#ALL EDDIE ALL THE TIME

[wordynerdygurl]

Someone to Watch Over Me

Part 3: “He’s the One Affair I Cannot Forget”

Author’s Note:  Oh my lovelies!  Truth time- I almost didn’t post this... I reworked it and reworked it and walked away from it before remembering that I had come too far to turn back now.  So, with my humble thanks to @sweetsweetjellybean​ and @sammy-jo1977​ you now have Part 3!

My taglist is open and reblogs are encouraged!!

It’s filled to the brim, so enjoy!

If you need to catch up:  Part 1 - Love is Blind & Part 2 - Seek & You Will Find are here! Pairing:  Eddie Munson x Plus Sized OC Amanda Patterson Summary:  It’s love at first sound, pitch perfect and fated, everything in harmony.  If only life were a love song. Eddie and Amanda make their union physical, back in 1987.  What does 1990 have in store? Warnings:  There is SMUT ahead (minors DNI), first time with a new partner, and mentions of birth control.  Self depricating thoughts are discussed, some fat phobic ideas are expressed and there’s a passing mention of canon quality Chrissy’s passing.  Also, smoking, drinking and swearing. Happy Reading!

1990

“Well, I think we’ve got everything we need.  Thank you guys for your time.”  Chuck grinned slickly, offering a tepid handshake to all the guys in the group, “The tech team will edit the package together and get it over to your manager for final approval, but yea, this should be on the air in a week or two.  Exciting, right?”

The manufactured for the masses interviewer was looking directly at Eddie as he asked, clearly in need of approval or something less like open disdain from the front man and lead guitarist,  “Uh, yea.  Like, super exciting.  So, thank you?”  Gareth sniggered at his back.  It was becoming way too obvious that Eddie couldn't keep the charade up much longer.  Not when his head was like this- lost in the past but forced to work in the present.  But then salvation arrived at his side.  Maggie, savior, protector, liberator, bumped his shoulder and interrupted with a grave whisper, “Mr. Munson, I’m afraid it’s time.” Vague enough to sound serious, Eddie nodded his head solemnly, “Oh, yea, right.  Well, thanks again Chuck, but, alas, duty calls.”

“No, thank you Eddie-” He didn’t answer the host, having already turned away, hip to hip with Maggie, heads bowed together like naughty kids.  Waiting until they were out of earshot, she sighed deeply, “Ya know, that could've gone better, Emmy.” Eddie snorted at the nickname, his brown eyes rolling, “That guy sucked, Mags.  Forget being a tool, Chuck was an entire tool box.  A goddamned Harbor Freight of bullshit.” Sighing deeply, the sturdy woman fell in step beside him, “So fucking what?  MTV’s gonna be running that shit for days, weeks even.  The least you could do is be, I don’t know, polite?” He barreled through a swinging door back first, Maggie dogging his steps, as he sassed, “I was polite, Magdelena.  I answered his questions.  What else do you want from me?” Eddie nodded at one of the road guys as they passed, the lull in this particular conversation more than welcome.  But of the many reasons he loved Maggie so much, this right here was the kicker; her determination.  That it was also the worst thing about being her friend was one of those unsolved mysteries of life since this dominant personality trait meant that their little moving conversation wasn’t over.  Not by a long shot. Turning down a narrow hall, they pushed into the green room together as she shrugged, “Maybe a little less attitude.  Maybe a little more gratitude.” “Are you a greeting card now, Mags?”  Eddie had flopped onto a sagging gray monstrosity of a couch, his legs kicked up over the arm, his back flat against the indeterminately stained cushion.    Maggie wasn’t looking in his direction.  Instead she was peeking around the corner, checking the exit and generally ensuring that no immediate risks to Eddie’s safety could be seen.  When she was satisfied that a crazy fan was not about to jump out of his closet, she planted her feet and crossed her arms, staring down at Eddie with an affectionate scowl, “No, but I do like my paycheck, so I need you to stay employed.” “Ha!  Honey, the lead singer of Corroded Coffin ain’t goin’ nowhere!” She pulled a plastic backed chair closer, eyeing him from the shadow of her ever present hat’s bill, “Well, that’s not entirely true, now is it?” His eyebrow raised again, curiosity clear on Eddie’s face, “You know something I don’t?” “Aren’t we going back to Indiana?  That Battle of the Bands thing after New Year’s?”  Settling back against the flimsy seat, her legs opened wide, Maggie ran her hands over her thighs, the rolled sleeve of her shirt showcasing her own inky designs.  The caged bird on her forearm always drew Eddie’s attention and even now he caught himself staring at the intricate ink instead of answering his friend and protector’s question.  “Fuck.  I had almost forgotten.” “Bullshit.”  Squinting at him, the same look she gave to overeager fans who lined up alongside the tour bus, the one that made them piss their pants in fright, the one he cherished, Maggie now used on Eddie to get at the truth. Feigning affront, he sat up on his elbows, hair long enough now to get caught underneath his shoulder and pulling, “Excuse me?” “Bullshit you forgot.  You’re going to judge the Battle of the Bands in your home state and you fucking forgot?  Nope.  No way.  And what’s with the song you brought up?  Someone to Watch Over Me?  A little, I don’t know, soft for you, ain’t it?” The blush of honesty scorched through him so fast, Eddie flopped back to the sofa with a soft whoosh sending a swirl of dust out of the ancient furniture.  How many sweaty asses have sat here, he wondered quickly.  A hundred?  More?  Gross. But then Mags cleared her throat, unimpressed by his delay tactics.  It chafed her charge and since Eddie was already feeling some kind of way, more defensive than he meant to be, he huffed, “Yea?  So?  It’s- it’s a great song.”  There were not a lot of secrets between Edward Munson and Magdelena Rios but Mandy?  Yea, that was definitely, absolutely a secret he kept close.  So, of course his bodyguard slash bulldog wouldn’t know about his affinity for Gershwin songs when they were sung into a perfect Indiana sunset.  And she wouldn’t know about the ache in his chest whenever he looked up at the sky and found the silent, silver full moon staring back down him.  Judging him.  Reminding him of regrets that ran deep- goblin green and moss covered, growing mushrooms in the dark.  Clever and always on alert, Maggie saw something cross his face because she nodded and then tipped her chair onto two legs, “Uh huh.  Right.”  “What are you trying to say, my darling Magdelena?”  Swinging his big black boots forward, Eddie pushed up so he was sitting almost normally.  He let his clasped hands hang between his knees as he lifted baleful brown eyes to Maggie’s steely ones. “I’m trying to say that you’re not using your head.”  Her chair clanged as she lowered it too fast making Eddie flinch, “I am saying, flat out, that you got so pissy with Chuck the Tool Box because you were a little too honest today, even if I don’t get why.  I guess-” she leaned forward now, encroaching on the rockstar’s space with a soul deep exhale, “-I’m saying I’m worried about you, my friend.” Twisting his lips into a devilish smirk, Eddie reached over and flicked at the brim of her hat, “Honey, sweetie, darling, Maggie… you got nothing to worry about.  I’m fine.”

They both knew he was lying.

It was during their condensed pre-show warm up that Eddie realized he was in trouble.  Naturally, his fingers felt along the frets of his acoustic Gibson, a melody in calloused pads playing without a lot of thought.  Behind him the other members of Corroded Coffin fooled around, checking levels and making weird noises into the mics, generally acting like the assholes he knew and loved.  Normally he’d be the one leading the rabble, causing trouble and wreaking havoc for the venue staff but there was a riff stuck in his brain.

“Earth to Eddie!  Helllooooo?  Anybody home?”

Without looking up, he rumbled, “Fuck off Jeff, I’m working here.” “Hear that fellas?  Eddie’s working while we’re just lazing around.” Yea, this was definitely a song, he could feel it vibrating in his bones.  Excited now, he flashed wide eyes at the boys in the band, “Pen!  Paper!” The dumb fuckers looked at each other with varying degrees of confusion on their faces.  Gareth, the bravest, ventured, “Uh, wh- what man?” “Something to write with- On!  I gotta get it outta me, Gare!” There was a manic energy filling the spaces between microphone stands and amplifiers that made Eddie itchy under the skin.  When the muse came she would not be denied and holy shit but she was coming hard right now.  He knew the grateful smile he flashed at the poor roadie responsible for dropping off a mechanical pencil and three white paper plates must have been terrifying to see, but giving birth was a messy process no matter what form the new life took. Pencil clamped between his teeth like one of his cherished cigarettes, Eddie moved his hands down the neck of the guitar and back up, picking a string or two along the way.  Using a cab for a table, he scribbled, paused to hum, then broadly grinned.  It was over in a matter of minutes. “Here.  New tune.”  Breathing harder than a marathon runner, he shoved the scalloped edged plates covered in gray looping letters at his friends and bandmates. Jumping off a riser, Gareth looked over his oldest friend’s work and nodded slowly, “Uh, ok, Eddie.  What do you want us to, uh, ya know, do with this?” “Play it?  I mean, we are a band, right?  And we make music, don’t we?” “It’s gibberish, man.” “Fuck you!  It’s good.  Great even.  I know it.” Waving Eddie closer, Gareth handed off the hastily scribed song to Jeff, before wrapping an arm around their front man, “Eddie.  My friend.  My musical partner in crime.  I ask with all due respect-” they had been walking towards the wings of the stage, Eddie following where he was led, “- But what the fuck is going on with you today?” Pulling back hard, Eddie’s hair swung at the force of his movement, “What’s wrong with me?  What’s wrong with you, man?  I come to you with a- a new tune and you- you call me out like this?” Revved up and idling, Eddie was a race car in the red.  Gareth recognized all the signs despite it being a long while since this particular engine had been torqued so high.  With hands raised in surrender, the curly blond conceded, “Hey, no one is calling you out man.  I’m telling you that it’s, I don’t know, weird?” “Weird?  What the hell, man.  Just say what you want to say and let me get back to the music for fuck’s sake.”  “Ok.  Ok.”  Eddie had to watch as his buddy rolled his shoulders back before taking a big breath in, “You were an asshole to the MTV guy, which, I get it man.  Guy’s a dick but this is a big deal, Eddie.  I know you know that, deep down, but you’re not acting like you do.”  Dropping his voice lower, Gareth added, “And you talked about- well, her.” The extra emphasis wasn’t needed.  All it did was needle under the thin skin that Eddie was sporting today, a suit that didn’t fit quite right, and he didn’t know why.  But here was friend number two mentioning erratic behavior and well, that sucked to hear. Deflating visibly, his security hair strand pulled over his face, Eddie countered weakly, “I didn’t say her name.” “You didn’t have to, pal" and having the decency to look embarrassed, he added, “You called your new hit ‘Watching the Moon’.” Huffing out a strained laugh, Eddie met his friend’s kind gaze with a grimace, “Not very subtle, huh?” “Naw, not really" was the half chuckled reply. Stretching his neck out, chin to the auditorium’s ceiling, an unhinged note in his voice, Eddie felt obligated to apologize, “I’m sorry, Gare.  Don’t know why but I’m spinning out a bit.” Really ribbing him now, Gareth bumped into his buddy’s side, “You don’t know why?  Gee, let’s see, you have huge rock show tonight, had an interview with MTV today, you’re writing music, touring, and being away from home, from Wayne, from people you lov-” the face Eddie flashed was all the warning he was going to give his oldest friend, and Gareth adjusted accordingly, “-care about sucks.  It’s- it’s a lot, man and you’re allowed to be overwhelmed.  But you’re not allowed to blow it all up because you’re missing your ex.” There it was.  Too honest to be denied, Eddie was caught.  Trapped like a bird in a cage and held hostage by the golden bars of memory. He had moved it past it, past her.  Truly!  There had been groupies in spandex skirts with hair teased higher than Mount Rushmore who took care of Eddie Munson with a reverence he did not deserve.  An actress with a chest so big it frightened him, really.  Plus a model who had the exact opposite problem- all skin and bones with no meat to feast on.  Not his flavor by any stretch of the imagination. So, Eddie had skimmed the oil slicked surface of available tail and was happy for the opportunity.  Appreciated every lovely lady and that one very handsome fella who made him feel worthy again.  Each new conquest a fresh layer of sediment, burying the idea of Amanda further and further down in the rock formation of his heart.

It worked.  Eddie had been every inch the wild child rock singer of his high school daydreams, until the Battle of the Bands was brought up.

The label had it all planned out- two shows in Indianapolis a Thursday night and then again on Saturday.  In between, Corroded Coffin's lead singer would help choose the 1991 Battle Champion, awarding a cash prize and the chance to open the second date's concert.  It was a huge opportunity for some local metal group, a chance Eddie would have loved to take advantage of only a few short years ago, and he was looking forward to it.  Except-

Hidden in the haystack of going back to Indiana was the needle named Amanda Patterson.  The odds of finding that needle at a Corroded Coffin show considering how things ended between them was minimal at best, but it wasn’t zero.  It was that one in a million chance which buzzed boldly between Eddie’s ears, making him think about moonlit nights and vanilla milkshakes and promises whispered under overworn sheets. The tune he’d quickly crafted came back to him now, ‘Watching the Moon’, and of course it was about her.  Them.  All the things he didn’t say and all the things she wouldn’t allow him to. It was absolutely a hit, even though it hadn't been played once and wasn’t recorded yet.  It was a hit because it came from that same well inside of Eddie where love and passion and music all swam together.  A tall tower still ruled by Mandy, despite years and tears and stand-in people.  

He was going to make this song a number one, getting it played on every single radio station from here to Toronto, knowing that if Gareth could see through the title that his Moon Goddess would too.  Maybe, then, his needle would find him.  Maybe going back to Indiana wasn’t the worst idea his management team had cobbled together.  Maybe it was all going to be ok.

Eddie Munson had a plan.  A campaign to make things right.  A strategy that was coming together almost as quickly as his song for Amanda.

Feeling lighter than he had all day, he clapped Gareth on the back and, yea, there might have been a bit too much force in his playful shove but he didn’t regret it.  Gare could take it, it was why they were so close.  So he spouted at his best friend, “You’re just jealous because I have an ex.  There’s no one missing you but the blow up doll you keep in your bunk.” “Jesus!  Shut up, Eddie!”

Craziness crowded into the overly expressive eyes of Eddie Munson as he darted back towards the other guys in the band, “Hey, did Gareth ever tell you about his Lady Latex?” —

1987

They made it to the front door, finally, after agreeing to a truce.  No more touching.  No teasing.  Not until they were inside someplace that wasn’t on four wheels. Now though, they were stopped in front of said door, nervous giggles bubbling free like champagne uncorked.  Cheeks hot from kissing too closely in the heated shelter of Eddie’s van before braving the nighttime’s frosty temperatures, their breaths mixed, making wispy clouds with every panted exhale.  Try as she might, Amanda couldn’t keep the excited tremble from her hands as she struggled to fit the key into her lock. It certainly didn’t help that the overly eager rocker couldn’t seem to keep his lips or his hands or even his hips to himself, “Truce schmuce” was all he said before enveloping her in his embrace.  And he was everywhere- each time the notches of her house key caught the lock, he would nibble on the fleshiest part of her earlobe making her shudder, deadbolt be damned.  

He was distracting in the best and most frustrating way.  Because really, all she wanted to do was get inside where she could return his touch.  Tease him back.  Taste him.  And go on to do all of the other tantalizing things they had been thinking about since their first blissful kiss over vanilla milkshakes. Another miss as the lock continued to do its job in spite of her efforts and she pouted, unable to keep the needy whine out of her voice, “Eddie!  Come on!”  “What?  What’d I do?”  Oh, he feigned innocence, but he knew.  Eddie knew that every sloppy press of his lips to her delicate neck, every roll of his pelvis, every graze of his fingers over her own was making Amanda feverish.  Flustered.  It was also keeping the pair of them on the wrong side of the door. Dropping her frigid hands with a frustrated growl after another failed attempt, Amanda stomped her foot before reaching up to try again.  Shifting away from the long legged leviathan behind her, prompting his dulcet demand, “Quit wiggling and open the door!” “I’m trying but-” “But what, huh?”  Wrapping over her back, the sharp bone of his chin hooked over her shoulder to watch her progress as Eddie’s red, raw fingers dragged strands of unruly hair behind her ear.  Breathing hotly against the golden hoop hanging there, he husked hoarsely, “Need some, ah, help, Mandy?” “Please?”  

Caving into the warmth behind her, Amanda nodded, her head rolling back against the denim vest over his torso, hair catching on his WASP pin causing her to moan pitifully.  That it gave Eddie the chance to litter her neck with wet, open mouthed kisses, his palms squishing against her jacket as he tried to touch more and more of her was just an added bonus.  Arms, creaking leather encased arms, reached around her, crowding her snuggly between the unopened door and his chest as the keys were plucked free from her grip, “Lemme try.”  With her mind and hands free, Amanda’s own fingers could wander and they did.  Quickly finding the dangling chain of Eddie’s wallet, she used the steel links to pull him tighter, earning a stuttered “Fuck.” from the guy at her back.  Now she got to listen as her house keys jangled noisily while he attempted to do what she could not.  Work them into the lock and open the fucking door. “I thought you were- uh, I thought you were supposed to be helping, Ed.”  God, but she sounded wrecked already, her round bottom rubbing him through layers of distancing denim, the hard and firm evidence of the effect she was having making itself known.

And maybe it wasn’t fair of her to grind the curve of her ass into the sharp angles of Eddie’s hip bones while he fumbled to open her front door.  Maybe.  But when Amanda felt the firm length of him straining and stuck in his jeans she didn’t feel bad.  Not even a little bit because that was proof.  Evidence of just how much Eddie wanted her. It made her bold.  Kissing the underside of his stubbled jaw as her keychain jingled in his giant hands, her lips smacked rudely over the sensitive skin at his throat forcing a croak out of him, “Trying, honey, but you’re kinda, Jesus-” She sucked harshly at the divot below his chapped ear, “-you’re, uh, distracting- there it is!”  Triumphantly turning the knob, Eddie shuffled in short steps behind Amanda, tucking her close as they crossed the threshold.  

With a satisfying snap, the door was shut behind them to keep the world out.  But who could worry about something like an open door when there was kissing to be done?  The heated sort of kisses which didn’t stop when Amanda ripped down the zipper of her jacket, shrugging her arms free before flinging it away into the abyss of the living room.  Kisses that went melty in the middle, stretching and stretching but never breaking even when she forced her way under the shoulders of his leather, pushing it to the floor with a satisfying thump. Her hands wasted no time.  Palms flat over the planes of his chest, she marveled for a moment at the solid strength hidden in Eddie’s trim physique.  The muscles that lugging amplifiers and tossing truck tires created, buried beneath bravado and cotton and tattoos, only seen in glimpses now tense and tight and touchable. Fisting into the soft t-shirt he wore, a secretive smile spreading across her face, “Hi.” “Hi yourself, Miss Mandy.”  Eddie’s paws spanned her ample waist, forcing her closer, his fingers tapping out an unfamiliar rhythm on the small of her back.  With his curls brushing over her scalding cheeks, she licked her lips in anticipation, ready for the next press of his mouth to her own.  And following the flick of her tongue, a hungry, haunted look on his face, he gritted out, “Where- shit, where’s your bedroom, Mandy?” Wordlessly she linked their hands together.  A shiver that started in the sacred space below her navel raced through her blood, her body.  Had it ever been like this before?  As if her physical self was running a race that her heart and mind would follow to the finish? No.  Never.  Not once. Tugging against a hand heavy with silver rings, insistent and eager, she led the way and he followed.  It wasn’t far.  A few short steps down a shaggy carpeted hallway then through a door, partially opened already.  

The room, Amanda’s room, was made of comfort- a brown corduroy bean bag sagged next to a record player being held up by two plastic milk crates crammed full of way too many records.  A double tape deck had carved out its place on her desk, a stack of cassette cases leaning precariously, a few already having tumbled to the floor nearby.  Her tawny acoustic guitar leaned against the wall, sheet music and notebook paper scattered around as if it had all been abandoned mid-session, frozen in time but waiting for her return.  Pegged to her cork board was a calendar marking out her work days, school schedule and band rehearsals.  Textbooks for her classes were stuffed into an unzipped backpack, and while the main floor was clear, it was scattered with little things like pencils and hair ties and stuffed mice and take-out forks.

He spied a knitted afghan in garish colors folded lovingly over a quilted brocade comforter and a stack of pillows, each with their own unstained case, piled against the rattan headboard.  Her closet door was hastily shut but the tell-tale bulge of a lot of clothes crammed into not enough space was obvious.  Photos and posters decorated the walls.  It surprised him to see so many band names that he recognized mixed with 70s folk artists and new wave performers. Eclectic.  Varied.  The space was mis-matched but all the better for it.  Personality, Amanda’s personality, wafted from every corner. This was her little nest, snuggled safely between these four walls, burrowed in like a happy mouse.  Surrounded with all the comforts a soft, cozy creature could ever need: books and music and light and sweet things.  Fuck, Eddie loved it. Probably, deep down in the dusky depths of his grimy gargoyle brain, he figured he shouldn’t.  Shouldn’t love the sheer ruffled curtains parted down the middle so that starlight was visible over the neighboring houses, soft and serene.  Definitely shouldn’t stoke the soft fabric with tentative fingers, rubbing the pristine veil between inside and out with thoughtful touches, careful not to stain it.  It was all too nice, everything around him.  Too pretty.  Too put together for a guy who ate cereal over the sink and considered ketchup a vegetable. “This is a real nice place.”  God, he sounded so stupid.  But, like, it really was a nice place. Comfortable and clean.  And quiet.  No noisy neighbors shouting out their frustrations into the cold night air or barking dogs or backfiring cars with tires bouncing over pebbled dirt roads. “Uh, thanks but you haven’t even seen it with the lights on.”  With a click, Amanda turned on the small bedside lamp that filled her space with a golden glow all at once.  She wasn’t surprised to find that Eddie had strayed to her make-shift music station, his eyes lighting up at the variety of singers and bands and artists with what she hoped was appreciation.  Taking a tentative step in his direction, talking with her hands, she edged nearer to the record player.  Keeping her voice small, as though she was afraid of ruining the simple silence between them, “Is it cool if I put something on?” “Yea, yes.  Of course.  It’s your room, right?” “Well, yea, I guess it is.  Uh, just-” and she moved to duck in front of him, already knowing which album to spin.  But he was almost definitely purposefully standing exactly where she needed to get.  “-Maybe you could, uh, let me in here?” Devilish now, an impish grin made his dimples pop, “Oh, am I in the way, Mandy?  Sorry ‘bout that.”  Only he didn’t sound very sorry at all.  And as she shifted nearer, he held his ground, settling his weight in his heels, his arms crossed over his narrow chest.  If she wanted to put on a record, she was going to have to squeeze next to him to do it and boy, did that idea light him up. Eddie was absolutely pushing his luck.  He knew it, but couldn’t help himself.  Blocking her path, planting his feet, he took up as much room as possible.  Call him curious, but he wanted to see what she would do.  Push him aside?  Press those luscious curves in tight?  Go back to kissing him so hard he felt like he was coming unglued?  God he fucking hoped so. Watching her closely, he saw that tattle-tale tilt of her head, the eyes he couldn’t forget reflecting his own mischief making energy as Amanda dropped to her knees.  Her tongue darted out from between her pillowy lips, spreading sweet saliva, shiny and slick in its wake.  Rounding now, he was locked in on the circle of her pout, his body kicking up a gear at the sinful suggestion of what was sitting so prettily in front of him.  Amanda, she knew what she was doing.  When she peered up at him from the floor, raking her gaze over his towering figure through the veil of her lashes, she had a good idea that he was going to take the bait.  So she reached out, not for the trim waist at eye level or for the hands fisted against denim wrapped thighs, but for her worn copy of Led Zeppelin IV sticking out from the bottom bin.

On an exhale through clenched teeth, a curse caught in his bone dry throat, “Sweet Jesus-” “Here.”  Shocked into silence, she handed over the faded cardboard, nodding towards the record player, “Side two, if you don’t mind.”

It was enough to knock him over.  How Amanda looked so innocent while making demands on her knees in front of him, resting back on her heels demurely, was a seismic shock to his system.  It made Eddie’s head go fuzzy, ears full of feedback like when his guitar was too close to his amp with the knobs turned all the way up.  He felt as though he was turned all the way up, cranked as high as possible, crackling explosively, dangerously near the limits of his control. Tacky sweat made his t-shirt cling in the warmth of Amanda’s room.  And if her magnetic eyes weren’t boring into him, waiting him out, then he probably would have shucked the offending layer without question.  As it was, she was too damn cute and too damn close for him to do much beyond blink away this latest round of pulsing need, which was the real problem here.  Somehow he obliged when she raised a hand, asking oh so politely, “Do you mind?” before he gently helped her up to her feet. Puffing out his held breath with a wry chuckle, he smoothly slipped her chosen record onto the turntable and lowered the needle’s arm.  Raising a cocky eyebrow when “Misty Mountain Hop” began to tumble from the speakers at a reasonably low volume, his swagger returned, “Ya know-” he paused to clear his throat, his voice already sounding too blown out, too rough, even to his own ears, “-I’ve seen Fast Times like twenty times.  Harrington loves that movie, so I, uh, know what you’re up to.” “Really?”  Her sweet voice was angel light from over his shoulder, as she spied on him slowly dropping the clear plastic lid on her stereo, “And what is that, Mr. Munson?  What, exactly, am I up to?” “I think you’re trying to get into my pants, Miss Patterson.”

Shrugging, she denied him an answer, her eye contact direct and unwavering.  Color, dusty pink and warm, spread over Eddie’s sharp cheekbones and under the smattering of freckles across his nose.  He made a choked sound, as though something had stolen his breath at the last second, when she finally replied, “And?  So, uh, so what if I am?” She sounded so much braver than she actually felt.  Flirting was the easy part.  The words between them holding added weight, spoken as they were, in the protective yellow glow of her table lamp, a comforting heaviness that was familiar and made the teasing effortless.  Easy.  

Just another stop on the tour.  Because there was a map for this journey and she knew where they were headed.  The terrain was well traveled.  She wasn’t naive.  The road forward was as clearly marked as Main Street, Hawkins, USA.  

And tonight Eddie was going to learn all about the sloping curves and high density areas that she wouldn’t be able to hide behind well draped skirts or shapeless sweaters.  She silently hoped that this pretty man with his broad smile and cocoa colored eyes still wanted to take the drive because Amanda wasn’t sure she could turn back now, even if she might wish for it later.  

Together they had started this engine, all he had to do now was push down on the pedal and off they’d go.  When they ran out of gas, if they sputtered out on the side of the road, and all she gained was the last two wonderful weeks and one night of lusty loving, the emotional equivalent of a “I humped Eddie Munson and all I got was this lousy t-shirt” souvenir, well, then she would learn to live with that.  

Was it ideal?  No.  But then, things seldom were.   And even though those three magic words had been said, had been kissed into her lips so many times since making their mutual confessions in the underused alcove at Steve’s house, it was still freaking her out.  Because hadn’t this all happened before?  Hadn’t she given so much of herself, of her heart, time and again, thinking that her feelings were returned- that this time it would be different, only to wind up disappointed? Tonight though, that kind of thinking had to be pushed aside.  There was no more room to be bashful.  To worry about what came next.  Not when the guy in question was trembling from the task of keeping himself civil, the tense set of his jaw giving him away as he kept a respectful distance.  Even still, the base maleness of him thrummed, vibrating the way guitar strings do when a chord is struck, the energy shimmering into sound. And Amanda had a great ear for that sort of music, too. At her taunting words Eddie’s mouth pulled to the right, a half smile making itself known as he crossed his arms over chest, “Hey, I’m not complaining, Mandy.” “Oh?  Good.  Yea, that’s good.”  And she danced away from him, hips swaying in time with the driving beat.  She stopped, popping the button on her dungarees with intention before shimmying them down her thick thighs, delighted by the pinch of Eddie’s teeth as he bit into his bottom lip.  He was going to draw blood.  The sweater she wore barely covered the swell of her hips but if he squinted, he was certain he could see the elastic of her panties.  White?  No, heather gray and spun out cotton.  Simple, straightforward and charming as hell.

Swallowing over the hard knot of want that pushed against his Adam’s Apple, barely managing to keep his grunting in check, “Damn, Mandy.” “Hmm?”  When she kicked her pants to the side he had to look away - at the ceiling, her wall, the mossy colored floor or risk cumming in his blue jeans. He slammed his eyes shut at the image in front of him.  It didn’t help.  Imprinted on the insides of his eyelids he could still see her.  Bare legged, her supple skin nearly glowing, practically begging for his touch.  Too sweet.  Too fucking precious.  Shit.  Fuck.  He wasn’t going to survive.  So close to short circuiting, Eddie dragged a hand across the back of his neck, going so far as to squeeze the skin there, just to bring himself off the edge because, holy shit, there was no way that she knew what she was doing to him. The song shifted and Amanda sat herself down on the edge of her bed before leaning back on her hands.  This new position thrust her chest forward, those smooth legs barely parted but making his gargoyle mind wander just the same.  It wanted… to bite, to suck, to mark and mar.  His goblin wanted to claim the fair maiden then lock her in the tallest tower, far away from anything or anyone harmful, except him, of course.  His first step was cautious, feeling his way forward with only Amanda’s signals to light his path.  The pull between them was undeniably strong, had been from the beginning, but he didn’t want to screw anything up now by being overeager.  And he sure as fuck didn’t want to scare his girl away by coming on too strong or making a wrong move.  Not when Robert Plant was singing and the room smelled like Avon lotion and lavender flowers and fabric softener, the expensive kind.  Not when his pulse ticked wildly, darkening his eyes and steeling his resolve.  Not when he could see a similar something simmering in Amanda’s expressive eyes. “You- you’re fucking gorgeous, Amanda.” “Eddie-” She let her head fall back, the tight tendons of her neck stretching, her rushed breathing making her chest rise and fall rapidly, the sound of argument loaded and ready. But he cut her off, moving a leg between both of hers, palms hovering over the width of her dimpled thighs, “-I wanna touch you.  Wanna, wanna feel you.  Can I?” “Can I?”  she parrotted sweetly, upending his advancement, deflecting a little.  And he must have nodded because then she was leaning towards him, gentle hands smoothing over his quads, her stare trained on his rapidly reddening face.  Roving, she touched him lightly, delicately, over the clothes he was still wearing.  Butterfly wings brushing over a flower's petals, never lingering before spreading goosebumps somewhere else, testing the waters of his tenacity.  When her clever fingers found his handcuff belt buckle, he stopped her, gathering her hands in his own, “It, uh, it catches.  Hang on.” He put a fraction of space between them, moving faster than she would have thought possible to catch up to her state of undress.  He toed out of his sneakers, shunting them out of the way as he huffed out a laugh, wrestling with his belt, “Fucking thing, I don’t know why I even-” “I like it.” Popping his head up, Eddie caught sight of Amanda’s playful smirk, “You do, huh?” Raising her chin so that she could spy on him through the fringe of her lashes, she nodded with a chuckle, voice sounding like spun sugar, “Yea, of course I do.  Goes with your whole bad boy image, ya know?” His fingers paused, the curtain of curls swinging while he asked, “Is that why you’re with me?  Because I’m a bad boy?” “Nope.”  She answered plainly, her focus never shifting, even though her hips did, thighs stopped from providing relieving friction by his knee, “I’m with you because of how you look at me, Eddie.  Me.  Like I’m something- someone worth looking at.” Pants forgotten, he traced a finger over the sweep of her cheek, “I love looking at you, you know that right?  It’s like you’re the fucking moon, Mandy.  Bright and, and beautiful and when you shine your light on me-” shaking his hair off his back, tone too earnest, voice too honest, “-it makes me forget about my darkness.” At the admission Eddie’s eyes drifted shut, his chin tipped skyward as he struggled to compose himself.  There was uncertainty shadowing his words, in the shape his lips made while speaking, entirely unsure if his mouth should be trusted to relay all of the things his heart felt to be true.  Because when he actually thought about it, three weeks ago he hadn’t known that there was a person named Amanda Patterson who even existed in this world.  Now?  Well, now she kind of was his world. And his world was reaching forward with tender, impatient hands, sliding his broken down leather belt free from the beloved buckle easily.  Nimble fingers making quick work of the rivet fastening his pants closed but she stalled there, blinking up at him with confusion clear in her eyes, “Did you call me the moon?” A wide thumb hooked under her chin, lifting those thoughtful peepers to his own, “Yea, Mandy.  The moon.  Like when it’s full and round and close and you can’t believe that it’s real, looking down on you all lit up and so-” her touch was so so so close to his throbbing hardness he grunted, “-fucking hell.  So ca-captivating.  Can’t take my eyes off you.” It happened again.  That thing where the world narrowed anytime she was with him, a hyper-focused momentary shift of time and place that made Amanda’s heart flutter wildly, blood roaring in her ears.  A second when everything else around her faded into the background leaving no one else but her and Eddie.  Together.  Alone. So she didn’t laugh at his poetic confession or joke about his Shakespearean ideals.  Instead, her pretty lips parted, mewling musically as his tongue licked into the honeyed cavern of her mouth.  Sharing each inhale and exhale, pressing his advantage and Amanda higher up the bedspread until she was flat against the mattress, caged between strong tattooed forearms. Breathing heavily, sitting back with a sigh, he traced a hand over the fuzz of her sweater, “Can you- can I take this off you?” Something about being compared to the moon freed her from whatever worries she carried about herself, her body, to fade into the ether.  When he asked to see her- all of her, her answer was a demanding, “God yes.” Eddie’s mouth fell hungrily to the newly exposed skin on her collarbone, hot and wet and needy.  A tiny whimper tumbled out of her panting mouth when he slurped over the slope of her bra covered breasts, his hands politely cupping the cotton covered flesh.  Desperately, her own hands clawed at his head, keeping his pursed lips tight to her body as he devoted himself to devouring her in bite-sized pieces. “Shit, h-hold on f’me.”  Stuttering, sitting up on his knees, Eddie took a second to rip his own shirt off, tossing it behind him without a second look.  His jeans were open, belt dangling loosely from the loops, the elastic waistband of his boxers low enough to display the cut of his hip bones.  There were silvery scars in concentric circles that didn’t look as purposeful as the tattoos she’d been dying to see, and before she could be told not to, she was tracing over the slightly raised skin with her index finger. Eddie let her touch.  Explore.  The graze of her hands was intentional, not teasing and not pitying either.  He would know because he’d been on the receiving end of both before.  More than that, he appreciated that she asked no questions about what had created the mottled pattern on his abdominals, just accepted that they existed and were part of him. If he wasn’t already in love with her, that alone would have surely cemented his fate.  Surging in his system like the first inhale of that kind bud Rick got from Canada, he relaxed into the feeling, letting it blossom while sampling the sensitive stretch of her neck, the ball of her shoulder, the space between her breasts.  A starving man facing a Golden Corral buffet table wouldn’t have sounded happier than he did at that moment. “God, look at you, Mandy.”  He hummed as he worked his way over her ribs,  “Moon goddess.  My moon goddess.”  Writhing beneath him, she folded towards him at the praise, little huffing sounds pushing over her lips, “You look so good right now.  So sweet.  So goddamn sweet for me.”  The words were honey hot, warm and sticky, and they chafed like his denim covered legs. rubbing deliciously against her naked ones.  The friction too much and not nearly enough for the pleasure taking root in the warm, moist soil of her center.  Even touch drunk on Eddie she bucked at the sentiment, practically pouting, “Hmm, I’m not-” she scrunched her eyes shut, tossing her head weakly against the blanket, “-I’m not that sweet.” Dropping down to his forearms, his nose nuzzled into hers as he chided tartly, “Maybe I should taste you again then and make sure?  Gonna let me?  Let me taste you and touch you and make you feel good?”   Nodding from beneath him, keen eyes locked on his, “Hmm- Yes, yes, uh huh.  I want that.  So bad.  Want you so bad.”  Shutting her eyes at the sensation, his calloused fingertips slid up the satin of her outer thighs, leaving shivery bumps in his wake .  He dug his fingertips into the pillowy softness there, loving the feel of her flesh under his touch, “I’m gonna give you everything you want, Mandy, don’t worry.  Gonna make you mine.  Keep you in bed until the sun don’t shine.” A sound then, half groan half giggle, floated between them, Amanda sighing through a playful smile, “Eddie Munson’s a- a poet.  Who knew?” “Credit where credit’s due, babe.  I’m a songwriter.  A lyricist, ya know?  Whoa!”  His answer was smug but faded fast when she yanked down on his jeans before brushing the pads of her fingers over the newly exposed tattoo on Eddie’s right hip.  

It was beautiful; a snake in black and gray, coiled around itself, the wide fanged mouth biting into the tail in an unending loop.  This piece was big.  Artistic and finely detailed.  Her open palm barely covered half of it when she reverently pressed against the permanent artwork.  “And, uh you just bring it out in me- Jesus Christ!  Your hands are freezing!” “Are they?”  with a tone turned thick with teasing, she widened her smirk before those frigid digits were skating over his pecs and poking into his ribs.  Like a startled grasshopper, he jumped back far enough to catch her tickling fingers, the grip on her wrists keeping her from reaching his more sensitive areas despite her wiggling attempts to get free. Leaning in closer, loopy laughing aside, he tsked, “Oh, bad move, Mandy!”  “Ah!  No, Eddie, please!  I’m really ticklish- Ah!”  She started to scoot away, further up the bed, side to side, trying to shimmy out of his hold, laughing the whole time.  Loudly.  Happy to be caught.  Using his teeth, feral and frolicking, Eddie bit into the roundness of Amanda’s shoulder, the small sharp pain widening her eyes, “Did you just bite me?” Flashing her his lady-killing grin, he clicked his tongue, “Told you I had to know how sweet you were, Mandy.  And-” settling his hips between her parted thighs, “-I gotta say, you’re pretty damn tasty.” An answering hum of appreciation met her ears as Eddie continued lower.  Without question or qualm, he nuzzled and nipped at her abundant flesh, his happy hands squeezing indulgently whenever she sighed out encouragement.  And all Amanda could manage was a continuous begging cry of “Please, please Eddie, don’t, don’t stop, ok?”  

Why would he?  There was some addictive element, a chemical, an additive that laid across every inch of her body and he craved it.  Couldn’t get enough.  Landing somewhere between cinnamon sugar coating and honeyed dust, the flavor of her skin was exactly the thing he had been ravenous for his whole life long.  There was no way in hell he’d stop searching it out, not when he found the source, “Not a chance, Mandy.” She felt his grip on the flimsy fabric of her panties, tense and twitchy.  Hands slipped under the legband, cupping the expanse of her bottom in two palms before digging into the meat of her ass as Eddie’s nose pressed against the soaking gusset.  His moan was the kind that shook mountains to their foundation.  It created tidal waves that ravaged cities.  For Amanda it twisted the knot of her need tight enough to snap, her thighs wanting desperately to slide shut, but falling further apart shamelessly, instead. There was no trepidation to the touches now.  With a rough pull the cheap drug store underwear disintegrated, the scraps unneeded and unwanted any longer.  Amanda didn’t have time to bother about it because Eddie’s hard working hands were parting her legs, holding her open and on display with the weight of his body. Chest heaving, he called to her, “Hey, look at me, baby.  At me, Mandy.” “Yea?”  She was a mess of lavender and lilac stains, streaked with spit and red wine colored bruises.  But she was smiling, half-cocked, when her stare met his blown out pupils. “If you want me to uh, to stop, you gotta say it now.” Amanda did not.  What she did was whine, low in her throat, as her cleft clenched around nothing, “Don’t stop.” “Just remember that I love you, yea?” Licking over her dry lips, rolling her hips under his strong hold, she nodded, “Love you too.  Only you-”

The rest of her sentence remained unsaid as Eddie’s tongue licked right over her juicy center, circling the swollen firmness of her clit with expert precision.  He wrapped his arms around her legs from beneath, keeping her parted for his pleasure as he lapped at the drooling opening between her lower lips.  He wasn’t gentle as he moved Amanda’s thicker body closer, jerking her down and onto his waiting tongue over and over and over again.    It was maddening to be pummeled by the slick wetness of his textured tongue, only deep enough to create more wanting, before he would flick the tip higher, aiming for the bull’s eye of her clitoris.  Sloppy from excitement he swapped light licks for sucking.  Drawing her pulsing pearl between his slick lips, eyes closed, enjoying the softer than silk sensation of her sweaty self, bow tight and at his mercy. He didn’t let up.  Couldn’t.  And when he felt the shaking in her muscles, Eddie took it as the invitation is it was, gliding two fingers into the pulsing tunnel of Amanda’s willing body.

She contracted around the invasion, her hands seeking a hold and finding it in the flowing strands of his mane.  Wrenching him snuggly between her parted knees, she was dangerously close to losing control.  Could already feel the tell-tale concentration of her energy drawing inward.  The wetness that sluiced down the crack of her ass, the hummingbird fluttering of the muscles in her pelvis, the sticky press of Eddie’s cheek to her inner thigh.  All of it webbing together, a thread winding tighter and tighter and tighter. And the rough texture of his fingers grazed her front wall exactly the right way.  And he hummed out a laugh which puffed over her swollen lips exactly the right way.  And the strings of her satisfaction snapped under the burden of his ceaseless passion. She must have made noise.  Had to have, since her mouth moved at least.  Falling open as the first flush of her orgasm gave way to a rolling tide of pleasure that broke through her in waves but she didn’t hear anything beyond the crashing pounding of her pulse.  Fists full of Eddie’s hair fell away as all of Amanda’s bones turned to jelly, her tendons to jam, while she melted into the bed beneath. Pulling away from her, panting hotly into her dampness, through slick shiny cheeks he grinned cockily, “Sweeter than candy, Mandy.  I knew you would be, fuck, and you-” he stopped talking to watch the way she accepted his intruding digits as deep as possible, bucking into the touch he offered wantonly despite just cumming, “-you just want more, don’t ya?” “Hmm, yea.  Want wha-whatever you’ll give me.”  Leaning up on her elbows she caught him licking her spend from his fingers before dipping right back into her, a devilish glint in his eyes. “Whatever I’ll give you, huh?”  Eddie curled his fingers inside of her quivering core, stretching apart, taking up space, as his smoky voice purred, “You asked for it.” There was a flurry of sudden movement; he stood up fast, wiggling his hips until the heavy denim of his jeans hit the floor with a satisfying thump.  His boxers dropped free in a flash.  The bed dipped under his weight and before she could react, Eddie clasped a firm hand around each ankle and forced her knees back, nearly bending her in half. For him, the view was spectacular.  The cro-magnon part of his brain flipped on, wanting only to take.  Conquer.  Consume. Who could blame him when he had his dream woman, his Moon Goddess, his Mandy, slick and spread out for him to feast on?  The now painful stiffness of his hard on trembled at the sight.  A patch of dark curls matted with pre-cum dotted his navel as the prolonged anticipation became too much to bear.  Gripping himself, squeezing really, Eddie stroked over his cock, trembling as he asked, “Do you have a- a rubber?” Tossing her head, hair in tangles around her face, Amanda reached for him, “I’m on the pill.” For a second the heat abated and Eddie met her eyes, “Yea?  That’s great fucking news.” “Have to be- Oh my GOD!”  Rubbing the head of his dick between her folds, he slapped it into her overstimulated clit, cackling at her startled reaction, “Aw sweetheart, you don’t have to call me God.  I’ll always answer to Ed-” But he bit off his sentence when he felt her hand glide over his shaft.  If he was going to tease, so was she, “Fine, Ed- don’t keep me waiting, alright?” “Wouldn’t dream of it, baby.  Wouldn’t dream of it.”  Amanda’s back arched violently as her tender flesh parted around the thickness of Eddie’s erection.  He notched into her slowly, rasping through held breaths, “You- you doing ok, Mandy?” Nodding was the only response she could give considering the ripples of pleasure already bubbling through her, but he pinched at the fat of her hip, “Need you to say it, Amanda.  Tell me.  Yea?” 

And the last note was pleading, tender, which brought her back into herself long enough to whimper, “I’m doing ok, Eddie.  Are- are you?”

He was struggling to be a gentleman, that was certainly true, and his gargoyle brain wanted to run amok but, “Yea, I’m fucking fantastic.” Laying her head back, exposing her neck, she managed to smile before sighing, “Good.  That’s so good.” He groaned then, deep and rumbling, before rocking his hips forward.  Seating himself down to the root, Amanda took everything he had inside her quaking core and damn, it was exquisite.  To be surrounded by the yielding silver softness of her body, cool and clean, when his own was made of hard angles and rigid lines made Eddie want to howl.  Wasn’t that what a wolf would do under the light of the full moon?    And what of the moon?  Did she reply to the lovesick creature, crying to the heavens?  

Digging her heels into the beloved bed clothes for more traction, driving herself along his length so that he could know just how incredible it felt to be joined with him in this way, Amanda met him thrust for thrust.  Ratcheting her own hips eagerly, moaning brokenly through every inhale, “More.  I can take it.  Please?  Please.”

Her wolfman didn’t need to be asked twice.  A hand palmed her thick ass, grinding her bones against his without withdrawing, seeking the untouched places deep inside with wet and warm and wild abandon.  Dropping over her, he used his tongue to find her nipple, sucking harshly as if there was a way to taste her heart, her veins, her muscle and fascia.  Lewdly.  Rudely.  

And she didn’t hold back.  Her nails, sharper and painted a rosy color, scratched along his forearms, his shoulders, his back.  Anywhere that could be reached, touched, marked as ruined by her hands as she struggled to hold fast through the pummeling, punishing pushes. Bejeweled rings snagged her hair as his hand curled around the nape of her neck, dragging his mouth to hers.  Their tongues mimicked the movement of their lower halves; pushing, pulling, tangling together.  And when the kiss became too much, the threatening rasp of teeth nipped at the bulge of his Adam’s Apple, his exposed throat too great a temptation to ignore.

For her effort, his moon was serenaded by a ceaseless chant of words such as “want” and “love” and “forever”.  That his every uttered syllable was met with the sounds of her surrender; of her body, her mind, her soul, was not lost in translation.  Eddie recognized what each utterance meant, a natural interpreter of the noises she emitted, and thought that a recording of her sexy sounds had the potential to climb the charts.  Top 100 for sure- if he was even remotely willing to let anyone else hear the concert of their lovemaking.  He wasn’t though.  Not just because of the intimate nature of this particular show but because he was a selfish, selfish man.  No one else should be allowed to hear the symphony that was their ode to an evening.     She was beaming, could feel the radiant heat off of her own skin in the swell of her cheeks and burning through in patches where a bite mark or bruise might show in tomorrow’s light.  Biting into her lip with a hum, she grinned, giddy and glowing under all the tender affection of being loved so well by Eddie.  He was thorough, kissing and clinging in random places at random moments and her sex drunk brain couldn’t be bothered to keep up.   Already pliant, no longer entirely in control of her movements, when the muscles of her right thigh let go, she didn’t fight it.  Catching on the jutting crest of his hip like it belonged there, curled naturally around his waist, it trapped him tightly to her.  The change in position was ruinous.  Overwrought and overworked, she was going to cum again, and harder than the first time.  When she spoke the words, punctuated by his quickening thrusts, his smile grew wolfishly wide.  Gleeful at her stuttered announcement, praising her, “You feel so good, M-Mandy.  S’ perfect.”

Amanda’s eyes rolled back in her skull, the powerful release pulling her under as her muscles stiffened, fighting against the rising tide before dropping into the pocket, waves of pleasure lapping against each other.  Gasping, his name the only sound filling the still of the night, an incantation recited over and over again until her lungs burned from want of oxygen.  Her’s wasn’t the scream of a porno actress from a secretly rented video, over dramatic and purposefully false.  And maybe that’s why it hit Eddie right in the darkest depth of his heart.  She wasn’t acting out her ecstasy.  She couldn’t be faking the erratic pulsing rhythm of her orgasm as it spurred on his own. Slippery.  Constricting.  Lake bottom deep, he sunk himself further into her silk and let go with a moan, “Amanda-” Her arms wrapped around him.  Legs too.  And as he shuddered, a ragged breath blowing the sweat stuck strands of hair off his forehead, he felt the smallest nudge along his jaw.  Tiny presses of her mouth, little mini kisses to his bicep, over his collar bone, and down the proud slope of his nose. “Hey you.” Giggling at the gangly guy situated between her knees, she bit her bottom lip, tilting her head in her signature sassy way, “Hey yourself.” Wiggling his hips slowly, still incredibly hard, he flashed Amanda a sheepish grin, “I’m almost afraid to, ya know, pull out.  I think I- I made a mess.” Now she was outright laughing, “Oh really?  You think so, huh?” “Shit, you have to stop that!”  His jaw was clenched tight despite the lighthearted way he spoke.  Every nerve ending was raw, receiving too much stimuli, but he wasn’t ready for it to end.  Didn’t really want to separate and go back to being two people, two bodies, two hearts.

Innocently asked, Amanda’s eyebrows crinkled in confusion, “What?” “Laughing!  You’re still- ah!  You’re still squeezing me!” But that only made her laugh harder, “I’m so sorry!  But, you’re pretty fucking funny after sex!” “Is that so, little missy?”  And that’s when Eddie leaned up, making to kiss her, but licking a thick stripe up her cheek at the last second that made her squirm and squeal in mock disgust.  Easing himself free, a trickle of wetness following, Eddie pressed his forehead to hers, “If I’m pretty fucking funny then you’re just fucking pretty.” If it hadn’t struck her before, it hit her with the force of a baseball bat now; her lover was beautiful.  Even with limited light illuminating his sweaty skin, he was glowing and her heart thumped at the image before her.  Eddie, her Eddie, with his bangs sticking to his forehead, tacky with sweat from the exertion of fucking her so hard, happy and melty at the edges like a really good grilled cheese sandwich. “I love you.” Laying his head on her chest, sighing like a young girl with a crush, he answered, “I love you.” He didn’t say “I love you, too.”  There was no “too” about it.  He knew how he felt, in his heart, in his body, in his mind.  And even with the cloudiness of a great orgasm hazing his thoughts, Eddie felt the truth in it. Groaning in protest, she made to move to get up, to leave the bed, but he stopped her, “Tell me where I can get a towel, alright?” “I can get up, Eddie.”

He shook his head sending his sweat soaked waves into the air, “Yea, you can, but I don’t want you to, ok?  So, bathroom?  Where can I find it?” She extended her hand lazily, pointing, “First door on the right.  It has a toilet and a tub, so you know, can’t miss it.” Pushing up on his hands and knees, Eddie thudded to the floor on heavy feet.  Turning to bow, naked as the day he was born, using a put on cockney accent, “Yes m’lady!  Right away!  Your faithful servant won’t let you down!” Her sparkling laugh chased him down the hallway.

Not much later, when water had been shared from a jelly glass with Tom & Jerry running around the rim and the damp, once warm towel used for cleaning up had been chucked into the hamper, Eddie thumped his head back against the headboard.  His body lax as he drew Amanda closer, “I gotta say, Mandy.  Thought you said you were new to all this, had me thinking I was going to need to show you how it’s done, but you just, ya know, rocked my world.”  His kiss was affectionate, playful even, without the fevered heat of desire burning it to ash.  Shifting up to her elbow, head in her hand, eyes heavy but watchful, “I’m not a virgin.  I’ve, ya know, had sex before.” That was news to him.  Not that he would stake his life on it, but there had been a conversation about experience over patty melts and paper napkins.  About newness.  About being without skill or practice.  “But-” Flopping forward, her head laid on his sweat cooled chest, cheek squished against his zombie tattoo, “I wasn’t lying to you, if that’s what you think.  I just- I haven’t dated much but, this-” she waved a hand taking in the bed, the room, the nakedness, “-I’ve done this a few times before.” He rolled onto his side, scooching lower so he could see her better, his warm hand finding a home along the expanse of Amanda’s ribs and rubbing continuously, “I know my head is still a little fuzzy after all the great lovin’ and all but, uh, I’m not sure I’m following.” Blowing out a breath that sounded something like frustration, she shrugged, “Guys take me to bed but not to dinner.  I’m not, ya know, girlfriend material, I suppose.  It’s like, I’m good enough to make out with, especially if it makes some other, prettier, thinner girl jealous.”  Her mouth twisted up, not really a frown but a far cry from the sweet smile Eddie had come to appreciate.  She was staring through him, seeing images made of memory, “Good enough to- to fool around with in the dark.  Places where no one would see, like under the bleachers or behind a dumpster.  But take me to a restaurant?  A movie?  Out with friends or family?  No way.  “And I’m always so-” she rolled her eyes, trying to find the right word, “-I don’t know, needy?  Desperate maybe?  That a guy pretending to be interested could offer me kisses in corners or bathroom stalls where no one would ever think to look and I do it.  Gladly.  Because even their half assed affection is better than nothing, right?”  But Amanda didn’t wait for Eddie to answer, carrying on with an edge in her voice, “If I touch them, let them touch me, then they’ll give me what I want.  Flowers and romance and, and-” he heard the way her throat caught, a strangled sound shaking through her as she finished, “-love.” Tossing her head, she banished a wayward tear, smiling thinly at her man’s silhouette in the muted light, “Now though, I’m here, with you.  A guy who sees me, all of me.  You see me and you don’t make me feel bad about who I am.  How I look.  You see me, and, and you like me even in broad daylight.  And no one’s ever done that before.  I mean, you already brought me around your friends.  Your family.”  Her emphasis on the last word not lost on him and neither was the twinge of pride in her voice at how she said it.  “Amanda-”  He wanted to reach out, reassure her, but she shook him off. There was more to say, more to tell and for the first time in a long time, she wanted to share her thoughts with someone.  Not someone.  Eddie.  

Swallowing, she looked up at him, comfortable and relaxed under her threadbare bedsheet, “You wanted to know what happened tonight?  When I was at practice?” Maybe there was something in her voice that gave her away.  He could tell that this was uncharted territory for his Moon woman, taking her out of her depth, a thing difficult to share.  Maybe he also realized that something was shifting, something important, so he bobbed his head, locking her fingers with his, “Yea, but only if you wanna tell me.  There’s no pressure, you know that, right?” Nodding, Amanda sat up now, pinning the sheet under her arms so that it covered most of her breasts.  Her hair was a knotted mess, wild and untamed, but she was lit from within.  Eddie felt as though she was worthy of sculpture, ready to be captured for all time in alabaster stone or graying quartz.  Some Italian master should be committing the image before him into marble.  The combination of fragility and strength on display was overwhelming even if the underlying hurt etched in her face made Eddie’s chest ache. “I know and that’s kind of why I want to tell you.”  It was an admission of trust, of respect, and another stunning example of how strong her feelings truly were.  With a small gesture encouraging her to go on, Amanda inhaled sharply, “Right.  So, tonight, at rehearsal?  Mark, you know my drummer- uh, the drummer?  He was being the biggest asshole.  To everyone, not just me.  Really picking on us all, which was weird.  ‘Cause normally he’s kinda, well-” Stepping on her sentence, Eddie finished with a shit eating grin, “Steady?”  “Oh, that was bad, even for you.”  She groaned at the ill timed, but sort of hilarious drumming joke.  Lifting his hands, signaling his apology, she tilted her head thoughtfully, “Anway, he said some stuff and-” That made Eddie sit up too, his legs folding and taking the blankets with them, “Wait, he said something about you or about me?” “Um-” her fingers fiddled with the fabric, eyes avoiding his baleful brown orbs for the first time all night.  Not a great sign. “If it’s about me, no problem.  I can handle that, Mandy.  Hell, I’ve been handling that shit my whole life.  But you?  Baby-” Eddie cupped her chin in his hand, forcing her to look at him, “-You don’t deserve that shit.” “About us both, I guess.”  Her shoulders lifted in a shrug, “Mark was, well, he was angry.  At me.  Said that I sounded ‘desperate’ when I was singing the other night, that I was ‘begging for a man’ like- like some kind of tramp or something when I was singing to you.” Holy shit, was he struggling right now.  With every other word Amanda uttered, Eddie’s blood ran like frigid November rain, in icy sheets that burned or in magma hot lava-like flows that scorched his heart from rage.  Luckily he was hiding it well.  

Going for cool, casual even, he cast about asking, “So, uh, what else did Mark have to say?” With a guilty gulp, she went on, “A lot.  And he kept running his mouth so much, too much, really.  It’s just- I thought he was my friend, you know?”  And honest to god, her chin shook as she held back the tears her emotional meridian begged to release, her voice going warbly with the effort, “But in the end, he was just like the guys at school, the boys back home.  Wanted the- the thrill of being with a girl like me, a big girl, and thought I should be-” in a barely heard whisper she trailed off,  “-grateful for his attention.” Now, young Mr. Munson had spent time as an angry juvenile.  The world and the way it worked had done its level best to beat him down over and over again.  Before the interdimensional trauma that left him scarred and scared, he had trained himself to live and let live, a philosophy that he was pretty certain had saved his life on more than one occasion. But hearing the way she spoke about Mark, a dude she knew and trusted, filled him with a furious anger so white hot that he almost could not believe that smoke wasn’t spilling out of his ears like in a Bugs Bunny cartoon.  It didn’t seem like the darling at his side noticed when his unoccupied hand closed in a tight fist that he was currently imagining ramming right through the skin of a bass drum directly into the sternum of Mark, as if he might bend the laws of physics and somehow be able to beat the shit out of this asshole from the safety of Amanda’s bed.  

Because, like, who the fuck did this guy think he was? She wasn’t crying, not outright, but was sad about the circumstances all the same.  And from the pure desire to make his woman feel better, he snorted hotly, “Fucking dipshit.  He’s the one that should be grateful.” “What?” “I said, this Mark person, he’s the one that should be grateful to even, ya know, know you” he added, tugging that self protective strand of hair down and over his mouth.  Starting at a mumble that grew stronger the longer he talked, Eddie’s stare locked on Amanda’s, “Look, I already told you how I feel.  And, even if we weren’t, ya know, together, I’d still be thankful that you’re in my life.  You are something special, Amanda Patterson.  Something-” and then he couldn’t resist any longer, dragging a finger down her cheek until he could tip her chin up, those bright eyes searching his own, “-out of this world.  A treasure.” Rewarded with a wry shake of head and rolled wet eyes, Eddie carried on, “Honestly, thank fuck.” She sniffled a bit, asking through a thick throat, “What’s that supposed to mean?” His pink lips screwed up in a crooked smirk that scrunched his nose cutely, “It means, sweetheart, that those-” rings glinting the gloom, his hand flailed dramatically, “-dumbasses didn’t know they had struck gold when they met you.  Lucky for you, I know the good shit when I see it.” Deflating visibly, she huffed, “Gold plated is probably more accurate.”  It was meant to be lighthearted.  A little self deprecating, sure, but wasn’t it easier to make the joke then become one? “Hey, don’t do that.”  He caught her cheeks in a grip which was firm while his voice cotton soft, “I’m not joking around.  Not about this.  Not about you.” She didn’t move, frozen in place by the sincerity he was forcing her to accept.  Whispering into the quiet night, a hardly spoken rush of words, but he heard them all the same, “I’m nothing special, Eddie.” A fever of frustration climbed through him at that midnight confession.  The worst part was how truly she believed what she said, that there was nothing special about her, no reason for Mark’s misplaced interest or his own adoration.  That somehow she didn’t deserve Eddie’s praise, his attention, even his love, was all layered into that one sentence. “Mandy, don’t you ever talk that way about the person I love.  Never again.”  It was his gently uttered warning. “But, Eddie-”  she wanted to argue the point, make a case for being less than. Shifting quickly, he caught her around the bare expanse of her shoulders, “If I have to say it everyday, for the rest of your life, I will Mandy.  You’re amazing.”  A kiss, hungry and scalding, melded their mouths together, “You are so fucking sexy.”  Lips traced the line of her jaw, moving upward, “And I haven’t felt, well, whatever this is, ever before.” Even if her mind wasn’t quite convinced, Eddie’s nearness coupled with the sultry kisses and his heartfelt words had made her body a believer.  She smoothed a hand along his straight spine, her forehead tapping his own, “I imagine you say that to all the ladies you take to bed.” A warm, happy laugh rumbled through Eddie at her smart ass comment.  Pulling back, needing to see her eyes, “I’m going to be real honest with you, alright?  Put it all on the line, k?”  When she agreed with a short nod, he continued, “You may think that I do this sorta thing all the time- pick up chicks and service them until the sun comes up, until they uh, scream my name into the night- but I don’t.”  Tilting her head, really looking him over, she shook her own, her teasing edged with something harder, “You’re telling me that you don’t seduce the housewives who bring their cars in for oil changes?  Or, or, um, bang groupies after a good show at The Hideout?” “Me?  No way.  Not a chance.  Reputation ruiner, remember?  So I can tell you with 100 percent certainty that you are in my, my top 3, all time.  Easy.”  Mindlessly, Eddie started tracing stars into the skin of her thighs, consciously avoiding her piercing stare. But now she was curious, a small smile pulling at the corners of her mouth, her eyebrows lifted, “Out of how many?” Yanking his hair forward, Eddie snickered, still bashful, “Um, out of three.  But, uh, out of those three, you’re my number one.  No question about it.”  The grin he flashed her was so deep, his cheeks aching from smiling so widely, that Amanda had no choice but to giggle too, “Number one, you said?” Reaching for her hand, linking their fingers together before nudging her closer, he corrected her gently, “Uh huh, you’re my number one.  Best I ever had.”  

“What are you doing to me, Eddie Munson?”  It was rhetorical, obviously, but it had to be asked even if she was unable to keep the tendril of truth out of her voice.  Because this conversation was powerful enough to capsize her, she realized too late to stop it from happening.  If he was going to sink her ship, she was going to have to grow gills or drown trying.  Otherwise she was never going to survive being cared for by the romantic rockstar in training who was taking up half her bedspread. Scrunching his eyes as he bit into his bottom lip, Eddie hemmed, “I’m uh, watching out for you.  Tryin’ to be a knight or a, a paladin.”  Rubbing his thumb in patient circles against the back of her hand, a little lost in his thoughts, “Want to be who and what you need, Mandy, because, yea, you deserve that.” “And what do you deserve?”  That drew him up short as she freed her hands so she could skate them over his exposed chest, “‘Cause I think you deserve things too.  Like someone to love you back.  Someone who hears you-” rising to her knees, she scooted a leg over his waist, bracketing his body between her dimpled thighs, “-and your terrible jokes but still laughs anyway.  Someone who appreciates you for all the wonderful and wild things that make you, well, you.”  She punctuated her sentence with a bop on the tip of his broad nose. His mouth was dry but his betraying eyes were damp as he cleared his throat roughly, hands already resting on the full rise of her hips, “Is uh, is that so, Miss Mandy?” “Totally.”  She pulled one of his hands away, the lined and creased side facing her before pressing her lips to its very center.  Covering it with her own she held it against the smooth expanse of her sternum, directly on top of her beating heart. Swallowing thickly, unable to look away, he asked, “Maybe I’ve found her?”  Bare and unashamed, leaning into his space, her sleek slit skimming his slowly solidifying length made his cheeks burn hotly as she rocked her hips back.  Nodding, she looked down at him, purring, “Maybe you have.”  Grinding down, her full weight holding him to the mattress, to the earth, he thanked whatever deity was closest for this brilliant, beautiful creature with the enchanting voice and bewitching eyes full of shining devotion.  Whatever she was before didn’t matter to him or the gargoyle who guarded his own thumping mess of a heart in its crumbling tower.  Amanda Patterson was his now, and he’d be damned before letting her go.  

—

1990 - Fall

“Let’s hear it once again for Mandy and the Maniacs!” All around her the crowd went ballistic.  Shouting, screaming, stomping, clapping noise filled the bar where the band, her band had taken the stage with the hope of making it through one more round.  One step closer to fortune and fame and everything that goes with it.  Based on the deafening roar of this particular crowd, Amanda had high hopes.  Fuck, but she wanted to win 1991’s Battle of the Bands.  Prove that she was good enough to make it on the strength of her own abilities, on the unflagging determination of her dream to sing for a living, and do it on her own. So she was smiling through the tears of happiness that filled her eyes, blinking rapidly as she committed the raucous riotous scene below her into her memory banks as the emcee was thrusting a plastic trophy complete with a fake gold guitar glued to the top into her sweaty hand, “Congratulations to our winners!  And don’t forget that you can see Mandy and the band here at Stingers every Friday night.  Doors open at 10pm!”

— “Good show tonight, Mandy.  You know, you guys are really going places.” Amanda toweled off the grimy sweat from being under too hot stage lights and the melted mascara that always found a way to slip down her face after a show, grinning broadly, “Thanks Davey.  We all appreciate your hosting and, of course, having us back week after week.” “Can’t have a rock bar with no music, that’d be like having a peanut butter sandwich without jelly.  Just doesn’t taste right, ya know?” Laughing politely, she nodded, “I think I get what you mean.”  And before he could ask again, Carly slid up to her side, “Ready to load in the gear?” A thankful expression crossed her face as she looked at her friend, still sweaty and streaked herself, “Yes ma’am.  Hey-” leaning in to shake Davey’s hand, Amanda’s black mesh fingerless glove pressing designs into his palm as she added, “-again, thank you for tonight.” “It’s always a pleasure, Mandy.  Uh, is there any chance you might wanna grab a dri-” Swinging a microphone case onto her shoulder, her back to the bar’s owner, Amanda answered swiftly, “Have a good night, Davey.” When they were in the chilly night air, sans jackets or even clothes that were close to appropriate for the weather in Indiana during an early cold snap, Carly lit up a cigarette, smirking, “He asked you again, huh?” Taking the flaming stick of death from her friend, Amanda took one, tiny puff, the smallest possible because her voice was still her best instrument, and lifted her heavily made-up eyes, “Was trying to, I think.” “Could it hurt?”  Carly ashed the butt quickly, staring at the bumper of the broken-in mini-van that they used to lug amps and instruments in, purposefully avoiding Amanda’s bewildered look. Toeing at the slushy puddle that gathered around the back tire, her big black boots with neon laces keeping her away from the muck, she considered it.  Would it hurt to let Davey buy her a drink?  No, probably not.  As a general rule, a single drink was not enough to hurt someone, but it was what came after that stalled her in her tracks. From under a jagged line of self cut bangs, Amanda tilted her head at her friend, one eye squeezed shut while the other stared dead on, “Eventually, yea.  Yes it could.  And not for nothing but I’m too toxic for anyone right now.” “That’s horseshit and you know it.”  Carly flicked the used filter of her cigarette with a flourish, her shirt sleeves swinging at the effort. Laying back against the frozen metal of the van, Amanda shivered, “Come on, don’t fuck with me, ok?  It’s been a good night.  Great even.  Let’s not fight about Davey and drinks that I’m not going to let him buy.” Kicking at the rims now, Carly grumbled, “You need to get laid.” “Fuck you, I do not!” This time her friend’s pretty pouting face found hers under the parking lot’s hazy yellow lights, “You do and so goddamn badly.  It’s been what, like two years since Ed-” “Don’t say it.” Exhaling wickedly, anger heating up her sigh, Carly jumped right into her diatribe, “I can’t even say his name, Amanda.  What is that about?  Are you ever gonna, I don’t know, get over him?  Go out with someone else?  Let another person stick their fucking tongue down your fucking throat?”  And when she didn’t reply, Carly pressed on, ranting into the empty night air, “Or are you going to die on this hill?  Because ‘I once loved Ed-” she shifted her focus to Amanda before softening up, “-a, a future rockstar who broke my heart when he left this town and me behind’ is not going to fit on your tombstone, sis.” Toying with the van keys, their metal ring going cold in her hands, Amanda shrugged.  She was tired all the way down to her soul.  Tired of being tired.  Tired of grinding so hard for the things she wanted.  Tired of Carly being mostly, sort of, almost totally right.  Tired of being alone.  Tired of missing a man with a name she couldn’t bear to hear. And yea, ok, she would absolutely own that her sad sack routine was going stale.  She bored herself most days, honestly.  But what was the point in letting Davey or any other person buy her a drink and think they stood any kind of chance when Amanda Patterson no longer had a heart to give? Nope.  Like the Tin-Man, she was kept alive by electrical impulses managed by some other organ because she’d lost her heart in 1988.  The year Corroded Coffin was discovered through Carly’s college radio station connections.  The same year a mid-western county fair tour was planned.  The year that took him away for the big life he was always supposed to lead.  The year that took her heart and never looked back. “Hell.  Give me a smoke, would ya?”

“‘Manda. You don’t like cigarettes.” Carly taunted in a sing-song voice. Shrugging, sad and cold, she waved her friend on with a uselessly gloved hand, “Maybe I do now.”  And when she took her first full inhalation a thought moved through the neural pathways of her brain.  It might kill her, in the end, smoking, drinking or whatever, but she then, had been dead inside for a lot longer.  Besides, there was no one watching out for her now.  No one to disappoint.  No one to worry.

Her lungs burned and the back of her throat protested, but Amanda smiled warmly in the cold night, “Thanks Carly.” Blowing out a held breath, the shorter girl rolled her eyes, “Fuck, you’re dramatic.  Just like him.  You know that right?” Her chuckle was hollow, raspy because of the smoking, “Uh huh.  I do.”  Dropping the burnt paper to the ground she stomped on it with the toe of her boot, unlocking the car, “Wanna get the fuck outta here?” “Yea.  Let’s go home.”

—

1987

Morning light cast the entire room in a golden glow that was entirely too ethereal to be real.  Only it was.  It had to be, because Amanda was laying on her side, the plush padding of her bum tucked against Eddie’s bare pelvis, as she slept peacefully in his arms.

Now that his eyes were open there were things he needed to do: take a piss, take a shower, get some food in his body that did not come out of a cardboard box and get to work.  Except he’d be  leaving this downy nest of a bed and the warmth of a very willing body to do any of it.  So, yea, Eddie didn’t want to do that, not even a little bit.

The alarm clock said seven thirty six, and if his bedtime math was accurate, he could stay until 8 o’clock.  Any later and he’d be in deep shit with, well, virtually everyone.  Why did it have to be Friday morning?  How come he had bedded his dream woman on a Thursday night, mid-week, knowing there were still responsibilities on the horizon?

As if she could sense that he was awake, she shifted her figure flush with his, and there was no way to hide his morning wood.  There was also no way she could not feel it pressing insistently at the small of her back.  He swallowed his spit, curling Amanda closer, and shut his eyes.  Eddie could manage the morning after.  He absolutely could.

“Mmm, morning.”  

Sleep stained and supple, Amanda started to roll his way but he stopped her with a kiss to her shoulder blade, “Uh, maybe don’t.” “Wha?  Oh.  Oh.”  And saucy minx that she was, she stretched her body so that his erection rubbed over the silken skin of her bottom. Groaning from way down deep in his chest, Eddie chided, “You’re a tease.” “You’re too easy.”   She was on her back now, head turned his way, outlined in the pale yellow rays of morning light.  His heartbeat sped up at the coy look she flashed from under her lashes.  Amanda wanted Eddie and in spite of the hard work he’d put in last night, he wanted her again too.  Dipping a hand under the filmy sheet, his fingernails scraped the swell of her hip, when the alarm clock clicked to 7:45 and began buzzing obnoxiously. “Shit!”  Scrambling up, Amanda hit the digital display’s off button, silencing the sound.  Slumping into herself, she looked his way with a frowny face, “I have class at 9.” “I’ve got work, myself.”  It was a guilty admission, no matter how true. Nodding, Amanda bit into her bottom lip, “Then I guess-” “We both have to go?”  They spoke over each other.  Whatever easy energy they had shared was taut now, stressed and strained but neither one moved.  Neither one really wanted to. Except a new day was started, one with expectations for Amanda and Eddie alone.  Still, she had to ask, hand twisting in the stray strands of her hair, “Will I, uh- um, maybe you can-” So Eddie took pity on his girl, lifting her hand to his lips chastely, “Are you trying to say that you wanna see me again?  Like, tonight?” “Do- uh, do you want that?”  She was barely suppressing her hope, struggling to keep her expectations of Eddie in check, regardless of all his pretty words when the lights were low. Thrusting out his little finger, Eddie wiggled it quickly, “Well, yea, of course I do.  Promise.” Linking them together, a chuffed out giggle escaped her pouty lips when he swung their hands like that, childlike and silly.  He used his leverage to drag her to his chest, a kiss landing on her nose, on each cheek, and finally her parted mouth.  They let go reluctantly when her alarm rang again, this time marking the hour as 8. “Shit.  I really, really, have to go.”  Eddie swung his leg over the side of the bed giving Amanda  a phenomenal view of his bare ass as he crisscrossed the room searching out his clothes.  Too easily the boy stepped into his jeans, forgoing his underwear, she noticed, and shrugging back into his tee. Hugging her knees, she could only watch, conflicting thoughts filling her head.  Her body was sore in the best possible way because of all that they had gotten up to last night.  She knew she’d be thinking of him all day, anytime she shifted in her seat or caught sight of the purple markings that littered her neck and chest. And she definitely wanted to do this- do him, again.  Without question, Eddie Munson was phenomenal in the sack.  But now he was leaving, and she understood it, alright?  She had shit to do herself.  Because it was a weekday and she paid so much for school and the music shop was letting her pick up a shift… Only, she wanted to linger in bed with her very cute and very sexy lover at her side.  Maybe get to lick his hardest parts, or, his softest.  Maybe get him to lick her again and again and again. “Don’t?”  Amanda hadn’t planned to say it out loud, but there it was, echoing around her quiet room.  A pleading question spoken from the depths of her heart, pushing pause on the guy in the middle of pulling up his socks, seated primly on the corner of her bed.  Shocked by her own actions, her eyes rounded as she backpedaled, “I mean, I know you have to and, and I have to, but that doesn’t mean I want you to- to go.  Ya know?  Last night was like-” she breathed out, willing herself not to get emotional even if she could feel the cold prickle of tears in the back of her throat, “-really special, for me at least.  And-” letting her eyes find Eddie’s coffee colored eyes, finished, “-I don’t want to say goodbye.” Blinking a couple of times, taking a beat, he wanted to get his answer right.  “Who says we have to say goodbye?” “You’re leaving.” Reaching for his boots, smile wide and shining under his mass of waves, “Uh huh.  But-” yanking the laces hard, he grinned her way, “-I’m coming back.”  “Are you though?”  

He cut off any other protests, standing quickly and walking around to her side of the bed.  Amanda had her feet planted on the floor, her sheet barely covering her most private of places, as she lifted her fretful face in his direction. Voice tighter than he wanted, shoulders tenser than they should be, Eddie looked down at this woman who had come to mean so much to him so quickly.  One ring clad finger tripped down the hill of her nose, “Shit, Mandy, I’m probably losing all my cool guy street credit when I say this, but, uh, this thing-” using his thumb under her chin, the skin there yielding to his even pressure, “-You and me?  This.  It fucking scares me-” She had the audacity to look surprised, those beguiling eyes going wide from the raw honesty he was showing, that tilt to her head more pronounced as she nervously whispered, “I- I scare you?” “No!  Shit, that’s not- I meant-” recovering quickly but feeling much shyer now, he tried to explain, “How I feel about you, I mean.  How much I care- it’s a lot.  For me, it’s everything.”  With the sound of knees cracking, he dropped into a squat so that he was looking up at Amanda’s face, not the other way around.   

“Oh.” her gaze softened shifting her focus until it landed on something far away, her mind working fast.  Loving her was already a burden.  Already too much to ask of a guy like Eddie, so wild and carefree.  And the realizations stung.  Maybe she didn't have a night to remember after all.  Maybe her knight in shining armor didn’t see her the way she imagined.  Maybe he wasn’t who she thought he was, after all. And her brain would have kept on running in ragged circles of self doubt if Eddie hadn’t nudged against her parted thighs, “Hey, Mandy?  Come back to me, yea?” “Sorry, I- uh-” steeling herself, her back stiffened, her smile slipping, “-Look.  We don’t have to do this.  I get it, Eddie.  And, ya know-” those eyes were back on him, sadder now, holding him still, “-we don’t have to do whatever this is.  Not now.  Not, ya know, ever.  I understand how this works, ok?” Despite his nearness she started to push off the mattress.  It was too difficult to sit there thinking he was afraid of her, of having feelings for her, of being with her.  Convinced that he probably wasn’t going to touch her again, that she couldn’t have him or his love for more than one night, no matter what he said or what promises were left unfulfilled was a punch in the gut- leveling.  

Shame burned through her because she should have known better.  It was all too good to be true like any other fairytale.  A story.  A fantasy. And she had to go, right now, because she wasn’t going to allow him to see so down and out.  Straightening her arms, rocking forward, she was ready to get away, to bolt.  But she didn’t get far.  Fingers dug into her leg, holding her fast, delaying her escape, “Damn it.  That isn’t- that isn’t what I said, Amanda.”  Eddie’s voice was pitched low- dark and rumbling like the growing thunder of a terrible storm.  It locked her in place even if she couldn’t bear to meet his eyes, terrified that she’d find pity or some other weakening emotion on his stupid, loving, handsome face.  A violent vermillion flash of fury surged through her, spewing caustic, cutting sarcasm from her pursed lips, “No?  Because that’s what I heard, Eddie.  I heard you say that you’re scared to- to, to be with me.” 

“Wrong.”  “Excuse me?” “I said that you’re wrong.  Even though you are so smart, right now?  Sweetheart, you are 100 percent, entirely and utterly wrong here.  What frightens me, Mandy-” his hands slipped around her waist as, falling to his knees in front of her, he carried on, “isn’t that I’m afraid to be with you.  I’m afraid to be without you.  I’m terrified that you won’t want to be with me.” Holding onto to her steely edge, glaring now, she swung another verbal dagger, “Why wouldn’t I want to be with you?” “Fuck, Mandy.  Take your pick-”  Counting on his fingers, the list started, “-former mega-nerd with a talent for collecting little lost souls and ensuring their survival through high school.”  A second finger went up, “Uh, lead singer of a regionally successful rock band full of said misfits that hasn’t had its big break yet.”   A third, “The best damn Dungeon Master in the state of Indiana, if I say so myself.”  Little finger, number four bent slightly, “Oh, not to mention I’m crisscrossed with scars from North to South no matter how great the tattys look and-” his thumb jumped, spreading his palm open wide, “-not that many years ago I watched a person I cared about get murdered which, ya know, messes a guy up pretty damn good. “On the plus side?  Let’s see, I’ve got great friends, my totally bitchin’ guitar, a halfway decent van, and I’ve finally met a girl that I fucking love.  But, shit, maybe she doesn’t feel like I do?”  And now he let his cinnamon eyes burn into hers, really revved up and showing no signs of stopping, “Maybe she just says pretty things when I’m making her cum and afterwards, well, she wants to be with some other dude.  Someone like Mark who’s gonna make something of himself?  Steady as fuck and boring to boot.  Someone who doesn’t love her like I do, because they don’t get it, they can’t love her like me.  How could they when they don’t get how my world spun off its axis when she jumped into my arms at the goddamned music shop.  Or how-” Her cheeks flushed at the memory, the moment when this love affair began, and she felt herself smiling wide, the momentary rage ebbing almost as quickly as it started.  Cutting him off, she cupped his jaw with firm fingers, “I do!  I promise you, I-I understand.  And, and I feel the same way.  Haven’t been able to get you out of my head since you seduced me into a dance in the sheet music aisle.”

“You’re the one who fell into me, Mandy.” Airy like a summer’s breeze, Amanda countered, “You tripped me.” Scoffing, he settled his weight on the balls of his feet, “So you do remember then?” “Of course I do.  And that’s why I didn’t want you to go.  If- if you leave today and never come back, what’ll I do, Eddie?”  She had nuzzled into the unshaven haven of his neck, just below his ear, and was keening like a fitful kitten, “Now that I have you, I don’t want anybody else.  I only want to be with you.  Only you.” Exhaling harshly, pulling her forehead to his, he husked, “Sad to say, darling, but you may be stuck with me.” Only he didn’t sound sad at all.  Neither did she when she moved a hand to either cheek, a dreamy smile on her face, “Yea?  You mean it?”  “Of fucking course I do.  And to prove it, come to my show tonight?” “Like, seriously?  Because I would really love to see you play.” The alarm toned again, 8:15am.  But fuck it, he could be late to the garage if meant seeing Amanda grin at him like this- all excited and eager, “Hell yea!  You can meet the guys and see what all the fuss is about when Corroded Coffin hits the stage.” Nerves jangled, she bit into her lip, worry creeping into her tone, “And you wouldn’t mind me being there?  Like, that wouldn’t be, I don’t know, embarrassing for you?”

His head fell back far enough for the tendons of his neck to stretch, the bulge of his Adam’s apple tantalizingly close, while his stare locked on hers, “Embarrassing?  No.  Hell no.  I’d be honored to have you there, cheering me on.”

“You’re not messing with me, are you?”  She raised her eyebrows playfully, giving him the out if he wanted to take it. And that same anger at Mark, at all the idiot guys who had hurt her flared up briefly, but he tramped it down like a lid on a grease fire, reassuring her again, “No way.  I want you there.  Need you there, Mandy.  Besides-” that impish grin was back, “-it’s only fair.  I saw you perform, now I get to return the favor.” Her mind was working, spinning his words around in her head faster than an unbalanced washing machine, as she processed what Eddie was saying.  When she finally came to a conclusion, Amanda nodded decisively, “Yea, ok.  I’ll come.  I-I’ll be there.” Pressing up to his feet, Eddie beamed down at her, “Sweet.  But, now I really gotta split, ok?”  She raised her chin, the permission for a kiss implicit in the action and he took advantage.  It was so easy to get lost in the flavor and feeling of her lips under his or the slide of his tongue over her own.  In the end, she had to push him away, breathless and begging, “Yea, go on.  Get lost, Munson.”

Groaning, he stomped towards her door, “Fine.  Fine.  I’m going.” Pleased and purring, Amanda stretched out along her bed, her head already thinking of the night to come when Eddie’s face appeared in her doorway again, “Oh, hey.  Don’t forget that you’re banging the lead guitarist and front man of the band, k?  You gotta look the part so uh-” he took in the room at a glance, “-no pretty flower prints or whatever.” “You came back just to tell me that?” His hands rested against the pale wooden door frame as he stepped back through it, “Yes.  And this-” it took three running steps before he launched himself onto the mattress and landed as gently as he could with her pinned underneath him.  Her hands caught on the tangles still knotting his hair, dragging his mouth to hers, whimpering into the wet cave of his mouth. So Eddie was an hour late to work and Amanda missed her first class.  Worse things had happened in the name of new love.

—

1990 - Winter

“Well, it was a great night!  To Mandy and the Maniacs-”  The ladies clinked their bottles together in celebration, stilted happiness filling the air around them.  The founding members of their female fronted metal band had come home exhilarated and exhausted, ready to unwind, share post-show snacks and celebrate their advancement to the Battle of the Bands finals.  It had been another grueling show but they had done what they meant to: melt the faces off the audience and get another step closer to that Big Win in the new year. 

MTV was on in the background, as it always was when they weren’t practicing or writing or recording, and the videos on Headbangers Ball were always welcome at the end of a long Saturday filled with rocking.  Rick Rachtman was talking about some up and coming band as Amanda crunched on a cheese ball, barely listening.  

If Carly was tired, Amanda was wired, her mind still on tonight’s crowd and what it was going to take to win it all in a few weeks.  Already she was in her head, planning what their set was going to be, which songs were the most likely to sway the ever growing swell of music lovers standing shoulder to shoulder when they played.  

That's when she heard a ghost, a breathing memory of the apparition who haunted her still.  His familiar cadence filtering through her television speakers jerked her from her thoughts, a voice she knew better than her own- “Holy shit.  Is that- Is that Eddie?  Your Eddie?”  Carly sat forward, the electric blue glow of the set outlining the surprise on her face.  The banishment of a certain man’s name forgotten in the excitement of said man’s picture on the television. Her beer bottle thunked to the table clumsily, “What?  Eddie?”  Amanda hadn’t said his name in over two years.  Around the time when the walls around her head and heart had gone up, and thankfully all of her friends knew better than to bring up that sensitive subject.  Or at least were willing to honor her wishes that the rocker in question never be spoken of in her presence. But fucking hell if Carly wasn’t right.  There on the illuminated idiot box that was her twenty inch screen was Eddie Fucking Munson himself and the rest of Corroded Coffin, talking to Chuck Stillman about their tour.  Answering questions for the fans to get to know them better and helping sell their metal image.  “Did you know about this?”  It was shock which filled Carly’s tone and Amanda felt a little bit guilty because of course she did.  She still talked to Steve, saw Robin from time to time, and even taught Mike Wheeler some guitar basics a year or so ago.  

When she didn’t answer, her very best good friend Carly leveled her with a sideways glance, “You did, didn’t you?” Shrugging, her go-to move these days, she grabbed the cable box’s remote and goosed up the volume.  It really fucking sucked to see how good Eddie looked, all in black leather and mesh lace, with his guitar pick necklace centered on his bare chest, tattoos barely visible but she knew they were there.  Could draw them from memory, if she really wanted to.  And his curls!  They were styled expertly, shiny and bouncy, making Amanda’s hands itch at the memory of them clutched between her fingers. Through the tinny speakers they heard Chuck’s question, “So, the people want to know, what is Eddie Munson’s favorite song?” There was a pause and if she didn’t know Eddie so well, she wouldn’t have seen it, but his eyes lost their twinkle for a second and his smile dropped the teensiest bit as he replied, “My favorite song?  That’s a great question, man.  And, uh, ya know, I wanna say something hard rocking and fast.  But honestly?  Someone to Watch Over Me by the Gershwin brothers.”

“SHUT UP!”  Carly smacked a hand into her arm, “He’s talking about you!  That night, in the park!  Holy shit, Eddie Munson, rock star rising, is talking about you, 'Manda!  On MTV!” And wouldn’t that be something, she thought, sinking back into her second hand sofa.  Him sparing the time to think about her at all these days seemed like such a shot in the dark, such a foreign concept, that she reckoned it wasn’t even a possibility.  There was no way he gave as much of his day to thoughts of her, to their time together as she did, right?  

No.  Not possible.  That he answered the basic question with the title of her favorite song, the song that meant so much to them both, didn’t mean a goddamned thing.  Not anymore. “I don’t think so, Carl.  I think you’re reading too much into things.” Sitting back, her own beer held tight, Carly rolled her eyes at friend, prickly at having her fun ruined, “What if he was?” “Huh?” “What if Eddie was thinking about you?  After these last couple of years, what if he- what if he misses you too?  It is possible.” Huffing out a derisive laugh, she tapped a finger against the nearly empty bottle of Budweiser, using the sassiest tone of voice she could wrangle when she answered, “Right.  He misses me when he’s out at nightclubs surrounded by strippers and groupies and backup dancers.  I’m sure all Eddie wonders about is little old me, back in Hawkins, when he’s walking red carpets and taking movie stars out to dinner in New York City and LA.” “You’re doing it again.”  Carly was focused on the screen but talking to Amanda, frustration thick in her tone. Equally riled up, Amanda chirped, “Yea?  What’s that?” Unblinking, Carly stared at her best friend, band mate, and roommate, “Selling yourself short.  You should really watch out for that.” Her friend meant well, she knew that, had proof of it all around her, but because her brain was fickle and memories were monsters, she found herself whispering, “Eddie said he would.  He promised me.  Said he was always gonna look out for me.” Staring down at her pinky finger, she would swear she felt his littlest digit wrapped around her own, the supposedly iron-clad arrangement made in a post-sex haze of brightly burning new love too long ago to hurt so freshly but so recently it still might bleed.  He had promised to watch over her, to change her mind and love her through it all. But when the man you loved had the chance to make his dreams a reality, you couldn’t stand in his way, right?  At least that was what she told herself late at night when sleep wouldn’t come and the moon was high above, laughing at her.  So, she watched, unflinching, as Eddie talked about burning grilled cheese sandwiches in a shitty hotel and the possibility of coming back to Indiana with the tour. She watched every shake of his head and every movement of his hands, taking them in like physical blows, wounds that would need cream and bandages and pain medication to heal up properly.  And she drank another beer, going silent since her mind refused to do the same, replaying the sentences from the tv interview on an endless looping track, trying to work out any hidden meaning that proved Carly right and her own sense of self wrong. When the programming shifted, some early morning sketch show or something, Carly said goodnight and moved off to her room but still Amanda sat there.  Was it fair to be so mad at Eddie?  Did she really have a right to the hurt and anger she was holding onto with an iron grip? As the sun climbed through the window above her record player, Armando the Wonder Cat jumped into her lap for pets.  Between scratching behind his pointy ears and patting down his back, she realized she was crying.  Sure, she was disappointed in Eddie.  In the promises he had never seen to fruition, but that wasn’t the only reason to be so upset. Because hadn’t she made promises too?  And hadn’t she broken them all?

---

Thank you for reading!  Part 4 is on the way!

Want to read more?  Please visit my Masterlist!

My Minxes:

@thatsonezesty13​ @sxlly-pxbble​ @kerri-leighjade​ @carleighsworld​ @mediocreaf​ @weird-stranger13​ @cupiden​  @sereisstuff​ @elviqs​  @ethereal-daydreamerr​  @armyangxls​ @alana-stewart​ @lonely-af-fangirl​ @darkhairedmenrule​ @b1tchbabytears​ @ravencrap-hufflefuck​  @rosegoldarti​ @boeutiful​ @atlwhatevs​ @mermaidsandcats29​  @aereth​  @drfrank211​ @ladysteddie​ @friendly-neighborhood-ghoul​ @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore​ @sweetsweetjellybean​ @sammy-jo1977​ @hiscrimsonangel​

[bridoesotherjunk]

[yabakuboi]

tw: for implied past emotional abuse, im in my feels today

"What the fuck were you thinking?" Hopper growls. He's not quite shouting, but he's still loud, raised voice echoing through the living room. "She's not ready to drive yet, I forbade it, and what? You two decided that you knew better?"

Eddie rolls his eyes, but gamely keeps quiet. He knows Hopper's less upset with Ellie taking a spin through the parking lot and more upset about the property damage. Eddie's on her side though, that phone pole came out of nowhere. Must have been pretty rotted out too, to fall over that easily after a little love tap.

Ellie had done a damn good job fixing the huge dent in the bumper.

But if Hopper wants to be dramatic and chew everyone involved out, Eddie's not going to stop him. Whatever gets the guy's blood pressure back down.

"You're supposed to be responsible adults! Especially you, Steve!"

Rolling his eyes again, Eddie glances over, hoping to share a commiserating look with Steve.

Except Steve isn't looking anywhere but down, shoulders and spine ruler straight. Eddie stalls there, stuck on the way Steve's standing, tense from jaw down to his ankles, his hands balled into tight fists flat at his side, knuckles white. Hopper keeps ranting, pacing a wide circle in front of them, but Steve doesn't flinch, doesn't look up, doesn't react. It's like all the color has washed from him.

"Are you even listening?!"

"Yes, sir," Steve says tightly. He doesn't look up. Hopper keeps going.

Eddie watches as Steve's throat works to swallow, like he's choking. Like he can't breathe.

"Hopper," Eddie snaps. "Shut the fuck up."

Hopper whirls on him, livid, but Eddie's not looking at him, fixed on Steve as he reaches out. Tries to take Steve's hand, just holds his wrist when Steve can't unclench his fist, gentle as he touches him. Steve is tightly wound and trembling under his fingers.

When he looks, Eddie finds Hopper with deep regret on his face, struck silent. He doesn't say anything when Eddie leads Steve away, back out onto the porch. They sit on the swing, Eddie's arm around Steve's shoulders, rocking back and forth until the muscles loosen and Steve slumps, strings cut, into Eddie's side. They'll sit like that for a while more, watching the woods as the sun sets and listening to the dusk settle, crickets and cicadas and chats calling the moon up, filling their silence with nighttime music.

Later, Hopper will come out, temper cooled, and sit on Steve's other side. Will ruffle Steve's hair when Steve starts to stiffen. Will apologize when Steve eyes him warily.

Later, Eddie will scowl and glare, but ultimately keep quiet, unwilling to make the whole thing worse for Steve, another fight, another shouting match. Will stiltedly tell Hopper good night and take Steve home, wait patiently until Steve finally speaks, when he finally tells Eddie a little more and a little more, until Eddie's holding him tight.

That's later though. For now, he digs his heel into the porch, rocking them back and forth, and waits for Steve to breathe.

[kwistowee]

@stcreators event 07: comedy

[severedegg]

oouuuurhgghghghghghghghhhhhhh i looked at the website today cause id been meaning to for a while and............. i love them so much................................ so cute to me...... eddie my beloved (platonic)

[morganbritton132]

Eddie, on a live-stream: Steve is a master at making a situation as awkward as possible and it’s not even an accident. He does it on purpose.

Steve: It’s the easiest way to get someone to leave. Everybody wants to see something embarrassing. No one wants to be a part of it.

Eddie: Yeah, for example. One time I got pulled over for speeding and Steve told the cop - unprompted, I was going to take the ticket - that the reason we were speeding was because I was about to shit my pants.

Eddie: Which, ha ha ha. You’ve used that one before, whatever. We were coming home from the park and the park we went to at the time, hid their trash cans so you could never find them.

Eddie: So he makes things infinitely more mortifying for me by holding up a doggie bag of dog shit and said that I had already had one accident.

Steve: Didn’t get a ticket though, did you? You’re welcome.

Eddie: I’m not thanking you!

Steve: I think I’ve actually perfected getting people to go away. I’m really good at it.

Eddie: Yeah, as evident by your entire childhood.

Steve:

Eddie: I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I said that.

[absentlurker]

the relief wayne feels when he finds out eddie and that steve boy are dating. not because eddie loves that boy so fuckin’ much and it was a struggle watching him live with the belief it was unrequited.

no.

it was a relief because eddie is 22 years old and wayne’s time to embarrass his boy to his boyfriend has finally come.

the absolute horror in eddie’s eyes when he whipped his head around when he heard the words, “so steve…have i ever told you about the time eddie had an complete meltdown after he brought a opossum in the house…”

[lazylittledragon]

happy gay month :3

[tawaifeddiediaz]

9-1-1 season 7 billboard || times square, new york city

[wordynerdygurl]

Someone to Watch Over Me

Part 2:  “Seek & You Will Find”

Author’s Note:  Listen, this chapter- it’s a doozy!  A whopper!  In the words of our favorite Metalhead, a “Big Boy”! My endless thanks to @sweetsweetjellybean for the sage-like advice.  Couldn’t have gotten here without you!  Seriously, I’m beyond thankful for your guidance!

Also, anyone want a playlist for this story?  Lemme know!

If you need to catch up:  Part 1 - Love is Blind Pairing:  Eddie Munson x Plus Sized OC Amanda Patterson Summary:  It’s love at first sound, pitch perfect and fated, everything in harmony.  If only life were a love song.  

When Amanda has a rotten rehearsal, Eddie finds a way to turn things around with the help of his friends.  Is it possible that these two lost lambs have found someone to love?

Warnings:  There’s some mild fat-shaming/ fat-phobia happening here.  Lots of making out and references to 80s relics such as MTV VJs.  Also, there’s junk food discussed and frankly, in my heart, I know Eddie is Twizzlers guy.  No, it’s not up for discussion!  

Happy Reading!

1990 There was no end in sight.

Chuck kept asking questions.  Insipid and uninspired things like ‘What’s your favorite color?’  ‘Favorite food?’  ‘Favorite Soda?’

And every member of the band answered enthusiastically except for Eddie.  He couldn’t seem to stop his brain train from running down a track towards self doubt.  Why didn’t he just say that their new single was his favorite song?  Name a tune from any one of the thousands that routinely blasted from his Walk-Man or stereo or car radio. Instead, like an idiot, Eddie had let his mouth speak for his stupid, stupid heart.  The one organ that had no business talking out of turn.  Not in front of the guys.  Not to Chuck, the affront to fashion in front of him.  Not to all of America once the production team edited the band’s responses together into a clip package that could be shown over and over and over in between music videos and commercials for Diet Coke. The unending false cheerfulness of the interviewer ground down Eddie’s normally thick skin, turning him sullen, moody.  Of course, Eddie recognized that this could also be blamed on his bare honesty when asked a simple question about his favorite song.  Was Chuck, the walking graffiti wall, really to blame?  After all, the band had agreed to this list of softball questions. It’s just that Eddie hadn’t expected to be so honest.  Hadn’t counted on sabotaging himself.  And he was kicking himself internally for the over share. If anyone, including the doofus with his artfully styled mullet, realized how Eddie was feeling they didn’t acknowledge it.  Everyone just sort of carried on like normal, especially Chuck who cleared his throat, barrelling onward, “Indiana isn’t really known for it’s rock ‘n roll.  How did the band get started?  What brought Corroded Coffin together?” “Oh, that’s easy!”  Eddie felt the familiar hands of Gareth land noisily on his shoulders from behind, “Eddie and I went to high school together, started playing for fun in my garage.  Next thing you know we’re here, getting ourselves on MTV!” Bless him, Eddie thought, a half smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.  Gareth took the heat off of him, answering a couple more of Chuck’s neverending inquiries, effectively easing some of the tension that had wrapped itself around the front man.  It was nice, even if it didn’t last long. “Eddie, you’re a founding member of the group, the lead singer, lead guitarist, and primary song writer here.  I gotta ask-” Chuck leaned forward as if they were close friends gossiping over beers, the fakeness of it making Eddie’s jaw clench, “-Is there anything you don’t do for the band?”

It wasn’t meant to be prying, Eddie got that.  This whole thing was supposed to be cushy, simple, fun.  Another great way to get the band in front of audiences who were demographically appropriate for their fan base.  They had all agreed to sit down and promote the record, the music video, the tour they were opening for each night. Did Chuck, and by extension, America, really need to know that Eddie wasn’t looking forward to going back to Indiana?  Was that part of his obligation?  Putting his memories, his history, his heartbreak out there for everyone to look at in between Billy Idol’s new single and Madonna’s latest video drop?

Maggie kicked at his boot.  It was a warning from his faithful head of security, a soundless reminder to play nice with the other kids.  Especially since this was too big a moment to blow by being a pouty pants.

So Eddie did what he always did when he hated what was being forced on him by the institutions pulling his strings.  He leaned into malicious compliance while mentally giving everyone around him, including his beloved Maggie, an imaginary middle finger.  He smiled broadly, his laugh too loud.  It was such a tonal shift that Chuck jumped in his seat, nearly frantic, “Eddie?  Are you ok to continue?” Batting his kohl rimmed eyes at the poor man’s Kurt Loder before him, Eddie resigned himself to giving the producers a sound bite for the ages.  “Yea, yea.  Fine, Chuckie!  What, uh, what don’t I do for the band?  I guess-” running a ringed hand over the back of his neck, Eddie shook his head, holding his cheeks up through force of will, “-I don’t cook.  Not anymore.  Not since the uh, Grilled Cheese Incident of 1988.” The smile that Chuck flashed was pure, unadulterated Americana wholesomeness.  It was a Donny Osmond, Crest commercial smile.  Eddie hated it. Itchy from discomfort, he craved nicotine.  Caffeine.  Anything but sitting still in front of this dork who managed to keep his creepily perfect smile intact despite Eddie’s threatening to slip away.  “Oh, ho!  Sounds like there’s a great story there!” Shrugging, going for shyness, Eddie looked off camera, finding Maggie’s eyes below the lip of her scally cap.  It was a line almost as hard as her smile.  She was displeased but that gave Eddie new life.  Message received, he nodded, resettling his widest, grossest grin onto his face, “Yea!  Almost set fire to the hotel room in Atlanta by making a sandwich with the in-room iron.  How was I supposed to know that toast burns under the wool setting?  Am I right, Chuck?” A robust laugh from Chuck got the rest of the boys chuckling too, “An important lesson for the kids at home!  And, speaking of the kids at home, I hear you and the band have a surprise for some lucky Indianapolis Metal fans in the new year, is that right?” Faking it in a tone of voice typically reserved for ill fated travelers about to meet their doom around the DnD table, Eddie grinned wickedly, “Oh, that’s absolutely correct, Chuck.”

“Care to tell us more, Eddie?” Raising an eyebrow and its sterling hoop with it, Eddie clicked his teeth, “Ya know what, Chuck, it’d be my pleasure.”

He heard Maggie’s eyes roll even if he didn’t see it for himself. —

1987

“Well?  Are you really not gonna tell me?”  Carly was staring through Amanda as if she could pull the information out of her brain by willpower alone.

Heat flared through Amanda, landing prettily along her cheeks as she shrugged, “Tell you what?” Snorting, just shy of angry, Carly’s wide set eyes bulged comically, “About the guy from the concert- Eddie?  Yea.  Eddie.” At the mention of his name Amanda felt a rush of shimmering excitement slip down her spine.  Eddie.  It seemed like that was all she thought about these days but Carly and the others didn’t need to know that little fact.  In the two weeks since their concert in Hawkins, the band had taken a little time off for class work and work work.  Amanda hadn’t seen any of them since that night. Clearing her throat, flipping through the sheet music in front of her, Amanda sighed, “Who?” She didn’t sell the put on bored tone, not to Carly anyway, who pushed back, “Uh uh.  No way.  I want details.  All of them.  Because that boy-” Carly’s voice turned wistful, “-was gorgeous.  And he only had eyes for you.” Even though she knew this was all fact, Amanda still felt the need to self-protect.  Shield whatever was growing between her and Eddie from anyone who might try and trample on the spring green bud of their romance because this was new for her, exciting.  The heady rush of liking someone and having them return the sentiment had been so far out of her experience that Amanda found herself treasuring even the smallest of gestures from Eddie.  Something her more experienced and frankly filthy friend would not be able to understand. And also, Amanda wasn’t entirely sure that she liked the way Carly got all glazed and gooey when she talked about Eddie.  It made her feel protective of him.  It made her want to keep him safe, and by her side, and away from cute, coquettish Carly at all costs. Stiffer than usual, Amanda turned to her friend, “Well, if you must know-” “I absolutely must!  You practically disappeared with him.”  Siddling closer, Carly’s voice dropped conspiratorially, “Mark was worried.” Snapping her head up, Amanda looked across the practice space to where Jim and Mark were chatting like normal, “He was?” “Yup.  Thought something bad was gonna happen to you after you went off with a stranger.”  “Um, ok, I mean, I was fine.  More than fine, actually”  The barest hint of a smile played out over Amanda’s lips, a phantom made of memory and moonlight and milkshakes. Carly smiled smugly, a knowing tint to her tone, “Oh, I know.  That uh, hickey speaks volumes.” Reflexively Amanda rubbed a hand over the narrowly exposed lavender stain on her collarbone, biting into her bottom lip, “Shh!  Not so loud!”  “Please!  Just, level with me, Amanda.  How was he?”  Wagging her eyebrows, Carly wasn’t going to stop until she heard all the sorted details, leaning over her keyboard with obvious interest, practically drooling. Rolling her eyes skyward, shutting them long enough to gather a thoughtful response, Amanda slowly leveled her gaze at her friend.  Risking a sideways glance at the boys, she pushed closer to the almost vibrationally excited Carly, swooning like a cartoon princess, “He was wonderful.” “And?” “And what?” Carly huffed in frustration, “What do you mean ‘and what’?  What did you do?  What did you do to him?  What did he do to you?”  She was very emphatically implying that she wanted the meat of the story.  The gory, bloody bits of what had transpired between Amanda and Eddie.  Pieces that she wasn’t sure about sharing.  Amanda though, was all too happy to play dumb, “Oh, well we went to the diner and had milkshakes and then-” Over eager, Carly cut her off with an excited flick of her hand, “Then you guys did it, right?  Was it in that shitty van?” A confused look clouded Amanda’s face, “What?  No.  We uh, we did hold hands under the stars and-” “Then you did it?” Laughing at her friend’s crestfallen face, she shook her head, “We didn’t do it, Carly.  Sorry to disappoint you.”

Groaning, Carly lightly shoved at Amanda’s shoulder, “You’ve gotta be kidding me!  Why the hell not?  He was clearly down for you and bad too.  What happened?  How come you didn’t-” Amanda watched as her friend made sure the boys weren’t able to hear them as she taunted, “-ya know, seal the deal?” Tilting her head, Amanda let her memories of that night fill her mind.  Full of small touches that lingered and the scent of vanilla ice cream, the heavy taste of greasy fries and the sound of rumbling laughter from below.  It had been perfect and complete, just as it was. After the diner, Eddie had driven out to Lover’s Lake, his hand never leaving Amanda’s, even when he had to flip the cassette tape.  He had popped open the back doors, inviting her to sit beside him under a quilt that usually cradled his amplifier.  Then Eddie started talking and Amanda found herself lost in the even cadence of his voice. And when he spoke about the last time he had been at the lake, about seeing things that hurt to remember, it was Amanda who threaded her fingers into his net of hair.  It was Amanda that turned Eddie’s starry eyes to hers.  It was Amanda who whispered, “I’m, I’m so sorry that happened to you.” Amanda did all that, working from some intrinsic biological knowledge.  But Eddie was the one who stole her breath under the moonlight.  And when sitting up was too much work, keeping them too far away from each other to be comfortable, the cargo space in his van was the only witness to their necking.  Humid kisses that scalded along the tender tension of Amanda’s throat.  Tiny, closed lip smacks to the skin under Eddie’s chin where even stubble refused to grow.  The unpracticed nip of his canine tooth tugging on Amanda’s earlobe, the ungainly groan Eddie uttered when she pulled his hair.  No one knew about that but the van, the night sky, and the pair of them. She would have gone further.  She wanted to, saying as much to Eddie in between ragged breaths and sugar spun sighs, but he shook the mop of curls that framed his flushed face, “Why buy the cow if you get the milk for free?” Protests started to form, Amanda’s mind ready to fight his logic, only to be subdued by another hot press of his swollen lips to hers.  Eddie’s endless eyes searching hers in the starlight confessed, “Need to see you again, Mandy.  If I- if we, well, ya know- then there won’t be much to look forward to.”

That wasn’t true.  Amanda’s head and heart rebelled against the thought because could already think of a million reasons to see Eddie Munson again.  Almost none of them had to do with getting him out of his exceptionally well fitted jeans.  Almost.

And maybe she would have fought back harder against his denial if he hadn’t freely admitted his own need.  Knowing that Eddie wanted more- another date, another chance to see her, another night shared under starlight, made the throbbing ache in her body a little bit easier to ignore.  Amanda didn’t have to have immediate satisfaction, despite how much she may have craved it, when Eddie slurped hungrily against the fragile skin of her throat, marking her as taken. Oh, yea.  Amanda could wait.  It would absolutely be worth it.  Eddie had pinky promised. But Amanda was not about to tell Carly any of that.  Those were porcelain, precious pieces of her night with Eddie.  She was holding them close to her heart but that didn’t mean she couldn’t give her friend something to chew on.  Shifting an eyebrow up, a sly smile curving over her lips, “Um, Eddie didn’t- well, we didn’t need to.” “What does that even mean?”  But Amanda didn’t get a chance to answer.  Mark and Jim were ready to start the session which brought their conversation to a stop even if she knew Carly wasn’t going to let it go. “Later, k?”

Checking her watch, Amanda was surprised to see that their booked practice time was nearly up.  It had been a good one, at least for her.  Singing all those pretty love songs while thinking about a certain long and lean leather wearing guy who could kiss like a sailor on shore leave helped Amanda put her heart into every note.  Not everyone in the band was having as good a night.  All practice long Mark had been full of criticism.  Carly was rushing the melody on one song, dragging down the rhythm on the next.  He questioned Jim’s ability to keep up during a run through of “Fever”, citing the bassline as too easy for it to sound so bad. With harsh comments about late entries or off key starting notes, a scowl practically plastered to his face anytime Amanda looked in his direction, Mark was clearly going through something.  Everyone was entitled to a bad day, Amanda had had a few herself over the years, but there was a meanness to Mark tonight that felt off.  Wrong.  There had been only one major critique from the stocky drummer about Amanda’s work this session, coming after the last note of Someone to Watch Over Me.  Mark’s ruddy face was redder than usual as he tossed down his sticks, “Yea, yea, we get it.  You’re desperate for love or whatever.  Do you have to sound so, so, I don’t know, shameless when you sing it Amanda?” “I’m sorry?” “It’s like you’re begging for a man by the end of that song.  Like you’ll take anyone home.” Carly was shaking her head, refusing to meet Amanda’s searching gaze, second hand embarrassment pinkening her cheeks.  Jim couldn’t stop staring at Mark, his mouth hanging open, his fingers frozen on the strings of his instrument.  Amanda shrugged, adjusting her microphone stand, “Uh, I sang it like I always do.” “Yea, that’s the problem, isn’t it?”  Mark’s too light eyes bored into Amanda’s, silently struggling to communicate something she wasn’t picking up. Jim cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention, and diplomatically offered, “Uh, we’re running out of time, guys.  Maybe let’s go over ‘I Can See Clearly Now’?  Carly?  Amanda?  That sound ok?” Nodding, Amanda agreed quietly, flipping through her lyric book for the right song.  Tossing her tight coils of hair, Carly nodded, squeaking out her reply without any of her usual playfulness, “Yup.  Fine with me.  Count us in Mark.” His sticks clicked together loudly, not bothering to count out loud for the benefit of his bandmates, not really acknowledging any of them, just jumping straight to the intro.  It didn’t matter, they all fell into the tune, years of practice making it easy even if the room’s energy was still wasn’t.  Mark worked the drums hard, without looking at his hands, instead watching Amanda like a hawk everytime she dared risk a glance in his direction.  

A heavy, weighted thing, his stare followed her as she confidently started to sing over the other instruments.  Amanda might have been unsure about whatever was bothering Mark, she may have been cautious about oversharing with Carly, but one thing Amanda knew with certainty was that she sounded good tonight.  So did the band, despite what Mark had alleged with his prickly, nit-picking comments.  So, despite how happy she had been with her own performance, Amanda was eager to get home where there was a hot shower and cold beer waiting.  Beyond ready to put this bizarro rehearsal behind her, when Jim called it, Amanda wasted no time packing up her things.  After all, Eddie would be calling soon and that was the wonderful thing to look forward to at the end of this long day. She was crouched down, wrapping up her chords and stowing things in their proper place, when Mark’s beat up Converse sneakers appeared in front of her.  He cleared his throat a bit too loudly to get her attention, “Uh, hey Amanda?” Was this the start of an apology?  God, she hoped so.  And not just for her but for Jim and Carly too. “Yea?”  It hit somewhere between disinterested and already engaged but still friendly, welcoming.  Without shifting her focus, Amanda carried on, situating her things inside the case which held her microphone and not the drummer standing with his hands in the pockets of his corduroys.  “Where- uh, where’d you disappear to?  Ya know, after the show the other night?” Looking up at him, Amanda blinked purposefully, not confused by the question but by the need to ask it.  “I uh, I went out with a friend.” Mark shuffled in place, dragging a hand through his close cropped hair, something clearly on his mind.  Watching him war with himself was tiresome and before he could say anything else, Amanda reached out, “Help me up?” Dragging her to her feet like he had done countless times, Mark didn’t let go of her hand right away so Amanda pulled it back, cocking her head with a small smile, “Uh, thanks for the assist!” Still he was silent.  Brooding.  Fidgety and nervous, behavior that wasn’t normal Mark.  Paired with his, frankly, shitty attitude all night long, it tripped Amanda’s emotional alert system.  Something was definitely wrong. The sympathetic friend to all in need, Amanda breathed out a sigh, “Are you ok, Mark?  You just seem a little-”  She reached for his shoulder comfortingly like she would do for any of her friends.  Only Mark brusquely jumped away from her touch, cutting through her comment in a harsh rush, “So, uh who’s the guy?” Stopping short, Amanda dropped her hand as if she’s been burned, cheeks flaming from the question.  From the tone of it.  From the implication it carried.  Shaking it off, she countered with a question of her own, asking lightly, “From the concert?  His name is Eddie.” “Eddie?”  Parroting her answer, Mark let his eyes linger on something over Amanda’s shoulder, unable to look at her now.  “Is he, like, your-” pausing, really working to dig out the word that he was reluctant to say, Mark finally settled his pained look on Amanda’s face, “-your boyfriend?” Was he?  Labels hadn’t been discussed, it had only been a few dates after all, but Amanda felt connected to Eddie in a way that was difficult to describe.  It was everything and nothing.  Life changing but life affirming, too. So, was she Eddie’s girlfriend?  Not in a junior high school dance sort of way.  She wasn’t going to start drawing hearts with his initials on her notebook or anything like that, but she also couldn’t deny that they were linked.  Bonded.  Fated. And Amanda felt all of that, her fingers brushing over the discolored skin at her edge of her blouse as evidence of her connection with Eddie, but what she said to Mark was, “Yea.  I- I think he is.” Curious stares from Jim and Carly followed the exchange happening smack in the middle of their shared practice space.  Their heads swiveled between the drummer and vocalist, not wanting to miss a moment, as Mark added hotly, “You think?  What the hell is that, Amanda?  Is he or isn’t he?” That tone was new.  She couldn’t think of a time when Mark had been anything less than complimentary, kind.  Until tonight, anyway.  Now he was tight lipped, clenched hands at his sides, the shoulders of his Rush t-shirt nearly grazing his ears. Facing him full on, Amanda straightened her spine, a pinched purse to her lips, struggling to keep things smooth.  Easy.  And feeling her way around the enigmatic energy that Mark was putting out. “Well, uh, I, I met him at work.  Yea, must be a couple of weeks back.  He plays guitar and came in for a score book.  I was uh, putting up flyers for our show and, he, ya know, came to see us.”  Scoffing at her, his voice raised, Mark’s already white skin was stained scarlet in hot patches along his throat and face, “A random guy?  A, a stranger?  You just, I don’t know, talk to men you don’t know and, like, invite them to see you sing?” Flinching, Amanda tilted her head his way, clarity coming all at once, “Are- are you mad at me, Mark?” “Yea.  Hell yea, I am.  I’m fucking pissed.  You, you just disappeared with some long haired dude out of the crowd like it was no big deal.  Not a word about where you were going or, or, when you’d be back.”  Stepping closer, voice dropping to little more than a whisper, Mark reached out a hand to rub along the sleeve of Amanda's sweater, “I-” he swallowed audibly, “-I was worried about you.” Oh.  That made some sense, Amanda figured.  Mark was looking out for her, keeping an eye on her.  Protecting her.  Fiercer than needed, maybe, but protecting her just the same.  It was kind of nice, even if it was entirely unnecessary where Eddie was concerned.  A friendly grin filled her face, relief replacing Amanda’s anxiety, “Mark!  That’s like, super sweet of you, but honestly?  Eddie is so-” giddiness welled up inside of Amanda at the thought of Eddie.  It turned her smile into something dreamy as she gushed, “-he’s so-” Biting into her bliss, Marks’ bitterness sliced into Amanda’s sentence, “So what?  Huh, Amanda?  What does this guy do?  Where does he live?  What do you even know about him?” Amanda wasn’t used to being on the spot, not like this and never with an audience made up of her friends.  It was nearly an interrogation and every time she offered a response Mark was there, waiting, with words to try and trap her.  “I know enough, Mark.  I know that Eddie’s been a perfect gentleman.  That- that he’s kind.  Gentle.” “Gentle?  Gentlemen don’t bruise girls like that.”  He pointed at the purple splotch peeking from under her collar as if it were evidence of some kind. Tugging her shirt closer, embarrassed heat roared through her, “That’s- that’s private.  It’s not what you think.” “It’s hardly private, Amanda, when you parade around here, showing it off for all of us to see.”  Squaring his stance, Mark looked down his freckled nose at her, questioning her the way a furious father might, “Did- did he hurt you?” The idea of it was so absurd that Amanda laughed directly in Mark’s face.  “Hurt me?  No.  No, Mark.  I- I wanted Eddie to uh, ya know-” bashfully, she let her sentence and its implication go unfinished. God, it was so difficult to talk about this stuff when her buddy and bandmate looked so irrationally mad.  Furious.  Frighteningly so.  She had thought, perhaps naively, that he would be happy for her the same way Carly had been.  In that teasing, ball-busting way that friends were supposed to support each other when a new relationship was starting.  It had never occurred to Amanda that Mark, or anyone, really, would be pissed about Eddie. “You, you wanted that?  From a guy like him?  I just don’t understand, Amanda.”  There was another layer to Mark’s voice this time, something closer to sadness than she had ever heard before.  Hurt.  That was the sour note, the discordant jangle, which flattened all the words that left his mouth. More confused than ever, Amanda swiftly switched into comfort mode, a place that was more than familiar.  After all, her’s was the dependable shoulder that people cried on and she put that emotional muscle memory to work, soothing, “Mark, it’s ok.  I’m ok, really.  Eddie, he’s a really great guy and, yea, we’re still getting to know each other. This, this thing with Eddie and I- it’s brand new and like, yea, I- we have a good time together.  I fully plan on having more good times with him.  He’s just like, really sweet and thoughtful and-” “Enough, ok.  I get it.  I just, I don’t know, never figured you for someone who’d get hooked up with some townie trash.  It’s stupid, Amanda.  Dumb.” Carly’s eyes went saucer wide and Jim physically winced at the heated words Mark flung at Amanda.  This was the first time any of them had argued over more than a late entry or repeating a chorus too many times.  This was serious. “Townie trash?”  Sputtering, fury filling all the available space in Amanda’s body, she couldn’t actually believe what Mark had said about Eddie.  

“You don’t even know him!”  Shrill and thin, Amanda was nearly hollering now, unable to keep the anger bottled up.  Tears gathered in her eyes, not from sadness but from the cruel unkind things Mark kept tossing her way. Braver than he had any right to be, Mark took a step forward, cold eyes narrowing sharply, “Do you even know this guy?  Know who he is?  I do.  I asked around, Amanda.  He’s a fucking drug dealer for one thing!  And someone told me that he, like, barely beat a murder charge years ago.  Murder, Amanda.” Waving a hand in front of her face as if she was trying to erase the terrible things coming out of Mark’s mouth, Amanda snapped back with a hiccup in her voice, “Well, he told me all about it.  Unlike you, I got my information from the source.” Scoffing, Mark rolled his head to the ceiling as if he was struggling to make a toddler understand, “And you think he told you the truth?  Amanda, come on!  You can’t really-” “Really what?  I can’t really like a guy who used to sell dime bags in the woods of his high school?  I couldn’t possibly be into someone who told me he had a reputation, told me that, that he had been through some seriously bad shit?”  She had gained ground as her rage swelled with the need to defend Eddie from Mark, glaring at someone who should have been on her side, should have been excited for her and instead was berating her.  Amanda’s heart was heavy from it when she asked, “Why do you even care?  What does it matter to you, Mark?” Mark took a tentative step closer, crowding into her personal space as his voice dropped lower trying to capture Amanda’s line of vision, “I think you know why.” “Mark-” “Amanda.  Come on.  You can’t not know, right?” “Know what?”  But in saying it, Amanda realized exactly what Mark was trying to say through all his clumsy blustering.  Something that he had been struggling to say wordlessly for a long time if she looked at it through the prism of Carly’s revelation.  Although, it still didn’t account for Mark’s not acting on any of his feelings in a meaningful way. And in that second Amanda was furious at him anew.  At all of them, really.  Because it was becoming more apparent that Carly and Jim had known about the depth of Mark’s feelings without ever once letting her in on the secret.  Even now, she had to watch as Mark stumbled through his admission, a nervous hitch in his throat that made the normally stoic guy sound small.  “That I- that I’m into you, even though I shouldn’t be.  Ya know?” Carly sucked in a breath.  Jim groaned and looked around the room for an exit.  Amanda blinked dumbly. “What did you say?” A cocky grin, starting small, started to spread over Mark’s freckled cheeks.  “Look, I know that you’re a, a bigger girl, and like, your choices are limited.  Most guys wouldn’t want that, but-” he was reaching up to tuck a strand of Amanda’s hair behind her ear when she jerked her head away, “-Amanda, I do.  I want you in spite of that.” All at once the room was too small.  Too hot.  And Mark was standing entirely too close. Again, Mark made to touch her, forcing a rough whisper out of Amanda, “Don’t.” “But, Amanda, I just told you that I-” Shaking her head, Amanda took a huge backward step, kicking her microphone case, “Stop!  Please, Mark.  Stop.  Don’t, don’t say anything else.” Her breaths were short, not enough air making its way into her lungs, and Amanda could sense the racing of her pulse.  Worry was late in arriving on Mark’s face but when it had, he reached out a hand, only for Amanda to bat it away, “No.” Carly was in front of her then, “Hey, Amanda, you need to breathe, alright?  Gotta take a deep breath for me, k?” Nodding her head, Amanda let herself be led to one of the metal legged chairs that was stacked near the door of the rehearsal space, Carly crouching at her side.  From a distance she could see Jim talking to Mark, a hand on the drummer’s chest, and managed to puff out an apology, “I’m- I’m so sorry, Carly.  I’m so terribly sorry about this-” Friendly fingers squeezed Amanda’s, “Hey, none of that.  You didn’t do anything wrong.  You’re ok.  You’re good.  Just a little upset is all.” Amanda closed her eyes, focusing on the inhales and exhales until she no longer felt a hitch in her sternum.  When she looked up again, Mark was gone and Carly was handing her a paper cup of water, “Jim, uh, well, he told Mark to take a hike.” A wet giggle burst out of Amanda and she drank greedily as Carly went on, “How ya feelin’?  That was, shit, Amanda, I’m so sorry.  Because that was wild.” It was late enough that no other students would be looking to get into the practice rooms, something that she was grateful for, since Amanda knew that she was a mess.  Tears and hyperventilation took a toll, not to mention the stuffy nose crying had created.  There was no way she could face anyone else but Carly just now. “Carly?” “Yea, babe?” “Did Mark really-”  She didn’t finish her sentence.  Didn’t think she could, really, when the recollection of all that had been said filtered through her head.  Carly seemed to know that too because she sighed heavily and nodded once.

Carly eyed her cautiously, rocking back on her heels, testing the waters slowly, “Look.  Mark went way over the line tonight.  He’s clearly-” “Don’t defend him, ok?  Please, Carly.”  Amanda rubbed her temples, a throbbing headache making its presence known, “I just don’t understand.  Why would he say those things?”  She struggled to condense her thoughts into meaningful words, words that made some sense, but came up lacking.  Something her friend picked up on.  “Hey.  I’m on your side here, Amanda.  And I’ve been telling Mark to talk to you for a while now.  It’s what you deserved, ya know?”  When the singer didn’t respond, Carly nudged her gently, “Wanna go get drunk?  Pour some sugar in Mark’s gas tank?  Order five dozen pizzas to his frat house?” Swallowing down some more water, feeling more in control of herself, Amanda’s weak smile met Carly’s, “Thanks, I- I think I need to get out of here.  Feed the cat, maybe call Eddie?” A slow grin grew across Carly’s friendly face, it was a knowing thing, but full of sweetness, “Uh huh.  Of course.  Maybe he could come over and make you feel gooooood!” The way she drew out the vowels made Amanda laugh, feeling lighter at the idea of seeing Eddie, “Maybe.” Carly pushed up on her knees, standing quickly, “Well, I imagine he could help you relieve some stress, is all I’m sayin’.” Heat crept through Amanda at the insinuation but she didn’t reject the idea outright.  Perhaps her little friend had a point.  Perhaps there was some comfort to be gained by having Eddie wrapped around her.  When Carly offered her a hand, Amanda took it before pulling the girl into a hug, “Thanks for hanging around.” “It’s the least I could do.” “Still, I’m so embarrassed about all this, Carly.  I can’t-” A firm shake of her head silenced Amanda, “No.  Don’t do that.  You shouldn’t be embarrassed.  Mark should be.  He’s the asshole here.” Agreeing numbly, Amanda grabbed her case by its handle, almost out the door when Carly called, “Amanda?  Are you going to be here next week?  Like, are you going to come to practice?”

She already had her answer ready, as much as she didn’t want it to be true, “Uh, we’ll see.  I’ll- I’ll have to let you know.” A long look passed between the keyboard player and song bird.  Carly bobbed her head once, “You call me, yea?” “Of course.”

____ Eddie was clingy, ok?  He knew that about himself.  Always the last person to let go during a hug, never in a rush to pull away, Eddie realized he had the potential to become a human sized barnacle, given the chance. And it wasn’t just physical.  He craved reassurance from any and everyone, returning it in equal measure.  Check in calls from Nancy or Robin, a drop-in at Family Video during every one of Steve’s shifts, dinners at the Henderson house each week, Corroded Coffin practice and, on rare occasions, a performance.  It kept Eddie connected to all of the little sheep in his flock.  But Amanda was something different, wasn’t she?  A woman who lived on her own, went to school, went to work, went to band rehearsals and was content with making her own way.  So independent it worried Eddie because he wanted her to depend on him.  Yea, Eddie was clingy and protective and he had a hard time not showering those he loved in his affection.  People who knew him, really knew him well, understood his blanket of affection.  For new faces though, it could be a lot.  Eddie could be a lot.  And he’d had more than one relationship end before it began because of his smothering, suffocating, face hugging alien level of attachment. This time, Eddie vowed that wasn’t going to let that happen.  He had a plan.  A campaign for himself, with the end goal of winning Amanda, heart and soul. So, he had told her, flat out, that he, Eddie Munson, was an all or nothing kinda guy.

It was over the phone, the morning after the concert, because Eddie also didn’t have great impulse control.  He’d just laid it out in plain English; he liked her.  Alot.  He liked talking to her and he liked kissing her even more.  Because he wanted to continue doing both things, and not lose sleep over it, Eddie proposed some guidelines. Graciously, grandly, his Amanda agreed to one phone call a day.  A check in, usually after dinner or a night shift, depending on the night, where they both unloaded the day’s events into the sympathetic ear of the other.  It was one call a day, yes, one call that usually lasted four or five hours, a fact which couldn't be laid entirely at Eddie’s feet. After all, it was Amanda who refused to hang up first.  Said it made her sad to say goodbye, which was just about the sweetest thing Eddie had ever heard, since most people couldn’t get rid of him fast enough.  Now they ended their calls with “Night, Night” as if they were children taking a nap at daycare or something, instead of nearly full grown adults who desperately needed sleep before heading out to work or school.  That was if they even remembered to hang up at all.  Wayne had come home on at least two occasions to find Eddie asleep, cradling the receiver to his ear, snoring away.  When he heard a matching set of heavy breaths on the other end of the phone, Wayne got the picture clear enough, telling his nephew to try and rehang the handset, if possible.  No need to keep the line engaged and stretch the cord like that just to fall asleep together. Amanda had giggled at that, promising solemnly to try and avoid any future overnight calls, despite how lovely it was to listen to Eddie sleep.  And the romantic in Eddie ate that shit up.  It was the stuff of legend.  And shit, did Eddie want to be legendary for Amanda. It was the heartsick, love hungry guy in him who had different ideas about what counted as romantic and that underfed goblin wanted all the rules thrown out of the window, even if they were ones Eddie had insisted on.  That green and greedy bastard who lived in his heart demanded longer conversations.  It didn’t want to wait until Friday night or Saturday morning to see Amanda, with her soft curves which he had recently discovered looked just as lovely in flowy dresses as they did in tight jeans, making Eddie thank a god he didn’t believe in for the hard work of the Jordache company.  

No, the already attached barnacle, the needy slice of his personality, wanted to wake up every morning with arms, soft and warm, curled around him.  Amanda’s arms.  And it required a goodnight kiss from Amanda’s sweet lips, no longer satisfied with a whispered wish of sweet dreams through the breaking, beige knot of curling cord that stretched tightly from the trailer’s kitchen to his bed.  But Eddie was trying to deny that feral critter.  He had to or the damnable thing would take over his body and mind, saying or doing something stupid, way too soon for either of them to be comfortable.  Something that might spook Amanda, something that he might regret.

Because Eddie Munson wasn’t ready for this thing with Amanda Patterson to end.  To be over.  Not so soon.  Not when there was still so much to see and do and talk about together.  Gnawing on his already shredded cuticle, Eddie worried at his nail, mind going as fast as a Hetfield guitar solo and twice as loud. If he really let himself break it down, Eddie supposed that he could charge the over eager attachments he formed with all creatures in need, great and small, on his lacking, slacking parents.  Wayne, the best man in Indiana and possibly the world, had gifted him with stability as a kid.  A much needed anchor in the swirling sea that was young Munson’s life until that point, but even the patient grit of his uncle’s love couldn’t quite scrape away the sticky residue of being leaveable.  Of being left.  Of being easy to walk away from.

Eddie did not want to think like that, he didn’t.  Because he had worked hard to keep those idle thoughts out of his brain.  But like an invasive plant, they managed to crowd his mental garden, taking over whatever good seeds were sown in love or friendship.  

It was the kudzu of bad thoughts that he liked to blame for driving a wedge into all of his important relationships, blanketing the peace and happiness that he craved with waxy green leaves that choked and strangled in their desperate climb towards the light.  Sure, he fought against it.  Hacked away at it bit by bit, and in time, some love had taken root.  And yea, he could thank the people who put in the time; Wayne, Dustin, Robin and Steve, hell even Nancy Wheeler and the Hellfire guys.  But, credit where credit is due?  Those connections flourished in the sandy soil of his heart mostly because Eddie was one helluva gardener. That reminded him, he should put killer plants in his next campaign, Eddie thought quickly, grabbing for a napkin and Sharpie marker that he swiped from Family Video, “Little fuckers won’t see that coming.” It struck him right then.  As he was tucking the now defiled and scribbled upon tissue into his vest pocket, Eddie realized just how lost he was for Amanda.  Knew with a fatal certainty that his heart was planting seeds with deep, thirsty roots.  Growing a field of wildflowers for a woman he’d known, what, two weeks? Only, if he was honest with himself, he knew it was a lost cause at the diner when they kissed over vanilla milkshakes.  Maybe he knew it before then, Eddie considered, teeth toying with his fingernail now.  From the second they met, her impossibly amazing eyes catching his own as Amanda grabbed him, holding on for dear life, instead of tumbling to the ground at his feet. Or, most likely of all, when that voice of hers dripped like honey, wrapping Eddie in a smothering blanket of loveliness that he still hadn’t been able to shake off.  Yea, he nodded to no one but himself, the sound of Amanda’s singing had pulled him under like a mermaid mirage and he had gone willingly into the deepest end of the ocean for just one more note. And that is why he was breaking his own rule about waiting until the weekend. 

Because when Amanda had called after tonight’s practice, her normally full and pleased voice was tight and thin.  Because when Eddie asked what was wrong he heard the two breaths she took and could picture how her brain flashed from keeping him out of it to letting him in.  Because when Amanda told him she’d had an awful night, Eddie gave the only answer he could, “I’ll be right there.” Now, despite the lateness of the day, Amanda was running into a gust of autumn air that tugged her hair wildly and scoured her cheeks raw.  Passing in front of the van’s headlights, she paused just long enough to smile at him, lit up golden against the India ink night.  Eddie returned the look, leaning over the console to pop open the door, welcoming his girl, as she surely was in his mind anyway, into the warm van, “Hey gorgeous.” Before he could retreat to the driver’s seat, Amanda’s cold hands were tugging against the patched denim cut, keeping him on her side of the cab.  Lips that Eddie dreamed about pressed to his own and as much as his manliness might want to deny it, he groaned against her mouth, pleased at her wanting him so recklessly.  There was something else in the kiss that Amanda greeted Eddie with, something bitter, something sad, and it shook him up to realize that she’d been crying.  That’s why he slowly pulled away from her upturned face, his ringed right hand curling to match the curve of her cheek, “Mandy, is- is everything ok?” With shining eyes and her bottom lip pinned between her teeth, Amanda shook her head, nearly sobbing, “No.  Nope.  Not even like a little bit.” “Oh baby, I’m sorry.” Letting her forehead lay against Eddie’s, his coarse curls curtaining them both, Amanda inhaled heavily, “Not your fault, just, stupid shit but, well-”  Now she looked up at him with a trembling bottom lip and shiny trails over her cheeks making Eddie’s thoughts jump between murderous anger at whoever did this to his girl and comforting marshmallow softness for the pain she was in.  

He settled on an encouraging head nudge, urging her to continue, “-I think I have to leave the band.” “What?” Her sigh was a wretched, wet thing and Eddie saw the effort it took for Amanda to steady herself, closing her eyes as she repeated, “I’m not going to be in the Indiana Four anymore.  I, uh, I have to quit”  The last word cracking through a shallow sob. A million questions flooded Eddie’s brain.  This was a big deal.  Huge even.  And Eddie wasn’t about to make it worse for Amanda by asking any of them out loud right now. Swallowing his own need for clarity, Eddie brushed his thumb across Amanda’s bottom lip, his personal favorite, and hummed, “Hey, hey, you’re ok.  I got you, baby.  It’ll be alright, yea?” Amanda didn’t answer in words.  She merely scooted closer, her arms threading under Eddie’s, hugging him tightly.  It was a few seconds before the fresh wave of tears dried up and all he did was hold on despite the damp spot on his shoulder.  Like all storms do, it passed, and when it had, Amanda sighed heavily, “I’m so sorry-” “Shh, I don’t care.  I just- damn, Amanda, I, like, hate seeing you so sad.  It’s breaking my heart, baby.” “Don’t- don’t say shit like that, Eddie.” “Why not?  It’s true.” Swallowing thickly, wiping at the twin tracks of dampness on her cheeks, Amanda huffed, “‘Cause you’re gonna make me cry again!” “Ok, ok.  I won’t say anything nice to you right now.”  There was a hint of mirth in his voice that he prayed Amanda would notice, a softening that Eddie was desperate to offer his lady in distress with the hopes of cheering her up a little. Sniffling, she tilted her head in that tell-tale way, biting her bottom lip to halt her half smile from growing, “Thank you for your, uh, understanding.” “No problem.  It’s good to know, for like, the future.  Mandy’s sad?  Don’t be nice.  That’ll only make it worse.” Giggling despite her heavy heart, Amanda playfully pushed against Eddie’s chest, her nose stuffy from crying, “That’s not what I said.” “Well, that’s what I heard, sweetheart.  And, lucky for you, I’m pretty good at being not nice, so I think this arrangement is going to work out just fine.”  Now he was openly teasing her, grateful to see that she was fighting back.  It meant she was feeling better and Eddie’s heart soared for knowing he was helping. Those eyes.  The ones that pinned Eddie in place, making his breath catch in his throat, were locked on to him when she said, “You’re pretty nice to me, so don’t sell yourself short, Munson.” Leaning in close, the console be damned, Eddie let his nose graze hers, “Hmm, you’re pretty and that’s nice, Miss Mandy.”

Humming, Amanda rested a palm against Eddie’s cheek, “See?  That’s what I mean.  You say the sweetest things.”

“What can I say?  Maybe you bring it out in me?” Shaking her head, Amanda snorted out a short laugh, disbelieving but flattered all the same.  Still, Eddie wasn’t entirely surprised when she changed the subject, “So, thank you for coming over.  For coming to get me.  I just-” her shoulders dropped as she deflated after a deep exhale, “-I want to forget about today.” Shyly he peeked at her from under the flap of fringe that hung haphazardly over his eyes, “If you wanted to, ya know, talk about it, I’m all ears Mandy.” And he saw the struggle behind Amanda’s eyes, the way she tipped her head, thinking it through.  Eddie wondered if there would ever be a time when telling him about her day might be a natural, easy, thoughtless thing.  Because that’s what he wanted.  He wanted to be the person she ran to, good or bad. But as they sat in her building’s parking lot, the van’s motor idling loudly, Amanda biting the inside of her cheek, Eddie saw the moment she decided against sharing.  Saw how she blinked away unshed tears before swallowing shakily.  Watched the way she tossed her head, like she was clearing away some bad thought or another. Damn it, she’s too pretty to be sitting so far away.

“Uh, I- I appreciate the offer, Eddie.  But maybe-” “Hey, I’m here whenever you need me.  You know that, right?” Her head dropped, focused on her fingernails, Amanda’s voice small as she answered, “Yea.  Yes.  I know that, Eddie.” Taking her hand in his, Eddie squeezed it firmly, happy when she lifted her lovely face his way.  “And, just so you know, I am gonna make you tell me all about it, Mandy.  Just yet, if that’s ok?  If you can hold onto it for a little bit longer, I uh, I think it’ll be worth it.” “Sounds like you have a plan, Ed.”  A tentative smile, damp at the corners, broke through the mask of pain she was carrying.  It felt like a gold medal win to Eddie.

Of course he did.  Eddie had already spent too much time thinking about how to spend this stolen night with Amanda.  He knew what his body wanted, what his brain wanted, but now, it wasn’t the time for all that.  There was another option, something different, something social.  But only if Amanda was up for it. “Yea, maybe?  Maybe I do.  Might be more of a distraction.  Dunno if it’ll work yet, but it's worth a try.”

“Just want to be where you are, Eddie.  That’s all.”  And even though she was resting her head against the seat with her eyes shut, he still felt like she was watching, waiting.  For him to deny her, maybe?  He wasn’t sure.

So, Eddie did what came naturally, pressing a kiss to her forehead, one to the very tip of her nose, “Sounds good to me, Miss Mandy.”

The radio was on low, barely audible over the van’s heater which was working really hard at filling the space with warmth, but all Eddie could hear was Amanda’s tiny moans of relief that ebbed out of her with every peck.  Somehow that made her lighter, unburdened, as he kissed lightly over the features of her face.  He was starting to think that he was the cause of that small, satisfying sound.  And Goddess above, but he wanted to hear it again. Soon Amanda was leaning into the palm of his hand, being petted like a contented kitty cat, soft and warm.  He hated to do it, disrupt the peace, but he was going to need both of his hands to drive carefully enough that his precious passenger side cargo was safe.  Though it went against all of his instincts, Eddie subtly lifted her chin, waiting for those eyes to flutter open, finding him in the pale dashboard light.  This kiss was firmer, fiercer maybe, and Eddie allowed himself to steal a bit more of her taste with every pass of his tongue.  If he was trying to wipe away some of her heartache and take it for himself, so what?  Amanda didn’t object.  It was the opposite, in fact, because her petal lips parted giving him the green light to kiss her properly.

With his tongue moving slowly, rhythmically, his hands cradled the back of Amanda’s head, her hair tangling under his touch.  She tilted, attempting to offer him the exposed column of her throat, but Eddie held firm, steady.  He wanted- no, needed, to show her how much he could care.  Eddie took control and Amanda let him. Pouring his feelings into her like he could fill her up, refreshing what today had wilted, Eddie carefully, consciously, guided Amanda with gentle hands.  Tipping her head back, swallowing her shallow whimpers, he damned the way his van was built.  It kept him from getting his hands on her the way he wanted to and the denial was frustrating. She felt it too, her own hands flexing, uselessly, unsure of where to touch Eddie.  The sounds Amanda made, music in their own right, became higher pitched, whinier, the longer Eddie limited where and how she could move.  Entirely at his mercy, when she melted into him, a strangled sob, “Eddie, please.” it took all the willpower he possessed to keep his ass in the driver’s seat. Breaking away was hard but Eddie was harder.  He couldn’t help the raw want that Amanda created in him.  She was vulnerable, open and she was here, with him.  Letting Eddie Munson kiss her, touch her, talk to her.  The seeds in his heart were sprouting already.

Still, if he didn’t stop now, they were going to be late.  And Eddie would hate for Amanda to make a bad first impression.  Reluctantly, he thumbed at her bottom lip, his fingers lifting her chin, “I’m sorry, sweet thing, but we have to get a move on.” Petulant, Amanda huffed out her short lived displeasure.  Her lids were heavy against the heightened color of her cheeks.  Eddie hadn’t thought she could look more beautiful, yet, here she was, begging him for more without making any noise. It would have been much too easy to pull her to his chest and never let her go.  Battling with his greedy gargoyle, Eddie shook his head, giving Amanda a shy grin, “Sit back, huh babe?  And, here-” leaning across her, Eddie snagged the shoulder belt, pulling it snugly over Amanda, “-lemme get you buckled in.”

“Ok, yea.  Thank you.  Ya know, for everything, Eddie.” There was no fight in her now, just comfortable compliance while she let Eddie baby her a bit.  She was still riding a wild combination of elation and heartbreak, Eddie knew that, but he couldn’t help staring at the pretty girl in his front seat.  Linking his hand with hers, squeezing her fingers, “For you, Mandy?  Shit.  I’d do anything.”

—

Amanda was dreaming.  She was so sure that what was happening couldn’t possibly be real life, because her life wasn’t like this- full of secret smiles and silly in-jokes.  Tiny touches that bordered on too much, lingering kisses that were definitely not enough.  This had to be someone else’s life. Only, when she pinched herself, the vibration of pain was real. She had waited approximately ten seconds to call Eddie once she'd gotten home from the disaster practice, flinging her bag off in a huff and collapsing onto her tragically broken-in couch.  Even Armando the Wonder Cat knew to steer clear, his one good eye looking her over before deciding to retreat into the bedroom.  Amanda couldn’t blame him.  The waves of despair, anger and sadness kept rolling over her.  So, for ten seconds she deliberated.  Make the call or don’t.  Dial him up or wait around for his nightly call. And she only let her mind go for ten seconds because Amanda was not the sort of lady who put their problems on other people.  Her life was entirely the opposite, really.  She held the secrets of the folks around her, burdened with their picadillos and problems like an emotional pack animal on a mountainous trail. Having learned through painful trial and egregious error that sharing her own worries was too much to expect in former friends, Amanda didn’t want to unload a no good, terrible, horrible, very bad day onto a guy who she’d only been seeing for what, two weeks now?  Still, she needed someone to hear her side of the story.  To commiserate.  To sympathize with where Amanda was coming from and validate her choices.  To distract her or make her feel better, hell, maybe both?

Plus, she reasoned, Eddie was very easy to talk to, something he proved at the diner and during every conversation since then.  That alone was enough to pick up the handset and circle the dial.  Sure, her fingers nervously drummed along the tattered wool plaid of the couch’s arm as she waited through ring after ring after ring, but the reward was hearing Eddie’s mid-range rumble when the receiver connected, “Big Ed’s House of Horrors!  We scare because we care!  How can I haunt you tonight?” He sounded so happy.  So full of life and warmth and all the lovely things that for an over long second Amanda couldn’t speak.  Wouldn’t, knowing that she had the power to put out his beautifully blazing fire with the rain cloud of her shitty night. “Amanda?  Is that you?  Are you ok?” There was genuine worry in his voice and that cracked through the fog of her self doubt.  Shaky but forcing herself to sound light-hearted, she managed, “Hey Eddie.” Eddie was not buying what she was trying to sell, because he sounded even more upset when he asked in a rushed tone, “What’s wrong, babe?” “Just-” pausing to drag in a ragged breath then another, Amanda barely managed to keep the sob inside herself, “-a real shitty day.” “I’ll be right there.” She hadn’t even had to ask him.  Eddie just came.  And when she was inside his van she thanked him with her mouth, parted and plush, feeling herself relax just being near him. Taking charge, Amanda gladly relinquished her head and heart to whatever Eddie Munson had in mind.  Settling back into the seat, she felt the press of his fingers against her own, happy to be in this place with someone who was just for her.  Only for Amanda, utterly and entirely. She didn’t ask any questions when Eddie pulled away from her place, the van rattling down the familiar streets of town.  His music played, the volume lower than ever before, but Eddie’s hand never left hers, grounding them together.  There was no conversation but it wasn’t weird.  It was nice, calming really, and Amanda willed all of the day’s tension out of her shoulders as Eddie drove. They’d taken a turn or two, sliding onto the main drag where Family Video and the arcade flashed their glowing signs.  Sensing the van slowing down, she turned Eddie’s direction, “Um, we getting groceries?” When he said he had a plan, Amanda hadn’t anticipated a trip to the market, which must have shown on her face because Eddie chuckled and lifted their knotted hands so that he could brand a kiss onto her skin, “I’m on snack duty.” “Snack duty?  Snacks for what, exactly?” Sheepish now, the fringe of his bangs made those wide brown eyes look rounder than usual, “So, you can totally say no, I know you’ve had a shitty day and I don’t want to make it worse.  But, it’s just, well, my friends and I, we kinda have this weekly tradition.  We get a movie, some junk food and, ya know, hang out.” “Oh, shit.  I didn’t mean to like interrupt your plans-” Waving a ringed hand in Amanda’s face, Eddie stalled her sentence, “No, no.  Don’t.  It’s not like that.”  Swiveling in his seat to make sure that Amanda was really looking at him, he carried on, words falling out of his mouth faster and faster, “See, we- uh, this group of people, we’re like more than friends.  They’re sorta my family? “And, we’ve been through some shit together.  Real bonding type stuff, right?  So, Harrington, who you’ll meet, if you want to come, which I really hope you do- anyway, Harrington is like, hey let’s do this movie night thing and whoever can come comes and if you can’t, it’s no big deal. “Only, he never buys the good snacks.  It’s always microwave popcorn and M&Ms and shit, but no sour cream and onion chips?  What’s that about?  And, sorry to say, but I’m a Twizzler guy and Robin, uh, yea, she’s so cool, you’re gonna like her, but like she brings Red Vines.  Red Vines!  So, yea-” And now that he was running out of steam, Eddie seemed to realize just how long his tirade had gone on, embarrassment tinting his cheeks pink in the glow of the store’s lit up sign as his always moving hands dropped limply, “-We need snacks, good ones, hence the grocery store trip.” Amanda had never heard anything so heart warming or chaotic in her entire life.  He wanted her to meet his friends, no, his family.  Grabbing for him, Amanda let her fingers notch between his, “Does that mean I can get some Goobers?  ‘Cause I sorta love chocolate covered peanuts.” Watching the dimples of his smile deepen was becoming one of her favorite things, so she wasn’t disappointed when Eddie’s grin widened, “Oh, absolutely you can.” It didn’t take long to march along the aisle loaded with bags of tortilla chips, assorted tinned dips and packages of cookies.  By the time they reached the check out, the basket Eddie had resting on the bend in his elbow was overflowing with rubbish treats and a two liter bottle of Mountain Dew, something he insisted was essential, before grabbing a Kit-Kat bar with a shrug, “For Robin.  She’s picky.”  His thoughtfulness shouldn’t be so surprising, but Amanda was continually amazed at the small gestures that came naturally to Eddie, like remembering to grab someone’s favorite candy bar.  No, he seemed perfectly content to spoil everyone he knew, including Amanda.  Anything that she dared to look at during their shopping spree somehow found its way into the purchase pile, which explained the box of Cookie Crisp cereal, sack of rainbow marshmallows and family size bag of pretzel twists which Eddie insisted on paying for, “Hey, lemme do this, alright?” “But there’s no way we’re going to eat all this, is there?  Is there?”  Amanda was half horrified, half hopeful at the prospect. Clicking his tongue as he handed off a wad of cash to the vested cashier, Eddie leaned into her ear, husking low, “All this and more, Mandy.  Wait ‘til you see what Nance and Jonathan roll up with, it’s wild!” He did let her carry one of the bags, the lightest one of course, because Eddie wasn’t a jerk.  Though he did bump against her hip with every step they took towards his van, the brown paper sacks rustled as she squealed playfully, “Eddie!  Jeez!” “What?  Is it my fault that you can’t seem to walk in a straight line?” “Hey, I can walk in a line!” “Coulda fooled me, sweet thing.”  It was a comment dripping with flirtatious energy as Eddie loaded their purchases into the back giving Amanda time to eyeball the man in front of her.  Frankly, she was mesmerized with how his body moved.  The way his leather jacket sleeves rode up, revealing loops of chain that formed a bracelet around his wrist, a black bat, one of many, flying just under the cuff.  It was striking.  Something about how those hands looked so rough and raw, calloused from guitar strings, nails split from over washing because getting the grease off is hard on delicate skin.  Yet, for Amanda they were also achingly gentle.  Eddie’s touch was quiet, calming, even if the man doing the touching was normally a riot of movement and motion.  She was so lost in the small things that made up Eddie Munson that Amanda didn’t realize he had crowded into her, the inside panel of the van’s backdoor digging into the space between her shoulder blades, those clever, distracting fingers grazing her waist.  Amanda could say something.  She could tell Eddie exactly where her wayward brain had wandered, but he already seemed to know. His look clouded over into something darker, duskier, and it caused the muscles in Amanda’s belly to tighten reflexively.  Normally so smiley, Eddie’s jaw was tense, his breathing short.  It made her think about a hungry animal that’s found its dinner, just waiting for the right second to snap their jaws shut.  “Eddie?”  But it’s barely a whisper.  She didn’t need volume to be heard when he was standing this close, those narrow hips of his resting against her own, pinning Amanda in place.

Dropping further into her space, his nose brushing her own, “Yea, Mandy.”

Her palms skated over the busted leather of his belt, fingers hooking into the loops and tugging Eddie closer.  Notching her head higher, Amanda let out a sound somewhere between a whimper and a whine, licking over her lips, “Will you-” “What do you need, pretty lady?  I’ll give you anything you want.  Promise.” And god, he smelled so good, Amanda ground her pelvis into his, panting now, “Kiss me, yea?” “Thought you’d never ask, sweetheart.” Only, it didn’t end at kissing.  Not tonight when Amanda’s mind was overloaded from worry and sadness, her body ready to take charge.  Her fingers latched onto the denim vest he always seemed to have on, wrinkling the heavy fabric with her grip, needing Eddie closer and closer.  Needing him inside of her where the wounds of everyday living threatened to rupture, bursting Amanda apart at the seams. Eddie’s arms posted over her shoulders, giving Amanda the chance to wrap her hands around his forearms, as he let his lips travel from her mouth to the hinge of her jaw.  Biting gently at the sensitive skin there, he licked against her ear, making Amanda shiver.  Deeper than she’d ever heard, Eddie grumbled, “You just taste so sweet, Mandy.  Like a cupcake or some shit.  Makes me think-” Sounding more than a little possessed herself, she answered innocently, “Think about what, Ed?” “How your body tastes.”

Said body reacted on instinct.  Her thighs squeezed together and the breath caught in her lungs making her stutter dumbly, “Uh, wh- what?” His swagger was in full swing now that he was free to move outside of the van’s front seat.  Grin showing too much teeth as Eddie looked down at her like she was on the menu, Amanda’s heart beat wildly at the idea that she just might be.  “Get a room, pervs!”  A shout from across the parking lot made both of their heads swivel.  Eddie, shielding Amanda from anyone’s view, answered, “Go fuck yourself dickhead!” “Nice language, asshole!”  From behind his shoulder Amanda heard the slam of a car door and a rapidly firing engine.  The unwelcome interruption peeling off into the autumn night. Unable to suppress her giggle, Amanda drew Eddie’s attention back to herself, “Maybe they have a point?” “Yea, Mandy?  What’s that, huh?” Looking around at the nearly empty parking lot, the bright lights beaming down in organized rows, she shrugged, “This isn’t really the best place to uh, get all, ya know, romantic.” Standing too close, breathing her air, Eddie pushed a shock of hair behind her ear, “I may have an answer for that.”

Who knew Amanda Patterson would love kissing in a rusting out van so much?  Meeting Eddie’s scalding mouth with her own in a space smelling of motor oil and boy sweat, trying not to kick over the bags of groceries they had recently bought, Amanda considered this a sacred space.  Holy.  A moving monument to the feelings she could feel growing steadily stronger every time she was around Eddie.

Feelings she was nearly desperate to explore further, her hand trailing down Eddie’s back, dragging him tighter by the belt loop of his jeans.  The leather was worn in, soft and supple, as she traced his waist before gripping the cooler metal of his handcuff buckle.  A firm hand gripped her wrist, foggy breath unfurling against her cheek in playful pants, “Mandy?  Whatcha doin’?” “Don’t you want to-” looking up at Eddie’s sweat damp skin from under her lashes, Amanda cooed her question, “-ya know?” A groaned laugh forced Eddie’s head back, his neck exposed, and Amanda didn’t hesitate to put her lips on his Adam’s Apple, sucking lightly.  She could feel every inch of Eddie where his hips straddled her wide thigh, the thought making her throat dry as she mewled, “‘Cause I want to- I want you, Eddie.  Please?” “Fuck, Mandy, of course I want you- want to do it.  Just-” rolling onto his back and taking his warm hands and pink lips with him, Eddie stared up at the exposed metal roof, chest pumping quickly, “-not here, ya know?” Leaning up on her elbow, fingers spread wide over the expanse of Eddie’s chest, she nodded, accepting his comment quietly.  And he must have recognized the bruising brittle texture of her silence because he sat up, holding her hand over his heart.  “Baby, you have no idea how much I want- how much I need-” but the sentence trailed off as Eddie dragged Amanda’s palm lower, lower, lower, the hard heat of his desire undeniable. “And that’s because of, of me?”  Wispy, the whisper carried over the thinning distance between her mouth and Eddie’s ear.  Amanda sounded almost unsure, like she didn’t entirely believe it.  Like she couldn’t believe Eddie might want her as much, in the same ways that she did, only to find out that she was dead wrong.  The evidence was stiff and throbbing below her. Groaning when her fingers reflexively pushed against his straining length,  Eddie gritted through clenched teeth, “Yes, Mandy.  And it’s like this all the time.” Giggling, feeling a bit powerful from the knowledge, Amanda ran her nails over the stressed denim, nipping at Eddie’s collarbone through a smile.  He bucked his hips into the friction, an embarrassing sound breaking from the back of his throat, “Fuck- I think you’re tryin’, tryin’ to kill me, baby.” Shaking her head ‘no’, biting her bottom lip, Amanda tipped her head like she did when there was a question worth asking hiding on her tongue, “You really do want to- with me, I mean?”

“Uh huh.  Someplace nice.  Soft.  That, ya know, smells better than my dumpster on wheels.”  Eddie gently shifted them both so they were sitting up, shoulders knocking against each other in the stillness of the grocery store parking lot, not looking at each other, but still touching.  “I- I wanna make you feel special, like how you make me feel.  And this-” Eddie’s hand waved at the dented walls, “-isn’t special enough.  Ya know what I mean?” Her head fit perfectly into the notch between Eddie’s chin and his shoulder.  Laying there, his heartbeat below her ear, a leathered arm around her back, Amanda agreed with a hum, “It’s more than ok, Eddie.  It sounds pretty freakin’ great, actually.” A sweaty press of his lips to her forehead precedes the air stealing one armed hug that Eddie trapped her in, their combined laughter filling the cool cargo space.

— They were late for movie night anyway.  Not by hours, but late enough that Robin was practically pacing the hallway at Harrington Manor, “Where the hell have you been, Munson?  Dingus here was worried!” “Worried?  No.  No way.  And you’re the one who was pacing by the door, waiting for a Kit-Kat, not me.”  Steve’s response came from deeper in the house, maybe the kitchen, and it sounds defensive against Robin’s obvious and erroneous assertion.  Eddie knew it was all an act though.  Robin liked to fuss over him and Steve liked to fuss along with her.  It was part of being loved by this motley crew of fantastic people, having a mom and dad who were actually years younger, but cared with all their hearts. “Uh, sorry?  I had to pick up a stray.” God, he loved the reaction that got.  Stopping dead still, Robin’s bright eyes flared comically, “You- you brought someone to movie night?  STEVE!!  Get in here!!” “What?  What happened?”  Steve slid into the foyer on socked feet, knocking into Robin clumsily, worry lines etched into his handsome face. “Munson has a date.”  Her tone was playful, an ashy eyebrow lifted in cartoonish glee as Robin grinned at the metal head still standing in the doorway. Steve’s head whipped toward his friend, luscious locks flying, all traces of fear erased.  In their place genuine curiosity bloomed, “You do?  Uh, you did?  Tell us man!  Who is this mystery date?” “Can I put this shit down first?”  He felt Amanda’s fingers tense in his grip, Eddie’s posturing keeping her out of view for another few seconds while he balanced his two bags of junk food. “Nuh uh.  Spill the beans.” “Don’t listen to Robin man, give me that.”  Steve swooped in, taking one of the bags from Eddie’s arms and moving back down the hall to give everyone a little more room.  It allowed Eddie to pull Amanda forward, her natural shyness keeping her wrapped snugly around the taller guy, as he tried to get past Robin without dropping anything. “Guys, this is uh, this is Amanda Patterson.  Mandy, these are my um, obnoxious friends, Steve and Robin.” “Hi.” Smacking Eddie’s arm loudly, Robin practically squealed, “Eddie!  She’s so cute!  You’re so cute!  Are you sure you’re with this guy?” “Ouch!  Hey Buckley, I’m standing right here and can totally hear you.” She just rolled her eyes, grabbing Amanda by the arm and dragging her towards the palatial dining room, away from where Steve was unloading the treats Eddie had delivered.  Eddie let her pass, flashing a small but encouraging smile in her direction as Amanda was yanked away, Robin’s mouth already going a mile a minute with questions and quips.  He already missed her. “So?”  Steve was leaning across the marble countertop, his elbows supporting his weight as he stared smugly at his friend. Grabbing for a glass, Eddie answered over his shoulder, “So what, Steve?” “How long has this-” he moved his hands between Amanda, caught up in Robin’s web and unable to get away, and Eddie, “-been going on?” Obviously, there were going to be questions.  Eddie knew that and thought he had prepared for the inevitable interrogation that bringing Amanda to movie night would inspire.  Still, the dramatic demon that lived inside of him wanted to drag this out, really savor the moment where he did what so many of the people around him thought was impossible: bring home a girl. So, Eddie took his time filling the glass with ice and slowly opening the electric green bottle of soda, keeping an even gaze on Steve the entire time.  Only when he was satisfied with the fizzing head on his drink, did he slurp down a sip, shrug, and answer, “Uh, like two weeks now I guess.” “Two weeks!”  It wasn’t shouted, but it was as close as Steve could get before drawing Robin’s attention. “Yea?” “Well, were you gonna tell us about her?  About your girlfriend?” Girlfriend.  The word alone conjured up images of high school dances and misguided make out sessions under the bleachers.  But was there a better word?  Damned if Eddie could think of one. “I just did, Steve.” “No, like when?  When were you going to tell us that you met someone?”  Stretching back, Steve took another good look over Amanda, now pouring a bag of Doritos into a dish on the dining room table, before adding with an appreciative air, “A very pretty someone with a great butt-” “Hey.  Eyes on me, Cassanova.  You’re my friend so I’m gonna give you that one, but that's the only time I wanna hear about you looking at Amanda’s ass.” Surrendering, Steve lifted his hands with a smirk that was too handsome by a mile, “Fair enough.  But like, what’s the deal with Mandy?  You guys really a serious thing?”  Eddie let his hip carry his weight, shifting so he could spy on her and Robin, “Yea.  Yea, man.  I think we are.  Remember that uh outdoor concert thing?”  When Steve nodded, crunching around a handful of pretzels, Eddie’s stare met his friend’s, “I went for her.  I mean, I had already bumped into her at The Music Shop and she told me about her show, so- I went.” “Aha!  Henderson told me there was a girl involved, but then, you never said anything.  Figured he was full of shit.” Eddie’s hair shook as he laughed lightly, “Nope.  Kid was dead on with that.  Anyway, I’ve sorta been seeing her ever since that night.” Once more, Steve’s eyes traveled from his old friend to Amanda and he wasn’t entirely surprised to see that her own gaze was locked on the leather and denim clad dude already adding more Mountain Dew to his glass as if Eddie was a knight from one of those novels he loved so much.  He knew the look.  Steve had been on the receiving end of it more times that he could count, speaking volumes silently and boy, was he happy for Eddie. “Wow.  That’s- shit, man, I’m happy for you.” “She’s totally amazing, Harrington.  I-” nervousness crept into the older guy’s voice as he peered down at the beige tiled kitchen floor, “-I don’t want to fuck it up.” Smooth and slick, Steve swung around the island counter, elbowing him roughly in order to get his full attention, “You won’t man.  You won’t.” “You sure about that?  Us Munson’s do have a way of-” “No.  No way.  I’m not gonna hear that shit.  The only Munson you are connected to is Wayne, and he’s one the best men I’ve ever known.  He took you in, after all.” and when he saw that his joke had landed, Steve bumped Eddie again, “You’re my friend, man.  You deserve good things.” “Shit, why do you have to say stuff like that?” “What?  You get choked up on me?” “Nope.  Never.”  But it was clear that he had.  Something about Steve pointing out that maybe, just maybe, Eddie Munson was good enough for a girl like Amanda made him believe it too. “Good.  Hey, Mandy?  What kind of movies do you like?”  With a wicked grin, Steve picked up a bowl of popcorn and headed straight towards Eddie’s girlfriend. — Robin Buckley could talk.  Thankfully, Amanda was an immaculate listener.  The entire time that Eddie stood by the large stainless kitchen sink, Robin was rambling, moving from one topic to another seamlessly, stopping just long enough to draw breath. But, honestly, it was refreshing.  Amanda found that she had things to add to the tirade that flowed constantly, asking her own questions here and there, including, “How long have known-” “Eddie?  God, years.  I mean, we went to high school together, but then, Eddie was in high school way longer than anyone should ever truly be.  He told you that, right?”  without waiting for a response, Robin carried on, “Anyway, I knew Stevie first.  We worked together at the mall, slinging ice cream and busting balls.  Then, well, some shit happened but he and I became platonic life partners and have remained entirely co-dependent since then.” “And Eddie-” “Oh, well, Eddie joined our group a bit later, but hey, ya know, the more the merrier.  Honestly, he’s just the best guy, ya know?  Of course you do, obviously, you’re like dating him or whatever.  Wait, are you dating?” There was a longer pause this time as it appeared that Robin was actually expecting an answer, so Amanda dipped her head, a pleased pull on her lips, “Yes.  Yea, we are.  We have been since-” “Good!  I mean, he’s been by himself for so long.  Not like, alone alone, more like just solitary, ya know what I mean?  Steve, he meets girls all the time and-” she rolled her eyes at the romantic debacles of her buddy, “-is still searching for his soulmate or whatever, but Eddie, he’s just been biding his time.  Maybe-” This time Amanda cut in, “Maybe waiting for the right woman?” Snapping her fingers, Robin grinned broadly, “Yes!  Exactly!” She felt the weight of Eddie’s eyes and turned to find Steve looking her way.  And yes, Amanda wouldn’t deny that he was a pretty boy, all swooping hair and fine features, but she could honestly say that he wasn’t her type at all.  At least not anymore. Now she wanted something rougher.  Untamed.  Wild and free with a deep soul.  Amanda wanted Eddie Munson. Swallowing, she willed her mind to refocus on Robin’s rambling, but Steve interrupted, calling out, “Hey Mandy, what kind of movies do you like?”

“Uh, Oh, well, I like all kinds really.” “Top three, go!”  It was Robin’s favorite way to vet new people and Amanda felt like it was a test, one she didn’t want to fail for Eddie’s sake. “Ok, wow, um, Casablanca, that’s like a classic.” Robin and Steve shared a happy glance.  It was obviously a good choice and a sign of Amanda’s excellent taste in movies.  But she was into more than that and thought it about for a second, nibbling on her bottom lip before adding, “I really liked Caddyshack, if I’m being honest.” Steve gave an enthusiastic thumbs up.  Robin wrinkled her nose.  Apparently comedy was a dividing topic. “And, shit, I guess I’d have to say Star Wars.  But, like all three of them.  Princess Leia is a total badass.” “Oh my god.  She’s perfect.”  There was awe in Robin’s tone as she made her declaration, staring at Steve with her hands clasped to her chest. Agreeing with a tilt of his head, Steve grinned at Eddie, “Absolutely and totally perfect.  Munson, you have to like, I don’t know, marry her.  Right now.  If you don’t-” Eddie stepped further into the room at that moment, his arm curving protectively around Amanda’s waist, his voice full of friendly warning, “Do not finish that sentence, Steve.” “I’m just saying!” Eddie pulled Amanda closer and she let herself tuck into his side, cheeks hot from the insinuations of his friends.  Still, she couldn’t help sassing back, “What makes you think we aren’t already married, huh?” That stunned the dynamic duo into shocked silence and despite knowing that they weren’t related, the look on their faces was so similar that Amanda could have sworn Steve and Robin were siblings. “What?” “No way!” Simpering, Amanda looked up at Eddie, “Do you want to tell them, darling?  Or should I?” Those damn dimples deepened, a clear sign that Eddie was on board with her plan for messing around with his friends.  Both of his arms twined around Amanda, dragging her as close as possible and his impish gaze never left her eyes, “Yea, ok, Mandy.  You’re right, honey.  We should just tell them everything, right?” “Uh huh.”  She lifted up on her toes to press a small kiss to his cheek, snuggling into Eddie’s embrace and really selling their ruse. Turning to face a silent and still Robin and Steve, Eddie cleared his throat, his tone pitched to seriousness, “You guys-” looking at Amanda who nodded reassuringly, he carried on, “-you should know- what first class suckers you are!” A shower of tossed popcorn met their announcement as Steve yelled, “You shit head!  I- We, like, really believed you!  Both of you!” Robin’s face had gone over red, her loud laugh echoing around the well appointed room, “Shit, Eddie.  That was a good one.  You two- you’re both troublemakers, aren’t ya?” Groaned out laughter filled the space and Amanda put her hands up in surrender, “I couldn’t help it.  You guys were just asking for it, but like, sorry if it was too much.” “No, Mandy.  It was, ya know, right in line with the sorta crap Munson’s always pulling.”  Steve gently shoved his friend, adding, “Any chance he has to make things memorable, he’s gonna take it.” “Hey, it was her idea!  I just ran with it.  So-” bowing deeply at Amanda, Eddie grabbed her hand as he straightened up and kissed her knuckles, “-bravo, my lady.  Well played.” And the theater kid that lived dormant inside Amanda preened, “Why thank you, sir.  Twas nothing.” “Jesus, Robs, there’s two of them now.”  “Yea, how are we gonna live through this?”

— Jonathan and Nancy arrived shortly after, equally as excited to meet Amanda, and carrying a sack of homemade cookies from Mrs. Wheeler along with two large pizzas.  Catching Amanda’s eyes from across the room, he nodded their direction and mouthed silently, “told you so.”  Shaking her head as she bit into the fat of her bottom lip, Amanda handed a plate over to Robin, asking for a slice.  Even at a distance Eddie could feel the thing that tied them together.  Connected to each other despite sitting on opposite sides of the room, he found that anytime his face sought hers, he found it.  Smiling, laughing and once even spitting soda from her mouth after one of Steve and Robin’s Scoops Ahoy stories got out of hand. Now, Nancy was almost interrogating his girl in the very specific way she had, making every question seem like it was going to be on the midterm final.  Jonathan had offered a thumbs up when Amanda wasn’t looking, a small gesture that Eddie appreciated for its simplicity.  Steve was playing host, enjoying running around and refilling drinks for everyone while Robin was doing her best to distract him from blatantly staring at this ethereal creature who was full of sweet smiles and thoughtful inquiries to the people he loved the most.  

It made Eddie feel grounded, right, having her here with these guys.  Friends who had seen him at his very best and very worst.  That they liked her as much as he did was the cherry on top of his sundae. And they even managed to keep the theatrics to a minimum, opting instead to settle in for movie night instead of sharing shameful stories or flipping through awkward photo albums from days gone by.  Honestly, it was a bit of a relief.  Tonight’s movie selection was in Harrington’s hands and they were out of vetoes, so his choice was unchallenged per the rules of their friendship.  And while not everyone was over excited to see One Crazy Summer, as a group they all loudly agreed to give it a chance.  Eddie didn’t care what they decided to watch, he was only interested in Amanda.

Eddie was all too aware her day had ended on a sour note.  When he suggested that she come to movie night he was half certain that she would say no, not wanting to be out when she was feeling so low.  But what he was discovering about Miss Amanda was that she trusted Eddie.  If he thought a night with his friends was going to be worth it, then she was all in. Not once had she mentioned her band.  Not once had she made the conversation about her and her troubles.  And she could have, absolutely, because his gang of goofballs were the type to sit through long winded explanations and offer the best advice possible.  Goddess knows Eddie had used their free therapy sessions on more than one occasion. But Amanda had, instead, seemingly let go of the hurt and the pain in favor of being here, with him.  She shrugged the worries from earlier off, along with her jacket, and made herself at home on the Harrington sofa.  Pressing herself small against the left arm with one leg folded underneath her and ample space next to her on the cushions.  Eddie could tell that she expected him to sit at her side.  Had planned on it, actually. But Jonathan was already pulling Nancy into his lap, taking up the middle seat and Robin had staked her claim, draping herself over the other arm of the sofa.  Steve was slipping the tape into the VCR, blabbing about how the movie blended animation and live action, and how cool that all was when Eddie dropped to the floor at Amanda’s feet. “Hey?”  It was softly worded one syllable question that asked so much more. Shrugging, but smiling up at her, “I don’t mind the rug.” “You sure?”  She asked because she clearly wasn’t and Eddie liked her even more because of that. “Uh huh.”  Flattening his back to the couch, Eddie tipped his head up, his face framed by those wild locks.  He was tall enough to let his cheek lay against the warm width of her thigh, his arm wrapping around her calf.  Unable to sit still, Eddie’s fingers traced words and shapes into the exposed skin of Amanda’s ankle, a mindless movement that was rewarded with a breathy exhale from his girlfriend. After Steve plopped into the armchair, grumbling about being boxed out of the comfy couch, the opening credits rolled.  There were some chuckles as the narrator started talking about fuzzy bunnies and love, so Eddie wasn’t entirely paying attention to Amanda, beyond the supple sensation of having her so close.  But then he felt her fingers running through his tangle of curls.

It started at the ends, Amanda twirling a strand or two around her index finger before letting the spiral unravel, only for her to do it again.  Then she was raking back the soft tendrils, almost petting him like a shaggy dog, and it took all of Eddie’s self control not to start drooling like one.  He was barely holding it together, the grip on her ankle tightening, until her fingernails dragged over his scalp. The tender touch sent electricity pulsing through his body, all that energy landing in the most conspicuous location making him squirm.  Eddie felt it was only fair to return the favor, letting his warm palm ride higher under the hem of her jeans, sometimes using the rough edges of his fingernails to apply added pressure.  She didn’t move away, in fact, it seemed like Amanda sought out more of Eddie’s barely there brushes, wiggling closer as the movie progressed. By the time the credits rolled on Demi Moore and John Cusack’s happy ending, Eddie’s head was laying in Amanda’s lap, her leg draped over his chest.  Robin was asleep, had been since somewhere around the mid-way point of the flick, but then, so was Jonathan.  The awake members of the party looked at each other, stifling a giggle. “I don’t know how she does it.  Robin can sleep through anything, I swear.”  Her platonic life partner ran a rough hand through his hair, looking down at her fondly. Nancy nodded at their slumbering friend, “Yea, but she’s cute and quiet when she’s knocked out.” Amanda leaned over, hoping only Eddie could hear her, and whispered, “Uh, think you can let me up for a trip to the ladie’s room?” “Nope.  Sorry.  I’m too comfortable.”  And Eddie managed to snuggle in tighter, hugging Amanda’s leg to his chest, his cheek at the bend of her knee. Her giggle was quiet enough that it wouldn’t disturb the sleepers as she drawled, “Don’t make me laugh!  I have to pee!”  Of course, that made Eddie cling all the harder. Groaning at the precious public display of affection, Steve butted in, “I don’t want any accidents in here Munson.  Let the poor girl up.” “Fine.  Fine.”  It was reluctantly said as he rolled to the side, giving his girl the chance to stand up.  She used the top of his head as a ballast, steadying herself, as she asked their host, “Uh, which way?” Steve pointed down the hall, following Amanda’s retreating form with his thirsty eyes before turning to Eddie, “She seems really great man, like way out of your league.” A snort from the couch let him know that Nancy was also listening in, so Eddie tipped his head in that direction, “What?  You agree with Sir Steve?” “Actually, no.  I don’t.  I think she’s kinda perfect for you.  And honestly, it doesn’t matter what I think.” That made Eddie sit up straighter, already on defense, “Well, I was hoping to bring her around more and if you guys don’t-” “No, you misunderstood me.  It doesn’t matter what I think because it’s pretty obvious.” Eddie exchanged a befuddled glance with Steve who shrugged, “What’s obvious?” “You’re clearly in love with her already.” Getting punched in the face would have been less dramatic to his psyche.  Eddie immediately recognized that what Nancy was saying was the honest to goodness truth because that was her way, direct and to the point, but that didn’t make it easier for the boy from the wrong side of town to hear.  Or believe.  Or trust. Love didn’t come easy to a guy like Eddie.  Guys with absentee parents who faded into memory long before lessons about connection could be learned.  Guys who found their family through battle and blood, sacrifice and scars, not genetics. And any time he had even considered loving someone it managed to go south, and fast.  “Shh!  She could hear you!” Rolling her eyes, Nancy, still trapped in Jonathan’s sleepy grip, turned away from Eddie, “I don’t think it’s a surprise.  In fact, she seems pretty smitten too.” “Smitten!  Yes!  That’s the word!  She’s totally smitten for you, dude.”  Steve snapped his fingers happily. Drawing his knees into his chest, Eddie dropped his forehead to the bony plates there, “Guys, I don’t know if-” “Can’t you just, like, I don't know, follow your heart here man?” Looking up at Steve standing in the doorway, holding up the wall with his right shoulder, Eddie raised his eyebrows, “My heart is not the most reliable of organs, Stevie.  You know this.  It made me think that I had a chance with Chrissy Cunningham and look what happened there.” Nancy winced, an audible huff of surprise leaving her lips as Steve dropped into a crouch at Eddie’s side.  “Hey.  No.  That- that was different.  You know that, Eddie.”  “I know what you’re saying, but, like, what if-” “What if?  What if the sky falls?  Or, or you get hit by a bus?  Or, ya know, some other fucking awful thing happens?  Are you not going to try because of ‘what if’?”

“Nancy, I don’t remember you being such a great orator before.” That made his friend smirk, full of sass when she snapped back, “Fuck you, Munson.  You aren’t the only one capable of verbal glory, ya know?” That made him snicker, rebalancing a bit of the energy in the room.  It also made him courageous enough to ask, “So, you guys like her too, then?” “Like her?  Shit, when you screw it up, I’m going to swoop in so fast-Hey!”  Eddie had pushed Steve off his feet, forcing him to the floor with a grunt and thump. The noise woke up Robin, blinking through bleary eyes, “What’s happening?” Steve had quickly maneuvered around Eddie, trying to work the boy into a headlock, only to be stalled by the placement of the couch.  Swinging to his knees, Eddie, gentler this time, tackled Steve around the knees, bumping them into the coffee table and Jonathan at the same time. “What?  What the hell?”  His voice was froggy but that only made everyone else laugh harder. “Boys!  Boys!  Enough of this!”  Robin’s motherly tone crept into her half hearted attempt at breaking up their roughhousing as she gingerly stepped around them.  “Uh uh, Buckley!”  Eddie and Steve, working together, each snagged a pant leg and before she could stop it, Robin was in the middle of a dog-pile free for all.  Nancy shook her head at the noises; squealing laughter, threats to keep on tickling, a groan from one of the boys after a misplaced kick.  Jonathan flopped back into the couch cushions, an amused smile on his face, as Nance skirted the squirmish, “Anyone need anything?” — Amanda washed her hands in the overly ornate sink, overcome by the well appointed space that was so pretentious in a way that Steve Harrington was not.  In a shocking twist of fate, she found that all of Eddie’s friends were far kinder and welcoming than she could have imagined.  Each one of the gang had made her feel accepted, and not just because Amanda was with Eddie. An excited smile reflected back from the gilded mirror.  Eddie.  Just the thought of his relaxed, easy grin made Amanda happy.  “Oh!  I didn’t see you, I'm so sorry!”  Opening the bathroom door, Amanda was shocked to find Nancy standing in the hallway, seemingly waiting for her. Waving her off with a raised hand, Nancy dismissed the apology, “No, I’m sorry for scaring you!”  As she moved past Amanda, one hand on the ornate woodwork of the doorway, Nancy turned to face the newcomer, “Uh, Amanda?” “Yea?” It took the brunette a second to crystalize her thoughts, allowing worry to slide down Amanda’s spine in the growing silence, but once she had, Nancy’s searching eyes found Amanda’s.  In a steady voice, she started, “Eddie- he’s, well, he’s a really great guy.” Unsure of where this was going, Amanda swallowed thickly around the lump in her throat, encouraging Nancy to continue with a wordless nod.  And Nancy did, explaining in her straightforward way, “We, uh, this group, we’ve been through quite a bit together.  I’m not sure how much he’s told you-” She paused, perhaps expecting Amanda to volunteer some insight into what Eddie may or may not have shared.  When she didn’t offer any response, Nancy carried on solemnly, her round eyes unwavering, “-But, Eddie- he’s faced more than most and lived to tell the tale.  There was a time when he almost, uh, didn’t.” Amanda absorbed the words with an anxious knot coiling in her stomach, reading the implied message there while Nancy pressed on.  Facing Amanda now, a firm look on her pinched face, sharp shoulders squared, “I won’t speak for everyone in there, I can’t, it isn’t my place.  But you should know that beneath all of his, his bravado, Eddie is sweet.  Tenderhearted.  And I wouldn’t be the only one who would hate to see him get hurt.”

There was a grittiness to the way Nancy said it, not a threat, per se, but edged with a protective venom that was impossible to ignore.  If Amanda wasn’t on the receiving end of her speech, she might have found it endearing.  And it was, in a semi-scary kind of way.  It really spoke to the love that Eddie’s found family had for him and clearly for each other.

All Amanda could do was blush hotly at the implied meaning for Nancy’s concern.  The idea that she had the power to hurt Eddie, to cause him any kind of harm, had never crossed her mind.  Yet, here she was, feeling like she had been put on the spot by the curly haired woman’s directness.  Desperate to defend herself and her intentions with Eddie, Amanda stumbled over the sentences, not able to get the words out fast enough,  “Nancy.  I, oh my god, believe me, I know.  I would never hurt him.  I couldn’t.  I- I love him too much.” It fell out of her mouth before her wayward brain could stop itself, confessing Amanda’s heart’s deepest secret to one of Eddie’s friends as if it were no more important than asking for a beer or to pass the chips.  And maybe that’s what made it feel real enough for Nancy to offer an appraising smile, tilting her head towards Amanda, “Yea, I got that feeling.” Realization about what she had admitted out loud must have shown on Amanda’s face, because Nancy laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, “Hey, I’m not going to say anything to Eddie.  That’s something for you two to talk about-” a half smile that spoke of shared secrets flooded Nancy’s face as she tacked on cheekily, “-if you can manage to do any talking when you’re, ya know, alone together.” And then she slipped into the bathroom leaving Amanda speechless and stunned in Steve Harrington’s hallway.  — Eddie left the tickle torturing of Robin to her platonic soulmate, his stomach muscles aching from laughing so hard, “A drink.  I need to wet my whistle.  Buckley?  Harrington?  You guys good?” Had he planned on tiptoeing down the hall, eager to find Amanda and maybe press a pretty kiss to lips he was suddenly desperate for?  No.  But Eddie did it anyway.

And he would have followed his plan to the letter if he hadn’t overheard the conversation unfolding outside of Steve’s bathroom.  Instead, he found himself tucked into the adjoining room’s entryway, holding his breath because the last thing Eddie wanted to do was interrupt.  Not when Nancy was treading the line between welcoming Amanda and warning her to be good to her friend. But then Amanda’s voice fluttered, rushed but strong, as Eddie heard her say, “I’m in love with him.” Him.  Eddie.  Amanda had told Nancy that she couldn’t imagine hurting him because she was in love with him.

That was… unbelievable.  Unreal.  Unfathomable.  

Footsteps moved his direction but Eddie didn’t hesitate.  Snagging Amanda’s arm, he tugged her into the unused room, taking her bewilderment in stride.  Pushing her into the wall making the sterling framed photos there jump, Eddie caged her under his narrow hips, his mouth silencing any of Amanda’s sounds.

Hot and hungry, Eddie was greedy with his lips, licking and kissing across Amanda’s.  His hands tipped her chin, moving her to where he wanted, where he had the best angle for slipping his tongue over her own, the warm wet of her mouth open just for him.  And unlike their spit swapping in this van, this was fevered, frenzied. Eddie kissed her like he might never get the chance again.  He kissed her with all the love he felt, safe in the knowledge of Amanda’s feelings, even if they had only been shared with his friend in a hushed confession.  Feelings he shouldn’t even know about since neither he or Amanda had talked about anything as serious as loving each other. Even if he was already madly, crazy, deeply in love with Amanda.  How could he deny the woman with the gorgeous voice and expressive eyes that saw more in Eddie than he could see in himself?  Not possible.  Not even a little bit. Breathing hotly across her ear, acting boldly, Eddie did something he never expected to do, he told Amanda what his heart could no longer hold.  Between hotly huffed breaths that moved the stray hairs on her cheeks, Eddie Munson fervently husked out his declaration, “I fucking love you, you know?” Panting from having the air kissed out of her lungs, Amanda slowly opened her eyes, taking in Eddie’s face with that questioning tilt of her head, “What?  What did you say?” “You heard me, Mandy.  I love you.”  There was no dramatics at play, no flourished hang movements or silly voices.  It was raw and real and terrifying. “I love you.  So much, Eddie.  It’s- it’s scary.” —

They wasted no time in saying their goodbyes, Eddie practically running to grab his stuff, dragging Amanda behind him in a rush of arms and socked feet.  If his friends thought it was weird, they didn’t say so.  Instead, Robin had squeezed Amanda in a tight hug, “It was so nice to meet you!  Please come again!  Eddie, you have to bring her next time too.  Promise me!” “I will, Buckley.  I swear to god, I will.”  He mimicked a boy scout salute, snapping to attention and making Robin laugh, “Good!” Nancy and Jonathan had lingered in the hallway while they sorted out jackets and shoes, offering waves and kind words but they let Steve walk them outside.  He’d draped his arm over Amanda’s shoulder, talking to Eddie the entire time, “Henderson’s gonna want an update on this, uh, situation.  You know that right?” “Who’s Henderson?”  Amanda asked innocently, stopping to look up at Eddie’s profile glowing yellow around the edges from the porch lights. The trio were standing at the passenger’s side door, Eddie already popping the handle, as Steve answered, “Uh, I’ll let Munson tell you all about him.  He’s one of the nuggets.  Great kid, amazing hair, attitude as big as his ego.” “That’s a fair description, but, like so many things, Sir Steve, there’s a bit more to the story than that.” A look passed between the boys, something unspoken but agreed upon and Amanda had the distinct impression that she had passed a test because the next thing she knew, Steve Harrington was wrapping her up in a bear hug.  “Hey, Mandy, take care of this guy, ok?  We kinda like him.” Solemnly, as if she was taking a sacred oath, Amanda pledged, “I swear I’m going to take care of him, Steve.”  And, taking Eddie’s offered hand, Amanda stepped into the van. Lingering, Steve shut the door for her, leaning at the window, “Good.  And if Eddie doesn’t take care of you, you know where I live.”  The megawatt smile that had been dropping panties for the whole of the 80’s flashed solely for Amanda’s benefit, bringing heat to her cheeks. “Hey, Harrington?”  Eddie had slid into the driver’s seat but bent forward to talk out of Amanda’s window. “Yea?” “Stop flirting with my girl.”

Oh, that only made Steve’s smirk widen, the patent charm practically oozing out of him, “Fine.  Fine, whatever you want Eddie.”  Turning his attention back to her, Steve kissed the back of her hand chivalrously, “Amanda, Mandy, it was lovely to meet you.  Hope to see you again soon.” Tapping on the door frame twice Steve added, “Oh, Eddie man?  Be good.” Grinning and goofy, Eddie started the van, “Dude, you know I can’t be good, so I’ll be careful.” “And if you can’t be careful, name it after me.”  They said it in unison, a chorus they had clearly repeated hundreds of times before, and even Amanda laughed at their brotherly bickering. But she got the last word.  Wrinkling her nose up, swinging her head between the two goofballs, Amanda sighed, “Steve Munson?  I’m not sure I like the sound of that.” Two pairs of eyeballs, stunned silent, turned her way before the cackling laughter started.  Eddie threw his head back, long hair moving with every shake of his shoulders and Amanda found herself staring at the sight of his open, happy face.  And Steve, recognizing that he had been dismissed, stepped away from the van, still smiling broadly, “Get outta here.  Go home!”

—

Eddie only ran two stop signs before pulling up to Amanda’s apartment building.  His heart was racing, the adrenaline making him feel higher than anything Reefer Rick had been lucky enough to sell, and he couldn’t hide the dimple deep smile that was plastered across his face.  Amanda was in love with him!  The gargoyle inside his heart was satisfied at last. Shifting into park, he twisted in his seat, already hating that he had to say goodnight.  But the night wasn’t over yet, not when Amanda’s expressive eyes met his burnt brown sugar ones, “Wanna come inside?” “You’re serious?”  He couldn’t help the giddy rush that fluttered through his gut at the idea of having Amanda alone in a comfortable place that hadn’t carried any of the gear or guys from Corroded Coffin. Holding out her little finger, Amanda lit up with a sweet smile, “I am.  Promise.”

---

Thank you for reading!  Part 3 is a work in progress!!

Want to read more?  Please visit my Masterlist here!

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[steddieas-shegoes]

Mama Munson made Eddie’s Halloween costumes from scratch every year. She said it was because it looked cooler, but as he got older, he realized it was because she used scraps and cheap fabrics to make them and that’s all they could afford.

But his costumes were always great. Every year was better than the last.

When he got too old for trick or treating, she used Halloween night to teach him how to sew.

“For that jacket you wanna wear so bad, baby.”

It took a lot of effort, and a little bit of help for the thicker patches, but he managed to finish it in a few weeks.

That year for Christmas, he made her and Wayne battle jackets with their favorite bands and singers.

It became the thing he gave to important people.

Shortly after Vecna, when he was stuck in bed for nearly a month healing, he had his mom run to the store in Indy and start grabbing patches. Wayne found denim jackets from the donation store, surprised anything was left at all with how much people needed right now.

Eddie made all the kids jackets, even Max, who would probably think it was stupid in the same way she thought Lucas holding her hand was stupid (not at all).

He made Robin one, with a hidden rainbow flag patch on the inside pocket.

Nancy got one, even Argyle and Jonathan got one.

Steve didn’t.

Eddie didn’t know how to make it a friendly gesture, how to not make it look like he was screaming from the rooftops that he’d fallen hard for the guy who almost single-handedly saved his life. He was certain that giving him the jacket he made would be the end of the daily visits, the joking around, the fun.

“Baby, you think he don’t know?”

Eddie’s mama was trying not to laugh when he unloaded on her while he stitched the last patch to the front.

“He visits you every day, sometimes for hours, sometimes has to be dragged out by nurses, and ya think he don’t know?”

As usual, she had a point.

So Eddie was brave, gave Steve the jacket the next day when he stopped by.

Steve was silent as he took in every patch and pin, even the section of glitter glue Erica had insisted he add. Eddie played with his bare fingers, wishing now more than ever that he had his rings back.

Finally, Steve looked up, watery smile pointed right at Eddie.

“I love it. And you.”

Mama Munson slapped the back of his head gently later while Steve slept in the chair by his bed.

“I told ya so!” Her whisper was enough to make Steve shift around, his grip on Eddie’s hand tightening momentarily. “May have lost a nipple, but got yourself a boyfriend. That’s the Munson way.”

“What the hell do you mean?”

“Oh, Wayne never told you about losing his nipple in ‘Nam? Flirted with the medic and blamed it on blood loss, but wouldn’t ya know? The medic was a little light in his loafers, too!”

Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Wayne didn’t lose a nipple. You’re makin’ shit up again.”

“I ain’t never lied to ya! You ask Wayne tomorrow. There’s a reason he don’t ever go shirtless at the lake.”

And sure enough, the next day, Wayne lifted his shirt and showed Eddie where he had nothing but a scar where his nipple should be.

“So what about the medic?”

“Oh! Grant.” Wayne smiled. “We still write to each other sometimes. He’s married, got a few kids.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. We wouldn’t have worked anyway. He lives in Maine. Can’t imagine dealin’ with moose.”

Mama Munson just raised her brows from her chair and smirked.

When Steve came by after his shift, he was wearing his jacket and the biggest smile Eddie’s ever seen.

“Anything new?”

“Nothin’ really. Just found out I’ve got a lot more in common with Wayne than I thought.”

[livwritesstuff]

Steve is home one day with his daughters when he realizes that his oldest, Moe, is ten.

Okay, obviously, he knew she was ten. She’s been ten for a while, as her birthday is in July and it’s now December, and the girls are discussing Christmas as they perceive it in their little girl worlds.

It’s really that Steve realizes that Moe is the same age Erica had been when he’d asked her to climb through air ducts and infiltrate a Russian military base.

It’s a realization that has Steve feeling a little nauseous, because Moe is ten and she’s plotting with her little sisters about how they’re going to stay awake on Christmas Eve to catch a glimpse of Santa (their conspiring has Steve worried for his and Ed’s own role in Christmas Eve and the way it hinges on the girls falling asleep as early as fucking possible), and she’d lost another baby tooth this morning and hasn’t stopped talking about what the tooth fairy might leave for her overnight, and she still sneaks into his and Eddie’s room after nightmares looking for snuggles, and she’s afraid of car washes and bugs, and she still wants to be read to before bed every night.

He’d been struck suddenly by how little Moe still is. Maybe he’s only thinking that because she’s his daughter – his first daughter, at that – but he still looks at that kid’s face and sees the newborn baby who’d made him a dad ten years ago.

He can’t imagine looking at her and seeing someone equipped to take on Erica had been asked to do, never mind actually asking her to do it, which is precisely what Steve had done twenty-five years ago.

It eats at him for the rest of the day.

“Just call her, Steve,” Eddie urges him after Steve brings it up for the sixth time that evening, “You clearly need to air this shit out.”

So Steve calls Erica.

Erica is in her mid-thirties now. She’s a kick-ass lawyer at a private firm in Indiana, and she picks up the phone on the second ring.

“This is Erica,” she says.

“Hey, it’s Steve.”

“What’s up,” she replies, still never one for beating around the bush.

“I just – I need to apologize.”

“For what?”

“For Scoops,” Steve says, “For Starcourt.”

Erica is silent for a while.

None of them really talk about any of that stuff anymore. They’d hashed everything out ages ago, until all that was left behind was the understanding that none of them would ever be able to truly move past it, that there would always be guilt and fear and pain they could never shake.

“Okay?” she finally says, question in her tone.

“I just…” Steve hesitates, “Look – I didn’t get it. I didn’t fully get how fucked up it was. I was the grown up in the situation and I should have put a stop to it but I was stupid and reckless, and now that Moe is ten, I can’t stop thinking about how insane it was for us to even consider roping you into that.”

“I agreed to it.”

“You were a kid.”

“You were a kid,” Erica insists.

“Eighteen isn’t a kid anymore.”

“Say that to me again when Moe’s eighteen and maybe I’ll believe you.”

Steve doesn't have anything to say to that, because Erica is probably right (though only time will tell, he supposes). Their phone call ends only a few minutes later with Erica telling him to go easy on himself and Steve saying he’d try before apologizing one more time.

“You gonna take her advice?” Eddie asks after he’s pulled a begrudging Steve into his arms.

“No,” he tells him, curling into his husband’s side and sticking his nose in Eddie’s neck so he doesn’t have to look him in the eye.

“Figures.”

[stevebabey]

part one here. ze part two to touch-starved stevie that absolutely no one requested hehe <3 but i gots to let my boys have a wee kiss :")

So, hugs with Eddie become… well, a thing.

Not a thing. They’re not a thing, Steve and Eddie. It’s totally the same as when he gets hugs from Robin. Eddie’s doing him a favour as a friend. It’s got the 100% platonic energy of getting a hug from a friend — a hug that usually melts into some form of a cuddle, limbs all tangled together until they can’t tell whose are whose.

Except, Steve doesn’t really do that second part with Robin. Like he hasn’t done it ever with Robin.

So, it’s an Eddie thing.

But they’re not a thing. Not matter how much Steve would actually very much like for that happen. Okay, maybe Steve’s overthinking the whole thing a bit, but he just can’t tell.

Where’s the line? It’s infuriating not being able to discern between platonic and more, just because Steve wasn’t held enough as a fucking baby. Out of all the things he resents his parents for, Steve’s surprised that this is so near the top.

Because, sure, Steve’s had more than his fair share of hookups. He knows that sort of touch. He knows the shape of lust; the scrapes of fingernails down backs, the tight grips over skin, the push and pull of the heat of the moment.

And this thing with Eddie… is not that.

So, really, Steve knows that it’s all friendly. Eddie is just being nice. He’s being a decent dude and helping his friend out — by catapulting himself into Steve’s arms at every opportune moment.

(Steve’s only dropped 3 mugs of coffee because of this so far. It’s only because Eddie says good catch, big boy with a devilish grin every time that Steve manages to catch Eddie that Steve hasn’t completely told him to knock it off. Just yet, at least.)

And he’s different in other areas. He’ll always seem to choose the seat next to Steve on movie-nights now, content to snuggle right up to him. They get thigh to thigh, arm to arm — and Eddie only needs to get about 20 minutes in for him to do a big sigh, like an old dog, and slump over, resting his head on Steve’s shoulder.

Steve notices though. He always notices.

It’s impossible not to— the skin, even if there’s 3 layers between them, burns blazing warm. Eddie’s hair drapes over his arm, a curl inevitably tickling along Steve’s collar. He can feel the rise and fall of Eddie’s breathing, the little shake of when he laughs.

It drives Steve a little insane— insane in the way that makes him think about burying his fingers in those curls again, about pressing his lips against Eddie’s pretty mouth just to feel the smile against his skin, about digging into his chest so he can climb into his chest and live there.

Yeah, it’s— well, it’s safe to say that the effect of Eddie’s touchiness has sent what was once a fleeting thought of a crush into mind-melting levels of affection.

But he can’t fucking tell.

-

To Steve’s credit, neither can Eddie.

Which is not surprisingly considering sometimes he catches himself wondering how the hell he ended up here; in a close-knit friendship with band-geek Robin Buckley, princess Nancy Wheeler, and King Steve Harrington.

Okay, the Robin one sort of makes sense. He thinks that if no matter when their paths crossed, he and Robin would’ve always even some sort of strange friends - her snark complimenting his bitchiness. Also, the whole super queer thing helps too. Even the friendship with Nancy works, in its own weird way.

Steve though? He’s the fucking curve ball.

It works though, the two of them. Surprisingly well, actually — the two of them get on like a house on fire, bitchy quips back and forth. Even better, is the quiet that they can share. Steve loves to come around and do… nothing. Do nothing with Eddie, though.

So, even though Eddie had noticed the tension in Steve with touch, little moments where he turned rigid when Eddie’s usual wandering hands got too comfortable — Eddie chalked it up to the usual. Guys bring too uncomfortable with him, too weird about another guy being touchy. It didn’t matter than Eddie wasn’t even out to Steve yet, he was still might be that type of guy.

Well, Eddie had certainly thought so. Sure, Steve might not be one of those jocks who smacked around boys who looked too long in the locker room, but if he knew a smidge of the truth, who really knows. It would explain the tenseness at least.

But then— ‘Can I… have a hug?’ There had been a dozen things Eddie was thinking that Steve could’ve asked for but that? Wasn’t even in the ballpark. It was so left-field it left Eddie speechless for a whole moment. And Steve had been staring at the ceiling, his hands curled up tight again like- like he thought Eddie might say no.

A ridiculous thought, honestly. Anyone who knew Eddie well enough knew he was touchy; loved giving it, loved getting it. Like an overly affectionate cat, Wayne had once called him, just 11 years old, because Eddie’s need for affection seem to never be sated.

After that night, Steve’s lack of touch became far more obvious. It’s always hair ruffles or high-fives, yet never hugs. Normally, Eddie would keep to that boundary; some people are less touchy other than others, he knows that.

But… “Sometimes I realise it’s been awhile, since I’ve had some touch.” That’s what Steve had said, his words. Eddie doesn’t even think he meant to say something so heartbreaking. In fact, the guy seemed embarrassed.

It had thrown Eddie for a loop— because Steve gets around. He’s nearly notorious for one-night stands and failed flings, as Robin loves to drone on about considering she’s subjected to all the flirting. What had originally been a point of envy for Eddie, just saturates the bleakness of Steve’s words. Sex but without a moment of intimacy.

So, while Eddie is miles away from being the person who gets into Steve’s pants — not for lack of want, mind you — he does try hike up the touchiness. Little things. Lingering when he taps him on the arm, hooking his chin over Steve’s shoulder to peer over it, leaning up against him when they’re side by side watching a film.

It’s good. It helps Eddie release the pressure of his stupid monumental god-awful crush he has. Yeah, yeah, it’s laughable, even to Eddie. It’s like Gay 101; don’t get crush on straight dudes, especially the ones you’re friends with. And yet…

Steve lets him. He lets Eddie give him touch, more than he lets anyone else. He still tenses; there’s still always a moment before he can remember to relax, like he’s trying to shake off bad thoughts but then he melts. He always melts into Eddie’s touch eventually — in a way Eddie knows Steve actually loves it, drinks it up as much as he can.

And maybe, Eddie is the biggest fool to grace the Earth to let that fact give him some hope. Sue his gooey heart, he’s a romantic. It’s a quiet hope but, it’s there.

Tonight, it seems relaxing for Steve is been harder than usual— several times has Eddie traced a quite long along Steve’s arms, a subtle point that they were far too tense for someone who was wrapped up in cuddles on the couch. ‘Cos that’s 100% what they are now. Eddie will still call them hugs, but usually, when it’s just the two of them, it becomes this.

Steve, tucked up into the corner of the couch, one leg flush along the back of the couch and one hanging off the edge. It’s the prime position for Eddie to crawl up, wind his arms around Steve’s middle and give him a good squeeze and then settle there. Head on Steve’s chest, lying in the cradle of his hips. Safe. Warm.

It makes him warm, oh very warm to know that he gets this. That Steve doesn’t give this amount of trust to many, if any, other people but Eddie — he trusts Eddie.

“Y’know,” Eddie says, cheeks smushed against the plain of Steve’s pec. It feels deliciously warm and Eddie’s fairly sure he can feel how toned it is just through his cheek. Hot bastard. “I’m actually real glad you asked for that hug all those weeks ago.”

He leaves it there ‘cos he knows Steve will ask. Eddie’s eyes stay on the buzzing tv-screen even as Steve’s head shifts, turning to peer down at the boy slumped on his chest. Eddie’s pretty sure he can see Steve’s mouth twitch up into a smile.

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” Eddie affirms, giving a nod and his eyes flick up to meet Steve’s for just a moment. “Think I’ve had some of the best hugs in the world.”

Okay, that was maybe more honest and sappy than Eddie was going for. He is just letting Steve know he isn’t just doing it for Steve — that he enjoys these moments just as much. He lays it on thick, tries for a smarmy angle.

“Swept up in these pillowy arms?” He croons, giving Steve’s bicep a quick squeeze, making the other chuckle softly. “Who wouldn’t think so? I’m a lucky guy.”

Despite the joking tone, there’s no quick comeback from Steve. That’s alright. Eddie’s quite happy if this is one of the times Steve just takes the compliment; let’s the word sink in and hopefully, believes them, even if it’s just a little bit. He watches the film and doesn’t read into the silence.

Not even when Steve says, “Eddie?” all soft. Nearly shy sounding. It doesn’t quite register to Eddie’s ears.

“Mm?”

“Eddie.” Steve says again, a little firmer and that catches Eddie’s attention. He turns his head and rests his chin on Steve’s chest, his brows drawn together in silent question.

But the moment he makes eye contact, Steve’s doing that scrunched up face again. Is studying the ceiling instead of facing Eddie. And just like all those weeks ago, his hands clench up tight. Twists up the fabric of Eddie’s sweater in between his fingers and uses it to ground himself.

Last time, he asked for a hug. Considering he’s currently just about squishing Steve beneath his body weight, Eddie can’t fathom what he might be worked up to ask for. Unless he was going to ask for something more than a hug— which, well, just wasn’t going to happen, even if Eddie really wanted it to.

“Can I-” Steve starts. He sucks in a breath, almost like he’s gathering courage. But he’s not, because he’s not about to ask for what Eddie hopes for, he’s not, he’s—

Unless…?

“Can I… have a kiss?” Steve asks, barely audible. The sentence is murmured, soft words that hit Eddie like a gentle kiss in itself — imprinting right onto his heart. Steve Harrington wants a kiss — from him!

“Oh.” Eddie says, in a breathy delightful way. He’s fairly certain the little monkey in his brain is clapping its cymbals at double-speed as the words process; or maybe it’s his heart, which feels like it’s leapt up his throat.

“Oh?” Steve echoes, a smile already playing at the edges of his mouth, because he can see Eddie’s want. Because he knows him.

“Yes.” Eddie says suddenly, with a frantic nod, pushing up closer so their faces are aligned. “Yes, absolutely, you can.” He affirms.

Steve huffs a quiet laugh at the eagerness and then his arm that had been slung around Eddie shifts. It moves up til his hand caresses along the line of Eddie’s jaw, tilting him just how he likes.

Eddie holds his breath. Counts the freckles he can see this close. Tries to feel Steve’s heartbeat through where they’re pressed so closely together; can Steve feel his? Thundering and hurried, beating so hard Eddie thinks he might bruise the inside of his ribs.

Then Steve kisses him. And shit, Steve’s lip are better by ten-fold than every daydream Eddie’s ever had about them. They’re warm and so soft — plush and pressing against his own and Eddie is freezing. Fuck, wait, how does this go again? Right, Eddie’s never… well, kissed anybody before.

Steve pulls back and Eddie screws his eyes up — not ready in the slightest for the disappointment of his own shoddy kissing skills. Fuck, did he really just freeze? Steve — Steve Harrington — asks for a kiss and Eddie decides to stab himself in the back by not figuring out how to fuck to kiss back.

“You call that a kiss?” Steve teases and Eddie’s well aware of the parallel — of the irony of Steve repeating his own words back at him. But he can’t make himself laugh even though it’s funny. Instead, a little groan wiggles out his throat.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says, earnest. He forces his eyes opens — he needs to see what’s Steve’s thinking. Where he’s expecting disappointment or perhaps regret, is only patience. Maybe a touch of concern. Eddie continues, despite the humiliation that makes his throat sticky.

“I haven’t- I don’t do this often.” He coughs awkwardly clearing his throat and hoping it hides the next word. “Ever.”

There’s a jump in Steve’s eyebrows, a moment of surprise in his eyes that lets him know he did, indeed, hear that final word. It makes Eddie feel… well, it’s nice that Steve had expected him to have been kissed by now. Even if he hasn’t. He tries to take it as a compliment.

“That’s okay,” Steve assures. Absentmindedly, his thumb rubs soothing along Eddie’s jaw. It makes Eddie shiver, some outrageous amount of joy clawing into every nerve. Steve likes Eddie. He wants to kiss Eddie.

“Do you want to try again?”

Eddie nods before the questions even out of his mouth. Steve smiles, all sunshine. This time when he draws Eddie in, he notices the way Eddie holds his breath — the rigidness in his body.

Steve kisses him again, another short and soft one and then whispers against his lips, “Relax.”

‘Cos isn’t tonight just full of the parallels, Eddie thinks. He listens, tries to focus on how sweet Steve’s kiss is than his panicky heart, forcing out a breath between the kisses. His hands along Steve’s sides find a grip, grounding and good, and by the fourth kiss, he begins to feel a bit melty.

It’s good. It’s really good. Kissing Steve is top 5– nay, the top moment of his life so far. Somehow, it’s made all that much better knowing the build-up behind it. Knowing that Steve knows he isn’t just kissing him for a heat of the moment — that Eddie wants kisses here, kisses before bed, in the morning, on dates. Eddie wants Steve.

And with the way he kisses, Eddie’s pretty sure Steve wants him just as bad.

It doesn’t take long for Steve to reach what Eddie decides is an ultra pretty fuckin’ state; lips swollen from kisses, cheeks flushed, hair a little mussed up. He bets he looks no better. The thought makes him grin, enough they have to break the kiss ‘cos Eddie can’t stop his stupid happy grin ‘cos shit— he actually gets to have this Steve.

“What?” Steve asks, somehow half heart-eyed and half suspicious at the mischief in Eddie’s eyes.

“Can I... have a hickie?”

now with a part three !

[ohposhers]

WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE GAY SHIPS IN TROLLS BAND BACK TOGETHER!!!???

HAI BOSS MY SHIPS IN TBT SO FAR ARE FLIFF (def my fave), BIVA AND HICKDORY!!! (I love ships that canonically make no sense cause i am delusional genuinely) Aside from TBT my actual longtime favorite Trolls ship has been Barb and Poppy :) I love their dynamic so much

[stevenrogered]

3x03 / 7x05 after Buck saves Christopher in the tsunami / after Buck comes out to Eddie

[augustjustice]

Pre-S1 Steve Harrington who time traveled to the future would at first automatically assume Robin was his girlfriend and Eddie was his boy best friend who tagged along with them everywhere, including on dates. As the person who spent the entirety of his youth as Tommy and Carol's (vaguely romantic and homoerotically charged) third wheel, Steve sees absolutely nothing odd about this except for the fact that he's now apparently willing to spend all of his time...with two band geeks.