie wanders out of his room to stand in the kitchen and stare at the side of his uncles head. Wayne knows he’s there obviously, but he finishes browning the ground beef and layering it with the peas in the casserole dish before looking at him.

“Ed, I’m sorry. You know I didn’t know about that.”

Eddie nods, throat bobbing when he swallows. “You don’t want him here either.”

“No I don’t.”

“What did he actually want?”

Wayne gives him a bullshit answer, something about money and a job. He’d been asking about custody again, said he had a life set up for himself in Elwood and wanted Eddie to live with him again. That conversation went nowhere and ended with Daniel yelling about ‘his boy’.

Dinner is quiet and Eddie only eats the mashed potatoes off his shepards pie but at least it’s something.

“If you wanna skip tomorrow it’s fine, I’ll call and tell ‘em you’re sick or something.”

“No, I told her I’d be there tomorrow.”

Wayne nods and silently cleans up dinner. When Eddie hugs him from behind, sliding his skinny arms around Wayne’s shoulders he just pats his hand with his.

“Thank you Wayne.”

“No thanks needed kiddo.”