#i adore wayne munson

[ghosttotheparty]

a man raised hopeless (18k) ao3 // pinboard // playlist tags: Good Uncle Wayne Munson; Appalachian Wayne Munson; Character Study; of sorts; Drug Use; Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism; Drug Addiction; Mental Health Issues; Postpartum Depression; Suicidal Thoughts; Self-Destruction; Grief/Mourning; Eddie Munson Lives; Healing; Hopeful Ending

Wayne Munson was raised to be a lot of things that he isn’t.

He was raised to be God-fearing, but he’s always struggled to see God, struggled to know Him. His parents were good Catholic folks, rosaries tucked in their pockets at all times, Bibles on their bedside tables, calendars crossed off daily. Easter and Christmas were hardly days of celebration, even when Wayne and Al were little boys. There were never any eggs to find, any gifts to unwrap. Wayne got used to the ache in his kneecaps, the faintly bruised skin, from kneeling in prayer for so long. It never did him any good. Al either.

He was raised to be quiet, to speak when spoken to. That never did him much good either. He’s always been a quiet man, even when he was little and Al was as rambunctious as humanly possible. He watched as Al ran circles around the house, fingers tangled in his lap because he was always scared to touch anything after he saw Al knock a vase over and watched as their father beat his skin blue. Wayne never understood how a vase could be so important. It was just a vase, and it was ugly anyway.

He was raised to respect authority. He never did. All the adults in his life were self-serving assholes, his parents and teachers included. The cops in his hometown were corrupt, everyone knew it; they took bribes, let their own dealers off easy when they were called to their houses. They kept their eye on people that didn’t need an eye kept on them, ignored crimes in broad daylight, shined their badges and flashed them at anyone that dared ignore them. Wayne hated cops by the time he was in middle school, wrinkling his nose at them when he saw the way they sneered and smirked at the girls in town. And then they started harassing Al for no reason at all, until Al started giving them reasons, practically wrapping them up and tying them in ribbons and leaving them on the dashboards of police cars.

His parents tried as hard as they could to train Wayne up, to mold him into a mini-me for his father. Wayne always looked like John, and he always hated it. He never liked his mother much either, but he would have preferred to look like her if he could have.

It was a small family, just the four of them. John, Ruth. Allen, Wayne. Most families around them had more children, but Wayne thinks he and Al scared their parents off any more. They weren’t easy as babies, weren’t easy as children or teenagers. Ruth complained about Wayne incessantly, telling him often how much he cried as a baby. No matter how much she rocked him, how much she fed him, how much she hummed and sang to him. He cried, and he cried, and he cried. Until he got old enough for his father to tell him to be a man, until the sting of his tears on his cheeks was replaced with a sting across his bottom, and then later, a sting across his face.

Wayne stopped crying when he was thirteen. John used to say that he would give him something to cry about, but life did that for him every which way. Every turn in Wayne’s path, every time he turned his head. Something to cry about.

He knew there was something wrong with him. Ruth used to tell him that too. The amount that he cried when he was little wasn’t normal, even Al knew. He’d tried to get Wayne to stop crying before their father noticed. But there were other things too. Everything was too loud for him, and he always had his palms covering his ears, blocking out whatever it was. The insufferable buzzing that came when John had the radio on, the squeaking of the tap in the kitchen sink, the shouting of the neighbor’s boys playing outside. The sun was too bright, his clothes too scratchy, the car too cramped, and he would lock himself away in his room just so he didn’t have to deal with any of it. He used to tell his mother he didn’t think he was meant to be human, and Ruth would roll her eyes and ignore him.

Al called him stupid. Called him a sissy, a pussy, called him everything their father would call him. He’d tell him he needed to grow the fuck up, needed to grow a pair. And Wayne tried, just like he tried being friends with God, but it never worked.

John hit the road when Wayne was fifteen. Al was thirteen. Neither of them cried, but Ruth did. Wayne could hear her through the thin walls of their house, could hear her sobbing and wailing John’s name into the pillow like he would hear her from wherever he was and he would come back. He never did.

Wayne always wondered what became of him. If he knocked up some poor woman and had another boy. If he treated him like shit too. If he got too tipsy and spun his old car out of control and hit a tree. If he said the wrong thing to the wrong person. If he took himself out the way he always threatened to when Ruth was too short with him. Wayne knew he took the gun with him.

Ruth’s eyes were bloodshot all the time, her nose and cheeks always flushed red, but Wayne never saw her cry. She hid it well, kept her voice steady, and he’d hoped maybe John’s absence would soften her up. Hoped she was just as hard and cruel as he’d been treating her. But she took up John’s role, whatever the fuck that was. Smacked Al and Wayne upside the head. Swung leather belts and wire hangers in the air to land on their skin. Downed bottles of liquor despite the scripture on the walls. And God watched just like He always did.

“I swear I’m gonna skip town one day,” Al whispered one night after their mother had passed out on the sofa. Wayne looked over the newspaper at him, finding him in the dark. He used the streetlights and the few passing cars for light to read the funnies. “I swear to the good lord, Wayne, I’m gonna do it.”

“You can’t even drive,” Wayne had muttered, looking back at the paper.

“I’ll take my bike.”

”Where would you even go?”

“Jesus, Wayne, fuckin’ anywhere’s better than here.”

“It’s not so bad here,” Wayne said quietly, glancing when their mother let out a huff and rolled over before falling still.

“You only say that because you don’t know any better.”

“And you do?”

”I have a damn imagination.” Al swore like a trucker after John left, like he was trying to make up for all the swears they couldn’t hear.

Wayne had rolled his eyes. He really didn’t think it was so bad. The roads were rough, the fences rusted, and the cops were shitbags, but it wasn’t so bad. The sun was bright, and he liked hearing the birds singing. Liked the crickets that filled the silence at night, liked how the lightning during storms lit up the sky. He’d always been a wanderer, even though his parents tried to train him out of it, and he loved the creek that was nearby their neighborhood. He liked seeing the little fish swim by in the sparkling water, liked the smooth rocks that he collected on top of his wardrobe. He found a knife in the water one day when he was twelve, a little pocket knife with a nice leather handle, and he scrubbed the faint rust off the blade under the tap out back with a wire brush his father bought for the car.

Al had said it was probably a discarded murder weapon. Wayne told him to shut up.

“Are you comin’ with or not?” Al whispered sharply, like he’d lost his patience in the few silent seconds between them. Wayne looked at him again.

He was staring intently at him, eyes wide in the dark, eyebrows raised. He looked more like Ruth than Wayne did. He had her hair, dark and curly.

“Where to?”

“Fuck, I don’t know,” Al said, and he sounded angry as he shifted in his seat, drawing his knees to his chest and looking over them at Wayne. “I just wanna get the fuck outta here.”

”We can’t just pack up and leave, Al,” Wayne said finally, setting the paper down. “We’d need an actual plan, y’know, we’d need somewhere to go.”

”Why do we need a place to go?” Al said, frustrated. “Why can’t we just fucking go?”

”So we don’t starve on the side of the road, dumbass,” Wayne snapped, leaning toward him. “We live in the middle o’ nowhere, Al, you wanna bike your way outta the mountains? Christ.”

“Then how the hell are we supposed to go?” Al said sharply. “Can’t get a job if we don’t fuckin’ go somewhere.”

Wayne sighed, rubbing his face, and he looked at him.

“I’ve been saving,” he said finally. “Loose change ‘nd shit, all my money from working at the diner.”

”What the fuck, Wayne?” Al hissed, reaching out to smack his head, and Wayne flinched away from it, making a face. “You didn’t tell me?”

”Didn’t want you stealin’ it all.”

“Now I fuckin’ might.”

Wayne was quiet. Flipped the page of the newspaper.

“We can hitch a ride,” Al said, whispering again. “Or jump on the train that goes through town.”

“Don’t be stupid.”

“You fuckin’ figure something out, then. If I have to spend one more fucking year in this damn house with that bitch I’ll kill myself,” Al said, nodding toward their mother’s sleeping body.

“Don’t talk about Ma like that,” Wayne said half-heartedly. He couldn’t really bring himself to mean it.

“Shut up, Wayne.”

It took two years. Wayne kept his patience as best he could, but Al struggled. He brought it up almost every day, and Wayne found him looking through their shared bedroom more than once, trying to find Wayne’s saved money. He was especially desperate to go after knocking up some girl in town, but nothing ever became of it. No father came knocking the front door down to break Al in half. The girl left town and neither of them saw her again.

Wayne saved every penny he made at the diner, every penny he found on the sidewalk and hoped was lucky. He hated working there, hated being a damn line cook. He smelled like fucking beef every day, and his wrist got sore from holding the spatula, but he made money. And his boss was nice.

He mentioned offhandedly one day that he was hoping to leave town, hoping to find a job somewhere.

“My buddy in Indiana’s workin’ at a plant,” his boss had said. “Said they’re looking for som new recruits.”

He’d said it so casually, like it didn’t light Wayne up inside, like it didn’t flip his life upside down.

He was hired by the next week after his boss made a few calls. He packed a bag, just one, stuffed it full of clothes and food and cash, and he hopped on a bus with Al. And he’d never seen Al smile like he did that day, so bright it made him look young again. (He didn’t see Al smile like that ever again.)

He felt bad for Ruth. Knew she was all alone in that house, knew the house would be quiet now with no one there to fight and bicker. Knew she was left with the crate of liquor in the basement and the cross above the front door, abandoned by her entire family, abandoned by God.

“If she wanted us to stay, she would have been nicer,” Al said when Wayne voiced his guilt to him, and as guilty as he was, Wayne agreed. She was a mean old woman, and now all she had to mean to was the walls of her house and her broken mirrors.

Wayne never thought he’d find himself in Indiana. It wasn’t much different than back home. A little flatter, maybe, fewer mountains towering over them and caging them into town, but it looked the same sometimes. Trees and creaks and birds and squirrels. Deer. Discarded beer bottles along the side of the road. They found a shitty apartment, one bedroom with one stove burner and no oven, and they made it work.

Wayne liked living a quiet life. Taking the bus to work, taking the bus back home. He was glad to have an uneventful life, glad to not have stories to share with Al, even if it was boring.

But Al was always going to be Al, and Wayne had known that even before he agreed to take him with him. He thinks maybe he’d had hopes of Al maturing, growing out of their hometown, turning into his own person instead of some ugly byproduct of John and Ruth, but every hope he might have had was in vain.

Al was mean.

To everybody, but to Wayne especially. Wayne could swear Al had it out for him, even though Wayne was the one that brought him out of their hometown, brought him just like he’s asked, like he’s practically begged, even though Wayne took him with him out of the goodness of his heart, out of kindness. He knew how miserable Al was, knew it personally because he was miserable too.

But Al treated him like shit. Cursed him for waking him up in the morning while he got ready for work like Wayne wasn’t the one paying for him to live here, rolled his eyes and refused to wash the dishes simply because he didn’t like doing it. And Wayne somehow understood why his father was so angry all the time.

He and Al fought constantly.

Wayne got a car eventually, a shitty old thing that stalled and squeaked and had rusty hinges, and he stayed away from the apartment for as long as he could just so he didn’t have to see Al, just so he didn’t have to listen to him bitch. Drove up to the quarry just to look at the sky and smoke cigarettes, brought a book with him even though he’s never liked reading much. (He found that the quiet helped.) Al got a job at a garage after a while, and when their rent was raised, they scrapped enough together for a trailer.

It had one bedroom, but there was a washer and a dryer, and it made Wayne think of home. The creaky ground and the cabinets that didn’t quite shut all the way, the overhead lights that flickered and drove him a little crazy. Wayne slept on the sofa just because he didn’t feel like arguing with Al.

He’s always been a tired man, even when he was little. His mother would tell him he was like an old man, staring into space while John yelled at him, looking down at the newspaper when John beat Al, complaining about the volume of the radio. Wayne embraced it, turned it into a joke even though he didn’t find it particularly funny.

Al called him an old man when they lived together. Teased him when Wayne scolded him for wasting money on drugs and liquor, laid on the ground with vacant eyes and curled lips. And Wayne barely had the energy to fight him about it. It was his money, after all.

Wayne didn’t have friends. He was never the type to make friends, nor was he the type people particularly wanted to be friends with. He always looked angry, seething, even when he wasn’t, his eyebrows drawn together naturally, eyes narrowed. His coworkers left him alone most of the time, even though a few teased that he was just a kid, that he shouldn’t have been working somewhere so tough. Wayne never really got that. He had no problem being older than he was.

He was forty when Al brought a girl home.

She was sitting on the floor, her back against the sofa with a mug in her hands, one of Wayne’s mugs, and she looked young and tired. Wayne had stopped in the doorway, just beginning to kick his shoes off and drop his bag by the door, but he looked down at her as she looked up at him.

Her hair was curly, curlier than Al’s, almost wild, flying around her head. Her eyes were wide, dark and shining like a deer’s, and her eyelashes fluttered as she blinked, her head tilting curiously. There were freckles across the bridge of her nose, and she looked soft. Too soft to be somewhere like this.

“Who’re you?” Wayne asks gruffly, finally toeing his shoes off and nudging them aside, dropping his bag and taking off his jacket.

“Judith Abbott,” she said.

She was soft-spoken, her voice sweet and quiet, and she was a darling. Her blouse was white and ruffled, her skirt pleated and falling to hide her legs as she drew her knees to her chest, and as Wayne looked at her, he found a bow hidden in her curls, a little ribbon just peeking out of the mess at him.

“Judith Abbott,” he repeated, eyeing her. “What are you doing in my living room, Judith Abbott?”

“Waiting for Allen,” she said with a smile that pressed lines into her cheeks, her eyes squinting.

“Allen,” Wayne said under his breath. He hadn’t heard that name in ages; everyone called him Al, even the cops. “Where’s he at?”

”He went to get some liquor,” Judith said lightly, and Wayne rolled his eyes, finally going to unpack his back, setting his old tin lunchbox on the counter.

“So you his girlfriend or something?” he said.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Judith said, giggling, her cheeks flushing pink, and Wayne’s stomach twisted. He paused, looking over at her, sitting on the ground like a shy little girl, with a bow in her hair, holding the mug with both hands like it was heavy.

“How old are you?” he asked.

“I turn twenty next week.”

He blinked. Looked at her. Ached a little inside.

“Why?” she asked, sipping her tea or coffee or whatever it was.

“…You don’t think you’re a little young for Al?” he asked.

“I’m mature for my age,” she said resolutely, nodding a little as though to herself, like she was saying it more for her own sake than Wayne’s. He felt sick.

“Yeah, I bet you are.”

She didn’t say anything to that.

They talked until Al came home, and it took longer than it should have if he’d just gone for liquor. Judith asked about his work, about his hometown. Said Al, Allen, talked about Wayne all the time. They met at the garage when Judith’s dad went in for a tune-up. That Al couldn’t take his eyes off her, and she got shy, but she went in the next week on her own anyway, because she liked how Al looked at her. And Wayne wanted to take her away, to hide her until Al gave up, until he fucking died.

He pulled Al aside when he came home, when he went to put something away in the bedroom, leaving Judith in the living room with her cold tea.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he’d snapped quietly, grabbing Al by the back of his shirt. Al was smirking again. Wayne hated his smirk.

”Fuck are you talking about?”

”She’s a teenager, Al, Jesus.”

“She’s twenty in five days.”

”It’s weird that you know that.”

”That I know when my girl’s birthday is?”

“You know what the fuck I mean,” Wayne hissed, his face hot. “Jesus fuck, Al, she’s a fucking kid.”

Al rolled his eyes. Knocked Wayne’s arm away and stepped out of his reach, and he tossed something to the bed, something wrapped in brown paper and tape.

“She’s legal,” Al said. Wayne grit his teeth. “And even if I don’t pick her up, someone will,” he added almost smugly. “You’ve seen her.”

Wayne stood in the bedroom when Al left, shutting the door behind himself, and he buried his face in his hands, taking a deep breath. He was shaking, and he didn’t think he’d ever been so angry, didn’t think he’d ever wanted to hurt Al more than in that moment. He’d looked at the package after steadying his breathing, picked it up and flipped it over in his hands, but it was bound with tape, and he couldn’t open it without Al knowing. He thought about opening it anyway, just to appease his curiosity and his suspicion, but he tossed it back to the bed anyway.

Al was on the floor when Wayne rejoined them, leaning against the sofa with his arm around Judith’s shoulders, holding a lit cigarette to her lips as she giggled shyly, taking a short drag and coughing the smoke out of her lungs. Wayne swallowed his nausea.

Judith’s parents caught wind of her relationship with Al after a while. She moved in within the month, taking up residence on the other side of the bed, and she stayed sweet even over the years. Woke up in the morning to sit with Wayne, made him coffee and did the paper’s crossword puzzle with him. Her hair grew longer, and she didn’t cut it despite Al telling her to.

Wayne came home to the two of them in the living room most days. His hours were different from Al’s, and Al spent more time at home, especially when his boss cut his hours because he kept flirting with women in front of their husbands.

They were high a lot of the time. Judith was giggly when she was high, pink-cheeked and squinting, tucked into a ball while Al sprawled himself out over the sofa, taking up as much space as he possibly could. Al was quiet most of the time while he floated, staring up at the ceiling with his lips parted like he was seeing right through it to the universe, like it was whispering to him, like the water stain was a galaxy.

Judith was different. She giggled and laughed and talked more than usual, telling bad jokes and laughing herself to tears, and as much as Wayne hated that she was inebriated, she was endearing. He’d listen to her, leaning over the tiny dining table to hear her whisper, smiling absently.

“You know you’re my best friend?” she asked one day, sipping the water Wayne handed to her, holding the cup with two hands like she always did. He paused and looked at her, sitting across from her and tilting his head.

He knew they were an odd pair. He was already balding, going grey sooner than he should have, worn with lines on his face, his fingertips stained from tobacco. She was dainty. Sweet and spunky. Wayne was pretty sure she would be an artist if she were anywhere else, if Al hadn’t hijacked her life.

“‘S kinda sad if your best friend is your boyfriend’s older brother.”

The word boyfriend twisted in his mouth. She didn’t notice, giggling.

“Al doesn’t like that we’re friends,” she said, glancing at Al’s sleeping body. He was snoring, arm hanging over the sofa with his hand resting on the floor.

“Al doesn’t like much of anything.”

She giggled again, nodding like it was funny, like it was a joke.

“He doesn’t.”

Wayne looked at her. Her curls were tied up at the top of her head messily, flying every which way, falling in her face, and her eyes were glassy. She looked younger than she usually did, and Wayne hated how much it was true that she was mature for her age. She was just a kid, especially compared to Al and Wayne, but she was older because she had to be. She didn’t have a choice.

“Judy, sweetheart,” he said softly, leaning over, and she looked at him. He called her that a lot. She was a sweetheart, and she knew it wasn’t meant to be anything it wasn’t, knew it was purely platonic. “You know you can leave.”

She’d blinked her eyes at him, half-smiling.

“You know I can’t,” she whispered.

“Judy…”

“I hate him,” she said, nodding, her eyes almost vacant, and she’d never said it before. She and Wayne both knew it, but it was never spoken aloud. Never acknowledged. “I do, but I can’t leave him.”

“Why not?” he asks seriously, leaning closer. Al snored away. ”You can leave, Judy, you have no reason to stay here.”

“Wayne, I don’t have a family,” she says softly. “My brother doesn’t talk to me, my parents don’t talk to me, y’know, they left town. I don’t have any friends. I got nowhere to go.”

He was quiet, and his heart split open a little bit. He wanted to tell her that she didn’t need somewhere to go, that it was okay to just hop on a bus and ride it until she found somewhere to stop, but he didn’t. Knew how she would argue, because he argued it himself when he was just a little younger than she was.

“I hate him,” she said again, leaning closer. “But I love him so much, Wayne.”

“How can you love him, Judith?” he said tiredly. And she looked at him.

“You know.”

He looked at her.

“He’s my blood, Jude,” he said quietly. “I can hate him all I want, that don’t change that he’s my brother. You got no ties to him ‘cept whatever this is,” he said, gesturing vaguely toward Al.

Judith looked at him. She sighed, her eyes flickering with something Wayne couldn’t quite read.

“You ever been in love, Wayne?”

He scoffed.

“You know I ain’t got time for that.”

She sighed again, setting an elbow on the table and propping her chin on her palm. A curl fell in her face, and she blew it away absently.

“He’s ruined me, Wayne,” she said, whispering. “I don’t have space in me for anyone else.”

Wayne’s chest ached. He wanted to cry.

“Not even yourself?” he whispered.

She smiled sadly, tilting her head like Wayne was being cute, like she was fond. And she shook her head.

“I’ve never liked myself much,” she said. “But he makes me feel beautiful.”

“You are beautiful, sweetheart,” Wayne said adamantly, leaning closer. “But you deserve so much more than what he gives you.”

She looked at him, her cheek squished against her hand, her eyes sparkling. She looked older than she used to, like Al had aged her.

“That’s nice, Wayne,” she said. And that was that.

The drugs were bad. Wayne could only watch as they drained the life out of her, as the sparkle in her eyes faded.

She got pregnant after a few years. She sat Al and Wayne down together in the living room to tell them, and Wayne stared at her as Al let out a laugh.

“‘S not a joke, Al,” Judith said tightly, looking at him from where she stood in front of them, wearing one of Wayne’s flannels that hung down to her knees, her arms wrapped around herself. “I’m serious. I— I haven’t been to the doctor, but I’m, like, a month late, and I’ve been sick, and I…”

“Find a doctor to get rid of it,” Al said, lifting his hands like it was obvious, and Judith looked at him seriously, her eyebrows furrowing.

“I’m keeping it.”

“No, you’re fucking not.”

”Yes, I am,” she said adamantly, crossing her arms, her shoulders hunched uncomfortably.

“Why the hell would you keep it—”

“Because it’s my fucking baby, Allen.”

“It’s mine too,” Al snapped loudly, standing up and looking down at Judith. She pursed her lips, setting her jaw defiantly. “You think I wanna fuckin’ baby?”

“Allen, shut the fuck up,” Wayne yelled, and Judith and Al both startled, looking at him, wide-eyed. Al turned away, burying his face in his hands as he swore under his breath, and Judith glanced at him before looking back at Wayne. “Judy, c’mere.”

She sniffled, moving to sit on the softer table across from Wayne, who moved closer, sitting on the edge of his seat and held his hand out. Judith was trembling as she slid her hands into his, looking at him anxiously.

“You’re sure?” he asked softly. She nodded, her lip quivering. “Okay.”

He took a deep breath. Ran his thumbs over her knuckles.

She waited. Al watched.

“You gotta stay off the drugs,” Wayne said, looking into her eyes again, raising his eyebrows and nodding, prompting her into a response, and she nodded. “Keep that baby healthy.”

She nodded again.

“We’ll go to a doctor,” he said, nodding with her. “Figure out whatever we need to.”

“Okay,” she said. Her voice wobbled, and she looked like a teenager again, and Wayne ached.

She fell asleep early that night. Wayne pulled Al into the living room, holding him by the front of his shirt.

“You’re off the drugs too,” he said firmly, looking into Al’s eyes, and Al tried to push his hand away, scoffing.

“C’mon, Wayne—”

”Look at me,” Wayne snapped, pulling him in roughly by the fabric of his shirt, and Al stared at him, eyes wide. Wayne had never gotten physical with him. He’d yelled, and he’d dodged Al’s hands, but he’d never retaliated, never initiated like this. “Every fucking cent you spend on drugs is going to this baby, you understand me?”

“Wayne.”

“Every penny, Al,” he said firmly, his voice shaking, his throat tight. “You fucking got me?”

Al stared at him. His breath smelled like cigarettes. He nodded.

Wayne shoved him away, forcing him to stumble back, and he took a shaky breath.

“You forced her into this life,” he said, his voice thick. His eyes were burning. “And you forced her to stay, you hear me? You owe her fucking everything.”

Al didn’t say anything. He got drunk that night, drunk enough to confess to Wayne that he never loved Judith. That he just thought she was pretty, that she was naive enough to stay. That he couldn’t kick her out when her parents abandoned her, not when she gave him those doe eyes of hers. Wayne told him to shut up.

Judith’s pregnancy went smoothly for the most part. Wayne did everything he could for her. He mentioned in passing that his sister-in-law was pregnant to his co-workers, who were so taken by the small insight into Wayne’s otherwise private life that a few of them scraped together a care package: diapers, baby powder, some second-hand toys and a stroller. When they dropped it off at the trailer, Judith cried.

There wasn’t time to get her to the hospital when her water broke.

Wayne had done as much research as possible just in case, and he still felt so fucking lost. Didn’t know how to help her, how to comfort her as she screamed and wailed and sobbed for God to have mercy on her. She’d cried Al’s name, and he came to her. Held her hand and pressed kisses to her knuckles, and he looked scared when Wayne looked up at him from between Judith’s legs. His eyes were wide, glassy like he was crying, looking at Judith like he was in awe, and even in the heat of the moment, even as he pulled a human body from Judith’s, Wayne knew he’d never see Al like that again.

Edward Samuel Munson was born at sunrise. The sun shone on him as he cried for the first time, wrapped in his mother’s arms, tiny and pink and covered in blood, wailing as she whispered brokenly to him, face sparkling with tears.

My baby, my baby, my baby, my baby, my baby…

Wayne was too old to be sitting on the floor, but he did anyway, leaning against the coffee table with his hands hanging in his lap. They were covered in blood, glistening in the sunlight. It was under his nails, seeping into the lines of his palms and his fingerprints, and he didn’t think he would ever get rid of it.

He looked up at Al. He was rubbing his face, covering his mouth, anxiously, the same way Wayne did.

“Al,” Judith choked, finally looking up at him. “Look at him, look at our baby— Isn’t he beautiful?”

Al slid off the sofa to sit next to her, his arm around her, and he looked at the baby in her arms like he was scared of it.

It could have been a beautiful image. It should have been a beautiful image. Mother and father. First born son.

But there was a pit in Wayne’s stomach, deep and vast, and swallowed his insides whole. He felt fucking sick, the smell of blood and piss in his nose, soaked into the blanket he and Judith were atop. He was shaking.

Judith was rambling like she was high, muttering under her breath to Al.

“Look at our son, he’s so beautiful. That’s our baby, Allen, ‘s our boy. God, look at his hair, Allen, look at his little nose, oh my god…”

Al looked at Wayne, and their eyes met. And Wayne wanted to say something, wanted to tell him that it ends with them, whatever fucking curse has plagued the Munsons for generations. Munson men meeting nice girls from nice families with nice futures, and ruining them. Having boys and leaving them behind.

Munsons always have boys. There aren’t any aunts on their father’s side.

Wayne had wanted to say it. This ends with us, you understand? We’re both fucking sticking around for this boy, for Judith.

But Al’s never been one to make promises, much less keep them.

Judith slept early. Al went out.

Wayne looked at little Edward, asleep on the floor, wrapped in a blanket. He was a tiny thing, squishy and pink and skinnier than Wayne had expected. The doctor that had come by said he would fatten up after some breastfeeding.

The silence felt deafening after everything. Wayne could hear himself breathing.

He sat there until his entire body hurt, his joints and muscles stiff, but he didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to leave the baby alone. Didn’t want the baby to feel alone.

He traced the seams of the blanket wrapped around the baby lightly before he let his hand fall to rest on his belly, feeling it rise and fall slowly with every breath, and his entire body ached. This little baby, so precious and sweet and tiny. He didn’t deserve what this life was going to give him.

Judith went to the doctor a lot after having the baby. Not just for her body. She’d changed, in her head. She was quieter than she used to be, kept herself tucked away in the bedroom or in the corner of the sofa while she fed the baby. But she didn’t look at him the way she did when he was born.

She looked at him. Not gazing, not admiring. Staring blankly, analyzing. Glaring.

“He doesn’t like me,” she told Wayne one day while Al was out.

“What makes you say that?”

The baby was in an old bassinet, staring up at the ceiling like it was something beautiful, his hands waving in the air.

“I just know,” Judith said, looking down at her lap and picking at her nails. “He doesn’t smile at me.”

“He’s still learning to smile, Judy,” Wayne told her gently. “Be patient.”

She didn’t say anything.

Wayne went with her to the doctor. Nonclassical depression, he said. It happens to mothers after childbirth sometimes, he said. Be patient with her, he said.

Wayne did his best. Brought her tea and books when she wouldn’t get out of bed, brought the baby to her to feed him, to hold him, to bond with him. She did her best. Wayne knew she did.

“He won’t stop crying,” she whined one day after calling Wayne back into the room to take the baby. She looked exhausted. She looked old.

“That’s all he knows to do,” Wayne said quietly, picking the baby up and cradling him to his chest, rocking him absently as he sat on the bed beside her.

The baby stopped crying. Judith started crying.

“He hates me,” she sobbed. “Why does he hate me?”

“He doesn’t hate you, sweetheart,” Wayne said softly, touching her arm, and she leaned into the touch, crying as she fell against him. He held her. She drifted off, her tears soaked into Wayne’s shirt.

He stayed still, holding the two of them, listening to them breathing, feeling their warm breaths on his neck. He could feel their heartbeats. They felt small.

He lowered Judith when he heard the front door open. Laid her down as carefully as he could, holding the baby to his chest, and he went to find Al, who was kicking his shoes off, holding a brown paper bag.

“Al.”

”Hm?”

He was off. A little tipsy, or a little high. Wayne couldn’t tell which.

“Sober up,” he said. “‘Nd go hold your girl.”

”What’s wrong with her?”

Wayne stared at him in disdain. He brushed his thumb back and forth over the baby’s back.

“She’s depressed, Al.”

Al had sighed. Dropped his bag. Went to the kitchen to make coffee and rinse his face with cold water.

She started using again around the time Edward started walking.

Little Eddie. Hobbling around like a drunk, eyes bright and shining, arms outstretched as he toddled toward Wayne, sitting on the ground with his hands out. Eddie made his way over and collapsed against Wayne’s chest with a healthy giggle, and Wayne smiled in a way that made his cheeks feel sore. He looked at Judith and the smile faltered.

She was looking. Picking at her short fingernails. Her gaze was blank, almost unsettling, and Wayne looked away, back at Eddie, forcing his smile to widen, clapping when Eddie did.

Wayne watched the light fade from her eyes again. Watched her become quiet and distant, watched her become a shell of the girl she used to be. And he couldn’t tell if it was the drugs or the depression or some vicious combination of the two, but he didn’t think it really mattered.

His girl was disappearing right before his eyes, and nothing he did helped, nothing he did mattered. He couldn’t save her.

And it broke his heart that Eddie never knew any different. Never got to remember the way his own mother’s eyes shined at him with love, the way she murmured to him. My baby, my baby…

Eddie grew up. He knew his mother as Mommy, then Ma. Wayne picked him up from daycare, and Eddie showed Judith his colorful drawings, beaming brightly, and she looked at him.

That’s all she did. Looked.

Eddie was undeterred.

He was such a creative kid. He loved color, loved music, loved dancing. He danced funny, wiggling this way and that, eyes closed. He liked the same music as Wayne. He read books, and Wayne wondered where it all came from, all his brains. He loved the library, always had at least three books checked out at a time.

And he never seemed to pay any mind to the looks people gave him in town. He barely even seemed to notice.

And those fucking looks. Stares and glares and scowls. Menacing. Wayne noticed them, of course he did. He was a Munson. The looks were for him too.

Everyone in town knew who they were. Wayne had to pay the price for his stupid brother’s reputation.

But it was worth it to see Eddie’s joy at little things: new books in the library, colorful wildflower along the road, new shirts, hand-me-downs from Wayne’s coworkers whose own children outgrew them. Eddie was such a happy kid. He brought his mom picked flowers even though he knew she wouldn’t react to them, ranted and raved about his favorite books to Wayne.

Wayne may not have been meant to be human, but Eddie was what humans were meant to be.

He was loud. He was bold and bright and everything Wayne could ever want him to be. He missed Judith’s smile, missed her doe eyes, and Eddie was blessed with both. Wayne wanted to keep Eddie smiling as long as he possibly could.

Eddie got quieter when he was in elementary school, and Wayne could only watch as he became sullen and angry. As he came home from school with fresh bruises and torn jeans. As his shell grew harder and he grew colder and meaner. And Wayne was reminded that Eddie was a Munson.

Wayne could never bring himself to act like his own father, who told Wayne the bullying and harassment were his own fault. He could have changed his own appearance, his own mannerisms, to make people leave alone. To make them think he was normal. Wayne knew what it was like to live behind a mask. He didn’t want Eddie to dull and fade the way he did.

But even though he never said it, Al did. Sighed heavily when Eddie came home with a black eye and said, “What’d you do now?”

“Nothin’ he could’ve done could warrant something like this, Al,” Wayne had said, beckoning to Eddie to analyze the wound, looking at the way it was swollen and already flushing with color. “You tell a teacher, Ed?”

”Nobody cares,” Eddie said sullenly, knocking Wayne’s hand aside as he reached up to touch the skin.

“Go get the peas from the freezer,” Wayne said, watching him go.

Even when Eddie was quieter, he was different from the other kids. He looked at things differently, in a way Wayne didn’t know how to explain, even to himself. Eddie’s eyes were wide and almost vacant even when he was paying attention, even when he was focused. It was unsettling in a way to most people. Not to Wayne. Never to Wayne.

The trailer became quieter than it should have been with four people. But Al and Judith were always high, and Judith wasn’t giggly and silly when she was high anymore. She was almost catatonic, eyes half-shut as she stared at the ceiling, her hair frizzy and unkempt, a little bit matted because she never brushed it anymore. Eddie was used to it. Talked to her even though she wouldn’t respond, even though she just looked at him blankly, like she didn’t even recognize him even though they shared a face.

“I’m going to the library,” Eddie said after icing his face for a few minutes, and Wayne watched him go again, watched him put his shoes back on and let the door swing shut behind himself.

“Swear that kid’s a faggot,” Al muttered. Wayne clicked his tongue and reached out to smack the back of his head.

“Don’t talk like that.”

“Forgot how soft you are.”

“Shut up, Al.”

“Am I wrong, though?” Al said, scoffing. “He’s a pansy.”

“Shut up,” Wayne said again. “Doubt he even knows what faggot means.”

“I’m sure he knows deep down—”

”Allen.”

Al scoffed again. Lifted his hands in surrender.

Wayne’s always hated hearing him talk like that. Al used to accuse him of being one himself, insisted that’s why he’s so sensitive about it. Wayne always just told him to shut up.

Eddie was just a kid. His parents didn’t treat him like one.

“Hey, Uncle Wayne?” he asked a while later, looking over the table at Wayne, who looked up at him, raising an eyebrow and humming. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Mm, ‘course.” His voice was muffled around the pencil between his lips, and he lay the newspaper down to focus on Eddie. ”Go ‘head.”

“…What’s a faggot?”

Wayne blinks at him.

“Why do you ask that?”

Eddie pushed his hair back. It looked like Judith’s, dark and curly and beautiful. It was overgrown, too long for a boy. Not that Eddie ever cared.

“I heard Dad call me that,” he said quietly, like Al was going to be on the other side of the door across the trailer, listening. “Heard you say I didn’t know what it meant. What’s it mean?”

Wayne looked at him. Twisted the pencil in his fingers.

“I know he doesn’t like me,” Eddie said softly, his fingers tangling. His pencil had been set aside, next to the scraps of old homework he was drawing on the backs of. “I know it’s a mean word, I just… The boys at school call me it, too. Do you think they know what it means?”

Wayne stifled a sigh, looking at him. His cheek was healing, the bruise colorful and softer now than it was the previous week, and he was precious.

“Some of them, maybe,” Wayne said gently. “Bet a lot’ve ‘em don’t.”

“Why do they say it, then?” Eddie asked, tucking his legs between himself and the table, frowning.

“They know it’s mean,” Wayne said. “Don’t worry ‘bout it, Eds, okay?”

“I don’t use words if I don’t know what they mean.”

“You’re smarter than the rest of ‘em,” Wayne said, looking at him across the table seriously, and Eddie gave him a beautiful smile, bright and warm. “Now, fifteen across, hm? ‘Eye for an eye, for instance.’ Fuck’s that mean?”

”Revenge?” Eddie said after a brief moment of contemplation, and Wayne took a moment to count the boxes.

“Goddamn, I don’t know where you get your brains, kid.”

Eddie beamed.

Al and Judith got worse. They lost weight. Their skin dragged, marked with scratches and scabs, their teeth became grey and yellow, and their eyes dulled. They got meaner.

Wayne tried to keep everything as normal as he could for Eddie, but he knew over the years that he couldn’t protect him from everything. He would come home before Eddie got out of school to clean up after Al and Judith, to gather discarded needles and bottles and lighters, to open windows and get fresh air in. To tug their unconscious bodies to the bedroom from the living room. To clean up any bodily fluids or stains.

It was a Wednesday when it went differently. Wayne had long dreaded the day that his routine changed, scared to come home to unresponsive bodies, but it was different than he’d expected.

Al’s car was out front, the trunk open, and as Wayne passed by, he could see boxes in the backseat. Judith was in the passenger seat, asleep or unconscious, her hair covering her face, and Wayne lingered for a moment just to look at her. She looked younger when she slept.

The door was hanging open. Wayne went inside hesitantly, pulling his bag off, looking inside. Al was at the kitchen counter, stuffing cans into a duffle bag.

“Al?”

“Mm.”

“What’s going on?”

“We’re headed out.”

Headed out, he said. Like they were going to get groceries or gas, like they were going for a walk or to see some friends. Like they would be back, like they weren’t leaving.

“Headed out,” Wayne repeated, dropping his bag and setting it aside. Al hummed affirmatively.

Wayne trained himself out of high hopes a long time ago, but he couldn’t help the small glimmer that formed in his chest.

“Headed out to… to rehab, or…?”

Al scoffed. Shot a look up at Wayne and kept packing.

“Al,” Wayne said. “Where are you going?”

“I don’t know,” Al said with a sigh. “We’re just going.”

Wayne looked at him.

He looked so light, he sounded light. He sounded almost fucking hopeful, like he was going on some grand adventure, he sounded like he did when they were kids, when he whispered to Wayne, I swear to the good lord.

Wayne didn’t recognize him anymore. He looked somehow older than Wayne did, his hair a mess, his skin rough and scratched away, his bones brittle. He’d wasted away his life like this, years and years tossed aside just for fix after fix after fix. And Wayne’s eyes burned. Because his little brother was a mess. Because he couldn’t do anything about it.

“You’re leaving,” Wayne said. “Like Dad did, you’re just— you’re just going?”

“Yeah,” Al said lightly, nodding, like it was fine. “I’m leaving.”

“What…”

Al glanced at him. Zipped up his bag. Started toward the door. He was already wearing his shoes. He wasn’t wearing a jacket even though it was cold out.

“Wait, st— stop,” Wayne said, stepping in front of him, stopping him. “Christ, Al, just…”

He rubbed his face in exasperation, and Al sighed heavily, like Wayne was wasting his time.

“Wayne, just get outta the way.”

”No, you— What? Christ, Al, you’re just fuckin’ going? Just like that?”

“Just like that,” Al said. “I’m done here, Wayne, I hate this town.”

“You hate this town,” Wayne said. “The town I fuckin’ brought you to because you begged me to get you outta Tennessee? The town I fuckin’ paid for you to come to when we were kids, you fucking hate this town?”

“I was sixteen,” Al said firmly. “I didn’t wanna come to fuckin’ Indiana, Wayne, I wanted to get away from the woman that beat me with an empty beer bottle every night—”

”I got you away from her,” Wayne yelled. Al startled back.

Wayne’s never been loud like this. Never yelled or screamed, never fought back so hard. But he was willing to fight now, willing to find what little energy he had to fight for Al and Judy.

“I brought you here,” Wayne said. “I saved my fucking money for two fucking years to bring you with me, Al, and you just wanna fucking go?”

“Jesus, Wayne, yes.” Al was red-faced. “I just wanna fucking go. Christ.”

“How can you do this to me?”

“I don’t fucking care, Wayne.”

Wayne looked at him. His throat was tight.

“Fuck’s that mean?”

“Christ.” Al dropped his bag and looked at Wayne intently, grabbing him by the shoulders. “I don’t why I gotta tell you this, but apparently I do. Wayne.”

“Al,” Wayne said pleadingly. Al ignored him.

“I don’t care if I hurt you, Wayne. I don’t care if I break your damn heart, because I’m not a good fucking person.”

”Al.”

“I’m not gonna fucking change,” Al snapped, letting go of him, his voice raising abruptly, and for a brief moment he looked like John. “I didn’t change for Judith, and I didn’t change for my own fuckin’ son, Wayne, what the fuck makes you think I’d change for you?”

He shoved Wayne back by his shoulders, and Wayne stumbled, looking at him desperately. And Al’s anger faded just as quickly as it had come, and Wayne realized with a pit in his stomach that he was high.

“I’m a damn Munson, Wayne,” Al said.

He said it almost sadly, an unchangeable fact. His eyes, usually dull and lifeless, were shining now like he was going to cry, like he was feeling this, whatever this was.

“So am I,” Wayne said quietly.

Al smiled a little, tilting his head almost fondly.

“You’ve always been different from the rest of us,” he said. “Don’t think you were meant to be a Munson, Wayne.”

He let go of Wayne and bent down to pick up his bag again, swinging it over his shoulder. He moved to walk past Wayne, opening the door.

“Leave Judy,” Wayne said desperately, turning to look at him, his voice breaking. “Al, just… If you have to go, leave her here, please, she… she’s still got time.”

“No, she doesn’t,” Al said quietly, looking back at Wayne, his hand lingering on the doorknob, one foot outside. “She’s worse than you think, Wayne.”

”Let her get better, then,” Wayne said desperately. “There’s— There’s a good rehab clinic in Indy, I’ve got pamphlets somewhere in here, just stay another night, Al—”

”No,” Al said softly, shaking his head. “‘M not leaving her behind, Wayne.”

Wayne’s lip quivered. That hadn’t happened in a long time.

“You just don’t wanna die alone.”

Al shrugged.

“Maybe.”

“Al, if you walk out that door, I swear I’ll never forgive you.”

Al looked at him.

His gaze was dull again. Vacant. Empty and soulless.

“I know,” he said. “I don’t care.”

Wayne’s vision blurred. The feeling was unfamiliar after so long, after decades of dry eyes.

”You’re leavin’ a boy without a father,” Wayne said as Al headed back out the door, his voice trembling just as much as his hands, his throat so tight it broke his voice.

Al looked at the sky, exasperated, sighing heavily. He stood there for a moment, unmoving, eerily still before he turned around and looked at Wayne.

And he didn’t look like Al anymore. Didn’t look like Wayne’s little brother, the kid that used to call him a sissy and tug on his hair to piss him off. Didn’t look like anyone Wayne knew.

Wayne broke apart. He’d only gone two years without Al in his life, and he didn’t even remember those years. He’d never known life before Al, only known life during him. And Al was looking him in the eye like this, unwavering and uncaring, empty, forcing into his hands a life after Al. And he hated him. Jesus Christ, he hated him, and he hated him more for leaving like this, like their father had, but he loved him too.

“No, I’m not,” Al said softly.

And then he was gone.

The door swung shut behind him, and Wayne couldn’t move. He stared at the door, at the cloudy windows, at the sunlight. It was so quiet.

He exhaled as he turned, looking around the living room. There were needles and rubber bands on the ground next to the sofa, empty glass bottles and discarded cups, scattered leftover traces of Al and Judy.

Wayne’s chest went tight. He closed his eyes, squeezed them shut as tightly as he could, until colors flashed behind his eyelids, and he felt lightheaded. Sick. Shaking, and trembling, and lost. Up was down and down was up and there was a compass spinning aimlessly in his chest. He fell.

He covered his ears with his hands. Pressed his palms into his eyes until it hurt. Lowered his head until his forehead pressed to the floor and listened to himself breathe.

He thought it might have been a heart attack. Thought Eddie would come home to find his parents gone and his uncle lifeless on the ground. He laid flat on his back, looking up at the ceiling, a hand on his chest.

And he cried.

He cried until his face was sore, until he ran out of tears, until his head aches, throbbed under his skull. Until his throat hurt. And he pushed himself up, forced himself into the bathroom to wash his face, into the kitchen to down four glasses of water, and into the living room to clean up.

Just for a little bit, he pretended. Pretended Al and Judy were in the bedroom as he tidied up, gathering the needles into the sharps bin he kept in the kitchen, went outside to toss the bottles in the recycling bin. Threw the rubber bands away. Vacuumed. Sorted the blankets on the sofa.

He was in the kitchen when Eddie came home from school. He could see outside the window, and he watched as Eddie waved to his friend’s dad in the car. Wayne could never remember Eddie’s friend’s names. This one was Jerry or Jeff or Jack or something.

“Hey, Wayne,” Eddie said lightly when he came inside, kicking his shoes off and nudging them out of the way. Wayne looked at him over the counter.

He was thirteen. Lean and lanky and cartoonish. He was growing his hair out after Al shaved his head a few years ago, angry that his boy had hair like a girl’s, and it was wild, falling in his face no matter how much he pushed it back. He’d taken to using bandanas to keep it out of the way.

”How was school?” Wayne asked, his voice rough, his hands shaking as he set a plate in the drying rack.

“Eh.”

Eddie walked past him, down the hall to his parents’ room. He always had a sort of bounce in his step, like he had too much energy to just walk.

And Wayne kept washing the dishes. Heard the bedroom door open and shut. Heard the blank silence of Eddie taking in the empty bed. Heard him come back.

”Wayne?”

”Yeah, Ed.”

“Where are my parents?”

”…They left.”

He set another plate aside.

“Left… to Indy?”

Wayne turned to look at him, and he immediately wished he hadn’t. Because Eddie’s eyes were shining hopefully, almost excitedly, and he looked like Judy.

“I— I saw the pamphlets,” Eddie said quickly. “That you had, the ones for that one clinic in Indy— Did they…”

”No,” Wayne said softly, looking back at the sink, scrubbing a cup clean. “They’re not goin’ to Indy.”

“Oh.”

Eddie was quiet. Wayne rinsed the cup and set it aside. Rinsed the sponge of soap and squeezed all the water out of it. Rinsed his hands.

He looked at Eddie as he shut the water off, and then he wished he hadn’t again. He was looking at the ground, his eyes downcast, his eyebrows furrowed a little like he was thinking, like he was worried about something. He had his hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie. The hoodie was too big for him, bought with his growth spurts in mind.

And he looked up at Wayne. Blinked. His expression softened like there was a switch in one of his pockets.

“What’s for dinner?”

Wayne set the towel down.

“There’s a pizza in the freezer.”

Eddie smiled.

“Cool.”

They didn’t talk about it. Didn’t mention Allen or Judith, the missing car, the missing clothes and food. Judy took her favorite blanket with her, and Wayne pretended he didn’t miss it.

After time, they felt like a myth. Allen and Judith Munson. (Even if Judith never actually took their last name legally; she might as well have been a Munson. Fucked for life.) They felt like ghosts, haunting the trailer, lingering in every doorway like they were watching, waiting for Wayne and Eddie to just acknowledge them, to look into the air and say hello. They never did.

Life went on. Wayne still led a quiet life. Didn’t tell his coworkers that they’d left, but they all knew anyway. It was a small town, and Al was notorious. His absence was loud.

Eddie got older. Got his first tattoo, a stupid spider on his chest that he was so excited about that Wayne couldn’t even be annoyed or disappointed. Eddie’s smile lit up his entire face, lit up the entire room.

His hair got longer. Wayne’s got scarce.

A kid in town disappeared and was found dead, and then he came back. Wayne didn’t get involved except to partake in the search before the body was found. Another kid went missing, some teenager named Barbara Holland. Her name and face were on the news, a lovely photo of her smiling softly, gazing at something behind the camera. She wore big glasses and her face was freckled, and Wayne’s chest ached for her parents.

“We just want our girl home,” Mr Holland said, his voice shaking, his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “Just— Just please, if you know something, if you’ve seen something, please tell us. Please.”

Mrs Holland was crying. Sobbing. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Wayne could tell she was an otherwise very composed woman, her shirt crisp and ironed, buttoned up neatly. She was wearing expensive-looking slacks and shoes, and her wedding ring sparkled. But none of it mattered to her then. She was crying incoherently, holding her husband’s shirt in his fists.

“You think this town is cursed?” Eddie asks. He was older than Barbara, but Wayne ached just the same at the thought of Eddie vanishing like that, disappearing completely.

“What makes you say that?” Wayne said. It was a stupid question. Eddie hummed indifferently like he was shrugging.

“Heard some people sayin’ it. All that shit with the kid that died and came back. Barb. This town’s just…”

He trailed off. Wayne watched as the Hollands clutched at each other as the reporter spoke of Barbara’s last known whereabouts, some rich kid’s house at a little party. Something her parents wouldn’t have known if she hadn’t gone missing.

“I don’t believe in that shit,” Wayne said quietly. “I think people are cruel. And selfish. And cruelty and selfishness are contagious.”

“Barbara is in her junior year of high school here at Hawkins High,” the reporter said, perfectly poised. “She hopes to graduate as valedictorian or salutatorian alongside her best friend. If you have any information to report, please—”

”Don’t ever let them infect you, Eds,” Wayne said quietly. Eddie had scoffed, but he was nodding when Wayne looked at him. “Think that’s funny?”

“Mm. Usually I’m the one people think is contagious.”

Wayne looked back at the television.

“If kindness is contagious, I haven’t seen any evidence yet.”

Eddie scoffed again. The reporter kept talking, rattling off phone numbers to call.

“Would you look for me if I went missing?” Eddie asked.

Wayne’s stomach twisted, and he looked at him again, turning to look at the side of his face. He had freckles on his nose like Judith did. His hair was finally growing out to the length he liked it, and he’d cut himself some bangs that looked unexpectedly good.

“I’d walk through Hell to find you if you went missing, Eds,” Wayne said seriously. Eddie looked at him, blinking like he was surprised. “I’d turn the damn world upside down, you understand me?”

Eddie blinked again. His lips twitched into a little smile, and he nodded.

“‘S nice,” he said quietly, looking back at the television. The camera was back on the Hollands, clinging to each other, and the microphone was close enough to them that Wayne could hear Mrs Holland crying under her breath, her voice muffled by her husband’s shoulder.

My baby, my baby, my baby…

“C’mere,” Wayne said gruffly, his throat tight, and he reached for Eddie.

Who usually would make a sarcastic comment that Wayne was too sentimental, too mushy for an old man like him. But he just fell into Wayne’s arms like he was ready for it, hiding his head in Wayne’s chest like he was littler than he was, and Wayne held him until the news ended.

Barbara was dead. If Wayne was a religious man, he’d have prayed for her parents.

Wayne never believed in things like curses, despite the consistent destruction that’s perpetually in the path of the Munsons, but he gradually understood why people believed the curse about Hawkins. Nothing ever went right in this town. Even the new mall, the brand-new symbol of progress and thriving capitalism, was a pile of ash and rubble within two years of its opening.

He stayed out of it. Minded his own, kept out of trouble. Eddie didn’t have the same survival instincts.

He was a stupid kid. Taunted the others in town by making devil horns and cackling like a witch, drawing as much attention to himself as he could to draw it away from the other kids in town that the bullies targeted. He was quiet as a child, but when he started high school, he seemed to realize that he could scare the other kids off.

Wayne knew what kind of person he was. He knew he was sweet and silly and kind, knew he was a darling that didn’t deserve the shit he got.

Nobody else knew him like that.

He was a weirdo, a freak, and he embraced it in a way that Wayne fucking admired. He was so bold, so brave and unapologetic, making the most of what little he had, what little he was given. He wasn’t scared to exist out loud.

It broke Wayne’s heart that everybody had these stupid misconceptions about Eddie. He hated that everyone thought he was scary, even if it kept him a little safer.

People acted like Eddie was dangerous, like he was a ruthless predator, but Eddie was soft. He was sick the first time Al brought home a dead deer, trembling and frozen as he watched its head loll around lifelessly. He trapped spiders and beetles under cups and let them outside, watching them skitter away from him with a smile. He cried when he saw roadkill.

Which Wayne thought to himself as he stood in his living room, his eyes on the body in front of him.

The ground was stained with blood. The poor girl, she was a cheerleader. Wayne recognized her little pleated skirt and her sweater, and her hair was up in a ponytail, and she looked so damn young. Her eyes were open, but they were white, like they’d rolled back into her head, and there were streams of blood down her cheeks. Her jaw was wrenched open, broken and crooked, and her bones were broken like twigs, her limbs split in these awful, unnatural angles.

It was silent. The overhead light flickered. Wayne exhaled shakily.

Eddie didn’t have the guts to do something like this.

But someone did. And they took Eddie with them, whoever it was, they had Eddie. They had Wayne’s boy.

His hands shook as he picked up the phone and dialled 911, and his voice shook as he spoke to them, and then he waited outside with a cigarette, looking at the orange sky, at the rising sun, and he wondered where God was. If He was watching Wayne back.

He was questioned. Of course he was. He’d never caused any trouble around town, but he was a Munson. Al’s reputation lingered even after he was gone.

The interrogation room was cold. His chair was stiff, and the table was wobbly, and the air was foggy with his cigarette smoke.

“I don’t know where he is,” he said for the fifth time, his voice still shaky, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. “He wasn’t there when I got home, his van was gone.”

“Right,” the cop said dryly, eyeing his notes. “…So you got back after work, and…”

Wayne took a long drag from his cigarette.

“Opened the door,” he said, eyes downcast, resting his forehead on his hands. “Smelled the blood.”

“Right.”

“Called Eddie’s name. Turned on the light.”

“Right.”

“Saw the girl.” Wayne’s throat tightened. “Called for help.”

”And you didn’t do anything between finding the body and calling?”

“No,” Wayne said quietly. “Took me a minute to… to process it, but…”

The cop hums and looks back at his notes.

“He’s in trouble,” Wayne said after a moment, leaning to look the cop in the eye. “Something’s wrong.”

“Yeah, no shit.” The cop sighed heavily, and he set his elbows on the table between them, looking at Wayne. “Look. We both know your nephew is capable of something like this—”

”He’s not,” Wayne interrupted. “He’s not capable of something like this, he’s just a kid—”

”He’s a grown man,” the cop said dryly, like he was bored. “I’ve seen him. He’s strong, isn’t he?”

”He…” Wayne squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his cheek. Ash fell from his cigarette to the table, dusting warm over his hand. He wanted to argue, but he couldn’t. Eddie was strong. Always lugging around speakers and amplifiers, lifting the sofa so Wayne can vacuum under it, hugging Wayne around his waist and picking him up to set him out of the way.

“He’s squeamish,” Wayne said finally. The cop raised an eyebrow. “I had an accident at the plant and got some stitches, and he damn near threw up when he saw it.”

“When was this?”

“Last year.”

“Mm.”

The cop sighed, looking at his notes, and he made a face, tilting his head, before he looked back at Wayne, lacing his fingers in front of himself. Wayne lifted his cigarette to his lips.

“Y’know Bundy had a girlfriend,” he said quietly. Wayne blinked, exhaling the smoke shakily, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Fuck’s that gotta do with this?”

The cop sighed, tilting his head at Wayne like he was annoyed that he had to spell his point out, like Wayne was stupid.

“People like your nephew,” he said softly, almost kindly, like he felt bad for Wayne. “They’re good at hiding what kind of people they are. And people can love them, and care for them, and you think you know him so well, Mr Munson, but you don’t.”

Wayne shook his head, his eyes burning, but the cop kept talking.

“He’s been lying to you, Munson.”

“He can’t fuckin’ lie for the life of him.”

”You think that.”

Wayne shook his head again, and he put his face in his hands.

”He might be hurt,” he said quietly, almost muttering to himself. “He’s fuckin’ scared.”

“Mr Munson.”

“Y’all are sittin’ here, letting the town go on a goddamn witch hunt for my boy,” Wayne said, looking up at him. “Because he’s fuckin’ weird, right? Because he’s got long hair and tattoos, he’s gotta be able to kill that poor girl, right?”

“Mr Munson. You know the things your nephew’s done.”

Wayne shook his head. His vision was blurry, and he fought his tears back, his hands shaking so much more ash fell to the table.

“He’s not like his old man,” he said weakly. The cop just looked at him.

“Being like his mother isn’t much better.”

“You never knew her,” Wayne said defensively before he caught himself, shaking his head, pressing against his eyes again. “Eddie’s not like her either, man, he— he’s his own person, he’s a sweetheart, I swear.”

“You keep telling yourself that.”

“Jesus, fuck,” Wayne said, his voice finally rising with frustration, with rage. His hand slammed on the table, and the cop just watched, uncaring. “Where’s my fucking son?”

“Mr Munson,” the cop said slowly, carefully, looking into Wayne’s eyes. “I assure you, we’re doing everything we can to find your nephew. Can’t let this happen to anyone else.”

He gestures to the photo on the table between them, the staticky photo of the poor girl’s body, crumpled like a discarded tissue in front of the old pull-out sofa in the living room. Wayne felt sick.

There was something wrong with Hawkins. There always has been.

Wayne didn’t understand any of it, didn’t have any clue how so much fucking bullshit could collect in such a small area, but he couldn’t do anything but wait. There were men that stood at his door at the new house, which was out in the middle of fucking nowhere, just outside Hawkins, but they didn’t speak. Wouldn’t tell Wayne what was happening, wouldn’t tell him why they were there, what they were guarding. They wouldn’t tell him what the scientists were looking for in the trailer with their fancy machines and hazmat suits. They wouldn’t tell him where Eddie was.

One always accompanied him when he went out for anything, following a few feet behind him as he got groceries, and Wayne didn’t fucking understand why. It felt like he was being monitored, like he’d done something wrong.

But the man never intervened with anything. Just watched.

The press talked to Wayne. Recognized him as a Munson and stopped him in the street as he tried to get back to his car.

But they didn’t ask him questions like they asked the Hollands questions when their girl went missing. They didn’t ask him for a statement of some kind, didn’t ask how he was feeling about his nephew having vanished. They didn’t give him an opportunity to look at the camera and beg Eddie to come home.

“Why did Edward do it?”

“Have you seen your nephew recently? Has he contacted you?”

“Where is he, Munson?”

Wayne’s hands shook. This was gonna send him into an early grave, he just knew it. A heart attack, a stroke. Something. And Eddie was gonna home to find that his absence fucking killed Wayne.

Wayne grit his teeth and clenched his jaw and he didn’t say anything.

The house he was in was decrepit. It was bigger than any place Wayne had ever stayed before, two floors, but the stairs were broken, falling apart. Wayne could swear they were trying to kill him.

He was pretty sure it was just an abandoned house. Out in the outskirts of town, broken windows and overgrown weeds crawling their way through the cracks in the porch. A house of wood rot and water stains.

They wouldn’t let him leave.

He tried. Packed a bag with a flashlight and a jacket and his old pocketknife, ready to go find his boy and bring him home, and they stopped him. A hand to his chest, pushing him back inside gently like they felt badly.

He fought. He pushed past them, shoved them aside. He argued and cursed and struggled, but he was an old man. Worry had aged him. They pushed him back inside easily and locked the door shut and they ignored him banging on it, trying to push it open. They ignored him crying.

He hated the house. Hated the stupid door with the lock on the outside, hated the cracked windows that wouldn’t budge even when he pushed and pulled at them with his entire body weight. He hated the cabinets that hung on their hinges and the few cans of food he’d been allowed to bring with him. Hated the empty bedroom across from his, the broken bedframe and the uneven floorboards. Hated the dim, flickering lights and the dark corners in every room.

Hated that the house was in the middle of nowhere, and no one could hear him yelling for Eddie. And he hated that it didn’t matter even if someone did hear him.

It wasn’t until after the earthquakes that they left him alone. That they decided it didn’t matter if Wayne went out and looked, if he searched until he dropped dead.

The earthquakes ripped Hawkins apart at the seams, destroyed the trailer park and turned the library in town to rubble. Wayne sat in his car outside what used to be his home, what was his home for over two fucking decades, and he looked at the ground, torn open almost unnaturally, and he’d never known a despair like this.

His entire life had been ripped up from the roots, turned inside out and upside down. Everything he’d ever had was gone except a few shirts and Eddie’s guitar. He’d taken it when the scientists and military fucks had kicked him out of his own home, kept it in the living room propped against the wall.

He’d never been a fighter. But somehow he was still tired of fighting, tired of running and surviving. He wanted to be done.

He was an old man.

And Eddie was gone. All Wayne needed, all he wanted, all that he had to fight for.

Wayne kept replacing the missing posters, his heart splitting a little more each time he saw the horrible graffiti. Pentagrams and devil horns and pitchforks. Speech bubbles with awful words in them, ugly words with arrows pointing to Eddie’s head.

The school gymnasium felt like an oddly safe place after it all. Everyone there was tired, exhausted, desperate for any kind of solace and quiet that could come with donated blankets and drip coffee in paper cups. None of them really paid Wayne any mind, even if a few of their gazes lingered on him.

None of them spoke to him except the Henderson kid.

He was a good kid. He watched Wayne cry, and he didn’t say anything about it.

Eddie’s guitar pick hung from Wayne’s neck as he took down the missing poster, pulling the thumbtacks from the paper slowly, careful not to rip it even though it didn't matter. Nobody was going to spot Eddie in town and recognize him by his hair or the Dio patch on his vest. (God, he was so excited about that patch. Sewed it into place himself.)

Wayne never washed the blood from the chain. He couldn’t bring himself to hold it under water, to watch it stain the water pink and fade. He kept it, wore it around his neck and took it off to shower to keep the blood, to keep what little he still had of Eddie.

He sat in the living room. Looked at Eddie’s guitar and held the pick and didn’t eat the food he’d prepared because he felt sick, like there was some hollow void in his gut. And he decided that he did believe in curses after all.

Because Eddie Munson got what was coming to him. His punishment just for being. He existed, and he paid for it with everything he ever had.

Wayne forgot what sunlight felt like. He stopped going to the plant, stopped answering the phone, and he wondered if he was dead too. There weren’t any men outside his door, and his coworkers never came by because Wayne never wanted to be friends with them, and nobody knew Wayne lived outside town. He had a phone, but it never rang. He laid in bed and looked at the ceiling and smoked cigarettes and drank beer, and he knew he was destroying himself, but he had nothing to stick around for.

The house was abandoned, and so was he, and nobody would find him for a good long time. The house would become nothing but its bare bones, and he would be the same, buried under the rotting frames and overgrown weeds, and it would be fine.

He wondered where Al and Judy were. If either of them were still around. If they’d seen Eddie’s face on the news and recognized him as their son. If they’d seen his face and not recognized him, if they’d just seen him as some delinquent, too far down the pit of Satanism and revenge.

He wondered if Heaven and Hell were real. Where Al and Judy were, if they’d been separated, or if Al fucked Judy up so bad they managed to stick together. If Eddie’s reunited with them or if God kept them apart for whatever twisted reason He could come up with.

It was unfair that he was the only one that lasted. That he was the only surviving Munson.

He didn’t know what day it was when there was a knock on the front door. Three gentle thuds in succession, unfamiliar after so long. Wayne thought it was November, maybe. Cold and dark and lonelier without Eddie there singing carols as obnoxiously as humanly possible.

He went downstairs, walking unsteadily, holding the crooked handrail tightly as the steps creaked. His shirt hung from his body, too big for him now.

He could hear voices outside. Quiet voices. Low and soft, almost gentle, and he usually would look through a window before opening the door, but he didn’t really care anymore. He opened the door.

The Henderson kid looked older. It had only been a few months, but he was taller now, his hair curly and reaching his shoulders. He held himself differently, shoulders squared almost defiantly.

But he was crying.

There were men behind him, a few in uniforms and one in a professional-looking jacket. His expression was light like he was forcing it to be, like he was trying to be kind to Wayne.

“What’s this?” Wayne said. He hadn’t spoken in months, and his voice was rough and scratchy in his throat. It hurt.

And the kid threw himself into Wayne’s arms, hugging him so tightly it hurt a little, but Wayne found that he didn’t mind. He hadn’t been hugged in months.

“We found him,” Dustin sobbed. “We found him, and he’s alive, Wayne, he’s…”

Wayne grabbed him by the shoulders. Looked at his face, at his glistening eyes, shining with desperation and something unreadable.

“You found him,” Wayne repeated vacantly, his voice hollow.

“He’s alive,” Dustin said again.

He’s alive.

The words sounded foreign to Wayne’s ears, like gibberish. And Dustin waited for him. Looked at him, watched him process it.

“Alive,” Wayne said. ”You said he…”

“I know,” Dustin choked, squeezing more tears out of his eyes. “I know.”

“We have some things to discuss,” the man behind Dustin said, his voice light and friendly, and Wayne looked up at him, blinking blankly. “May we come in?”

“Uhm.”

Wayne’s throat was tight, choked up by the idea of Eddie being alive. His heart beating, wherever he was.

Found him.

Wayne didn’t even know what that could have fucking meant. Found. In the ground, under a house, in someone’s fucking basement. In the cracks that formed in Hawkins, somewhere in one of the trenches around Forest Hills, tucked into himself and shaking, scared. And for some reason Wayne’s mind merged Eddie with Judith. He saw Eddie in a void, lost in the woods, wandering aimlessly, looking for the sky between bare tree branches, and his eyes were empty. Hollow and vacant. They shared a face, Eddie and Judith. The same doe eyes, the same lines around their smiles, even though Judith never got to see it.

In Wayne’s mind, Eddie fell to the ground. His bones were broken, his jaw wrenched open like that poor girl’s, and he was crying blood. And it was more sad than it was scary as Wayne watched, like coming home to find an elderly dog had passed while he’d been away. Like watching a car crash in slow motion, like watching his brother walk out the front door.

And he wondered for the first time in his life if that was what it was like to be not just a Munson, but to be human.

Jesus, he’d given his whole life for this. And maybe that’s what everyone in this fucking town had been doing, too. Not fighting, or surviving, or running, but just existing. Going through the motions. Having families and paying bills and celebrating birthdays, living solely for hope and faith and unavoidable fate.

“Mr Munson?”

Wayne blinked. Looked up at the man again. His hair was grey and white, and his eyes were a bluish green. Dustin was holding Wayne now, not embracing him, but holding him up, supporting his body, because Wayne wasn’t standing.

“He’s alive,” he repeated absently, his voice distant to his own ears.

”May we come inside?” the man said again. Wayne blinked.

“Yes,” he said roughly, forcing the word out, and he shifted his weight to stand, reaching to hold the door frame as Dustin set a hand on his chest carefully, watching him move like he was worried, and Wayne was reminded that he was old. “It’s— It’s a mess in here, I’ve been…”

“Grieving,” the man finished for him, and Wayne looked at him. He was nodding like he understood it. “It’s alright.”

Grief had never occurred to Wayne.

Men like him didn’t deserve grief. He didn’t even know the word until he was older, and he knew less what it meant. But it made sense when the word found his ears as he lingered in the doorway of the shitty dilapidated house that he had grown to accept. He only ever found it within himself to fight back when Eddie was gone. He only yelled when it mattered to Eddie, only cried when he anticipated the breakage of Eddie’s heart. He’d never had the energy to fight until he was this disaster of a human, and that fight in him was rage, and that rage was grief.

Wayne went inside.

The man, Dr Owens, was nice. He was patient with Wayne, who was slow to understand anything at all now. He had another man go out and bring food when he realized how empty the kitchen was, and he brought Wayne a glass of water to sip slowly. Dustin sat on the floor. He was still using the cane he’d had the last time Wayne saw him, and there was a black bandana tied around the handle of it that looked familiar.

It was a crock of shit.

Magic and monsters and all the nonsense that Eddie loved to talk about. Owens explained it all in scientific terms, fancy words and drawn out explanations of how it all worked, and Wayne was tired. He listened, nodding, eyes watching Owens’s mouth because his hearing had started to go, and Owens noticed. He spoke slowly. Carefully.

They were there for hours. Sitting in the living room and talking about everything that proved to Wayne that the sky was empty.

Eddie was at a hospital. Unconscious and unmoving, but breathing.

He wasn’t at Hawkins Memorial. That was too well-known, too busy. The hospital he was at was outside town, was more of a lab, and Wayne was confused by it the first time he stopped by, just a few days after learning of its existence. The building was a damn maze, built like it was created to confuse old men like Wayne. The receptionist eyed him when he stepped inside, pulling off his hat as the rush of heat washed over him, a welcome change from his house.

“Can I help you?” she asked lightly, looking up at him, a phone held between her cheek and shoulder, her glasses tilted.

“Uhm, I’m… I’m looking for Eddie. Munson,” he added, but it didn’t seem like he had to. She nodded knowingly, glancing him up and down again like the trailer park was written on him, and she flipped through the clipboard in front of him.

“You’re Wayne, I presume?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She hummed a soft laugh at that, like his manners were silly, and she rummaged through a little plastic bin next to her before she pulled out a visitor pass and handed it to him.

His name was printed on it, typed out neatly next to the words Name of Visitor, and above his name, Eddie’s. Not just Eddie, but the whole thing.

Name of Patient: Edward Samuel Munson

Wayne hadn’t seen his whole name in a long time. He’d always been the baby, then Eddie.

“He’s in room two-oh-seven,” the receptionist said lightly, and he looked up at her again. “That’s on the second floor, the elevator’s right down this way.”

She gestured down the hall next to them, and he nodded.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

She gave him the same soft hum, and he went. Clipped the badge on the front of his flannel and felt it flop with every step he took. The elevator was too bright, and Wayne squinted. He was still waiting to outgrow that.

He’d never liked hospitals. Not that he’d spent much time in them anyway. He could never afford to go with Al. His work paid for his stitches after the accident last year.

He knew the practicality behind the overhead lights, but that didn’t make him like it. They buzzed loudly, ringing in his head, and the floors were so smooth and shiny that they just reflected the lights brightly, and he squinted as he wandered down a hallway. His shoes clicked on the floor, the sound almost echoing around him, and nobody paid any attention to him.

Room 207 was toward the end of the hallway. The door was shut, and a piece of paper was blocking the window, and it was just a door, but it looked oddly menacing. Wayne stood outside it for a moment, looking at the numbers like he was making sure it was the right room.

And he opened the door.

There was a quiet beeping, steady and rhythmic, and the room smelled faintly of rubbing alcohol. Eddie was laying on his back, his body covered with white blankets, his arms at his sides, and he was quiet.

Wayne had expected that, of course. He knew he was in a coma. But it still hit him like a fucking slap across the face. Eddie wasn’t a quiet person. Not anymore. He even snored when he slept. Rolled back and forth and twisted his blankets around his limbs restlessly.

But he was silent here. Still.

His hair was gone. His head was shaved to the skin, and Wayne had forgotten that Eddie had a widow’s peak. The absence of his hair made his face bolder, his features sharper. His eyebrows looked thicker, his eyelashes darker, and though they’d shaved his head, he had stubble on his jaw and above his lip, and he looked old.

There were scars on his face. Shades of red and pink and purple like they were still raw even though the skin wasn’t swollen or bruised.

Wayne collapsed into the chair next to the bed, rubbing his face, covering his mouth. Eddie was wearing a hospital gown. It had short sleeves, and Wayne could see his arms. Could see the flesh that had been torn away and replaced, stapled and stitched into place, could see his tattoos and their missing ink. He’d been ravaged. Eaten alive.

It was going to make him sick. Wayne knew it. Eddie had a weak stomach.

Wayne moved the chair forward until his knees were pressed to the side of the bed, and he leaned forward. Reached for Eddie’s hand. His skin was cold. He still had his calluses.

Wayne was careful to not touch the IV on the back of his hand as he cradled it to himself, lifting it to press kisses to Eddie’s knuckles. He lifted his other hand to caress Eddie’s head, leaning forward to press kisses to his forehead. He lowered his head to Eddie’s stomach, and he cried.

He went to the hospital every day. The receptionist always saw him coming and set his visitor badge on the counter for him, and he always called her ma’am.

It was never easy to see him. To sit at his bedside in silence, holding his hand and watching as the doctors ran tests, taking Eddie’s blood and forcing his eyes open. But everything was normal.

As normal as anything could be.

Wayne found an odd comfort in the hospital. It was warm.

He mentioned this to Owens one day in passing, that the hospital was warmer than his house. That he liked the tea in the waiting room. And Owens’s face shifted into some expression that Wayne couldn’t quite read, something sort of sad.

The radiator in the living room was fixed when he got home the next day. And the kitchen was filled with groceries. Not just canned beans and corn, not just bread and peanut butter, but produce. Leafy vegetables and colorful fruits and meat in the freezer. Eggs and milk and oats.

Owens told him not to worry about it when he asked about it. Wayne still liked the tea in the waiting room of the hospital.

He took to reading to Eddie with some distant sort of hope that he might be able to hear him. Wayne read slower than Eddie did, but he hoped Eddie wouldn’t mind the way he passed between paragraphs to sip his tea and gaze at Eddie’s sleeping face.

The waiting room was always quiet, less busy than the hospital in town, but a few people stopped by. Wayne saw Dustin a few times with a red-haired girl, leading her slowly as she used a cane to feel the ground around her. Wayne recognized her from Forest Hills. Hair like that, of course he’d remember.

Most of the people in the waiting room wore white jackets like doctors or scientists. Wayne could never tell who was who, but he didn’t really care enough to ask. He was there for Eddie.

The tea was chamomile. He had at least two cups of it every time he went, and for the most part, nobody bothered him.

It was dark out when the woman approached him, smiling kindly and watching as he poured the water into his mug.

“Hello.”

He looked at her. She was wearing a long skirt that reached her shoes. The end of it was wet from the snow outside, but she seemed undeterred, her eyes bright and shining. They were blue.

“Hello,” he said, looking away from her gaze. ”Can I help you?”

”I’m not from Hawkins,” she said inexplicably, and Wayne blinked. “I’ve just seen everything on the news and wanted to come by to provide some support.”

He nodded, setting the kettle down and starting to turn away again.

“Is there any way I can support you?” she asks, and her kindness has shifted into some sickeningly sweet tone that crawled over Wayne’s skin and tugged at it. He squared his shoulders, suppressing a shiver, shaking his head.

“None that I can think of,” he said as lightly as he could. “Thank you, ma’am.”

”I can tell you’ve been through a hard time,” she said as he tried to turn away again, and he took a breath. Held it in his chest. Stepped back as she reached for his arm. “And I’ve been through some hard times, too— Would you like to know where I’ve found my comfort?”

“I really wouldn’t,” he said stiffly, shifting, trying to turn away, but she had him fucking cornered.

“My good Lord has provided more for me than I could even put into words,” she said softly, her voice too breathy to be earnest, and she pressed her hand to her chest over a sparkling cross hanging from a chain around her neck.

“God and I aren’t exactly on speaking terms,” Wayne said, losing his patience a little bit. She tilted her head, eyebrows raising.

“So you’ve heard the good word?”

“Heard it,” he said. “Don’t mean I believe it.”

“Well you sound upset,” she said, twisting her voice like Wayne was a child, like he wasn’t fucking older than her. She had to be at least a decade younger than him. Old enough to know when to shut up. “Are you angry at God?”

He paused to look at her. His grip on the mug handle tightened, and his fingernails were pressing into his palm so much it hurt, but he didn’t notice. She waited for him, eyebrows raised, eyes bright and shining like she was hopeful.

Like Wayne was going to roll over and let her be right. Agree with her. Let her baptize him right here and now with his fucking chamomile tea as the holy water.

“God ain’t real,” he said quietly, watching as she blinked and listened to him. It didn’t feel like she was listening. It felt like she was trying to look like she was. “And even if He was, He ain’t done nothin’ for me.”

“What has He done to you?” she asked softly. “Why are you angry, what has He done?”

He clenched his jaw.

“I’ve spent my damn life alone,” he said, his voice softer than he intended. “My brother stole my best friend from me, he ruined her life, and I had to watch. They left me. I raised my nephew myself, and I had to watch while you fuckin’ God-fearing folks chased after him with pitchforks and torches his whole fuckin’ life just because he’s different.”

He saw the realization in her eyes. Saw her recognize him. Her eyes flickered to his visitor pass and saw his name. Saw Eddie’s name.

“I’m sixty-five years old,” Wayne continued, his voice shaking, and his eyes stung again. He hated crying. But he couldn’t stop anymore. His father’s training had worn off, and Wayne’s eyes were making up for the decades he’d spent without it. Without feeling. “And I can count on one hand the amount of people that have helped me. I’ve never found kindness or— peace in someone like you.”

She was holding her cross.

“You fuckin’ seen this town?” he said, gesturing vaguely. She stepped back. “You seen the shit God let happen? You seen how they—they had a fucking town meeting to talk about how cruel my boy is?”

His voice broke. His hands were shaking, and he was going to spill his tea, but he didn’t care.

“My boy, he—he’s in a fucking coma, and he’s sweeter than the rest of ‘em, and they wanted him fucking dead.”

He looked at her. She was blurry in his vision, holding the cross and twisting it between her fingers, and he exhaled sharply, letting his breath out of his lungs.

“That’s all what people have done,” she said softly after a quiet moment, hesitant. “What has God done?”

Wayne blinked his tears back, and he swallowed the stone in his throat, and he loathed her.

“He watched.”

She was quiet, and he left her there, turning to head back to Eddie’s room, and he sat in silence with him, his tea growing cold on the bedside table as he tried to warm Eddie’s hands.

He talked to him. Whispered quietly under his breath like someone was outside trying to listen.

My baby, my baby, my baby…

Henderson came by a few times, and he sat with Wayne. He respected Wayne’s quiet, only chatted if Wayne chatted back. He read out loud more smoothly than Wayne did, gradually becoming more theatrical, and Wayne understood why Eddie loved him so much. He was a good kid.

He made Wayne smile.

It felt unfamiliar on his face after so long, but when Dustin noticed, his entire face lit up in a way Wayne knew Eddie loved.

He introduced Wayne to the red-haired girl, Max.

“Max,” Wayne said softly, nodding even though her eyes were blank, white and unseeing. “I knew that.”

“We were neighbors,” she said lightly, tilting her head.

“I knew that too. How’s your mom doing?”

“Uh,” she said, hesitating, and her hesitation lingered for so long that she let out an awkward laugh. “She’s… She’s managing.”

”Y’all need anything, you just let me know, alright?”

“You too, old man.”

And Wayne had laughed.

”Eddie loves you, don’t he?”

She’d grinned and shrugged, and Dustin looked like he was going to cry.

They went back to school after the new year. The town celebrated the new year with fireworks and celebrations of survival, and Wayne watched them from Eddie’s hospital room. He remembered Eddie telling him that 1986 was his year, and he tried to not be upset about it. Eddie was alive. His heart was beating, and the doctors said he would wake up. Nothing else mattered. They would figure it out.

Usually when the door opened while Wayne was in the room, it was a doctor or nurse coming to just check in. Feel Eddie’s pulse, test his blood, check his eyes, monitor his wounds. Other times it was Dustin, stopping by to sit with Wayne, to read whatever book Wayne was reading to Eddie.

But the sun was just rising, the sky still dark out, just beginning to lighten, and the kids had school. Wayne looked up, his mug pausing on his way to his mouth, and there was a boy there.

He recognized him. He had a familiar face, a little soft and square, wide eyes, a strong nose, spotted with moles. His hair was overgrown in a way Wayne didn’t see often on boys in town, pushed back and tucked behind his ears, and he was wearing a red sweater. He looked out of place.

He was holding flowers. A little bouquet of daffodils, tied with a red ribbon, clutched in his hand.

He jumped a little when he saw Wayne, pausing in the doorway and looking at him like Wayne was going to attack him, like Wayne was something scary.

“Who’re you?” Wayne asked, sipping his tea.

“Steve,” the boy said quietly, shyly. “Harrington.”

“Steve Harrington,” Wayne repeated, closing the book and looking up to look at him. Of course he knew who the Harringtons were. You couldn’t live in Hawkins for forty years without knowing them. “What are you doing here, Steve Harrington?”

“I’m, uhm…” He paused, holding the flowers up and gesturing toward Eddie vaguely. “Just…”

“You know him?” Wayne said, raising his eyebrows.

“I… Not as well as I’d like to.”

Steve’s face flushed a bright red, and he looked at the ground, his hair falling in his face, and Wayne just let out a light laugh.

“Sorry, I…” Steve trailed off, shaking his head. “I haven’t talked to people in a while, sorry.”

“‘S alright,” Wayne said, sipping his tea again and leaning back in his seat. “Figured a guy like Eds is gonna have some strange friends.”

“Yeah,” Steve scoffed. “Tell me about it.”

He put the flowers in a vase. And he sat in the chair next to Wayne, his hands tangled in his lap shyly. Wayne looked at him. His visitor pass was hanging from the end of his sweater, and his jeans were worn, torn a little at the knees in a way that looked incidental instead of intentional like Eddie’s.

He fidgeted, and Wayne looked at his hands. He was wearing one of Eddie’s rings, the stupid mood ring that Eddie claimed looked “mystical,” around his index finger. Wayne didn’t say anything about it.

There was a chain hanging around his neck, and from it hung a cross. It was simpler than the one the lady in the waiting room wore. Steve’s was plain and gold, shining when it swung forward as he rocked back and forth.

“You religious?” Wayne asked, and Steve looked at him, following his gaze to the cross. He scoffed again.

“My parents want me to be,” he said lightly, and Wayne hummed understandingly. “…Are you?”

Wayne hummed again, gazing at Eddie’s hands. He didn’t have the IV in anymore, but the mark had yet to fade.

“God wants me to be.”

Steve laughed lightly.

They were quiet again. Looking at Eddie and watching him breathe.

“I found him,” Steve said abruptly, turning toward Wayne a little, sitting on the edge of his chair. “When we were— When we were down there, we had to… to take care of some stuff. And I found him. He’d moved.”

Wayne nodded, looking at Eddie’s arm. His veins were visible under his pale skin, green and blue and purple and colorful.

“You left him the time before?” he said, looking at Steve.

Steve nodded.

His eyes were glistening suddenly, shining with unshed tears, and Wayne wondered briefly if he just had this sort of effect on people around him. They kept crying. He didn’t mind.

“The gates were closing,” Steve said weakly, his voice tight in his throat, and he blinked tears out of his eyes. They fell down his cheeks almost gracefully. Wayne didn’t really know what he meant by that, but he didn’t care.

He turned toward Steve, lifting a hand and setting it on his shoulder, looking him in the eye.

“Steve Harrington,” he said firmly. Steve looked at him, his eyes wide like he was scared. “You brought my boy back to me.”

Steve took a shaky breath, and he nodded jerkily. His hands were so tight in his lap that his knuckles had paled, and Wayne reached over to take them gently, easing them apart. Steve’s fingernails had carved into his palms, and Wayne smoothed his thumb over them.

“Thank you,” he whispers brokenly.

Steve shook his head, but he was crying too hard to respond, his eyes squeezed shut as he fell forward to hide his face. Wayne moved closer, letting go of his hand and his shoulder, and he drew him closer. Let him fall against his chest and held him as his shoulders shook, as he sobbed. The book in Wayne’s lap fell to the floor, and he ignored it as his vision blurred.

Steve Harrington wasn’t what Wayne expected.

He wasn’t anything like his parents, who Wayne never met personally but saw around town. They were rich fucks, dressed like they were going to tea instead of to the local grocery, and they looked down at everything, eyeing the world from over the end of their nose like they were disgusted by it all. Like they weren’t a part of it.

Steve snorted when he laughed. He sat like Eddie did, drawing his knees to his chest or sitting cross-legged in a chair. He bit his nails, and he actually liked the books that Wayne read aloud to Eddie. Wayne offered them to him for him to read himself, but he declined politely, saying something about a few too many concussions.

He was sweet. He brought Wayne tea from the waiting room, and he brought him lunch from home, sandwiches wrapped in foil or dinner leftover in Tupperware. He drifted off more than Wayne did, dozing while Wayne read. A few times Wayne came into Eddie’s room to find Steve asleep, resting against the bed with his head next to Eddie’s lap, holding his hand, and Wayne let him be.

Neither of them were around when Eddie woke up. A nurse was.

The sun was just starting to rise as he got to the hospital, the sky lightening along the horizon, and the air was misty and crisp in Wayne’s lungs as he ran across the parking lot. He didn’t get his visitor pass. Linda didn’t care.

He stopped in the doorway of Eddie’s room, holding the door open. He was sat up, leaning against the headboard, his hands in his lap, the hospital gown falling off his shoulder. Wayne could see his shoulder and collarbone, and he looked so fragile.

He was looking up at Owens tiredly, nodding as he spoke, but Wayne couldn’t hear anything. He watched as Eddie shrugged, muttering something between his cracked and dry lips, and closed his eyes as he lifted his hand, hesitating before touching his finger to the tip of his nose.

Wayne let out a laugh.

Eddie jumped and looked over at him, his hand falling, and the sun was suddenly shining through the window, golden on Eddie’s pale skin, sparkling in his eyes as they filled with tears and he raised his arms like a child, moving like he wanted to crawl across the bed toward Wayne. Wayne let the door shut, and he was still a little out of breath from running inside, gasping as he wrapped his arms around Eddie and Eddie wrapped his arms around him.

Eddie was weak, frail and thin, and his voice was rough as he sobbed into Wayne’s chest, almost wailing like he did when he was tiny enough to fit in Wayne’s hands. He was trembling, and Wayne was trembling too, running a hand over the top of Eddie’s head. His hair was longer, a little softer, and Wayne couldn’t help but think that Eddie had time to grow it out now.

He kissed Eddie’s temple. Kissed his cheeks and nose. Kissed his tears away. Cradled him like he was a baby again, like he wasn’t a grown man. He rocked him back and forth, and he held him by the wrist to feel his heartbeat. And Eddie fell asleep there, his face pressed against Wayne’s chest, his fingers curled weakly into the fabric of his shirt.

And Wayne cried, and he cried, and he cried, his eyes closed with the warmth of the rising sun on his face as he murmured under his breath even though Eddie couldn't hear it.

My baby, my baby, my baby…

♡ permanent taglist: @estrellami-1 @theplantscientist @spectrum-spectre @carlprocastinator1000 @starman-jpg @romantiklen @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme (comment to added or removed!!)

♡ buy me a coffee

[estrellami-1]

If I Should Stay

More housekeeping! I was wrong about the date last time. My hiatus isn’t starting on the 15th; it’s starting on the 13th, possibly a bit earlier. But I’ll see y’all a little less than a month after that!

Part 1 | . . . | Part 38 | Part 39 | Part 40

“Vecna’s got my sister,” Steve whispers into the line, and Robin knows immediately that this time, this next fight with Vecna, is going to be very different.

She’s not going to let two of his atoms touch after what he’s done.

“Okay,” she answers, mind going a million miles an hour. “We know how to fix this, Steve, but you need to focus. Can you focus?”

He takes a deep breath. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “Yeah, I can focus.”

“Okay. We need her favorite song.”

“I don’t know her favorite song.”

“Then you need to find someone who does.”

The line is silent for a minute, then Steve gasps. “Cassidy! She’d know.”

“Okay, that’s perfect. Call Cassidy, ask her what Allison’s favorite song is. I’m going to pick up El and we’ll be there as soon as we can, okay?”

“Okay,” Steve says. “Hurry?”

“As fast as I can,” she promises. “Call Cassidy.”

They hang up, and Robin eyes Wayne, who’s already waiting by the door with his truck keys. “I’m gathering this is an emergency.”

“If it wouldn’t be entirely weird, I would kiss you,” Robin informs him, because she barely has a filter at the best of times, and this is definitely not the best of times.

Thankfully, Wayne just laughs. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” he says. “Toss your bike in the back and get in. I’ll need directions.”

Robin worries her lip. “Y’know the Wheelers’ place?”

“Karen?”

“Yeah. There first, please.”

Wayne offers her a teasing salute as he puts the car into drive, and Robin suddenly thinks this all might just work out.

The drive to the Wheelers’ is uneventful, and she hops out of the truck and pounds on the door. Karen opens it, and Robin grits her teeth. “Hi, Mrs. Wheeler,” she says politely. “Is Nancy home?”

“Oh, yes, of course, come in,” she says, ushering her inside before calling for Nancy.

Robin watches as Nancy makes it halfway downstairs before she sees who’s here. She watches as she goes through all the possibilities. “Hey, Robin, you’re here for the project, right?”

“Yup,” Robin nods. “For, uh. School.”

Nancy blinks. “Right,” she says, casting a glance at her mom, who doesn’t notice. “C’mon up.”

Robin hesitates. “Think we could use the basement?”

Nancy’s eyes flash. “Sure,” she says, and they’re halfway down before she speaks again. “What’s going on?”

“Vecna has Allison. We need El.”

Nancy bites back a curse.

They finally make it down, and El is standing in the middle of the room, waiting for them. “It is time.”

“It is,” Robin nods. “Are you ready?”

Eleven shrugs. “Is anyone?”

Robin gives half a laugh. “I guess not.” She turns to Nancy. “Is there an exit that doesn’t go through the house?”

Nancy nods and leads them out. “I’ll get everyone else,” she says. “Meet you back there as soon as we can. Be safe.”

“You too,” Robin says, grabbing El’s hand and running for Wayne’s truck.

“Where to?” Wayne asks.

“The Harrington place. Will you come inside?”

“All due respect, Robin, but my boy’s in there. There ain’t no way in hell I’m leavin’ him alone.” There’s a slight pause before he says, rather uncomfortably, “Not because I don’t trust you, of course-”

“No, of course not,” Robin waves him off.

“And, uh.” He winks at El. “You’ll have to pardon my French, little lady.”

She giggles at him. “But you weren’t speaking any French!”

Wayne chuckles. “No I wasn’t, and a smart one you are for knowin’ that. No, pardon my French just means excuse my potty mouth.”

El turns to Robin, who says, deadpan, “He means ‘cause he said hell.”

“Oh,” El says, as Wayne splutters but ultimately stays quiet.

Soon enough they’re at the Harrington place, and Wayne barely parks the truck before they’re all running in.

Robin stops him just before they get inside. “Did Eddie explain any of this to you?”

Wayne blinks at her. “No.”

“Shit,” she whispers. “Okay, look, long story short, which I’m kinda really terrible at, like worst person ever, like I can’t tell a short story to save my life-”

“Robin.”

“Right, short story, right. Um, we’ll explain more later, but basically me and Steve are time traveling here from four years in the future because there’s a wizard guy- well he’s not a wizard, actually, it’s Henry Creel, but anyways things happen and he’s got powers and he’s like a wizard and he’s trying to get control of peoples’ heads and kill them. And he’s trying it with Steve’s sister, Allison, right now. So… that’s what we’re about to walk into.”

Wayne sighs. “Is there anythin’ for me to shoot at?”

Robin blinks. “Well, no. Not right now, at least. But later there could be. If you want to be involved.”

“I ain’t lettin’ y’all do this while I sit by and do nothin’. That ain’t how I was raised.”

Robin stares at him for a beat, nods, and together they run inside.

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[munsonfamilyband]

500 Follower Special!!!! I still cannot believe that I've hit 500 followers on this blog, it seems surreal honestly. I know it's cliche, but I never expected really any followers but you guys seemed to like what I write enough to follow and I cannot thank you all enough.

This is a companion piece to my Different Meeting AU, it can be read on it’s own but I would recommend reading at least the first part for the context.

———————————

Wayne Munson hadn’t always lived in Hawkins, Indiana. In fact, he grew up in Louisiana, so Hawkins was very far from home, but after the war, he needed a change of scenery. He bounced around awhile, moving around in the south and midwest before finding Hawkins.

Before moving to Hawkins, Wayne had lived only a couple blocks away from his brother and his family - not that he ever saw his brother, but he saw his wife and son plenty. Eddie was an energetic kid but he had so much joy in him that it made it all okay, until his mother died. Wayne never really got the full story about what happened, just that she was gone and his brother was going to jail. After that day, Wayne packed up Eddie and took him back home with him. Eddie was going into the 8th grade and his hair had yet to grow back from when his father had shaved it all off, so Wayne promised himself that he would help Eddie succeed.

Eddie didn’t thrive in the ways Wayne expected but he took to playing guitar like breathing and he found good friends who all played that nerd game with him. Unfortunately, with how small Hawkins was, Wayne had learned quickly that they were both outsiders - and he learned who wasn’t. He heard the Harrington name all over town and it meant that he was prepared when Richard Harrington and he ran into each other for the first time. The man was cruel, that was the only way to describe it, and he looked at Wayne like he was dirt on his shoe. That short interaction was enough to convince Wayne that the Harringtons were awful people who were not to be trusted. His opinion on the Harringtons didn't improve when Eddie was in high school and their son, who was a year younger than Eddie, became a common talking point at their dinners. Eddie complained about how the kid walked around like everyone was beneath him, rarely even talking to anyone. Instead he let his flock harass and humiliate people like Eddie. Wayne did notice that the bullying and harassment stopped for Eddie shortly after he started his junior year, around the same time the trailer started to stink of weed. He knew that there would be no way to fully control what Eddie did in his spare time, but Wayne did warn him about getting mixed up with drugs; he told him about how his brother had been using all the time. That at least got Eddie to be safer, and he seemed to avoid using anything but weed so Wayne could be okay with that.

In ‘83 things in Hawkins started to get weird; kids dying and coming back to life, entire fields of crops dying overnight and Wayne was worried but without any information he had no idea what was really happening. Then in ‘85 the mall burned down and 30 people died, sending a shockwave through the entire town; even Eddie was quiet in the few days after. But about a week after the fire Eddie started acting more like himself, but still odd. He only got weirder when asked what was going on, but Wayne found out what was happening with Eddie two weeks after the fire when he came home to his kid sitting on their coffee table in front of another boy. Another boy with bruises all over his face and a split lip, but more importantly with very identifying hair - Steve Harrington was in his home. It may have been his own distrust, but when Wayne saw Steve flinch, he didn’t think about how awful his father was and how likely Richard Harrington was to hit his own kid. No, he thought about how his father looked at Wayne like he was less than nothing, and he assumed the worst in Steve, that he was reacting the same way. Eddie had turned to look at Wayne, oddly staying where he was by Steve.

“Wayne, you’re home early. Steve just needed some help, his-“

“I’m okay, I should probably get going anyway. Thank you for helping me, Eddie. I’ll see you tomorrow.” The boy cut Eddie off mid sentence and then ran out of the trailer like it was on fire. Wayne couldn’t help but think it was typical that he would want to get out of there, it was beneath him after all.

“What’s with that look, old man? Steve is a friend and he needed help so why do you look like I shit in your coffee?” Wayne looked back at Eddie, who was cleaning up the first aid supplies on the table.

“Since when are you friends with people like him?” He realized after he said it that the wording could have definitely been better, but it was too late by then to take it back.

“What’s that supposed to mean? What, because he’s rich I can’t be his friend?”

“Eddie, you know what I meant. You know what his daddy is like, and all the sudden you’re hanging out with his kid? Harringtons are no good, nasty people, you agreed with me on that.” Eddie scoffed in response, even rolling his eyes, which Wayne thought was a bit much but Eddie was always dramatic.

“Yeah, I know exactly what his dad is like, Wayne. Look, I probably shouldn’t even say this but if it will stop you from glaring daggers at Steve… the whole reason he came here was because his dad hit him and he needed someone to help clean him up, okay? So, yeah, I know what his dad is like.” Wayne was forced to then reassess the moment Steve flinched when he entered the trailer, it wasn’t because of who Wayne is, it was because he was an adult man entering unannounced.

“Alright, then I’m sorry for assuming. But still, kid, you complained about him all the time last year, so I’m a little surprised that you’re hanging out with him.”

“Yeah, me too, honestly. But, he came to see me last week for some…stuff. He was in the mall fire and he couldn’t sleep. We’ve been talking since then and he’s actually a pretty okay guy.”

~~~

After that night, Wayne saw a lot more of Steve Harrington and with each meeting Wayne noticed things that were pointing him towards a new understanding of the kid. The first being how jumpy the kid was, and not just around him. Wayne knew the signs of abuse, he saw plenty of them in Eddie and his ma for years, but with Steve it seemed like... more. He had a look in his eyes that was too close to the looks in Wayne and his fellow veterans' eyes, like he had seen too much of something he shouldn't have. The kid flinched whenever the lights flickered and he stared at the woods like there was something in there waiting to come eat him. When he started sleeping over at the trailer, the few times that Wayne was home to see it, Steve would wake up screaming multiple times during the night. He would listen to Eddie calm him down and then Steve would start speaking to other people, probably using the walkie talkie he always had on him.

The second thing Wayne noticed was the way he and Eddie acted around each other. Now, Eddie had never come out and said anything about his preferences, but Wayne had spent enough time in the military, and in the south growing up, to recognize when someone is trying to hide their attraction to other men. It had never been a problem in Wayne's mind, but with Eddie he did worry about his safety, especially with that disease that started in California. Point was, he knew Eddie liked men - Wayne wasn't even surprised that Eddie seemed to like Steve. What did surprise Wayne was that Steve seemed to like Eddie back. The two of them always sat as close as they possibly could together, sharing meaningful looks when they all had dinner together. Hell, Wayne had come home to them curled up on the couch together while the TV was still on, clearly having fallen asleep watching a movie together. He had no idea if they knew about their mutual attraction but he wouldn't pry, it was better if Eddie was allowed to tell him himself.

The final thing Wayne noticed about Steve, the one thing that settled Steve into a permanent spot in his heart, was how he seemed to collect people like Eddie did. The first one of Steve's friends that he met was the Robin girl. When she first showed up, Wayne was nervous that she was Steve's girlfriend and they were about to break Eddie's heart, but then he saw how they interacted. Her and Steve seemed to be extensions of each other, the same brain in two bodies. They bickered like siblings and defended each other just as fiercely, even from each other. He had overheard multiple conversations where she went from teasing him to relentlessly complimenting him all because he got too self deprecating. Steve did the same for her, including talking about the girl she liked - Wayne definitely wasn't supposed to hear that part, but he was happy that Eddie had more people like him to talk to. The next people he saw Steve collect was, somehow, Eddie's band. He's not sure how it happened, because those boys complained about people like Steve just like Eddie did, but suddenly they were all friends with Steve and he and Gareth were talking about hair care (if Wayne heard them plotting to get Eddie to care for his hair, he didn't say anything). The last of Steve's friends came in pieces. It started with the Mayfield girl across the way from them; Wayne saw her and Steve sitting on the steps of her trailer one morning when he came home from work, Steve had his arm around her and she was leaning into his space. They weren't talking, they were just sitting together, soaking up the other person's presence. He heard other names mentioned - Wheeler, Sinclair, Henderson, even Byers - but he didn't see Steve with any of them for a while. When the school year started, with Eddie going back for attempt number 3, he came home a week into the year and announced that he had found new members for his little club. When Steve showed up that night for dinner, Eddie told Steve that he had found his kids and the look of relief on Steve's face was hard to look at. He started seeing Steve with the kids after that, whether it was picking them up from something with Eddie or just driving them around town. He saw how Steve cared for those kids, and that cemented Steve's place in Wayne's heart.

Here was this kid who had been put through hell, with a clearly abusive father and an absent mother, who had seen things no teenager should have seen. This kid who had ever right to be cruel and mean to the world that had been nothing but cruel and mean to him, and he was caring for kids that he had no reason to care for, who stared at his kid like he was gifting Steve with his time. Wayne decided that Steve was part of his little family now, whether he liked it or not.

Around the start of October, Eddie and Steve sat him down and Wayne instantly knew what was about to happen, but he refused to interrupt - this was important for them to do, together. But when they finally told him that they were dating, and had been since August, he nearly cried with how happy he was for them. He told them how much he loved them both and he told Steve that he would always have a place as a Munson, whether he and Eddie stayed together or not.

[skepsiss]

I understand people love giving Steve and/or Eddie a dog or a cat and that's super sweet but... Guys. I hate this but Steve and Eddie are Bird and Reptile people.

They would come by owning a bird totally by accident because "they don't have time for pets," "they make the house messy/harder to clean," "we travel too much" etc etc. But then they would just become OBSESSED with rescuing birds.

Eddie loves the exotics and teaches them to sing and say the dirtiest things. While Steve adored finches and little birds like that.

Eddie would also 1000% have an Iguana or a Tengu and walk it around on a leash like a fucking nerd.

You'd come over and they'd each have at least one bird on their shoulder.

They're bird people.

[steddilly]

When Wayne moved to Hawkins fifteen years ago to case the town, he hadn’t expected to end up staying. What kind of hunter purposefully cocked up an assignment? A bad one apparently, but he was fine with that. He’d been sent to the small town in rural Indiana after a strange rise in creature sightings, that sort of thing didn’t take much time getting back to the kind of hunters led by his younger brother, Al.

He quickly found out that Hawkins was acting as some sort of beacon to supernatural beings, attracting them to seek out and settle down in the town surrounded by thick wooded areas. Weres of every kind. Vamps of every kind. Witches, shapeshifters, banshees, and just about every other kind of creature you could think of.

What started out as a task to infiltrate the town to get a better idea of the severity of the infestation quickly turned into something more, because then he got to know the residents as more than just what they were and began seeing them as neighbours and friends. They trusted him and welcomed him into their communities, even the supernaturals grew to trust him and he even watched some of them grow up. He couldn’t hurt these people, they weren’t doing anything wrong.

Wayne never heard much from his younger brother or the other hunters, he occasionally sent Al letters downplaying what was actually going on in Hawkins, it was a low level threat that almost wasn’t worth dealing with. He should have known better, almost two decades of peace sounded like long overdue trouble for a semi-retired hunter, and word travelled fast to him that there were two men asking about him. He knew his brother would eventually show up to track him down, but he never expected his nephew to be dragged out with him.

Albert Munson was a ruthless hunter, more of a shoot first and ask questions later kind of guy. Eddie though... The boy he’d left behind was more sort hearted than his old man, he wouldn’t want to hurt innocent people. Wayne would learn that Eddie didn’t agree with the majority of what his father believed, and refused to be brainwashed with his ideologies towards supernatural beings.

The real trouble begins when Al (unbeknownst to Wayne) set up a few traps in the woods and actually ends up catching a Werecub, who lets out the most heartbreaking cries Wayne has ever heard - but he knew what kind of cry that was, it was a cry for help and not just of fear.

“You’ve been slacking, Wayne. Barely a few hours here and we’ve already caught us a baby monster.” Al was so pleased with himself, standing proudly below the strung up cub with his arms crossed. It made Wayne sick to think that he had once been exactly the same as his brother, conflicted at the time or not, he had participated in the same things.

“Dad, there’s no us. I don't want anything to do with this. You’re hurting him, he’s probably just a kid.” Eddie denied, keeping himself well back from the situation, wanting no part in it.

It wasn’t long before the trio heard an answering howl to the cries, high and haunting and designed to travel - it sounded like a very pissed off mama, and suddenly they felt very unprepared for this expedition. They were expecting a Werewolf (the most common type of Were) or a Werebear (because of the cub), but what came crashing through the undergrowth was a monstrous coyote-looking creature, and she was livid. Her fur was shiny and well maintained, dark rusty shades of brown mottled with grey and blonde streaks. She chased the three of them through the woods until they were far enough away for the Werecoyote to double back and rescue her pup.

“Wooah boy, that was a close one!” Al chuckled after they stopped running to catch their breaths, as if they’d just been out for a jog in the woods and not chased by something that could have easily caught up with them.

The worst part was that Wayne definitely thought he recognised the Werecoyote, and if he recognised the Were then he definitely recognised him. Steve Harrington, resident Were and local babysitter to some of the younger supernatural beings in Hawkins, which meant the cub was most likely one of the kids he took care of and considered his pack. He absolutely knew who Wayne was, and now he knew what Wayne was.

“Relax, Wayne, it was just a ‘yote.” Al clapped him on the shoulder, something he bet his brother thought would be assuring and friendly, but it absolutely wasn’t. “Could’ve been worse. Would’a been a whole other story if we’d attracted a wolf.” - Wayne didn’t think so, but he was the one who was going to be suffering the consequences. - “C’mon, take your brother and nephew home for some grub, all that running’s worked up an appetite.”

[corrodedcoughin]

Hello!!! How're you?? Hope you're well!! I'm currently having Munson family feelings lmao

Please imagine lil pre teen Eddie settling in with Wayne, finding his footing, becoming more open in a way that he wasn't with his father. And he's really getting into his dnd. Has the manuals Wayne got him for his birthday one year. A mini or two. And he wants to get better at DMing, but he can't practice with his group because that would ruin the surprise of it all. So one day, he shyly asks Wayne if he'll practice with him. Fidgeting with the hem of his shirt and shuffling his feet. Isn't 100% sure what Wayne will think just yet

And to his surprise, Wayne says yes. And Eddie just... lights up. Smiles a big megawatt grin and starts talking about how it'll be super fun uncle Wayne you won't regret it!!!

They spend an evening making Wayne a character - a human called Wayne, they're keeping it simple - while they eat Mac n cheese for dinner. Wayne loves how happy it makes Eddie. How carefree.

And on Wayne's next day off, when Eddie doesn't have school, they play together. A mini campaign, just for the two of them. Eddie practices his skills, gets to play dnd, and hang out with his uncle all in one go. It's kind of everything to them. It's a lighthearted adventure where Wayne goes on a quest to get the perfect bait so he can go fishing and catch his dream fish. Eddie tells him what dice to roll, helps him fight a goblin and a bear, and puts on all sorts of voices for the characters Wayne meets. Eddie gets so wrapped up in it all, so excited. But when it ends he's all nerves - bitten lips and wringing his hands.

Did Wayne like it?? Did he have fun?? Was Eddie good??

And Wayne honestly says it wasn't quite his thing but he had a lot of fun. Eddie is a damn fine storyteller, has a real knack for the dramatics. He'll impress his friends, for sure.

And idk!!! I love Eddie and Wayne exploring their dynamic and figuring out where they stand with each other those first few years. It would have been a bumpy ride but they love each other!!!

Wayne getting in from grocery shopping on a Saturday, he likes to go really early so he can avoid Sally Knowles town gossip extraordinaire who Kees letting Wayne know ‘people are gonna talk if you don’t give that nephew of yours a Mothering presence in his life’ Wayne’s heard enough of it. So while it means he has to get up early, he’ll do it to escape the song and dance of busy bodies.

He’s making his way up the trailer steps, bags of groceries in hand (he’s a one trip kind of man and won’t be changed) when he hears a voice behind the door. The muffled and rushed but excited voice of his nephew barely audible through the rustling of groceries and the clattering of god knows what in the trailer - ‘okay. Okay he’s here. Go time. Show time. Time to shine. Story telling powers on.’

Wayne can see Eddie in his minds eye, turning an invisible switch at his temple. A ritual he started for their very first session. The boy had been nervous then and now, four - games? Chapters? Wayne wasn’t sure - in the nerves were still there but the excitement far outweighed them.

Opening the door, Wayne flicked his eyes over to the couch were Eddie was propped up, books spread out on the coffee table and rudimentary map laid across the table top.

Eddie’s head shot up, ‘I’ll help!’, scrambling to his feet to take some of Wayne’s provisions off of him.

‘You in a rush, son? Normally I’m shouting you through to give me a hand with these?’ Wayne was teasing. Could see that Eddie was conflicted, had Wayne forgotten that he promised to finish the story today? That it was going to find the Pond Of Dreams? Wayne loved the kid but he wanted to have a little fun too.

Setting the bags down and putting the freezer items away, everything else could wait. Not even glancing down at Eddie, Wayne stretched tall and exaggerated ‘think I need a nap after that. Don’t mind me Ed, gonna get some shut eye.’ And the thing is he couldn’t look at Eddie, if he did he’d crumble and it would all be for naught. One glance of Eddie in his home sewn cape and it’s be over.

So he hot footed it to the bathroom, hoping Eddie wouldn’t question the pre-nap detour or the backpack he was taking with him.

He could hear Eddie mumbling, frustration and disappointment evident in his tone. Then the tv going on, cartoons on high volume as he tried to distract himself. Which is when Wayne decided to re-appear, clad in his full fishing gear and rod. Along side a toy lizard he velcroed to his shoulder.

‘Well boy, you ready to go fantasy fishing? Heard there’s a dream pond waiting to be found’ Wayne tipped his fishing hat like a cowboy as Eddie’s eyes grew wide, scanning the outfit. It wasn’t much but Wayne tried to add the little details as he could; the potion belt of healing (an ammo belt he borrowed from somebody at work), the spear character wayne earned in his first battle (a pvc tube Scott Clarke was happy to provide after their last dinner where Wayne recounted Eddie’s tales) and of course -

‘Is that Creedence?!’ Eddie finally speaking up and pointing at the lizard, the decided companion and helper to Wayne in his journey.

‘Sure is kid, think he’s ready to roll. The question is, are you?’ It’s not the easiest thing for Wayne to do, sometimes he feels silly with all the fantasy and character voices that Eddie insists upon but when it makes the boy this happy? This unguarded and free? Who is Wayne to say no? Maybe the sillyness is good for him, good for both of them.

[missingexaltation]

Yet another steddie ficlet:

Steve and Eddie move into their first home, but it's a real fixer upper. They were originally looking at apartments, but this house is such a good deal, even considering the updates it needs. The yard out back is huge, if overgrown, but the interior needs scrapping from the bare bones.

The main area they get done first is their bedroom, but it takes forever on their tiny joint income, and it frustrates the hell out of Steve. It becomes a hideaway from the state of the rest of the house, and Steve finds himself venturing out of those four walls only if he needs to.

The other issue is time. Eddie's working two jobs (well, full time hours at Thatcher's and another part time at his annoyingly unpaid tattoo internship), and Steve's working part time whilst juggling his community college studies.

They have most weekends together, but they both quickly realise how catty and bitchy they both get when things don't go as planned, and instead decide to spend at least half their time snuggled up in bed watching movies. If the home improvements take longer, that's fine, as long as their relationship is intact at the end.

Steve knows he's the problem. He's a rich boy unused to living in anything but mild luxury. Visiting the old Munson trailer had been fine, as he'd been able to go home to the comfort of his parents' place. But there was no escape now they'd essentially disowned him, and he's now trapped in a kind of living that he's never really had to experience before.

Eddie, on the other hand, was fine. A little gloomy and frozen at times, but he was a natural born survivor. He'd spent a week or so living on the streets as a kid, he'd confessed one night. He'd run away from his dad, terrified out of his mind but Wayne had tracked him down, found him and brought him to his own home instead.

And any home, no matter how creaky and in desperate need of repair, was better than that.

Eventually though, Steve had had enough. He gets to the end of his first year and decides to go out of state to visit Robin for a couple of weeks, to help her settle in her new apartment. Eddie's invited too, but he declines as he has to work. There's a gentle glint in his eyes that suggests that he knows Steve's at breaking point, and needs to vent it out, without him there to bear the brunt of it.

So off Steve goes. And he does vent at Robin, who's sympathetic and comforting in all the right places. Eddie was right, he needed to get away from the situation and get some perspective.

Two weeks turns into three, which turns into four, and Steve starts to miss Eddie terribly. The phone calls home were fine to start with, but they're just not enough anymore, and Steve's far more miserable being away from Eddie than he is at living in 'that house'. So he packs his things up and returns home, refreshed and ready to get to work, if a little late.

He pulls into the driveway early in the morning, and immediately notices that the door's been replaced, and the outside of the house has been repainted. It looks good. His key doesn't work, but Eddie's home so it doesn't matter. He's taken the day off so they could spend it together, which is sweet, and also helpful as they've had nothing but (awkwardly quiet) phone sex for about a month.

Eddie opens the door a few seconds later and practically flings himself into Steve's arms, half tackle, half cuddle. Any lingering concern about coming home evaporates instantly, and Steve internally scolds himself for taking so long. He adores Robin, he really does, but his heart is here with Eddie.

Before he can get into a spiral of self annoyance, Eddie's spinning him around and covering his eyes, walking him through the door. Once inside, he tells Steve not to look and moves his hands away, stepping further into the house.

It's only when Eddie says 'ok baby', that Steve opens his eyes to find the biggest fucking transformation he's ever seen.

He's standing in the dining room, but he doesn't recognize it without all of that nasty, peeling, puke-coloured wallpaper. It's been removed and replaced with freshly painted walls and what looks like brand new sockets and an actual, real, functioning table and matching chairs.

The kitchen behind it is similarly beautifully restored. What before had been a shitty, vaguely standing sink, piles of dismantled cupboards and stripped back walls, was now tiled to perfection, with brand new storage space and glorious, gleaming countertops. It looked brighter, bigger and infinitely cleaner, somewhere Steve could actually see himself cooking.

The living room to his left is now open plan, like he'd wanted, with an archway where the old door had been. The musty, deteriorating old cupboards had been completely removed, and instead their shared music collection now sat proudly on brand new shelves, out in the open. And, like the other rooms, it had been painted lighter, which suited Steve down to the ground.

Their photographs were hung up too, dotted around various walls and staring at Steve as he stood in the centre of the room. The kids, Wayne and Eddie, Steve and Robin, Eddie's band and nerd club, and loads of Steve and Eddie and the rest of their friends and family. It's their life, and it's been here waiting for him to come home.

Steve becomes aware that he's gaping, silent in shock, while Eddie's bouncing with anticipation behind him. The floors are all done too, he notices. The gorgeous, hardwood floors they'd cooed over (well over their budget) were here, covered by the rugs Steve had pointed out months ago.

He turns to look at his boyfriend, who is looking way more fidgety and nervous by the second.

"You did all this?" He asks, and Eddie nods eagerly, before tilting his head and correcting himself with a shrug.

"Yeah, well not all of it." he says, excitedly jabbering at a hundred miles an hour, "I asked Wayne to give me a hand, and he knows a builder who knows all sorts of guys, and they all pitched in. They taught me a lot, so I have kinda done a lot, but they did loads too, they really helped get the awkward, technical things done that I didn't have a clue about. Even Dustin came by, not that he was any fucking practical use, but..."

And Steve's kissing him silent.

"You did this for me?" He asks, still shellshocked. "I know I've been awful babe, but -"

"Nah, in all honestly I've had a blast." Eddie admits, "the old guys have been showing me all sorts of practical stuff. Shit, I cut, built and fitted the countertops by myself, and I actually enjoyed doing it. I missed you like hell though."

"You liked doing this." Steve repeats, dazed, "Four weeks, and you've got so much done. Is there anything left to do?"

"Yeah, there's the guest bedroom, the yard and furnishing the living room." Eddie admits, "We can't afford to get the couches yet, hell most of this stuff is actually donated from Wayne's guys, just painted and updated. They're paragons of charity, baby, and we're their lucky recipients."

There's a familiar video camera on the side, and Eddie gestures at it before picking up the photo album beside it. 'I know I said Henderson was useless, but he's been documenting it for us." he says, "I even got the rest of the gremlins in on the painting, figured they couldn't fuck that up."

He hands the album over, and Steve opens it to find dozens of photographs and polaroids inside, showing various people (some Steve knows, some he doesn't) helping and teaching Eddie how to fix up the house. Each photograph is partnered with a sentence underneath in Eddie's best handwriting, detailing what's going on and who's involved.

"Wayne and Danny did most of the floors when I was at work." Eddie says, finding himself rambling as he taps a couple of the early pictures. "But I helped when I got back. I did the kitchen tiling all by myself though," he adds, grinning as Steve turns the page to reveal a beaming Eddie posing next to the splashback. "Tony says I'm a natural!"

Steve reads the sentence underneath and snorts.

Stevie's awkward-as-fuck tiles, masterfully installed by his abandoned boyfriend, Summer 1987.

Steve flicks through more pages, seeing evidence of (a supervised) Eddie using power tools, assembling furniture, and covered in both paint and sawdust at various times. (And an entire double page spread dedicated to him making coffee, because Henderson was indeed a little shit.)

Steve slams the album shut and tosses it back onto the counter. Eddie jumps slightly at the sudden noise, once again looking nervous as Steve puts his hands on his hips, meaning business.

"Babe," Steve starts, seriously, "if you don't get that ass of yours upstairs right now, I don't know what I'm gonna do." He paused (mostly for dramatic effect, because Eddie has actually increased his penchant for drama).

"This is the most incredible thing anyone's ever done for me, and I'm not gonna let you go until I've thanked you properly."

Eddie grins back at him, and holds his hand out. "I've even put the good sheets on the bed for you." He says, waggling his eyebrows, and finds himself being dragged towards the (sanded, buffed and recarpeted) stairs.

Yes, Steve thinks, as they stumble eagerly to bed at ten in the morning, it was definitely a good idea for Eddie to take the day off.

They were going to need it.

[candied-cae]

And Who Are We At The End Of The World? - The Best Welcome Party

Chapter 14/? - - - Read it on AO3

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19] [20]

Word Count: 11,681

Summary: With Eddie conscious for the first time since "the earthquake," a lot has to happen. Notably, he needs to be questioned by the Hawkins Police. But, of course, there may just be a little bit to check on before they deal with that responsibility...

More ST Fics

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At Steve’s house, everyone was still milling around after he and Lucas left. Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair still had a lot of stuff they needed to wrap their head around, and Nancy and Robin were feeling a little stir-crazy in the busy house, so they got an idea. They could run back to their houses, take showers, get changed, and then take off to ask the drama and band directors for their statements on Eddie.

Which would both get them out of the stressful atmosphere of Steve’s living room and give them something to do. And having something to do about how hopeless everything felt seemed to be the only way to get through it.

So, the two of them stuck around just long enough to make Hop sit down with them and agree to be a source. And to grab a couple of quotes so it’d sound like his words, and if anyone bugged him about it he knew what to say. A little bit here about “All kids find their own outlets for rebellion, I’ve pulled over almost every student who’s gone through that high school at least once since I’ve been here.” A line to specify “But Eddie Munson’s never been a very big thorn in my side. Can’t see him having done all this without a good motive. Which nobody’s been able to find.” And then they just rounded it out with a note about circumstantial evidence and there not being enough of anything to make sense to pin it on him. All according to a guy who used to be the city's chief of police.

Then they were able to drive off for their next steps, Nancy obviously the one behind the wheel and dropping Robin off before she went back to her place.

When Nancy got back to her house her dad was, thankfully, back at work. So it was just Holly and Amber sitting around a plastic tea set in the living room while Amber’s mom watched the news. She was able to head right on upstairs without much fuss.

But, while it didn’t take long for Nancy to take care of her own business, Robin had a bit more of a headache to deal with.

Her mom was again not happy she ran off, but it was easier to settle her down when Robin had her call Steve’s house and a parent answered. Joyce had confirmed that there had been chaperones there all night, and there were a whole bunch of them over, not just Steve and Robin alone. As if that would’ve meant anything anyway. But one phone call later and she was able to slip away and clean up so she could get to her plans with Nancy.

When she climbed out of the shower, however, she was interrupted by her mother calling for her.

“Robin!”

The girl was squeezing a towel around the ends of her hair to pull the water out - she hadn’t washed her hair, but the ends got damp anyway - and she yelled back,“ Uh, yeah?”

“You’ve got a call!”

Robin considered trying to run to the wall phone half-dressed or letting her mom try to stall with small talk as she pulled on her jeans. She decided she didn’t really like either option,“ Just tell Nancy I’ll be ready for pickup whenever she gets here!”

“It’s not a Nancy!” Theresa said from the kitchen as Robin reached for her shirt,“ It’s a Vickie!”

And all at once, she felt her heart jump to her throat. She threw on the shirt, haphazardly yelling,“ I’ll be right there!”

Once she got the article over her head, she yanked it down and barreled out of the bathroom. Quickly stealing the phone from her mother’s hands and turning the corner away to be further away from her mother’s listening ears.

“Heeyyy…” She started. But, no way, that sounded so awkward. She coughed and tried again,” I mean, hey. Hey, Vickie. How are- How are you?”

“Hi, hi, and hi to you too, Robin,” she said with a light fluttery giggle that made Robin’s heart seize again,” I’m good. And you are?”

“Good! I am good also.”

Robin was failing at this, right? She was failing at their first phone call. She was all jumpy, and too excited, and not saying words in the right order, and she had to sound so ridiculous-

But she pushed through it anyway. Digging her nails into her palm to try and keep herself from getting all high-pitched from the nerves, she said,” So, uh, how’d you… track me down?”

“Looked you up in the phone book. There aren’t any other Buckleys in town, you know.” Vickie said it like it was obvious.

Because it kind of was. It was how Robin would’ve found Vickie’s number if she had felt so bold. Maybe if she and Steve had been able to find an hour alone, he would’ve built her up to it. But receiving the phone call felt pretty great too.

“Yeah, yeah.” Robin confirmed the very normal behavior,” So, did you need anything or- or what had you calling little ol’ me today?”

“I, um, sorta thought we could hang out? It was fun spending time with you at the high school the other day, and I’d like to do it some more. Unless you didn’t think it was fun and, instead, I’m just the kind of girl who’s nice for company when there’s literally no one else to talk to, and in that case, I’ll just hang up, and we don’t have to talk about this-”

“No!” Robin leaped in to correct Vickie’s unfounded concern,“ No, no, no, I do not think that. I would like to hang out. With you. Too. I had fun on Saturday too. So, yeah, I’d really like to make some plans to spend time together again.”

And there was Vickie’s cute little fluttery giggle again,“ Cool. Um, I know things are still sort of crazy in town, but my parents would give me the keys to the car if you wanted to come up with an errand to run or something, and we could get some lunch after?”

“Yeah, that sounds great. I’d love to- like to do that-”

Calm down, Robin, don’t freak her out.

And, just as Robin was taming her excitement, she remembered she was already expecting a girl to come by,” Oh, yeah... I kind of had plans to help Nance with something…”

Vickie got a little quieter,“ Oh, well, we can raincheck if you want to-”

“No! I, um… actually, if you wanted to help, we were going to talk to Mr. Thompson.”

“The band director?” the girl asked.

“Well, him and Ms. Reynolds. We wanted to get, like, a statement on Eddie’s character from them. See if they had anything nice to say for an article about how he didn’t do it.”

“Oh,” Vickie said it like she was trying to understand the idea. And that made sense. She wasn’t on the inside team, so she didn’t know everything they did. Didn’t know Eddie that well. She’s just been knee-deep in rumors the whole time.

So Robin supplied,“ Which, by the way, he didn’t. It’s a long story, but we were with him pretty much the whole time, and it was actually Jason! Not Eddie, and-”

“Jason? Jason Carver?”

“Yeah. Like I said, it’s a long story, and I can tell you some more about it later, but Eddie really is innocent. I swear. Thing is, even when he wakes up and can explain everything to get the police to drop the charges, a lot of people probably won’t believe it. They’ll say stuff about how he got away with it and make his life a living... nightmare," she barely caught herself from saying 'hell'. A mistake she usually didn't have much trouble avoiding, but she was just so focused on Vickie that she almost missed it," Anyway, Nancy wanted to write something for the school paper to help show people he’s a good guy.

“And he is? A good guy, I mean.” Vickie still asked, though she was beginning to sound like she believed it.

“Yeah. He is.” Robin asserted,” And, since we’re both in band, if you wanted to come, we could probably divide and conquer faster. We can check with Mr. Thompson, and she can go to Ms. Reynolds. So that could be our errand and then get some lunch after.”

“Then, yeah, I’d love to help. You sure Nancy will be okay with me just kinda hijacking you at the last minute?”

“Oh yeah! Definitely. I’ll just let her know what’s going on, and we can all meet up after to share notes.”

“Sounds good. You want to get together now, or do you want me to head over later?”

“Now’s fine. I just got done getting ready to head out with her anyway, so I am all good to go. I can give you the address-”

“It’s in the yellow pages right below the phone number.”

Robin nodded to herself,“ Yes, of course, it is, duh. Then I will see you in a few.”

“See you then, Robin.”

“Bye, Vickie.”

Robin bit into her bottom lip under her wide grin as she hung up the phone. It took everything in her to not stomp around her feet to get all the joyous energy out. Her cheeks were probably bright pink, and her hair had to be a mess, and she’d have to be sneaky to throw on some mascara and her favorite rings before she got out the door if she wanted to look even a little put together.

But it was Vickie. It was Vickie inviting her out for the day. It almost actually sounded like a date. And Robin dared to consider that Vickie’s voice and tone seemed like she knew how it sounded...

Which was insane. She still never thought the chance was real. Even after they volunteered together, and Steve tried so hard to hype her up, she was half-convinced that nothing would come of it besides his false hope. But it was real. And now she had something to work for.

And it was still scary.

But she tried to focus on what Steve told her between all his insisting that Vickie really liked her.

“Be yourself, and all that junk.”

Robin’s own advice thrown back at her. So Robin was just going to have to try to focus on being herself. And all that junk.

Worst-case scenario, she’ll at least be able to tease Steve about the fact that his idea was ridiculous and didn’t work. Which felt like a security blanket, honestly. At the end of the day, if the whole thing went horribly, she'd still find some way to laugh about it with her best friend...

“What was it?” her mother asked from around the corner where she had been reading the newspaper and sipping a cup of coffee that they both knew was mostly creamer.

Robin poked her head over to look at her and attempted to settle herself to answer casually,“ Oh! Vickie’s just gonna help me and Nance with something! We’re going to head out in a bit and ask the band teacher a few questions.”

“The band teacher? Mr. Thompson?” Theresa asked folding and setting down the paper on the kitchen table as she leaned back in the chair.

But even Robin could tell her mother must have done everything she could to eavesdrop. Probably sat so still that the chair didn’t squeak, didn’t drink from her mug so she could listen, and held the paper in loose fingers so it didn’t crinkle the whole time... So she already knew all about what she was asking about. Why they needed to play around it, Robin never understood, but they did. It’s what they did. If they didn’t - if Robin tried to skip the unnecessary explanation - it would turn into a conversation about her manners.

So, instead, Robin confirmed,“ Yeah, Mr. Thompson,” and waited for the next question.

“What do you girls need him for?”

“Well, Eddie was in the school band for a few years. Didn’t do pep band or anything, but Mr. Thompson should still know him.” she clarified,” So we wanted to see if he had anything nice to say about him for an article on Eddie’s innocence. Make sure he doesn’t get mounted on a stake in the town square the minute the police unlock his cuffs.”

Her mother nodded along and took another sip of her coffee,“ Alright. Make sure you’re home tonight or tell me ahead of time if something changes. Before it gets dark out so I know I don’t need to worry.”

“I will, Mom.”

Her mother began to pick back up her newspaper and held out an open hand. The signal Robin always returned by blowing a kiss that she’d pretend to snap her hand around and pat into her chest. Which was another comfort. That was also their thing. Besides any tenseness or misunderstandings, once things settled Robin’s mother would always silently ask for a kiss. And Robin would always send one her way.

And just as Robin was bounding back to the bathroom to brush out her hair and try to doll herself up, at least a little bit, the doorbell rang.

“Wow, Vickie must’ve been pretty close,” Theresa commented from her newspaper.

But when Robin opened the door, it wasn’t Vickie on her front doorstep, but Nancy.

Nancy lit up when she was met with the other girl, a light bounce on her feet that had her curls spring on her shoulders,“ Ready to go?”

“Oh, Nance….” Robin said as she realized she didn’t even have time to try and call ahead to let her know about the change in plans.

“Yes?” Nancy’s eyes brows quirked, and her smile went a little nervous,” Should I be hurt by that reaction?”

“No! Um, I just got a call from Vickie,” she began to explain.

Though, just that on its own didn’t mean much to Nancy.

“Vickie?”

“Yeah! She wanted to help out with the teachers.”

“She did?” Nancy asked.

She found that a little hard to believe, considering the two of them only just got the idea the night before themselves. How did Vickie Nelson hear about it, and why does she care all that much? Clearing Eddie’s name was their business. Not hers.

But Robin just simply smiled back,“ Yeah! So I thought it’d be faster if we split up! She and I could scope out the band director - since he already knows us so well - and you can take care of Ms. Reynolds with no problem. And then we can share the info later and see how useful any of it might be.”

“Oh.”

“That okay?”

Nancy wasn’t trying to seem sour about it. She wasn’t trying to guilt trip her or make a big deal out of it. Robin had seemed all cheery about the idea, Nancy didn’t want to rain on her parade. So she pulled herself together and snapped out of whatever funk she slipped into a moment ago.

“Uh, yeah, yeah. It’s fine. Just- here, take the questions we drew up last night. I’ll write myself a new copy, and we can get together later,” Nancy tore out a sheet of paper from her notebook and handed it over.

“Yeah, I’ll just be one walkie-away if anything comes up!” Robin nodded, accepting it with her easy-going grin still splayed across her face.

“Well, have fun,” Nancy wished her well as she began to turn back to her car.

“Thanks. You too!” Robin threw over her shoulder as she closed the door and was gone.

Okay. That stung.

The whole interaction stung.

Which was weird. Shouldn’t have really stung that much. Nancy and Robin were just new friends. Robin had other friends. It was fine. Maybe Nancy was just kind of put off since they made plans together, and now Robin was dropping them off for someone else. Yeah, anyone would be annoyed by that.

Yeah.

But either way, Nancy packed herself back into her car and breathed for a minute. Got her new notes jotted down. Then she saw Vickie park across the street. The other girl stepped out of the car. Looked around and sort of shook out her arms. Like she was nervous or something. But then she set her eyes on Robin’s front door and walked forward with a kind of determination Nancy supposed she’s worn when she was chasing a good story. Vickie made it up the steps and rang the doorbell, turned around, and shook out her arms again when she locked eyes with Nancy.

She froze. Her eyes were wide, her arms hanging off her a little awkwardly as she just stared back at Nancy in her station wagon. Like she’d been caught doing something wrong.

Nancy pulled her expression into a tightlipped smile. Something simple and polite but not exactly totally friendly. She was still a little annoyed about getting dumped- more like bailed on. Yeah, bailed on. But she gave a little wave anyway, and Vickie unfroze to wave back, wearing her own nervous smile.

And then the door opened, and Vickie spun around without hesitation. So Nancy started the car and drove off before she got a good look at Robin in her doorway again.

She had work to get to.

Robin and Vickie would climb into the Nelson’s hatchback and find Mr. Thompson, while Nancy picked up Jonathan to go with her for Ms. Reynolds.

The pair of girls took off for their director’s house and found themselves gigging a lot to the radio. Their music taste didn’t perfectly match up, but there was some notable overlap that they found entertaining for the drive. Vickie complimented Robin's jewelry, she did end up having just enough time to slip some on along with a coat of mascara before her doorbell rang again. Robin absolutely blushed and complimented Vickie. Said she liked the pale teal spirals she wore before, but the dangling green diamonds were great too.

When the drive was done, and they'd actually arrived to talk to Mr. Thompson, he had good things to say. Which was a real relief to Robin.

Turned out Eddie’s not only been in band since middle school, but he’d even stay after school for extra lessons when he was picking up guitar. Mr. Thompson had liked the kid. He was the kind of music student that every teacher wants to teach. The kind that loved it and had a knack for the ability. From piano to guitar, Eddie loved music with an intensity that most people never did. Loved it through his first senior year. He ended up not coming back in ‘84, even though he was still at the high school. Thompson had tried reaching out, but Eddie seemed different when he did.

Just said he had too much on his plate - his own band and trying to make money to help his uncle - and walked away.

Mr. Thompson let it go. He had other students to worry about.

But Eddie Munson, that was a good kid who loved music, even if he liked to find ways to play that weren’t entirely classical or conventional. Mr. Thompson remarked about some combative behavior sometimes. But it was more usually aimed at the other students when Eddie felt like they weren’t trying at all or didn’t care, less so at the director himself. At the end of the day, Mr. Thompson wondered what had happened to him when he stopped seeing Eddie loiter in the band hall, but he was never very sold on the idea that he had turned into a killer after less than two short years since they last spoke.

And the statements helped Vickie see Eddie as the good guy who was thrown into a bad situation that Robin knew he was.

The other pair were having a less fun time. Nancy was still wound up, and she wasn’t really sure why. Which only pissed her off more. Jonathan had something to say but didn’t want to spring it on her while she was in a bad mood. Not that it was the kind of news that should be used to ruin a good mood either…

Jonathan was in trouble. Really, really in trouble. He couldn't procrastinate for a few months again, but it was so much harder to say something when he was actually sitting next to her.

It was a quiet drive on their end.

Then they met with the teacher. Who also had pretty good stuff to say about Eddie. Turns out drama teachers usually couldn’t care less about “conventional”. Ms. Reynolds said she was always partial to more experimental fine arts anyway. And Eddie was loud and passionate in classes, that’s the sort of stuff that thrived in drama departments and drove creativity. He had presence and theatrics and was always paling around with Jeff in the back of her classroom. It was also apparently Eddie that had roped Gareth into helping out with set construction for the musical they just put on. And Josie was in the orchestra pit while Bruce helped with lights. Seemed all of Corroded Coffin had come together in her department at one point or another.

Which is how it had been so easy to convince her to sign off on letting them use the drama room for their Hellfire meetings anyway.

Their little crew was still a little divisive with some of the other drama kids. Their dark clothes and leather and metal set them apart. But Ms. Reynolds always liked them. Always appreciated the way they were willing to do whatever to help. And Eddie was the core, or leader, of that.

She had a few good things to say about the kid. He was weird, but unapologetically himself. And she was happy to go on the record that, as wild as he was, she believed that he didn’t do it.

All in all, Robin and Nancy’s mission could be considered a success.

Even if they didn’t do it together.

Now, Eddie himself was in a state of confusion.

He was still sort of reeling from the fact that Steve had been there at all. Steve Harrington had been there. Sat in the chair at his hospital bedside wearing stupid, boring jeans and a dusty, red sweatshirt like it was the most casual thing. The chair didn’t even look very comfortable. But Steve sat in it, more than once he sat there for a few hours and- that’s so weird.

Eddie wasn’t making it up, right?

He wasn’t going crazy from demobat rabies, right?

Steve had been there.

Right?

It was… it was just so weird.

Freaky, one could even say.

Yeah, they’d gotten mixed up in the same problem recently. But to come back for him, to sit at his bedside while he lay unconscious… It wasn't “right.” Didn’t make sense in the world Eddie Munson came from, even if he was starting to accept that place was long gone.

Steve… Steve Harrington was an enigma. For all four of Eddie’s years that they shared at high school together,

Steve Harrington was an enigma.

Even in Steve’s freshman year, he was the talk of the town. Good looking kid, with passable grades that were more easily accepted when everyone saw how he did in competitive sports. He was doing it all. Basketball, Baseball, Swim Team. And on top of that, his folks had crazy money and this big house he could sometimes swing parties at. He was adopted into the top dogs faster than anyone had ever seen.

In his sophomore year, he found his footing. Started to know exactly how he was fitting into things and how to take charge even though he was still an underclassman to most. Started to solidify the group of kids he hung out with along the upper crust. Started getting swarmed by girls. A whole slew of rumors were buzzing around after that about all the babes he was shmoozing between classes.

Though, his junior year might've been the height of it. He seemed like he was soaring in those days. Just basking in the awesomeness of everything in his life going right for him. And then he bagged little miss perfect. And then something happened to him before winter break. And he fell out with most of his old buddies. Focused a little harder on his classes. Fell into place wherever Nancy was.

And then his senior year was like watching him get snuffed out. All at once, he’d lost pretty much everything, except for his girlfriend. And then more shit happened just before winter break… and Steve Harrington didn’t even have that anymore. So he coasted by until he was out. Just sort of kept his head down and managed his social standing without some of the… previous assholery he was a part of. Even if Eddie didn’t believe it at the time. Kept trying to be a big man on campus, but most of his moves fell flat until he quietly graduated. And that was that.

And then… next time Eddie saw Steve up close, he was pushing him against the wall of his dealer's boat house. Trying to come to terms with all the truly insane stuff Henderson was telling him, Steve just nodded along. Then Eddie was fighting for his life alongside him, a fight he was pretty sure he’d lost. But he didn't. And Steve stuck around.

Freaky.

And that’s coming from “The Freak.”

But Eddie didn’t have much longer to dwell on it, because a slightly timid voice spoke from his doorway,“ Eddie…”

And looking over to see - instead of a nurse - one of his own little Hellions, his mouth open up into a wide smile instantly,“ Lucas! How’d you get here so fast? Harrington just left.”

Lucas took his bright expression as a sign to come on further in, so he took steps forward as he made his way to the chair Steve had previously occupied,“ I was just across the hall. I’ve been spending time with Max whenever I can.”

“Ahhhh…” Eddie nodded sagely, as if he wasn’t still playing catch up on what exactly those two had going on,” So, what’re you doing over here on my side then?”

“Wanted to see you up,” Lucas answered simply as he took his seat.

“Wish I could give you a show. I’d do a flip for you if it weren’t for these beauties.” Eddie teased with a jingle of his cuffs against the bed rail.

And then Lucas’s face went something sadder as he carefully asked,“ … so you’re really okay?"

Eddie shrugged, hoping it’d ease the kid a little. He looked kind of nervous for some reason,“ Yeah, man. I guess. I’m a little tender all over, but I’ll be fine. Not planning to abandon you kids any time soon. You’d all make a mess of my club if I didn’t finish up business myself before graduation.”

Eddie ended his line with a light chuckle, but Lucas didn’t respond. He looked a little gone, like his mind was elsewhere. And maybe Eddie should’ve assumed he was thinking about Max next door, but for some reason, he just had this nagging feeling that it was something else.

“Hey, you alright, Sinclair?” he wondered, letting his tone dip a little softer than he usually used it.

“Yeah. Yeah. It’s nothing.” Lucas tried to shake his expression off, but Eddie saw it. And then it clicked.

Oh.

Hellfire.

One of the last things Eddie did before his whole world changed, was exclude Lucas from Hellfire. And things have been so unbelievably crazy the entire time since that day that… he completely forgot.

Shit.

He was a bad friend on Friday, and he hasn’t said anything to Lucas about it.

“I’m sorry, Lucas.”

And Lucas flinched back into himself. So surprised by the out of nowhere apology he had to sit up and try to joke,“ For being in a coma? I know you didn’t do it on purpose-”

“No. For Hellfire,” Eddie corrected,” I’m sorry you weren’t at the last game.”

“Oh,” Lucas seemed to be struggling to figure out what to do with the words that he just moved to brush them away,” I… it’s fine. I was busy at the championship-“

Eddie stopped him from acting like it wasn’t a big deal,“ Lucas. Would you just let me apologize to you?”

And Lucas was tense and quiet for a minute. But eventually, he let out a breath and sat back deeper into the chair,“ Okay.”

“I’m sorry.”

Eddie started it seriously. Let the words sit on their own for a second before he tried to explain himself.

“It feels silly now to think about how worked up I was on Friday. Okay? Like, there are way bigger things than me just wanting stuff to go the way I planned. And… at the end of the day, I wanted you to be there. I know you’ve been juggling Hellfire with basketball, and we usually made it work, but then Hawkins unexpectedly qualified for the big tournament, or whatever, and… I don’t know. I got pissed. I've always hated the basketball guys. Felt like you were different from them- and you are, for the record. You’re different than them in all the best ways. But I got disappointed when I thought about you being with the cool crowd instead of the freaks. Made me feel like you were rejecting us, or leaving us behind for popularity…”

Lucas was shaking his head,“ That’s not-“

“I know,” Eddie told him anyway,” I know that’s not something you’d do, Sinclair. I was just making myself mad when I could’ve been going about it another way. I’ve got a few faults, and quick to anger is one of ‘em. It was cool and all meeting the littler Sinclair - don’t get me wrong - but I do wish you’d been with us for the end of the campaign. And most of the reason you couldn’t be was my fault because I was being stubborn. So I’m sorry. Really.”

And Lucas looked so much lighter in that chair after Eddie was done. Like some secret fear he’d been harboring since Friday that Eddie hated him was just run off. He even looked a little misty-eyed as he brought back his smile.

“I forgive you,” he said, though after a moment. It took him a bit to realize Eddie was waiting for it.

And then Eddie smiled back at him,“ Thanks. Was it a good game at least?”

Well. That astounded the boy.

“You want to hear about my game? You? Eddie Munson? A basketball game?”

Eddie tossed his head side to side like he was mulling it over,“ Well, maybe skip all the boring sporty bits and just tell me the highlights. Final score and stuff. But yeah, tell me about it.”

“Well, um,” Lucas shifted a little closer as he tried to remember how it all happened now that it felt like forever ago,” We’d been kinda neck-in-neck with the last team all night, the Falcons. They’d score, we’d score, we’d score some more, they’d even it right out. It was back and forth the whole game. And then Adam got knocked down… so they pulled me off the bench.”

“Wait a minute, you're saying you actually made it on the floor?” Eddie noticed, which made Lucas light up a little brighter. Now more confident that Eddie was actually interested in listening to him talk about his game.

“Yeah.”

“Ain’t that the first time that’s happened all year?”

He let out a soft chuckle,“ Yeah. It was.”

“You’re kidding…” Eddie leaned back and shook his head, remembering all the times his freshman would complain to each other at the lunch table about Lucas not getting to do anything worth watching.

“Well, if you’re impressed by that, how do you feel about hearing that I made the buzzer beater that won the whole thing?” he tempted.

And then Eddie’s attention shot back up to him,“ What?”

“We were down by one point, just the one, and there were ten seconds left on the clock. Jason tried to make the shot, but the ball hit the rim and bounced off. And I was the one who caught it. I just- It was just in my hands, and I dove out of the huddle, and… there wasn’t any time to think about it. So I took the shot. And it spun around the rim, jumped back out, and hit the backboard, but then it sunk. We won. We beat ‘em, 70 to 69.”

“That’s… that’s incredible, Lucas.” Eddie sounded dumbfounded. He really wasn’t a sporty guy, but even he could picture it. He wasn’t dumbfounded out of confusion, he was just that amazed.

Lucas got a little bashful,“ It was just-“

“No. No, that’s really cool, man,” and then the realization hit,” And we stole your sister so she couldn’t cheer you on…”

“Yeah… I was a little mad about that,” he admitted.

“I’m sorry about that too. You shoulda had someone there.”

“I wasn’t alone. The team practically paraded me around. And Steve was there in the audience. Robin was with the band. Even Nancy was there for the school paper. They cheered pretty loud when it happened.”

He sighed a little wistfully,“ I wish I saw it too.”

And, well, Lucas knew Eddie was trying to make up for everything, but that had to have been an outright lie.

“You hate basketball.”

“Yeah, I do. But I like you, kid. You’re one of my little freaks, and it would have been nice to see you do something that cool. Watch the whole school cheer you on even though you’re a nerd like the rest of us in Hellfire.”

And that…

‘You’re one of my little freaks’

It did a lot for Lucas. He’d honestly been a little scared the whole time that the game would be the final straw. The thing that set him away from Hellfire completely. Until the club became something only Dustin and Mike got to be a part of. But Eddie still thought Lucas was one of his.

He wasn’t getting thrown away.

“Thanks, Eddie,” he finally said when he didn’t think his voice was going to crack.

“Thank you for letting me in on a little of it. Even though I was a dick on Friday.”

The boy tried to walk that back,“ I wouldn’t say-”

“You can say it. One-time free pass since I’m admitting my shortcomings and humbling myself right now.”

And so, through a warm laugh, Lucas agreed,“ Okay, yeah, you were kind of a dick.”

“Thank you,” Eddie laughed a little with him,“ Now, tell me something about this plan Harrington mentioned. Wanna make sure I’ll be able to play my part well.”

Lucas ran over the bare bones with him. Just spent enough time on it that Eddie would know what to say, and then he called a nurse in. Eddie played like he was a little loopy for a few minutes to pass as him off as having just woken up. She checked his vitals and then called in a doctor who told that same nurse to get on the phone with the police department and Eddie’s uncle.

That was when they kicked Lucas out and sent him back across the hall. To make sure the cops wouldn’t have any arguments about the honesty of his interrogation. They really underestimated this Party, if only they knew.

By the end of it, people were on the way and Eddie was getting worn out. Turned out it was hard work waking up from a coma and socializing. He’d fallen back asleep before anyone new arrived at the hospital, but the next time he woke up someone had arrived.

It was Wayne. His wrinkled uncle Wayne. Uncle Wayne, who just looked so exhausted with his eyebrows pinching together, carefully watching Eddie’s hand held within his. Wet eyes that didn't move or blink as he waited to see his boy come back to him.

So Eddie squeezed it and groaned out,“ Hey, old man.”

And the familiar sound of Wayne’s worn and lovingly gruff chuckle was like the sun after such a god-awful week. He took back one of his own hands to wipe under his eyes for a moment before putting it back and smiling at him,” There he is. The man of the hour.”

“Here I am.” Eddie smiled back at Wayne from under sleepy eyes.

His uncle squeezed his hand tighter,“ I got real scared there. Thought I wouldn’t ever see you again.”

“Aw, Wayne, you know you can’t get rid of me that easy. I’m still your problem just like I’ve always been.”

“No, never been a problem,” he corrected.

“Now, I know you’re getting too sappy and lying to me. I am nothing if not a headache.”

Wayne cracked a deeper smile and leaned in closer to brush his hand gently over Eddie’s dark curtain of hair.

“I’ll take the headache, kid.” He told him as he rested his thumb on his nephew’s cheek.

Which was such a Wayne thing to do and say. He was a man’s man. Working with his hands and watching westerns on his days off. That's the kind of classic man he was. They didn’t get all mushy on one another very often. It was an unspoken but entirely understood thing, that they loved each other.

But that line was such a Wayne way to say it.

And then Wayne mentioned,“ You know, you didn’t didn’t get to tell me how the story went.”

“The story?” Eddie wondered for a moment.

“The one you were finishin’ up on Friday. With the big twist surprise you were settin’ up for those kiddos.”

“Oh.”

Because, of course, Wayne would bring up his DnD campaign.

Eddie told him about every single one.

He never bothered with giving him stats or explaining the different dice rolls and how that all worked, but he would practice the story with him. He’d share the bits he’d assume Hellfire would work through during that week’s session while he got all his notes prepared, and - usually the next day Wayne was able - they’d sit down over breakfast, and he’d tell his uncle all about how the party actually played through it.

Wayne loved it. It was like listening to his own private movie told by his nephew. He’d get version one with how it was supposed to work, and then he’d get version two with all meandering and funny jabs from the characters and how they came around the problem. And Eddie would always light up while he talked about it.

But he never got to see Eddie after Friday night, after what was supposed to be the big finale.

“So, how’d it go?” he asked again.

And maybe it would’ve been wise of Eddie to spend the time with his uncle telling him what sort of week he’s just had. Answering all the questions and explaining how serious he was when he talked about monsters this time. But, strangely, it seemed so much more important to talk about the session.

“Well, those rugrats… they really pulled out all the stops.” Eddie told him, shifting around as he continued,” You see, Lucas has this big game come up suddenly. He couldn’t be there. And it would have meant they couldn’t play through the end of the campaign that night. So Dustin and Mike were running all over school trying to find someone to sub in for him. And then they showed up at Hellfire with Lucas’s kid sister! I’m not kidding! This little middle schooler named Erica struts in. And I’m looking at her, thinking there’s no way she’s hardcore enough. She’s practically a baby- and she probably doesn’t even know how DnD works- and she’s all pretty ‘n pink- so there’s just no way! She doesn’t have the metal for it, end of story. I was sure of it. But she busts in any way with this little monologue about just how hardcore she is… And it honestly blew me away a little. So we initiate her as an unofficial member and then we all sat down to start the game…”

And they just talked. Talked and talked about the game. Every second of it made Wayne feel a hundred times better. The longer Eddie spoke about one of his greatest passions, the more Wayne could be sure he wasn’t going to crumble to pieces in his hands.

After that was when Eddie knew he had to tell him about all the shit he’s been through. He couldn’t even imagine not telling his Wayne how crazy it really was. Not explaining why he came home Saturday morning to a body in their trailer. Not explaining why he so absolutely couldn’t go back to his uncle to ask for help. Not explaining that he climbed into hell and almost died in there for a chance at ending some great evil.

That just wasn’t something he could keep from him. Wayne would know he was bottling something up. He was always good at making him talk.

So he talked.

When they got through it all, Wayne just huffed and told him,“ You really did scare me, you know? I wasn’t sure if I’d get a call to identify a body, or if you’d just run away from everything here and I’d never know any better-”

“Sorry…”

“No. Don’t you say you're sorry. You didn’t do nothing wrong. We’re going to make sure they know that.”

Eddie rolled his eyes,“ I don’t think they’ll just take your word for it.”

And then, from the door came the phrase,“ It’s not just his word.”

And it was Dustin Henderson, his mother standing right behind him.

“Henderson,” Eddie’s relief swelled to see the kid alright, then he added,“ And Mrs. Henderson.”

Officer Callahan had been hot on their heels showing up behind them as he started saying something about them not being allowed to see Eddie until they questioned him, how they had been instructed to go wait in Max’s room with the others. So the others were there too. But the two of them walked in anyway, completely ignoring the officer. Claudia took Eddie’s free hand, similarly to how she had Steve’s just the other morning.

And Eddie was just shocked that someone who was effectively a stranger was looking at him with kind eyes. He hadn’t expected to get that kind of treatment.

“My Dusty-bun tells me you stuck with him through the… earthquake. Made sure he was okay, and stayed safe even though the goddamn world was falling to pieces. Is that true?” she asked him, already very sure of the answer but wanting to hear him say it himself.

And something was flickering in the way she said it. ‘The… earthquake.’ So she knew it wasn’t really an earthquake. Which - as he thought about it - he remembered hearing Steve mutter about some parents finding out.

So Eddie gripped the bedrail and pushed himself to sit up in his bed, trying to be just a little awestruck, and answered.

“Yes ma’am,” like how Wayne always wanted him to say to adults. He usually bucked against the whole respecting your elders and authority figures thing, but for Dustin’s mother, he’d make an exception.

Her sweet smile pressed further into her plush cheeks, and she reached up to gently pat his hair with her hand, so very similar to how Wayne had,” Thank you. I will never be able to thank you enough for helping watch out for my baby-”

“Mom-” the kid groaned as if he could possibly still be surprised by the way his mother coddled him.

“So if you ever need anything, you can always reach out to us. Don’t even bother asking first, just take what you need.”

“That’s…”

Ridiculous. It was ridiculous to receive an offer like that from some little suburban mom. Even if she shared Dustin’s DNA and contributed to the weirdness of the little guy, she was still… just some mom. Not his.

But she pressed on,“ You saved me from my greatest fear. So whatever you need. And all of us are going to make sure everyone knows what really happened, as much as we can-”

“Okay,” Callahan tried to step in,” You can’t talk about the investigation before we’ve been able to question him-”

But then Ms. Henderson raised her finger to silence him while she turned back to Eddie,“ Do you feel up for their questions, honey?”

And that stunned him a second time. To watch Claudia Henderson shut up a policeman with a single finger and wait for Eddie’s cue before she was going to let anything happen. It was just stunning.

“Uh- yeah. Yeah, sure,” he croaked out when words came back to him.

“Alright,” she looked back at the man in blue,” Then ask him your questions so you can uncuff him and leave the poor boy alone.”

Callahan was readying to tell her about how that’s not exactly how it works,“ Ma’am-”

When Powell entered the room and interrupted him with a warning tone,“ Callahan.”

“They-” he began sputtering and motioning his hands at the pair who weren’t supposed to be in the room.

But before he could really argue, the Chief spoke to the mother,“ Ms. Henderson, you know you were supposed to go across the hall-”

“Well, we got over here just fine.” she innocently shrugged.

Chief Powell looked back at the officer with a disappointed glare as Callahan attempted to excuse himself,“ I tried-”

But Ms. Henderson was absolutely not allowing the two of them to waste time on it,“ Are you going to question him and get it over with?”

“Yes. Okay? If we could have everyone clear the room now? He’s not a minor; he can do this on his own.”

And then Claudia Henderson had the gall to look back at Eddie and wait for his blessing. Again. Like she was really willing to put her foot down and argue some more with the cops. Which- okay- maybe that was pretty badass. Way more than he was expecting from some prim and proper suburban mom. So Eddie gave her the nod she was looking for, and she placed her hands around Dustin’s shoulders to steer him into the other room.

Wayne gave his hand another tight squeeze and said,” You just holler and I’ll knock that door down, you hear?”

“I’ll be fine. Get outta here already,” Eddie squeezed his hand back.

Then Wayne let him go, and it was the first time he wasn’t being held since he arrived. His palm felt a little cold now. But he was okay. He was going to be okay.

Wayne left the room and followed the rest into the Max’s. They hadn’t all arrived yet. So far it was Steve, Nancy, Jonathan, Lucas, Erica, Mike, and now Dustin. They are also accompanied by Karen, The Sinclairs, Susan, and now Claudia and Wayne.

Hop and Joyce were on their way with Will, El, and Argyle. Murray said he’d stay behind “strategizing”. And Vickie was supposed to be dropping Robin off any minute. Apparently, they had just sat down to eat an early lunch together when Steve reached out to everyone. Which had been news to him. So he’d been waiting with a very specific kind of impatience ever since. If he didn’t get to squeeze every ounce of information about her first date - because he was absolutely calling this a date - by the end of the night, he was going to go crazy.

In the meantime, everyone mingled the best they could. Wayne thanked Claudia for her ferocity for his boy, she thanked him for raising such a good one. Mike was on the walkie asking for updates on how close the Hopper-Byers car was to the hospital every few minutes, going on and on about how excited he was for El and Will to meet Eddie. Nancy seemed tense but told everyone they had used the morning to make some progress in cleaning things up. And Dustin was talking to Lucas and Erica about how Eddie looked before he and his mother were kicked out.

The questioning went well.

At least, it felt like it did.

Eddie didn’t really have anything to compare it to, seeing as he’d always kept himself out of too much trouble before. But it seemed like it wasn’t awful. There wasn’t any yelling, and while they asked him to be more specific or clarify what he was saying, they hadn't argued against his claims. So maybe Steve was right when he said they were leaning his way. And maybe Robin and Nancy would be able to turn it all around for him somehow.

But he reminded himself not to get carried away and hope for too much while Chief Powell finished up.

“We’ve taken your statement, and will be going over it with the evidence and the other testimonies we have collected. We don’t have an answer for you now, but we’ll be back tomorrow with the final decision on how the Hawkins Police Department will be proceeding with the charges.”

“Okay.”

“In the meantime, the cuffs stay on. And the visitors can come back in, but we’ll be posting an officer to keep an eye on you-”

And that was when the door swung open. Seemed like the people around there really didn’t care about following the rules. Chief Powell’s face twitched as he braced himself to tear into whoever just barged in when he found himself looking at a dead man.

“Chief…?”

It was the only word that came to him after referring to the man by the title for so many years. He looked different now, but he was still so unmistakably Jim Hopper.

He stepped into the room and motioned,“ From what I hear, that’s your job now, Cal.”

“You… you’re… how are you…” he sputtered, Callahan next to him just standing in silent shock with a hand over his mouth.

“Long story. One I don’t really want to go over. How about we call it a kidnapping and move on?”

“Kidnapping?” Powell asked,” But you- eight months, Chie- Hop… Hop, it’s been eight months since… you ‘died’ in the mall fire. Did they all lie about you being there, or-”

“No, I was there. Don’t try to take away my Hero of Hawkins medal now. It was the dying part that just didn’t stick.” Hopper corrected.

Then Callahan found his voice,“ But what’re you…?”

Hop shrugged and looked at Eddie for a second, which was weird because they’d never really spoken, but now the guy was on his side, technically,“ Was listening by the door and thought I could ask about possibly forgoing some of that procedure.”

“What?”

“Look, the kid’s clearly been through hell enough already, Cal-”

“Hop…” Powell shook his head,” This case is already messy enough as is. Everything needs to be by the book from this point on-”

“Come on. Call it calling in a favor?” he tried.

Which pulled a small smile to the other’s face because it was just so much like him to ask,“ You have no favors to call in.”

“You’re right, I never stocked any up. But… what about it anyway?”

“Look… as soon as the choice has been made, you’ll know. We aren’t dragging our feet on this, but we can’t be caught making mistakes. I’ll assume you’ve seen the news?”

“Yes, I’ve seen the-”

“Then you know, this has to be done right. There are too many eyes on it, and too much has gone off the rails already.” He emphasized. Then he spared a glance back at Eddie, and the kid did seem kind of pathetic.

“But we can loosen the cuffs a notch. Looks like Daniels put ‘em on a little tight.” He gave, stepping up to unlock them and clicking them back in place more comfortably.

Hop came in close behind him to ask,“ Who’ll be assigned the babysitting duty?”

“I was going to give it to Nichols,” Powell answered.

“Okay…” Jim considered,” Yeah, Nichols is good…”

“Alright then. Go on and invite everyone else in and tell them the protocol. We have work to do back at the station.”

“Calvin?” he asked as the officers headed for the door.

“Jim?”

“Thank you.” He said,” Nichols is…”

“Nichols is good. I know. He’s good at his job and not an ass like some of them, so he shouldn’t make this next day of waiting too difficult on him.” Which was a phrase that made Eddie feel a whole lot better about the guy,” And even if you don’t want to explain where the hell you’ve been the last two-thirds of the year, least you could do is bring a cup of coffee by my new office and tell me what the hell you’re doing now.”

“Yeah. Least I could do.” Jim agreed.

Then Powell nodded and left. Just like that, Eddie had officially done all he could to clear up the mess, and then it was out of his hands. It felt weird, to be on the other side of the fear. He had been dreading it the entire time since he saw Chrissy die right in front of him. “How do I get out of this?” played over and over in his head whenever the world was too quiet. And now he faced it. And he just has to lie there and wait until there’s news.

But before he could stew in it any longer, there were all his kids - plus a few new faces - packed in the door of his room. The adults excused themselves, some heading off to pick up some food from the diner in town for everyone to eat for lunch while the rest just headed on home themselves. Each of them decided to let the youngsters reunite on their own for a little bit.

As soon as Eddie saw Michael Wheeler coming in, he broke out an excited,“ Hey! It’s Little Wheeler! Where have you been all week? Didn’t you hear we were all hanging out?”

Mike, who was just a moment ago beaming to see his DM awake, let his expression instantly drop at the nickname.

“Little Wheeler?” he questioned.

Eddie explained,“ Well, yeah, I can’t call you and your sister both ‘Wheeler’ after all.”

Mike argued,“ I should be the original ‘Wheeler’!”

“I’m not calling Nance ‘Big Wheeler’, dude.” Eddie rolled his eyes,“ Plus she’s cool. Way too cool to not be the standalone ‘Wheeler’. You know?”

Nancy was wearing a pretty smug look when Mike turned on her,“ You stole my DM.”

“What?”

“You stole my DM!” he repeated,” I leave for one week, and suddenly I’m ‘Little Wheeler’?”

She shrugged her shoulders at her brother,“ That’s not my fault. Stop being ‘Little Wheeler’ material.”

“I’m the taller one!”

Eddie reached out his hand to try and get in between them,“ Wheelers, Wheelers, you're both pretty. No need to fight for the affections of my heart-”

But Mike wasn’t even listening,“ Give it back!”

“Give it back?” she quoted back to him.

“Give it back!”

“I’m not ‘giving it back’, Mike. It’s a nickname. Earn a better one if you’re going to be so worked up about it. How about we give ‘Little Shit’ a try?” she offered.

They kept bickering between themselves as someone new stepped in a little closer to Eddie’s bedside.

He recognized her from the empty space in his head they’d met a few days ago, but he still didn’t really know her yet.

And then she looked at him with bashful eyes and began speaking,“ I like your hair. It’s… pretty.”

Eddie’s hair reminded her of her own before she woke up in that bed at the NINA project to see they'd cut it all off. She really liked having long hair. It was something that she was able to look at the mirror and say “It’s been so long since I was trapped there that now my hair goes past my shoulders.” She can’t say that anymore.

Because they caught her again.

And maybe she walked right into it but… she liked her long hair.

Missed it now.

And Eddie said, with a flourish,“ Why thank you, m’lady. Not exactly the style of flattery I usually aim for, but I am more than happy to accept it regardless.”

That’s right. Mike had said that Eddie was pretty “metal.” So maybe there was another word that fit him better.

“It’s also really… bitchin’.”

And Eddie just lit up. His eyes and smile widened at the soft-spoken girl,“ Oh my god, you’re my favorite now. Please, come closer, you little angel!”

He beckoned her with his hand as much as he could while still being restrained, and El’s own smile grew with her giggle as she stepped up to his bedside with more confidence. Her brother was just behind her, and Eddie had been about to greet him when two of the kids he already knew well enough yelled at him.

“Hey!” Mike and Dustin protested in unison. Both of them were clearly mad about the fact that he just called El his favorite, and he didn’t even know her name yet.

“Hey yourselves!” Eddie shot back,” This cutie saved my life and just gave me the greatest compliment I’ve ever received!”

“But that’s- That’s not-” Dustin sputtered before turning to one of the other older boys in the room,” STEVE!”

“What do you want me to do about it? I can’t magically make you his favorite again-“

To which Mike took offense,“ Hey!”

“Please, Mike, do you really think you were Eddie’s favorite?” Dustin asked him with that same tone Steve kept saying he’d do something about, yet hasn't,” It was obviously me. And it’s obviously going to be me again, once I retake my throne from this thief!”

El scrunched her eyebrows together at him,“ I did not steal it.”

“Yes, you did! With magic powers and sweet words!”

Eddie chimed in,“ Don’t forget the cute face.”

“And your cute face!” he added with an accusatory finger, though it just made El laugh again.

Lucas shrugged and sided,“ I’m on El’s team. You can’t not like her. I tried. Didn’t get very far.”

She gave him a courteous nod,” Thank you.”

However, Mike seethed “Traitor!” in the other boy's direction.

“So, El’s the name of the darling I owe my life to?” Eddie asked her, ignoring the boy’s play fighting.

“Yes. Short for Eleven.” She answered.

“Eleven?”

“There’s a lot we didn’t have time to explain fully the first time around,” Steve told him.

“I wasn’t even here when Eddie’s life went to shit! I think that means I get bonus points.” Mike got louder as he tried to argue.

Lucas was the one to disagree,“ That doesn’t make any sense. None of us screwed him over.”

“If anything, you weren’t even here to try and help him out of it. I think that means we deserve bonus points.” Dustin added.

“They are so immature.” Erica rolled her eyes and said to Steve.

“I know they are.” he agreed,” At least you behave when you aren’t too busy blackmailing us-”

“Eddie! You’re really awake!” Robin rushed in, finally arriving with the rest of them.

“Last one in, Robin?” Eddie asked.

“I was…” She spared a glance at Steve, who was already looking at her pretty intently, before she put her focus back on the one in the bed,” looking into something. For you!”

Erica leaned in closer to Steve and whispered while Robin rambled about her meeting with Mr. Thompson,“ It is not blackmailing when I am just insisting on the return of the goods and services that were pledged to me-”

“It’s a little blackmail-y, or like, at least blackmail-adjacent the way you do it,” Steve whispered back.

“And yet, I didn’t even need to apply the pressure for five minutes before you broke. Seems like you just knew I was right.”

Steve deadpanned at her,“ Okay, I take it back. You don’t behave. No one in The Party behaves.”

“Oh, that’s the truth.” Robin hastily agreed when she caught the back half of what he said.

“Oh, so this is The Party?” Eddie asked with a motion to the room.

Mike pipped up,“ Yeah. We’re The Party.”

Nancy gave a light shove to his head,“ It’s what they’ve been calling themselves since the day Dustin moved into town. And once we all got mixed up in everything together, we all kind of adopted it.”

"We're still the originals, though," Mike mentioned with a motion between the four boys.

“So that’s what the little angel meant. Not celebrating.” Eddie figured, finally connecting the dots. But should he really have expected the person he confused with God to be using fantasy terms that way? Can’t blame the guy for assuming she’d meant it by the normie definition.

“No, she was not referring to an actual party.” Will joked beside her.

“Good, because I was going to be pissed if you were all just having fun while I was dying.” He huffed.

Steve stepped forward,“ You weren’t dying-”

“Oh no, he absolutely was.” Robin interrupted him,” You heard El, she had to keep him together enough to even make it to the hospital-”

“What?”

And there was Wayne at the door, along with the other parents all holding to-go bags of food for everyone. Thus started the third - and hopefully last - explanation of what was actually going on. They couldn’t really pretend like everything was normal since Eddie had already told Wayne most of what happened to him. So they just explained it further. Went over the bits that Eddie didn’t know anything about or didn’t understand fully. They had the discussion over burgers and fries, and vending machine sodas and candies. Which made all the information go down a little bit easier.

Eddie learned why a child would be named Eleven.

Wayne learned that his boy’s innocence rests on the integrity of a mountain of lies.

Which was really scary to think about.

So they tried not to.

They all started getting to know one another a little better, seeing as how they’d be putting together more plans to fight off the end of the world. Wayne and Hopper noticed a few similar mannerisms between them. Eddie was more properly introduced to El and Will. And Jonathan and Argyle. And Joyce. Those were all the new faces he was getting a real conversation with. According to everyone, there was some guy who didn’t feel like coming in, two more on the way, and the other parents had headed off back to their homes until visiting hours were over. They didn't want to overwhelm Eddie and thought the kids should get to spend some time with him. Which was pretty sweet, considering he was a wanted man who had been on the run just a few days before.

It was about then that they were suddenly interrupted by a distressed woman in a pantsuit and sunglasses at their door.

But before she even got a word in, Nancy was standing up from her seat and very sharply telling her,” Out.”

The woman peeled off her sunglasses and responded through a clenched jaw,” I see you found our missing persons… and then some.”

She added that last bit while eyeing Jim.

“Get out.” Nancy insisted.

“Ms. Wheeler-”

“I said ‘Get out’. So get out of this room.”

“Nancy…?” Joyce asked, concerned. Nancy had never revisited her grudge against this particular government agent any of the times they ran over things.

The woman pushed,“ We have to talk about what happened.”

“I’m not saying a goddamn word to you people. Since we can’t trust you not to make it worse.”

Then it was Hopper trying to calm her down,“ Kid-”

“They handed her back to him.” Nancy said firmly, making strides around Eddie’s bed to put herself between the woman and the rest of the room, tucking El right behind her,” So no. They don’t get to get close to her again.”

“However you feel about things, we still need to get on the same page if we have any hope of cleaning things up around here.”

“It’s not happening. Not here, not today, and not anywhere near El. I don’t care what you say, it’s not.”

The woman seemed exacerbated,“ We have to-”

Finally, Nancy let out the yell she had been fighting back all day,“ Get out!”

Which was a sight. For everyone. To see her lose her cool like that.

It was different than the way she fought monsters.

It was… something else.

“Ms. Wheeler-”

“Tomorrow then? We all get together and discuss things tomorrow?” Joyce offered the compromise, still making up her mind on how exactly she felt about the situation but sure about wanting to get it taken care of.

Hopper answered for their guest in his own gruff voice,“ We’ll talk tomorrow.”

After a moment of silence, the agent decided to take the deal on the table,“ I’ll leave my card. There’s a number on it. Call and make plans for the meeting, or I’ll show up unannounced again. With backup.”

Nancy was gearing up to walk closer when Steve grabbed her shoulder,“ Get out-”

“I’m leaving. Make sure you call.” She said, pressing the slip on top of the light fixture by the door.

And then she was gone.

“You know… I was going to give this welcoming committee a five-star review in the paper until she showed up. Really soured the mood, you know?” Eddie joked, trying to relieve some tension.

Nancy huffed and returned to her seat,” Sorry. The news must’ve aired footage of the police arriving for questioning and were probably still running the cameras when everyone showed up, so…”

“We weren’t even thinking about that when we got here…” Jonathan muttered beside her.

“It’s okay. Still a pretty rockin’ day from my end. Being not dead and all.”

“That’s it, man. We just gotta focus on the positives.” Argyle smiled back at him.

“What’s the plan for the meeting?” Robin asked nervously.

“El’s not coming.” Nancy set the condition sternly.

“Agreed.” Hop nodded and crossed his arms.

“But-” the girl tried to argue.

“No. We have to assume she won’t be alone, and while Sam might’ve been on your side, we don’t know what they’re doing now on their own. We need to know how everything stands. If there are people who aren’t our allies, we aren’t giving them an opportunity to get ahold of you again.”

“We can’t just leave her alone, Hop,” Joyce noted.

“So, you don’t.” Wayne thought,” You bring her here on the way to the meeting. There are all the cameras at the entrance, an officer will be posted by the room, and this hospital is still full of people. If someone tried to break her out of her against her will, they wouldn’t get very far without drawing a lot of attention.”

Jim nodded some more,” Yes. Yes, that’s a good idea. El can stay here until we finish.”

“More time to hang out with my guardian angel? Sounds good to me.” Eddie agreed with a smile, hoping El wouldn’t be nervous about the idea.

“So then, tomorrow morning. Most of the rest of us. Some place public. Get this dealt with so we can figure out the next move.” Jim concluded.

And no one else said anything, but they all agreed. That was the plan.

There wasn’t much more to say the evening, so when four o’clock arrived and a nurse was kicking everyone besides Wayne out and introducing Officer Nichols, they all went their separate ways. Most of the kids' parents were pulled up by the hospital entrance for pickup. Except for Robin who Steve whisked away so they could spend a few hours doing some much-needed checking in. Robin just had her first date after all, so there was so much to talk about before he needed to drop her off at home.

She told him everything. All about the phone call and Vickie's new earrings. About all the ways Vickie made her laugh and how she could swear she’d noticed Vickie’s eyes lingering on her when she would get lost in her rambles. About the way that Vickie sat right next to her while they talked to Mr. Thompson on his front porch. About the way that Vickie leaned against her and touched her shoulder and seemed to be so close sometimes that Robin swore her head was spinning.

She talked about it all with Steve.

Because telling her best friend about her amazing day made it so much more real.

And that was the moment Steve decided Robin wasn’t coming with them to the meeting. He had already been pretty sure about it but watching her bursting with excitement about her first real chance at loving a girl made him certain.

There was probably going to be nothing major that happened. It would be stupid of the Feds to try and take out something like a dozen people in a small town where everyone knows each other. But he wasn’t going to risk it. Just couldn’t imagine risking Robin disappearing before she got to kiss Vickie for the first time and feel loved in that sweet special way that romance can hold.

With everything Steve knew about love and everything he didn’t, he knew that Robin deserved to have her chance to find out about it.

[shimmershaewrites]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Stranger Things (TV 2016) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Chrissy Cunningham/Eddie Munson Characters: Wayne Munson, Chrissy Cunningham, Eddie Munson Additional Tags: Good Parent Wayne Munson, POV Wayne Munson, No Vecna (Stranger Things), Alternate Universe, Unplanned Pregnancy, Pregnancy, Marriage of Convenience, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Family, Family Feels, Family Fluff Summary:

His boy brings home a girl that spring, a pretty thing with blonde hair and a shy smile and a belly she can’t hide, and when he sees the way Eddie looks at her, Wayne’s heart sinks past his gut.

“It’s not mine,” Eddie tells him the next afternoon. They’re out on the side porch after lunch; Chrissy's inside, asleep on the couch.

“The baby,” Eddie adds when Wayne doesn’t respond right away. He’s frowning fiercely at his knees. “She had a boyfriend. Well, until…”

“Until?” Wayne prompts.

The boy—not so much a boy now, twenty-three and taller than him—shrugs. “Until he knocked her up.” His mouth twists in a sneer. “Fucker thought basketball was a better deal than her and a kid.”

Wayne sits with that for a minute. “Sounds like a piece of work.”

Eddie snorts. “I’ll say.”

A couple cars go by on the road; the whine of a lawnmower a couple spots down drifts in and out.

“Wayne.”

“Yeah, kid.”

Eddie tips his head back to look at him, something between nerves and determination on his face as he squints against the sun.

“I’m gonna marry her. If she’ll let me.”

[dearest-nell]

charmed

e. munson x reader, 3k

summary: eddie comes home from a long day at work to discover wayne has a pretty surprise for him includes: established!eddie x reader, wayne being the sweetest paternal figure, mumblings of a found family, wayne manifesting a daughter in law by years end warnings: afab reader, non descript

a/n: writing from the boys perspective is always way more fun. i have so many thoughts about wayne and eddie's relationship.

Eddie had intended to be home earlier, a far cry earlier than the 9:30 that blinked hazily on his vans dashboard as he pulled in before the trailer. He was meant to be home hours ago, hoping to enjoy a Friday night the way that a young person ought to – out with the people he loved. Instead he sat in his driver's seat, covered in oil and grime and god knows what else from under the hood of some deadbeat richman from the other side of town. The apprentice had fucked the repair of a rather pricey car, one that was to be picked up first thing monday, and Eddie didn’t have it in him to let the little guy drown under the barrage of abuse from an intimidating customer. 

So he stayed back, and now he was paying the price. Dinner would have been long over by now, and it was unlikely that Wayne was still home at such an hour. He usually had the night shift on this pay cycle, but Eddie couldn’t tell one from another these days. The lights were still on, his indication that he’d gotten his weeks wrong. 

Worn leather boots beat against the gravel as he trekked towards the door, hand running through the curls that hung low on his forehead; wild, in desperate need of a trim. He was spent, body weary and limp from the extra strain. He wanted to call his friends, to call you, to ask for good company, but he knew even now he was too tired to go anywhere. 

The door was unlocked, so he slipped into the warmth of the trailer with an involuntary shiver, eyes blinking tiredly to spot the figure propped up on the couch. Wayne. Beer in hand, chin shadowed with stubble; Eddie’s hero, if anyone were to ever ask. The old man was his favourite person, whether he knew it or not. 

Wayne gave a gruff smile, tilting his chin up at his nephew. “Long day, boy?” 

“Yeah.” Eddie breathed, voice more gravelly than he’d realised. “Got stuck back, sorry I didn’t call.” 

Wayne shrugged. “I figured, though there’s a surprise in your room f’you.” 

A surprise? Eddie couldn’t possibly guess what. “You’re joking.” 

Wayne simply smiled in response, shaking his head. “You go have a look ‘n tell me if I’m joking. Just be quiet about it.” 

Eddie gave a quizzical sort of look, boots resounding against the floorboards as he moved towards the room, a quick mumble from Wayne catching his attention again. 

“Quieter than that.” 

Eddie scoffed, his demeanour still playful despite his disbelief. He took more careful steps this time, readjusting the band wrapped clumsily around his bound tresses, trying to alleviate the steadily subsiding headache from two hours ago. Wayne had never been much of a secret keeper, nor was he one for dramatics. He was a pragmatic, realistic, nonfrivolous sort of man, which made that excitable little sparkle in his uncle’s eyes all the more amusing. Wayne didn’t play tricks, but Eddie couldn’t help but feel he was walking into one. 

With a slow turn of his door handle, Eddie eased the gap open, his eyes scanning the silent dark until his gaze settled upon the mountain of blankets upon his bed. There, buried under three blankets of comfort, was you. It might have been hard to tell under any other circumstances, but even half asleep and exhausted out of his mind, Eddie knew he could recognise your silhouette anywhere. He softened instantaneously, body slackening slightly under the slow wave of adoration that overcame him. You were here to see him. Talk about a surprise, he hadn’t expected to see you today, and now he felt his ribs pressing in tightly together, chest constricting with a glad sort of giddiness. 

He was gentle in closing the door again, his smile bemused at his now grinning uncle. “And how’d my girl end up in there, hm?” 

He toed off his boots, movements suddenly precise and careful under the presence of your company. Even through the closed door, he had no desire to rouse you just yet. Not until he was ready, clean and showered and shed of all other obligations, able to dedicate himself to your company. 

“She came by at 5,” Wayne explained, turning down the quiet shout of the television set with a well worn remote, “thought you’d be home soon, wanted to surprise you. I told her she was welcome t’wait, thinkin’ you’d be round earlier. But y’weren’t, so we had some dinner.” 

Wayne paused, nudging his chin towards the fridge, which Eddie took to mean there was leftovers waiting for him inside. He began rustling through, finding what was left of a roast and vegetables wrapped up neatly in foil. It was a little more extravagant than he had expected, and Eddie chalked that up to your aid in the kitchen. He could see the container of biscuits on the counter, too, with little hearts and flowers piped onto the tops. Pinks and blues and reds and whites, this wasn’t a house for sweets and softness, though Eddie welcomed your charms in any way he could get them. He sat at the table to feast, unbothered to even reheat the feast. 

Wayne continued on. “Thought she might go lookin’ for y’, but we got a’talking. She’s a real sweet thing, y’know, made a real effort to chat. Even offered to sit down ‘n watch a game with me, thought I didn’t have the heart t’put her through it. Ended up watchin’ some Antiques Roadshow thinkin’ she’d like it better; you ever seen me watchin’ that before? I ain’t never had much care, but we had good fun.”

“No shit!” Eddie piped up, astounded by the softened edges of his Uncle. You’d charmed him, he thought, with your curious questions and kind smiles. For Wayne to sit down and talk to anyone was a miracle, one that only an angel could perform. His Angel. 

“We got guessin’ and everythin’.” Wayne added, wiping roughly at his smile. “Seemed tired, though, so I told her to crash in your room. She’s been out maybe half an hour.” 

Astounded was an understatement. Eddie had brought girls home before he met you, though none had bothered to exchange more than polite pleasantries with his Uncle. He’d never been serious about them, so he’d never thought much of it, and then came you. Three months into this new connection, a relationship born of spring flowers and whisky nights and loud music and soft touches. Eddie had never been serious until now, until you, and now he couldn’t picture being anything else but. 

He was glowing, beaming from ear to ear. “So you like her, then?” He was so hopeful in his question, a sincerity Wayne only ever saw reserved for the most heartfelt of Eddie’s dreamings. 

“I do.” Wayne announced, washing down his contentment with another swig of his beer. “I hope y’re serious ‘bout her, she’s real soft on you, and I think she’s a good one. Seems to make you happy enough, you ain’t mopin’ nearly so much these days.” 

Eddie rolled his eyes, groaning with faux annoyance, rolling foil into a tiny ball to toss across the room, missing Wayne by a good foot of space. “I don’t mope.” 

“I don’t mope my ass, kid, you mope plenty. Just not anymore.” He was laughing now, worn lines creasing at the corners of his eyes. “I said she should come back f’dinner another night, we can all eat together. She was tellin’ me ‘bout this story she was readin’, and I’ll be damned if I don’t know how it ends.” 

Eddie knew how this story ended; it ended with you. It began with you, too. It was all you, he couldn’t see any other ending for him. 

“Yeah, that sounds good, old man.” He was doing his best to stomach the meal, but his words were caught around hastily eaten mouthfuls half chewed and uneasy to swallow. He’d give himself heartburn if he wasn’t careful, and it would have been worth it. 

Eddie took a moment to pause, swallowing thickly, belching unceremoniously in a way he was glad you weren't there to witness. “I am serious, y’know, about her. Real serious. I got a good feeling.” 

“Yeah?” Wayne questioned, sinking back into the sofa. 

“Yeah. She could be the one; ain’t that somethin’? I always thought it was bull when people said you just know, but…” he laughed with astonishment, “I think I just know.” 

“Well shit,” Wayne exclaimed, clearing his throat, “that’s real good, Ed’s. You just be good and treat her nice. Be a gentleman.” 

Eddie wasn’t too sure he knew how to be a gentleman, but somehow, he knew you liked him all the same. He didn’t need to be anything but himself around you, and that was a one in a billion kind of feeling,

He was quick in his cleaning, fumbling around the kitchen to pack away a still soaking plate, his mind skating over the plastic drying rack by the sink entirely. “I’m bein’ good, I swear.” 

“Bullshit.” Wayne teased, shaking his head. He braced himself on his knees, slowly rising to his feet with a groan. “I’m goin’ to bed. Tell her she’s welcome to stay whenever she likes, okay? Show her where the spare key is.” 

“I will.” Eddie nodded, barely able to fight his slow building excitement. He could feel himself getting restless, hands flexing just at the thought of holding you. “G’night, Wayne.” 

“G’night son.” He echoed back, disappearing into the quiet of his own room. 

Eddie made sure to lock up on his way, switching off the tv and lights as his own sort of wind down ritual. They’d be on all night if he wasn’t careful, and he’d spied the last bill long enough to have a mind for the electricity now. Besides, he needed to be calm when he woke you. He’d half frightened you to death last time he came barrelling in. 

Once again, he retreated towards his room, slipping into the dark like a shadow of the night, slowly shucking his way out of his overalls to kick to the side of the room. He didn’t mind staining his sheets with oil, but not you; you were something worth caring for. He knew he should have showered, but the sweat on his skin could hardly deter him from the need he had to be close to you, to ease away the troubles of his way with the balm of your skin against his, your whispers ringing in his head. 

He fumbled his way to the edge of the mattress, your sleeping body facing away from him to the back wall of the room. He peered a little closer into the darkness, a sliver of moonlight cascading across the bare curve of your shoulder, arm wrapped around something small, something fuzzy…

“Well shit, Ted, what’re you doing in here?” Eddie hadn’t thought to consider where the ragdoll cat had scampered off to. Teddy had been adopted only a few weeks after Eddie came to live with Wayne, his Uncle’s way of easing the boy into this entirely new world together. Teddy had been his childhood companion, and by the way he was burrowed into the pudge of your stomach, purring louder than a car engine, Eddie could see you’d won him over too. 

The cat barely stirred, rather giving him a grumbled sort of chirp at being disturbed, before wriggling his way further under the blankets. You, however, made the softest of whining noises that left Eddie’s heart near strangling in his chest. He lifted a ring clad hand to that moonlight shoulder, brushing callouses across the line of freckles that dusted your skin, watching as your eyes began to flutter open, head turning slightly to face him. 

“Eddie!” No one in the world had ever been so enthusiastic to see him before, not one. His name wasn’t the kind to roll off the tongue, to be begged for or shouted out or held tenderly on someone's lips. Never before, but the way your mouth wrapped around the letters seemed to change the word entirely. Nothing had ever sounded so tender, so wanting, so pleased. You were always pleased to see him, a feeling he never had to doubt when he could see it so plainly reflected in your irises. 

“Honey.” He cooed back, tugging up the corner of the bedsheets to slip beneath them, curving his body to fit the shape of your own, nudging his knee between your two just to feel your skin pressed against his own in every possible way. The hair on his body was just as wild as the hair on his head, but nothing felt like home to him more than the brush of your skin to the mess of his. “Fancy seeing you here.” 

You exhaled a lengthy yawn, muffling the sound into his pillow with a hum. Your hair, once styled, now seemed mussed and flattened under the weight of your head. His bed linens were already tattooing precious creases into sleep warmed skin. You were too beautiful for him to even comprehend. 

You turned in his arms, careful not to disrupt the grumbling cat beside you despite your eagerness. He felt arms press their way around him, your nose nuzzling at his chin. “Wayne let me in. I hope that’s okay.” 

Literally nothing else could have been more okay in his mind. It was perfect. This was perfect; coming home to you. “Come by anytime, baby. I’m just sorry I wasn’t back sooner. I made you wait.” 

You shook your head. “I didn’t mind. Wayne’s really cool. He kept me company.”

“So I heard.” His voice was edged with an air of amusement, his hand lifting to brush back the strands of hair falling across your face, leaving his palm to cup at the plush of your cheek, his eyes admiring even in the dark. “Antiques Roadshow?”

You let out a giggle. “We panicked! I was trying to make a good impression, and he suggested it so I thought why not. Honestly it was pretty fun, I could totally watch another episode.” 

“Mm.” His lips met the button of your nose dotingly, his voice slackening to a syrupy smoothness. “He’s impressed, I’m impressed; you’ve got us Munson men wrapped around your pretty little finger. Even Teddy’s on your side.” 

“I do not!” You chided, helpless against his onslaught of affection. He left you preening and giddy, a little lightheaded when he loved on you like this, and Eddie never had any intention of stopping. “Teddy just wanted a cuddle.”

“Him and me both.” Eddie asserted, snaking his other arm beneath the arch of your waist, wrapping around the small of your back to tug you in further, his smile resoundingly bright at the way you hummed happily. “We’re not too young to be asleep by 10, are we?” 

The way you eased into the very fabric of him, your bodies so close and so connected, wrapped tightly in the warmth of his room, was enough assurance to him that you were just as content here as he was. “No. I’m not leaving this spot. You just got home, and I’m all sleepy, and Ted’s gonna get mad if we move.” 

Ted chirped an affirmative sound, leaving Eddie to rasp a laugh. “Well we can’t make Teddy mad, can we. Gotta stay here all night with my girl.” 

You chuckled softly in turn, your voice quieting under the weight of exhaustion. “I was meant to keep you company, but I’m so sleepy.” Another yawn parted your plush lips, leaving Eddie with no choice but to press his own to the corner once they came back together again. 

“You are keepin’ me company. Think I’ll sleep a bunch better with you keepin’ me warm. I’ll take you on a date tomorrow, hm? After a big sleep in?” 

“You’re so sexy when you talk like that.” You mumbled, your lashes fluttering shut to rest against your cheeks. “I’d kiss you stupid if I could move.” 

Besotted was not a strong enough word for what Eddie felt in that moment, but he was overwhelmed with the urge to litter a smattering of kisses from the edge of your cheekbone to the corners of your forehead, each one softer than the last, lulling you into that sweet place of slumber you were already drifting towards. 

“Kiss me stupid tomorrow. Sleep, sweetheart.” You didn’t need to be told twice. Within moments, Eddie watched the light in your flicker to a dim, pale glow, your breathing evening out to something unhurried. Peaceful. It didn’t matter to him that he had only had those brief moments with you tonight. Five minutes with you was enough to chase away all the strife of a day otherwise written off in his mind. And that was what his life had been missing, after all. Someone who made going to sleep at 10pm look like the greatest moment of his life. He wanted to keep you to himself, a greedy kind of possessiveness stirring in his gut, for as long as he was able, knowing full well that less than twelve hours from now, Wayne would without a doubt be waiting to make you both breakfast on his morning off. 

Like he said, you had all the Munson boys charmed.

[crookedteethed]

BIG SHOT polaroid | e.m.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem reader

Summary: In which you and Eddie have a picture book where you both store your sex pics. <3 💕

Warnings: 18+ Cursing, a little Smut (p in v), Oral (fem receiving), Praise kink, body worship(?), pet names, nudes

Word count: 1k

If you pushed past the mounds of dirty laundry intertwined with disposed candy bar wrappers and a few empty shoe boxes, underneath Eddie Munson's bed lies the picture book. 

The picture book was your idea, but the pictures themselves were all Eddie's perverted idea. 

"Lemme take a picture of you, yeah?" Eddie said, taking a break from his delicious never-ending assault on your clit. Your juices dripped down his chin, some droplets stringing the tips of his hair, his lips all red and puffy covered in slick, and his eyes a little crazed and tinted in admiration. 

He kissed the supple plush of your thigh in a diagonal line; your hands stayed grazing his curls, body supine on the foam of Eddie's mattress. Eddie's lips make love to your thighs, to your tummy, from your breast to your neck, and eventually to your lips; where'd you gotten to taste yourself for the first time.

Eddie quotes Shakespeare. "Graze on my lips, and if those hills be dry. Stray lower, where the pleasant fountains lie." He says, glossy lips forming a smile.

"Lemme get a picture of you.” He asks again. “I want to savor my pretty girl in this moment," he says with that boyish smile and those adoring chocolate eyes.

Fuck, those eyes. Even if you were thinking of saying 'no' to Eddie, you simply couldn't. It was the way Eddie's eyes gazed at you every time you made contact. It was as if he was put into a dreamlike trance.

If Eddie had been a cartoon, his eyes and pupils would have turned heart-shaped.

You agreed to the picture, but just one.

Eddie sprung up from the bed, his naked pale body sprinting around the smallish trailer.

You hear a few thuds and ruffling coming from the next room. You imagine Eddie tearing his home apart to find his Polaroid camera.

When Eddie comes back, he returns holding a big-shot Polaroid. He says it was his mother's. He and Wayne don't use it often, so there should be enough film on it.

You try to sit up as Eddie crawls onto the bed, but he lightly pushes you back down, telling you you shouldn't have to move a finger, lie back, and be his muse.

You felt an uneasiness plummet in your stomach as you felt the cold lens of Eddie's mother polaroid aimed at your cunt; it was similar to the feeling you get when your doctor has to check beneath your folds for any signs of ovarian cysts or cancers at your yearly checkups.

And though Eddie had seen your bare cunt a multitude of times (just like your doctor), this particular time made your body shutter. Just as Eddie goes to snap the picture, he notices your sudden twitchiness.

"Hey," he says, palming the plum of your cheek. He lightly pecks your lips. "You trust me, right?"

You nodded, chewing on your bottom lip; of course, you trusted Eddie.

"Good." He nearly mumbles, eyes fixated on your glistening folds.

Eddie resume.

The Polaroid covers half of Eddie's face. With his right eye peeking through the eyepiece and his left eye squeezed tightly, Eddie aims the lens close to your cunt.

He places his thumb onto one of your folds and pulls back on the skin, snapping the picture in one snap. Seconds later, the blackened photo ejects from underneath the film shield.

With a few anticipated shakes from Eddie, the photo started to fade in, and you and Eddie stared at it with wide bug eyes and gaping mouths.

It wasn't the fact that Eddie could date back to this photo and jack off to it later that turned him on. Eddie was turned on because you let him do it; it turned him on even more that you trusted him to do it.

It turned you on because there was something obscure about seeing another aspect of your body, other than your face, on a Polaroid picture. In a way, you felt like you were Eddie's personal playboy bunny.

"Can I take another one?" Eddie asked in a daze, just as you went to ask him to take another, and then another, and then another, until you eventually ran out of film.

Taking pictures of you and Eddie's naked bodies would become almost like an addiction to both of you.

It became a ritualistic practice for you two before sex, grabbing the Polaroid (which now rested on Eddie's bedside table, along with packs of film) and taking turns snapping pictures of one another mid fuck.

Eddie would take the Polaroid from you and snap a picture of his cock plunging into your tight wet cunt; once he has his picture, then you'll take the Polaroid and snap a photo of your foot pressed against his pelvis, just above his happy trail. The cycle would go on and on until you were both covered in Polaroid pictures and cum.

It gets to a point where Eddie's bedside dresser, the current home for your photos, gets filled up, and you both have to resort to putting your photos in a picture book.

Making the picture book would be fun for both of you. You would sit on the trailer's living room floor, surrounded by glue, glitter, and markers; it's like a little arts and crafts project.

It'd be nostalgic for you and Eddie to return to your first photos all those months ago until now.

Eddie gets that gooey mushy feeling, getting wrapped up in the trust and intimacy of the photos--love, he thinks the feeling is called-- watching you watch a picture of yourself with a mouthful of his cock, and scrapbooking secret photos preserved for just his and your eyes only.

Eddie wants to tell you he loves you but doesn't yet; now isn't the right time. So he runs to his room, returning with his mother's big-shot Polaroid camera, and takes a snapshot of you.

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

“You don’t have to.”

“I know. But I want to.”

It had become a call and response of sorts, a mantra that Eddie seemed to live by, if not only for you. Usually his words were followed up by a kiss, something sweet pressed to your cheek. Or he’d pull you into him by your belt loops, hands a little rough but his intentions always soft, his face dropping to the crook of your neck so he could nuzzle his nose there, like he didn’t really know how else he could possibly give you all the love he had for you.

So when your car inevitably gave up, the clutch grinding and the gears sticking, Eddie didn’t hesitate. You didn’t even ask, always feeling bad for expecting but it didn’t come to a surprise when he took your keys from you and dropped a kiss to the corner of your mouth, a little off kilter from the early morning sleep that still clung to him.

“Eddie,” you began, as usual. Soft and shy and guilt ridden. “You don’t have to. I know you’re busy right now.”

“Never too busy for my girl,” he responded, wincing a little as he dug out his chocolate pop-tart from the still too hot toaster. He’d learnt the hard way not to use a knife anymore. He tore off a piece of pastry, a sprinkle on his cheek, ruby red. “Besides, what do I tell you, huh? I know I don’t have to - I want to, sweetheart.”

He grinned when you scrunched your nose, embarrassment and too much love clinging to you, Eddie’s adoration too obvious when he leaned down to where you sat with your coffee. He let you brush away the sprinkle, grumbling about how he was saving it for later but his protests died off on his lips when you stole them for a kiss, your hands on his stubbly cheeks.

The boy was pink when you pulled back, pleased looking and much more awake. Then, Eddie winked as he spun your keys around own finger, the rest of his breakfast bitten between his teeth as he left for work, always a flurry bed mussed curls and silver chains.

When he didn’t arrive home by five, you knew exactly why. It wasn’t too long a walk to the garage, but you knew he’d scold you all the same. That’s why you had a Tupperware box full of pasta in your hands, a foil wrapped cookie on top, still warm from when you’d pulled it from the oven.

Sure enough, when you arrived at the almost empty garage, your boyfriend was the only one left working. You passed Wayne as you ducked under the half closed shutter, sharing the same fond look of faux annoyance that you pretended to both have for the younger Munson and you promised the man there was more pasta for him at home.

Eddie didn’t see you approach, too busy with half of his body under the hood of your car, poking and prodding it with tools you didn’t know the name of. You made sure to make enough noise before you rested a hand on the small of his back, fingers skating over the bare strip of skin left exposed between his shirt and jeans.

His smile was too much when he appeared from the car, always happy to see you. And like you thought he would, despite his grin and the way his eyes lit up, he grumbled:

“What’re you doin walkin’ half way across town on your own, huh?”

You rolled your eyes even if you didn’t mean it, your expression still fond and you pushed his dinner to his chest. He accepted the food with a happy hum, peeking into the container to eye it appreciatively.

“It’s a twenty minute walk, handsome,” you replied. “And it’s very much still light out.” You smiled at his worry because the evening behind you was barely beginning, the summer sun still high enough in the sky to keep the sidewalks golden, the warmth lingering.

Eddie grumbled again, no real heat behind it as he leaned in for a kiss, careful not to put his dirty hands on you. “Still. You’re too pretty to walkin’ around alone.” Another kiss, this one softer, longer. “Thanks for dinner, sweetheart.”

You beamed, happy to have helped. “Least I can do since you’re fixing my car.” You frowned at the vehicle like it had offended you. “How’s it looking?”

“She’ll live,” Eddie sighed dramatically, giving the roof a pat. “If you remember to change her oil, that is.”

Your cheeks burned.

“But I’ve sorted the clutch, so that shouldn’t stick anymore and there’s a part needed for the gearbox, but I’ve got that on order,” the boy bit into his cookie, desperate for sugar. He moaned, a sinful noise that was meant for both you and the chocolate. “Hopefully it’ll be here tomorrow so I’ll do one more late night, get this hunka’ junk back on the road for you in no time.”

You knew it was a fruitless effort to ask Eddie to let you pay in anyway. Hell, Wayne would shut you down just as hard. Eddie didn’t want you paying for any of his hourly rates, overtime or not. And as he’d told you before, costs for parts could get lost sometimes, receipts slipping down the backs of desks, never to be seen again.

So you smiled at him instead, soft and sweet and warm like the summer. You didn’t mind the oil stains on his shirt as you leaned in, hands against his torso, feeling the faint lines of muscles and soft skin there.

“Thank you,” you murmured against his lips, stretching up on your toes to bump your nose against his. A kiss, tasting like chocolate chips, lingering and lazy. “I love you.”

Eddie went shy like he’d never heard you say the words before. Maybe you didn’t say them enough, maybe you needed to remind him hourly, especially if it got him looking at you like that, eyes all wide and soft and awe filled.

He pecked your lips, your cheek, your jaw, nose pushing at the space under your ear as he told you the same. “I love you too, pretty.”

You didn’t need to hear it back, as nice as the words sounded on his lips. Eddie showed you how much he loved you every single day.

[theemporium]

Eddie Munson wasn’t the most romantic guy, but he tried his hardest. 

His feelings for you were overwhelming in the best way possible. He was loud and eccentric and a little too much for most people, but then again, you weren’t like most people. Wayne had always joked that it was a shock Eddie managed to snag someone like you. You always liked to joke back that Eddie was scaring everyone else off until you came along. 

But truth be told, he agreed with Wayne. 

He wasn’t sure how he managed to get someone like you to love him, but you did. You loved him with your whole heart. You took one look at him and saw the real Eddie. You didn’t see some third year senior, or some freak obsessed with a fantasy game. You didn’t see a weird metalhead, or some kid with no future. 

You saw Eddie. You saw a glimpse of him and you wanted to see more. You wanted to see more so you could love more, and it made his chest feel funny the way you decided to stick around even after seeing the person behind the mask. 

And sometimes, Eddie envied how easily the relationship seemed to come to you. You would always surprise him, sometimes with dinner from his favourite or a bouquet of flowers or a tape you knew he had been wanting. You always knew when he wanted to be held or the words he needed to hear to cheer him up a little. You always knew how to make him feel special, like it was a basic instinct for you. 

Meanwhile, Eddie was left second guessing himself because the last thing he wanted was to scare you away. He loved you. He loved you so much, it hurt. He loved you so much and he just wanted to show that. Hence, the picnic date. 

He had gone all out, having spoken to Robin and Steve countless times over the last week to set up the perfect date setting. He cleaned out the back of his van to make it the perfect fortress of blankets and pillows. He had packed your favourite foods and even splashed some money on the slightly more expensive beer that was easier to get down.

It was the perfect set up for a romantic date, but the funny thing about Eddie Munson was that he wasn’t really a romantic kinda guy. And that was something you adored about him.

You didn’t want cheesy dates and corny lines that made you borderline feel like you wanted to empty your stomach. You didn’t want over-the-top date nights or meticulously planned outings. You didn’t want expensive beers and fancy chocolate-covered strawberries that cost three times the amount they should. 

You wanted Eddie. 

You wanted your Eddie. 

You wanted your Eddie who made you feel good in a million different ways that no other man could ever compare to.

“Eddie,” you let out a soft, high-pitched squeal as your head fell back against the thick blanket beneath you. “Shit, I—”

“This,” he groaned, low and rough and gravelly. It made your stomach dip. His hands gripped the meat of your thighs, keeping them spread open as he leaned down to lick a thick strip along your cunt. “This is better than any fucking dessert.” 

“Eddie,” you whined, your hands gripping the fabric of your pretty sundress in tight fists as he began shamelessly licking the mess you had made all over your thighs.

And you really shouldn’t have been surprised. 

Eddie was a simple man when it came to you. Anything you did, the boy obsessed over because you did it and he was obsessed with you. So, his brain practically short-circuited when you came running out your house, dressed in a pretty floral dress that brushed against your thighs and had two thin straps holding it up. He about lost the ability to speak when you leaned over to kiss his cheek in a greeting, giving him the perfect view of your tits. But his downfall was when you climbed into the back of his van, giving him the perfect glimpse of the white cotton panties you were wearing that made it difficult to care about eating anything but you.

He lasted all of twenty minutes before he broke, watching a little dribble of strawberry juice drip down your chin that had him leaning over, licking up the mess before crawling over your body completely. You had breathed out his name, breathless and a little dazed when you saw the heated look in his eyes, the look that told you he wanted to devour you and that was exactly what you let him do.

But now you were two orgasms in, your body was wracked with pleasure and the boy didn’t look like he had any plans of stopping soon.

“‘s too much,” you cried out as he pushed your thighs up, almost bending you in half with your knees pushing against your chest so you were completely spread out and exposed for him. “Please, I can’t—”

“One more,” he groaned against your cunt, his nose nudging your swollen clit because he liked the way your body jerked in response. “Need you to come on my fingers, honey. Then I’ll stop, okay? Just one more, that’s all I want.” 

“Mhmm,” you whimpered, all high-pitched and whiny but your obedience made him grin. 

And he did intend to only make you come one more time for him. He intended to give you a break. He did. He really, really did. 

But then he was knuckle deep inside you, the wet and debauched sounds of your soaking pussy echoing through the back of his van as you squirmed and moaned and screamed out his name until your throat was raw. Tears were streaming down your cheeks, your thighs were shaking in his hold and you were babbling incoherently, so lost in the pleasure that you didn’t have time to warn him that something felt different, that there was a twist deep in your guts that didn’t feel familiar.

Eddie could’ve came in his pants from the sight alone.

It almost felt never-ending. His fingers were pumping in and out of you, already soaked to the wrist with your arousal before you were squirting everywhere. You were shaking beneath him, mouth parted with silent screams as you soaked everything around you. As you shook and moaned and came harder than you ever had in your life. As you did something he only thought was possible in fucking pornos. 

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment when your brain seemed to catch up with your body, blinking a few times as the realisation hit you like a freight truck. Your eyes instantly teared up, your hands desperately trying to pull the soaking material of your sundress over your body to cover yourself up like it would give you some dignity. 

You opened your mouth. “Eddie, I’m so—”

“Did I say you could cover up?”

You blinked, your brows furrowing in confusion. “What?”

He slapped your hands away, not allowing you to pull your skirt over your pussy. “I said,” he repeated, his voice lower this time as his darkened gaze caught yours. “Did I say you could cover up?”

You pressed your lips together, shaking your head. “No, sir.”

“Good girl,” he praised, and the hot tears of embarrassment were quickly replaced with the warmth of his praises. “Now, lay back down and keep your legs open.” 

“Eddie—” you started again, your stomach dipping when you noticed the mess you made. Not only were you soaked, but so was he. His clothes now stained darker, along with the blanket beneath you but he didn’t seem to care.

“Shhh,” he hummed as his hands rubbed up and down your thighs, completely uncaring of your arousal leaking and dripping down your thighs. “Only wanna hear your pretty moans, honey. Wanna hear how good it feels.”

“It?” You questioned breathlessly.

His grin was vindictive, almost sinister. “Wanna see you do it again f’me, baby.”

Your eyes widened. “But—”

“Nuh uh, what did I say?” He chastised softly, gripping your thighs until a soft whimper left your lips. “Now, either you let me hear those needy noises or I stuff something in that pretty mouth of yours to keep you quiet. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl. Now, open those legs and let me see my pretty girl.”

.

[mrsjellymunson]

Start Something

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Summary: Eddie helps you generate a new D&D character, but that’s not the only thing that gets started that day

WC: ~2.5k

C/W: 18+, MDNI! NSFW? Physical flirting and teasing, heavy petting, sort of in public (nobody notices). Smut-adjacent? Thigh riding. Swearing. Nothing overly explicit, but it does get heated. Eddie and reader are both over 18. Trope: oh no, there aren’t enough seats, where will you sit? No y/n, one pet name. No physical descriptions of reader other than she wears a skirt (of unspecified appearance).

A/N: Should I be working on parts for my outstanding series? Yes. Would this not leave me alone until I wrote it down? Also yes. I had fun creating a new character in a different RPG and I have no idea whether this is how D&D works, so if it’s not, let’s just pretend, okay? 😆 Text dividers by @strangergraphics Dice dividers by me 🫣☺️

I have a general taglist now, let me know if you’d like to be on it 🖤

My masterlist

Eddie can’t believe his luck. You’re pretty (gorgeous, actually), insanely intelligent and have, for some as yet indecipherable reason, decided that you want to play D&D. With a load of nerdy teens. And him.

You’ve joined in with a couple of short campaigns at school, seeming to enjoy them immensely and fitting in well with the group, bantering with the boys and bonding with Erica over your shared ‘take no shit’ attitudes. At first Eddie wasn't sure how that dynamic would work, but you slipped easily into letting the younger girl show you the ropes, and Erica is clearly enjoying having more female energy around.

Eddie knows that creating a new character is one of your favourite things to do. He’d never admit it, but it’s one of his favourite things to watch, too. He adores the sparkle in your eyes, your creative brain and how excited and animated you get when you come up with new ideas. Sometimes they’re sketchy, or even impossible, which he finds hugely endearing. He also loves how you’ll always check in with him, asking his advice and respecting his opinion.

This weekend he’s running a oneshot at his trailer for the younger members and you. New characters, novel plot, the works. The plan is to create new characters in the morning, and play the game in the afternoon.

This’ll be the first time you’ve been to his home, or seen him anywhere outside of school, and Eddie’s nervous as all fuck.

He couched it as ‘a good opportunity to develop a greater understanding of the game’, but he definitely has an ulterior motive for inviting you here.

So far, he’s taken every opportunity he can to make you laugh, sit near you, even touch you. Creating scenarios where a subtle hug, or even a playful tickle is somehow appropriate. He covers it quickly by immediately doing it to someone else, hoping you won’t spot the bulge in his pants and the fact that he can’t stop looking at you.

He’s not sure for how long he can keep it up. He wants so much more, and it won’t be long before he either loses it, takes it too far, or, worst case scenario, you notice he’s being a total creep and ditch the group because of it.

He’s been trying to muster the balls to ask you out for weeks, practicing lines and imagining scenarios, but he’s found it more difficult to plan than even the most complex of his campaigns.

And although it’s unlikely given the crowd of nerds that’ll be around, he couldn’t miss an opportunity to be in your company. He thought that maybe, just maybe, he’d manage to get you somewhat alone and do it today.

He’s tidied up the trailer as subtly as he can, doing all the dishes and straightening Wayne’s caps, hoping the others won’t notice and ask him awkward questions. But he’s jittery and anxious, terrified that you’ll take one look at where and how he lives and decide you want nothing more to do with him…

Eddie has no idea that you’re just as nervous as he is.

You’ve enjoyed the Hellfire campaigns so far, but haven’t really managed to get all that close to the Dungeon Master, much to your chagrin. Sure, the game is enormous fun and you love all the members and how welcoming they’ve been. But the DM? Holy hell, he’s hot as sin, and being able to spend time around the larger-than-life metal-lover only adds to your enjoyment of the sessions. But you can’t imagine it’ll ever go any further than that. You doubt that a geeky D&D novice who he’s hardly spoken to is his idea of the perfect girlfriend…

But god, the physical touches? Christ. It’s as much as you can do to hold it together. You’ve shared a few celebratory hugs, and he’s even tickled you a couple of times, all of which you’ve enjoyed far more than you’d let on, and filed away in your memory for retrieval when you’re alone at night in your bed. But you know that he’s like this with everyone, and are under no illusions that you’re special. So you relish each and every contact, wishing there could be more.

What if he looks at you for too long with those gorgeous, huge, chocolate-brown eyes? And what if you forget how to speak? It’s already happened an embarrassing amount of times, but you’ve managed to pass it off as being stumped because you’re a beginner. You don’t know for how much longer that excuse is gonna fly.

And, if all that wasn’t already enough to send your anxiety levels skyrocketing, you’re also acutely aware that you haven't spent time with any of the group outside of school as yet. You’re worried that you’re going to ruin their social dynamic, or mess up the game. Or embarrass yourself with no easy way to exit, having to wallow in your shame until the mums come back later to pick you all up. Your spiralling makes you realise that although it was really kind of Mrs Wheeler to offer you a lift, you’re now really wishing you’d brought your own car…

All kinds of anxious thoughts are running through your mind, from what if your ideas are stupid, to what if everyone (okay, specifically Eddie) dislikes the cookies you’ve baked??

Neither of you should’ve worried.

As you enter his trailer, Eddie seems a little flustered, running a ringed hand through his gorgeous chestnut waves and unnecessarily straightening a pile of magazines on the coffee table. He smooths down his (new) black tee (that he totally didn’t buy especially for this occasion), and you pay it no mind, assuming he’s just always like this with visitors, and is excited for the campaign.

You barely glance around Eddie’s home, smiling softly at the trinkets you spot, and offering to help plate up the snacks in the kitchen area. You don’t look uncomfortable, and you certainly don’t pass judgment. Eddie eyes you as indirectly as he can, noticing the unusual skirt you’ve got on (that you totally totally didn’t choose specifically for today). He likes it.

Just like at school, you slot easily into the melee of pencils, paper, dice and snacks. Everyone loves your home baked cookies, including Eddie, and Erica even badgers you for the recipe.

Eddie thinks you couldn’t be any more perfect.

You think this isn’t so bad after all, and relax a little.

The morning’s character building is going well, the fact that it’s a oneshot not diminishing anyone’s efforts or attention to detail.

You still haven’t quite got the hang of the dice and numbers parts, always asking for Eddie’s help with that. His help, not any of the others, he muses with a certain amount of pride and delight. (Selfishly, part of him secretly hopes you never get the hang of it, and will always need to seek his input.)

With you now added to the group, there aren’t enough seats at Eddie’s modest dining table. Nobody notices. Initially Dustin and Will are deep in a discussion on Eddie’s battered sofa, and Mike and Lucas are rifling through the fridge, both at that ‘hollow legs’ stage of teen development and constantly ravenous.

Your character’s almost done, and you just want to clarify a few things, so you ask across the table,

“Eddie? Can I bring this over for you to check please?”

He waves you over, putting on a fake English accent and saying,

“Of course you may, my dear. You know I’m always happy to assist my flock.”

You chuckle lightly at his endearing foolishness as you get up from your place next to Erica, taking your character sheet over to Eddie for his perusal. Behind you, the younger players all convene at the table to share their progress, and all the seats become filled.

With no free spots near him, and assuming you won’t be here for long, Eddie pats his leg absentmindedly and says, “Sit here, lemme see.”

You end up on his lap, facing sideways at ninety degrees.

You initially turn towards him and bring your sheet between you, but there’s not enough room for him to properly examine it, so you turn the other way and lay it on the table in front of him, turning so your back is to him, your legs straddling one of his knees. He leans forward and begins to check it over, confirming some details and asking for more particulars on others.

Eddie’s been admiring your enthusiasm and level of engagement all morning, and he’s impressed by the depth of information you’ve already managed to accumulate.

You’re absorbed with your new character, getting excited and gesticulating wildly. Ideas bounce easily between you and Eddie, his face smiling softly and his dimples popping as he gets to see you like this.

It doesn’t escape him, however, that you’re also bouncing on… him. He flushes a little, and hopes you don’t perceive it.

As you gesture at a particularly thorny issue on your paper, it dawns on Eddie exactly what parts of you are in contact with him, albeit through multiple layers of fabric. The softness of your thighs and the heat from your core against his leg fully absorb him for a moment, and he has to ask you to repeat yourself. You don’t seem to mind, assuming it was the general clamour in the room that meant he couldn’t hear you. That same clamour covers the sound of him awkwardly clearing his throat and gulping loudly.

It occurs to him that he’s never experienced anything… like this. Occasional hookups in the woods or after gigs at The Hideout are great and everything, but he’s never before felt like he has a literal, real-life angel sitting on his lap.

And you? You are slowly realising how nice Eddie’s lap feels beneath you. It’s warm and solid, and the denim of his dark jeans feels pleasantly rough on the skin of your legs where your skirt’s ridden up. There’s a pressure against your most intimate areas that’s generating a warm feeling of pleasure in your core. You’re trying to concentrate, but it’s not easy.

It takes a few more moments for you to catch up to where Eddie is, and you register that you’re essentially riding Eddie’s thigh each time you move.

Your lips roll inwards and you swallow deeply, closing your eyes for a moment, trying to compose yourself. It doesn’t help, and only serves to focus your attention even more fully on the delicious sensations beneath your legs. This is the closest you’ve ever been to your Dungeon Master, and for the longest time. And you can’t help how flustered it’s making you.

Embarrassed, you cough and go to stand, but quickly see that there’s nowhere for you to go. Eddie scans the room and notices your predicament, and, in a broken voice that’s almost unbearably soft, tells you, “It’s okay, Princess. You can stay here.”

Fuck. A pet name? You enjoyed that, perhaps a little too much. If you were being rational you could put it down to Eddie referencing your new character, who happens to be an aristocratic mage. But right now? Right now, you’re not feeling particularly rational.

You slowly sit back down, but as you do so Eddie shifts his position, causing you to spread your knees a bit wider than they were and land further up his leg, giving you even more contact with his thigh. You hope he didn’t hear the broken little hum that escaped you.

Eddie leans forward and in a voice that’s far too quiet, and far too close to your ear, he asks, “Are you… okay?”

You can barely breathe, and all you can manage in response is a tiny, squeaked, “Mhm.”

Behind you, Eddie takes a stuttering breath in, letting it out slowly before he resumes discussions with everyone else at the table.

You each become more unfettered as the morning progresses. Further not-so-accidental encounters only serve to increase the tension between you both.

At one point, you lean forwards over the table to get one of the manuals, lifting your butt from his leg. For a moment you hope there won’t be a visible wet patch on your skirt, or on his jeans. But then you wonder whether it would actually be so terrible if there was, and whether it would actually be so terrible if Eddie saw…

Eddie saw. He hums slightly, but it sounds more like a whimper, and he attempts to cover it by clearing his throat for the umpteenth time today.

He wonders whether you’re doing this on purpose, whether you have any idea what you’re doing to him.

As you settle back onto his thigh, one of Eddie’s hands travels to your hip, holding it lightly, just resting it there. A fire travels up that entire side of your body.

You wonder whether he’s doing this on purpose, whether he has any idea what he’s doing to you.

He leans forward to reach for something on the table, and this time brushes his chest against your back for far longer than is necessary. You feel his breathing against your neck speeding up, hot gasps coming from between his lips instead of controlled outbreaths through his nose.

You reach for a die, and as you sit back you half-intentionally push your core down onto Eddie’s leg just a little bit harder. God, he feels so good. And so what if you’ve moved backwards slightly, so your thigh is even further between his legs, and your butt nudges his crotch?

You definitely feel something hard pressing against your ass. The grip on your hip tightens, and Eddie dips his head forward to hide his face and stifle a moan. Christ.

You think you hear him mumble a quiet and stilted, “Sh-it.”

Eddie can barely contain himself, this morning not going at all how he could’ve even dreamed. He had no idea whether you even liked him, and was planning to sound you out and maybe manage to ask if you wanted to do something cheesy like grab milkshakes sometime.

Having you hot and wet on his lap wasn’t even on the edges of the outside of the periphery of his radar. He’s really trying to keep it together, but he’s barely maintaining a grip on his actions.

Attempting to focus, he leans forward again to explain a character point. You turn your head and look into his eyes attentively, whilst simultaneously rocking your hips ever so subtly and chewing on the inside of your bottom lip.

All at once, something shifts. Something big.

Eddie holds your gaze for way too long. Or maybe you hold his.

Maybe it doesn’t matter anymore, as you both silently acknowledge that there’s way more going on here than simple D&D advice.

Simultaneously, you both come to realise that your affections are most definitely reciprocated.

Shit, he likes me.

Fuck, she likes me back.

And then, as your eyes are locked and he sees your pupils blow wide, Eddie loses that tenuous grip.

Suddenly, both of his hands come to your hips, and he presses his forehead against one of your shoulder blades. He grips you tightly and moves you back and forth against him, squeezing, pulling, pushing, dragging. He’s keeping his movements as tiny as possible so as not to rouse the attention of the group, but what he lacks in expansiveness he more than makes up for with strength and intensity.

You think this might genuinely be the most erotic thing you’ve ever done with your clothes on. You’re hot and wet, and you barely care that you’re in a room full of people, supposedly playing a nerdy game.

Eddie keeps moving you. One exquisite movement spreads your sopping folds in your underwear, and your mouth drops open in a gasp, hand gripping the edge of the rickety table. You try to disguise your movements by shoving the end of a pencil into your mouth and hunching over your paperwork.

Eddie totally notices, and stills you. His warm palms continue to press against your hips, his strong fingertips digging into your flesh. Instead of continuing the back and forth movements, he pulls you down as hard as he can onto his lap whilst outwardly retaining his composure, turning the garbled sounds coming from his throat into encouraging noises for the group.

The two of you can barely focus anymore. Eddie hasn’t let his hands travel anywhere above the tabletop, lest his actions be seen by the others, but if your expression is even half as flustered as Eddie’s is red, somebody is going to notice something. And soon.

You take a couple of deep, steadying breaths.

You’ve already completed your character, so you decide to do a faux check in with Eddie, asking, not entirely innocently,

“Eddie? Is there anything else you’d want me to… take off?”

Turning, you add, even less subtly,

“What should I do now, Master?”

Eddie’s face screws up and his jaw clenches, and you feel the rock of his hips as he bucks his hips up underneath you, pressing his hardness into your flesh and muffling a grunt into your shoulder.

His head snaps back up suddenly and his voice becomes clear and piercing, as he inhales quickly and declares to the room, waving a hand,

“Okay, lunchtime! Everybody out!! You guys need some fresh air and I need a break. I don’t wanna see you for at least an hour, and you’d better come back with pizza! Goddit?”

The teens comply, bustling out the door, a few of them eye-rolling and grumbling something about how this is almost like being at home with their parents.

They’re still leaving as Eddie moves his face so close to you that you can feel his breath in your hairline, and his soft, pink lips tickle the edge of your ear.

In a low, velvety voice, he murmurs, in a tone that’s somehow both challenging and pleading,

“Please Princess, turn around and say that to my face...”

You smirk, and reach behind you to pick up a D12.

With all the sultriness you can muster, you raise your eyebrows and indicate for him to take it. He opens his hand, and you place it down, the tips of your fingers lightly skimming the hot, damp skin of his palm.

Looking into his eyes again, you’re relieved to discover that your power of speech remains entirely intact, as you murmur, with more confidence than you thought you possessed,

“Okay, Master. How about this? You roll, and the result is how many kisses you have to give me...”

Eddie swallows and almost chokes, sitting up straight and gently lobbing the die across the mess of paper and writing implements. His chocolate eyes don’t leave yours as it rolls and comes to a stop in the centre crease of one of his manuals. He struggles with the internal conflict of never wanting to break your gaze and a deep desire to check the number.

He has no idea where the rest of today, let alone this, is going, and he’s grateful he has at least the next hour in which to find out. But he does know one thing:

He’s never been so desperate to roll a 12 in his entire fucking life.

Thanks so much for reading!

(This might become part of an anthology of D&D-related adventures - let me know if you’d like to see more!)

Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed this, it’s honestly like throwing breadcrumbs and roses for your writers 😃🥰

My masterlist

I have a general taglist now, let me know if you’d like to be on it 😃

Tags: @joejoequinnquinn @jamdoughnutmagician @curlyjoequinn @madaboutmunson @airen256 @sunshinepeachx @the-unforgivenn @skrzydlak @comeonatmebruh @jamiecb66 @80s-addict @abellmunsonmovie @definitionwanderlust @wonderlanddreamer

[poguesofthebau]

dating eddie would include...

pairing: eddie munson x gn!reader

-letting him teach you how to play the guitar

-him asking "is this okay?" before/during all of your first times together

-the rest of the band referring to you as their #1 groupie, which you considered an honor

-owning an ‘i <3 the guitarist’ tshirt

-being the only person who ever got deep enough into a relationship with eddie to meet his uncle wayne more than once

-his default pet name for you being 'sweetheart' •sometimes 'angel' just slips out and you get heart eyes every time •he tried out 'kitten' one time but you couldn't stop laughing so he decided to save it for when you were mad at him

-him being unfathomably frustrated whenever you two fought because he hated not being on the same team as you, no matter how small the disagreement

-buying him a megaphone as a joke gift and immediately regretting it

-wearing a hellfire shirt on campaign days (duh)

-becoming besties with the drunk men who are always at the hideout during corroded coffin shows, which eddie finds both hilarious and adorable

-sweet and innocent pda because eddie did not care what anyone around you thought, he just wanted to be near you and show you the affection he thought you deserved •randomly kissing you on the forehead during a group conversation with your friends •grabbing your hand while you strolled into school together •his chin resting on the top of your head when he stood behind you •his arm around either your waist or your shoulders when he stood next to you

-smoking a joint before every function you attended

-meeting reefer rick one time, which honestly felt like a fever dream

-taking dustin, mike, and lucas under your wing when you noticed the attachment eddie had to them

-borrowing his rings on days he didn’t feel like wearing them all

-habitually putting your hands in his hair when he kisses you

-convincing him to let you style his hair

-him getting noticeably sad whenever he was jealous (mostly because he knew it would get your attention back on him)

-sleeping over whenever his uncle was working overnight, which was basically every night

-being the only person he allowed to touch The Guitar™️

-learning basically everything you know about drugs from him

-helping him pass his classes and finally graduate

-getting tattoos together

-having to explain to him that "no, my love. we do not use el's powers to prank random people"

-him convincing you to sit on top of the trailer and stargaze with him

[ultralightpoe]

Full House - Eddie Munson

Authors Note: Wow. I think I went too far with these, lmao.

Word Count: 5,258

Warnings: Dad!Eddie. That's it.

Description: Stepdad!Eddie and his girls that gives nothing but Uncle Jesse Vibes.

Part ll HERE

(Thank you for the gif @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal )

Enjoy!

(Eddie is not the step dad, he is the dad that stepped up)

Eddie Munson was many things in life. 

Triple senior, Satanic Freak, Dungeon Master, High School Graduate, Vecna survivor, Waynes son, and now Mechanic shop owner. But his favorite title came by accident, a truly brilliant accident of course. 

Nancy and Steve had planned a vacation for themselves, the first vacation they had since the birth of their adorable son Edward…..okay they named their kid Vince but Eddie thought that name was ugly and had spent the past 5 years continuously mocking them over it. So, in everything Eddie, he had named him Edward Jr. this week. 

Anyways, Nancy and Steve were having a very lovely trip at Niagara Falls while the rest of the group watched little man. While Eddie was at work Joyce Byers took him, and when Eddie had gigs Dustin took him and they ‘studied’ together which meant Dustin used him as an excuse to play games rather than study for his senior year. 

It was all going splendidly, until Eddie got a call in the middle of his work shift telling him that he would have to go down to the school immediately since Edward Jr -Vincent, had gotten into a little bit of a fight. 

So Eddie booked it, still in his greased out mechanic suit, a bandana on his head and the biggest concern that Steve’s kid would be kicked out of his school while he was away. What had he done to the kids? Had he broken their noses? Made them bleed?

Here was the problem, Eddie forgot that he was talking about Steve Harrington's kid, so when he arrived at the school to see his nephew bleeding and whimpering he realized the mistake. Vinny had gotten beat up, not the other way. 

“What happened, bud? Who did this to you?” Eddie was gonna fuck a kid up, he was gonna scalp someones son. He was going to absolutely annihilate some random ass boy. 

His nephew whimpers, using the back of his hand to wipe away a fresh tear as Eddie takes a gentle hand to assess the damage. “L/n….” 

Eddie was gonna kill this L/n punk. “What’d he do? He been bullying you?”

“You must be Mr. Harrington.” A saccharine voice fills the air, drawing his attention up to an older woman with narrowed eyes. 

“No, I’m Vinny’s uncle actually. Eddie Munson.” He introduces himself, holding out a hand which the woman glares at, and he realizes then that he was still covered in grease. So he pulls his hand back, embarrassed and nervous. “Sorry about that, rushed from work-”

“Never mind that. Let’s go.” The teacher nods her head. “You too Vincent.”

Eddie, now partially annoyed by the use of his nephews full name in such a tone, grabs his hand into his own and follows the old bat into the office where two more three more figures sit. The sight before him makes him stop, blinking slowly as a heat crosses his skin. 

Was he blushing? Shit, he was. 

Sat in the chair is the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, with a small baby in her lap and a small girl softly crying sitting on the edge of the chair, hiding half her face in the womans shoulder. 

“Have a seat Mr. Minson.” The old bat snaps, moving around the desk to sit in the cushioned chair. 

“Munson.” Eddie corrects, sitting in the chair beside yours while trying to keep it cool. Vinny takes the arm of the chair, holding onto some of the fabric of Eddie’s jumpsuit tightly. The woman blatantly ignores him as she shuffles around some of the papers on her desk. So Eddie turns to you slowly, holding out his hand again. “Eddie Munson.”

“Y/n L/n.” You smile, taking his hand in your own. “I am so sorry about your son-”

“I prefer the parents not to talk until I explain.” Old bat snaps out making Eddie sit up straighter. “I brought you both in here because it seems that Motley has violently assaulted Vinn-”

“ASSAULTED?! They are 5!” You snap out as the girl, Motley, begins crying which leads the little baby in your lap to start crying as well. And right on cue Vinny himself starts crying. 

“Woah woah woah.” Eddie starts, pulling his nephew closer. “Bud, why don’t you explain what happened here?”

“She hit me!”

“He pushed me!”

“And then she bit me!”

“He pulled my hair!”

“Okay, ease it up.” You sigh, rubbing Motley’s back in soothing circles. “I am so sorry about your son, and I will totally get if you’re upset but they are 5 and I don’t really know about the assault word-”

“Miss. L/n.” Old bat interrupts but Eddie shakes his head. He will just handle this just as Nancy liked to parent. 

“What can make this better, huh Vinny? Like your dad always says, an apology?”

“Y-yeah….” Vinny whimpers which makes Eddie smile and imitate the whimper voice. “Yeah?”

“Do you think you can apologize, Motley?” You ask and Motley sticks out her tongue to Vinny.  Eddie tries to hold in his laugh at this, the little metal head was not backing down. “Motley.”

“Fine. I’m sorry Vincent.” She snaps out. “But the next time you pull my hair-”

“I think we got it.” Eddie laughs, picking his nephew up. “Let’s go get some ice cream and forget all about it.”

He smiles at the principal before tearing out of the room, keeping Vinny held above the ground as he rushes out of the school. He is rushing too fast to hear you calling behind him, until they make it out of the school. 

“Wait! Sir-” He turns, blushing wildly as he attempts a smile. You smile back, still holding the little baby in your arms and Motleys hand. “I am so sorry about all of that. Motley has been a bit…. Aggressive since her dad left. How about we all go get ice cream and it’ll be on me today?”

And then Eddie, as terrible as it is, gets excited. That meant your single, single and very pretty. So he smiles. “Sounds metal to me.”

The giggle that escaped Motley makes him happy. 

Soon enough Eddie found his entire world wrapped around his three ladies. You, the little 5 year old named Motley and the little baby Ziggy. (Both named after rock music. You don’t like it then name em something else.) 

His life did an entire tilt and he found himself going from the freak to being ‘Daddy Eddie’ as his girls liked to call him. 

- 

“Lemme get the straight.” Eddie starts, holding up one finger and leaning back as he takes in the scene before him, Motley covered head to toe in flour and smiling from ear to ear. “The bag of flour just happened to knock down from the shelf and fall on you?”

“Yup.” The girl nods, still smiling. 

“And you don’t know how the step stool got there?”

“It was there when I walked by.” She shrugs. 

“I see. And you didn’t know that we hid the cookies on that shelf?”

“You do?!” She feigns shock, bringing both hands up to slap her cheeks. “What a coincidently.”

“Yeahhhhh. What a coincidently.” He imitates, bringing his own hands up to slap his cheeks in shock, trying very hard not to laugh at this entire thing. From her covered in flour, or her grammar and especially not the innocent act. Do not laugh. Do not laugh.

  “Motley! What did you do?!” You cry, coming into the kitchen in the pajama shorts Eddie loved so much, to see your daughter covered in your flour. 

You had both been in bed…..snuggling….. When you heard the sound of bowls falling. 

“I am innocent!” Motley cries, waving her hands like she truly could not believe you would think it was her. 

“She’s innocent!” Eddie follows, doing the same as her. “Tell her you want a lawyer, Mot.”

“Motley, do not-”

“I want a lawn mower!” She snaps out before you could warn her away from it. The room falls silent for a second after her words slip out and both you and Eddie try to control yourselves, but before you know it you are cracking up. 

Tears springing from your eyes as you cackle, Eddie finds himself using one arm to lean against the wall as his other arm holds his ribs, pained to be laughing so hard. 

“What’s so funny?” Motley asks, a puff of flour blowing out as she giggles herself which just sends you and Eddie into yet another laughing fit.  “Mama! Daddy Eddie!” 

“What Mot?” You laugh, swiping the tears from your eyes. 

“You’re being mean!” “Aww, we’re sorry Motty.” Eddie coos, moving closer as you do as well. Before she knows it you are both launching to hug and kiss at her, covering both of you with flour as she giggles and screams to escape. 

Eddie steals her another cookie before you take her to the bathroom to shower her off, you both lay with her to read for bed before you lead him back to your room, taking a shower together before going to bed yourselves. 

- 

Eddie was completely at peace, laying on the couch after a long day at work, with Ziggy laying on his chest slobbering all over his shirt. Motley laid on his legs, her head shoved between his hip and the couch as she snored away. 

They were sick, and you were in the kitchen making some chicken soup. Eddie had been in charge of getting them showered and ready for dinner, the only problem was the steam from the shower had cleared their noses which meant about 10 minutes of getting them both to blow into a tissue. And by the time that was done all their energy was gone, so he led them to the couch to lay with them and try to ease their whimpers. 

They passed out soon after and he was trapped in a pile of heat from their fevers and their slobbering snores. But he was at ease right here, their warmth making him just as tired. One hand rubbing Ziggy’s back while making sure she didn’t roll off his chest while the other hand slowly rubbed Motley's scalp. 

Before he knew it he slowly began falling asleep himself, and by the time he woke up he felt your fingers rubbing his forehead very very softly, a small smile playing on your lips. 

“Do you want me to grab them?” You whisper, which makes him shake his head. 

“Let em sleep, they don’t feel good.” He whispers back, turning bleary eyes to Ziggy who was currently crawling her way up his chest, she whimpers and whines until she is able to put her mouth around his nose. The gums touch his skin as she sucks on his nose, and he laughs slowly. “Apparently she is teething too.”

“I’ll go grab her ice pack.” You laugh, moving to the kitchen to grab it as Motley wakes up. 

“Daddy…. I hurt.” She whines and he nods, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the couch to give her room to get up, she does and quickly crawls until her head is in his lap. 

“You want some soup? Huh pretty girl? Maybe we can listen to Elvis before bed.” He offers, watching a small smile break out on her face that she tries to hide. Eddie teases her by leaning to see it and laughing when she covers her mouth. Then he pulls out the big guns, taking up the Elvis voice as he stares at her. “Let’s go eat some soup sweetie pie.”

“Hunka hunka burning love!” She giggles, jumping up to dash to the kitchen, when she passes you she nearly knocks you over but you manage to lean out of the way just in time. 

“What’s the rush?”

“Promised her Elvis after dinner.” Elvis was the king of rock, which albeit wasn’t the rock that Eddie liked, but Motley had grown overly obsessed with him lately and he was cool with that. Anything his girl wanted. 

- 

Blurb song inspo hereeeee . 

The opening of King Creole began, Motley stood on yours and Eddie's bed wearing his sunglasses and his leather jacket. She held a ukulele he had found from a garage sale, and thought it was the perfect size for her to play guitar. 

Ziggy stood on the ground, using his nightstand to help herself stand as she swung her butt up and down to the music. 

Eddie stood by the bed, with his guitar in both hands as Elvis Presley's song blasted through the speaker, wearing his newer leather jacket and a random pair of shades he found on the dresser that he was sure belonged to you.  Motley giggles loudly as Eddie sings the lyrics, playing his guitar to it as Motley pretends to play guitar as well. 

You were at the store and Eddie was supposed to be practicing for his gig coming up, and when you left he had Ziggy set up in her little play crib before Motley came in with the leather jacket on. One thing led to another and they all were playing along. 

“There’s a man in New Orleans who plays rock n roll!” Eddie sings, leaning in at the same time Motley does so their noses press together and then leaning back as she does and shimmying their shoulders. 

They sing and scream, dancing along as you pull back into the driveway. When you come in to get his help to carry in the groceries you are surprised by the loud music, even more surprised by the Elvis playing with the Metal twist to it. 

“Eds?” You call from the door, watching both him and your daughter shimmy their butts to you as they sing before you lean and stop the music which makes them both twist quickly to find you. 

“MAMA!” Motley cries, excitement crossing her face as she whips his glasses off, dropping the ukelele on the bed and launching into your arms. “Daddy Eddie was teaching me guitar!”

“I see that.” You laugh, keeping a hold of her as you lean to kiss Eddie, laughing when you see him in a pair of overly feminine glasses. “Nice look baby.”

“I thought they were very metal.” He laughs, kissing your lips softly, holding your jaw before Motley groans out a ‘ewwwww’.

“Did you like the music?” You laugh, looking down at her. “Even Daddy’s guitar.”

“He made the song better!” She laughs before you set her down. 

“Go get ready. We are having Vinny and his parents over.” At your words she groans, rolling her eyes which makes Eddie laugh out and reach a ringed hand to pull one of her pigtails lightly. 

“What’s with the attitude, pretty girl? Your rock n’ roll career is already getting to you?” He laughs, leaning to kiss her cheek before sliding off his jacket, moving to pick Ziggy up and make his way down the hall as his baby girl giggles happily. 

“I hateeeee Vinny.” Motley groans, following behind and snatching the chain that hangs from his pants to slow him down. “Daddy Eddie, pweaseeee.”

“Ohhhh, not the puppy eyes!” He whines, looking up to the ceiling. 

“No!” You call, covering her eyes. “Not this time.”

- 

Eddie sat on the floor of the living room with his back to the couch, water dripping from his hair onto his exposed chest as Motley sat behind him taking a brush through his hair over and over. He wore a towel around his hips, keeping him covered waist down but all his tattoos exposed as rubbed lotion on them, allowing Motley to have fun playing makeover with his hair. 

You sat near him, your feet in his lap as you read through a book you have promised yourself you would finish for months now.. Ziggy played with her toy blocks near as well, babbling along to the movie that played on the tv. 

Nights like this were perfect, no hustle and bustle and he got to spend time with his favorite girls. 

He rubbed some lotion on the bat tattoos, not really paying attention to what was happening around him only to be interrupted by a sharp gasp falling from your lips. Instantly he is sitting up grunting a bit when the brush Motley was holding puls his hair. 

“What? What’s wrong?” “Ziggy is-” But he already sees her, wobbling as she tries to stand without using anything to help her, blabbering quickly. Excitement courses through him as he sits up, Motley giggling behind him. 

It takes her a moment but she stands, turning to you and Eddie with a tiny smile. “Come here. Come of Stardust.”

Eddie coos gently and Ziggy wobbles, moving to take a step before landing on her butt. 

“It’s okay. It’s okay baby. Try again.” You coo, reaching your arms out. Ziggy giggles and picks herself up again, and once again she tries to take a step. Then, still giggling, she walks. 

Clumsy and heavy, she takes step after step until she falls into Eddie’s arms while everyone coos around her. 

“Da-Ed-ay.” She giggles and Eddie’s heart stops. Oh my god. 

“Did she just….” He gasps out as you tear up beside him. 

“Mix your name and daddy as her first word. Indeed she did.” You laugh, moving forward to kiss his cheek as he pulls Ziggy in to kiss her face all over.  

“THAT’S MY GIRL!”

- 

Eddie was beginning to get a little pissed off, his body thrumming with it as he watches his girls very closely. He keeps a firm hold on the neck of his guitar to fight the urge to punch someone in the face. 

That someone was Gareth. 

His band hadn’t had much exposure to kids, he knew this. The closest any of them had been to a kid was Jeff’s sister and she was only 2 years younger than her brother. So when Eddie had introduced his girls to them they hadn’t really known what to do. But he assumed they would get used to it by now. 

But his friends hadn’t. In Fact they did nothing but complain when Eddie showed up to band rehearsal with Ziggy on his arm and Motley's hand held within his own. She twisted his rings around, smiling from ear to ear when they walked up to the boys. 

Motley had been worried and had taken far too long to pick an outfit since she wanted to look as cool as Daddy Eddie and his friends. She ended up choosing the Hellfire shirt Dustin had made for her 6th birthday and his older jacket, she even let him braid her hair. And when they walked up she gave them a well rehearsed devil look, even sticking her tongue out just like Eddie does whenever she is throwing a fit. 

The only problem was Gareth and Paul both groaned outwardly, Jeff was the only one that seemed to try and smile, shaking his hand in an awkward wave. Eddie, now irritated and tense simply explains “Y/n had to go and help Nancy with something, I offered to take the angels.”

“Of course you did.” Paul scoffs, turning to grab a beer from the fridge with Gareth and Jeff in tow. Eddie bends down so he was level with Motley, rubbing her arm. 

“Don’t take those geeks to heart, yeah? They’re just nervous. You scare them.” He smiles which makes her smile. 

“It’s okay Daddy Eddie. Papa never liked when I bothered him either. We’ll stay out of the way.” She shrugs, kissing his cheek and taking her chalk set to the sidewalk before he places Ziggy on the couch. 

The papa comment unnerved him and he was already defensive. He didn’t like that they were in a situation that they could remotely compare to their deadbeat dad. It made him sad. 

They start practicing, but soon enough Motley is running up and dancing around in the garage as they play. “PLAY TIFFANY!” 

“Whose that?” Jeff asks, covered in sweat. 

“Please tell me it’s not that teenager that sings ‘I think we’re-’” Just as Gareth starts groaning, Motley begins singing and dancing to it. 

‘Ithinkwe’realonenow. There doesn’t seem to be anyone around!”

“Stop stop stop!” Paul snaps. “This is band practice. You can’t just-”

“I think we should play it.” Jeff smiles. “You have the tape Eddie?”

Of course he had the tape, it was Motley's favorite song at the moment. So, with a deep sigh since he already knew he would get shit for it he pulls the tape from his pocket, holding it in the air between two fingers. 

Gareth sighs, snatching it from him and taking it to the stereo system. 

An hour later and many snide comments, Eddie was about to lose it.  Motley had, at some point, gotten a little upset and chose to sit on the couch with Ziggy who was beginning to get whiny and sad. She hadn’t napped all day and Eddie knew it was time to call it a day before he punched one of his friends. 

“I think I’m gonna get the little ones home.” He mumbles, grabbing the tape from the speaker and putting it in the case as he looks over to where his girls were. Ziggy had her pre-cry face on and Motley was half asleep in the cushions. Eddie shuddered at the thought of how many times Gareth had sex on that thing. 

“Next time don’t bring the rugrats and we can practice actual music.” Gareth scoffs and that tight string in Eddie finally snapped. He pushes closer to his friend, getting in his face as one hand snatches itself in his shirt tightly and in a threatening way, his other hand holding the tape up to his friend's face. 

“THIS IS MUSIC!” He screams, eyes wild before he shoves his friend back and takes a deep breath, turning to where his daughters sit. “Come on, pretty babies. Let’s go make dinner.”

He scoops Ziggy up, then Motley, casting one more glare to his friends before walking off. 

- 

“I cannot believe they would be such assholes. To MY nieces.” Steve scoffs, hands on his hips as he stands next to Eddie. Tonight was the school recital, so both of them were dressed up to attend. 

Steve had dressed himself in a button up with a nice sweater, making sure to match Nancy who was carrying their 3rd kid, the blue of the dress making her light up. Meanwhile Eddie chose a button up with his leather jacket, or well Motley had demanded he wear the leather jacket because it was a part of the look. 

 You, as per usual, looked truly stunning. He made sure to keep a hand on your hip or the small of your back to make sure everyone knew you were with him, that’s right. Eddie the freak munson had the hottest woman around and two of the prettiest and most talented daughters in the world. 

“That’s what I’m saying!” Eddie sighs. “Talking to my girls like that?”

“They are just jackasses who can’t even play guitar.” Steve scoffs once more, looking past Eddie to check the door. “Ah, there they are. DUSTIN! ERICA!”

Dustin spots them, smiling as he holds Erica’s hand and shuffles closer to them. “Is Mike coming?”

“No. He has a date to make El jealous.” Nancy laughs. 

“Where is El tonight?”

“Going out with Max.” Nancy explains, and Eddie feels you tense under his hand. He casts you a quick look to make sure you’re okay, watching Ziggy lay her head on your chest as she plays with your necklace. 

“You good?” 

“Yup.” Your answer is clipped, and Ziggy lifts her head up to copy you with a ‘yupyup.’

“Where’s Lucas?” Steve asks Erica, leaning to kiss her forehead. 

“He had an away game. Asked us to film it.”

“Then asked me to stop dating his sister.” Dustin laughs which makes Steve and Eddie break out in their own fit of laughter. 

“Da-Ed-ay.” Ziggy giggles, reaching for him so he grabs her quickly, kissing her lips to make her happy. 

“I’m sorry? Did she just mix daddy and Eddie?” Steve gasps and Eddie shrugs. 

“I’m telling ya, my girls are geniuses.” He smiles, leading you into the auditorium so watch Motley's recital. 

He sits with Ziggy on his lap, holding your hand tightly in his own as Steve pulls out a camera and squats in the aisle to film everything. 

Motley and Vinny come up to do their dance, the audience laughing loudly when Motley steps on Vinnys foot after he tries to trip her. They both blush, Vinny takes a bow and Motley holds up a rock sign, which makes Eddie cheer loudly and stand up to yell for her. 

- 

Song Inspo for this blurb hereeeeee 

“Aruba, Jamaica, ooo I wanna take her.” Eddie sings, holding Ziggy on his shoulders easily as he dances with you. The Hawaiian shirt you picked out for him is light on his skin as the sun beats down on you both, the sweat from the day sticking to him. 

This was the fourth of July celebration, everyone in the group met at the beach to enjoy the day…… which meant Steve had shown up at 4 am to save the spot. Eddie had already applied sunscreen onto Motley and Ziggy twice, you had done it three times and you both were still scared that the girls would burn. 

You had gotten Ziggy the cutest toddler beach outfit, that included a purple swimsuit; hat; and sunglasses. And his baby girl looked absolutely rocking. 

Then Motley got her very own swimsuit, inspired by her favorite artist of the time Tiffany, and Eddie (who had been practicing braiding hair for weeks, your scalp was sore.) had put her hair into two pleats that she had proudly shown to her Aunt Robin who had spent the next 30 minutes complimenting her favorite niece. 

“Daddy Eddie! Come swim!” She yells out, running up to him. “Puh-lease!”

Now here was the problem, Eddie hated showing his abdomen in front of his friends. It was easy for Steve, who liked to say the scarring was Tom Cruise's amount of cool. Eddie however had never shown them how disgusting his scars were. 

“Daddy daddy daddy.” She calls, jumping up and down as Vinny dashes past to get to Dustin. “We’re gonna play chicken and I need my daddy.”

“Maybe Uncle Lucas can help you.” He mumbles, squatting down with Ziggy still on his shoulders, the toddler pulling at his hair sharply as she blubbers. 

“I don’t want Uncle Lucas. I want my daddy! Only you can help me!” She cries, grabbing his arms. His heart melts, and he tries to smile. 

“Okay pretty girl. Let me get Ziggy settled.” He sighs and she lights up, dashing to go tell Vinny as Eddie moves to hand you Ziggy. 

“I’m gonna help El set out the food. Be careful.” You mumble, leaning to kiss his lips before moving to the table as Ziggy waves over your shoulder. Eddie takes his shirt off, rubbing his abdomen in worry as he makes his way to the water where Motley now stood. 

“See?! My daddy has cool ass scars because he’s awesome and he’s gonna kick your slimy little ass.” Motley brags to Dustin, who stares at her with wide eyes that make Eddie laugh. 

“Language, pretty girl.”

“Sorry.” She blushes, turning back to Dustin. “My daddy has sick scars and he’s gonna beat your toothless ass.”

“Woah.”

And suddenly Eddie felt a little better about his scars, smiling from ear to ear as he lifted Motley up, dashing into the water to help her win a game of chicken.

- 

Thanksgiving was spent at yours and Eddies house, after hours in the kitchen and a quick fit from Motley you had fully prepped the table. 

Now everyone sat around it, trying not to laugh as Dustin tries to convince you to eat the mac n cheese he made, practically shoving the spoon in your mouth. 

“No! I eat that and I die!” You laugh, slapping the spoon away. 

“Who would take care of the kids?” Jonathan gasps in fake astonishment. “Me right?”

“You’d only get the kids if Lucas died.” You shrug which makes Lucas smile in triumph.

“I knew it-”

“And you only get my girls if Erica dies.” Eddie interrupts. “And that’s if Dustin is dead.”

A laugh tears from your throat as Dustin claps, but you’re quick to stop him. “And that’s if Steve is dead.”

“And if Steve has them then Nancy is dead.” Eddie laughs. 

“Who has to die for me to get them?!” Mike asks, face red and puffy. El laughs and Max rolls her eyes. 

“Let me guess, if Nancy has them then I am dead?” Max scoffs, and you go a bit tense. 

“Well in this entire hypothesis that means I am dead, so that’s a bit mean.” Eddie giggles. “Because if my girl is dead then they go to me.”

“No they wouldn’t.” Max laughs, which makes the table go a little quiet. “They’d go to their dad.”

“What?” Eddie asks as Motley giggles out a “PAPA!”

He turns to you, eyes wide. “That true?”

“Technically yes.” You mumble out, looking extremely guilty. “But only because-”

Eddie doesn’t want to hear anymore, he slams his silverware down and storms down the hall, slamming the door loudly. 

“Y/n, I’m so sorry-” Max starts, only to have you glare at her and move to grab Ziggy. 

- 

It had been a week since Eddie talked to you, he slept on the couch and only talked to the girls. The only communication he had with you was through the girls, and that was it. 

He made them pancakes, and took them to school and daycare. 

Right now he sat in Ziggys nursery as he tried to get her ready for the day, her only in a diaper as he sat in front of her. 

“Aw, come on. Gimme a smile, little baby.” He coos, wiggling his shoulders. “It’s such a cute dress and you know you want to wear it. Huh?”

“No, Da-Ed-ay.” She giggles. “Wuv yu.”

“Aww. I wuv yu too.” He laughs. “In fact I love you THIS MUCH!”

He opens his arms out wide which makes her giggle. “How much do you love me?”

“Dis Muck.” She giggles, opening her own arms wide. 

“Our arms are open, we gotta hug.” He laughs, pulling her in quickly which makes her scream and giggle, pushing him away as he kisses her stomach over and over. 

“PAPA IS HERE!” Motley screams from the living room which makes Eddie whip his head around to the door that had been closed. 

What? “MOMMY! MOMMY MOMMY! IT’S PAPA!” 

Eddie stands up quickly, Ziggy in his arms as he swings the door open, meeting your shocked face as you come up the stairs. 

“Did she say-?” He starts.

“I’m hoping not.” But as you are saying it there is a knock on the front door. So Eddie makes his way to the living room with Ziggy in his arms as you run to catch Motley before she answers the door. 

Choosing to do it yourself, Eddie watches with his heart in his stomach as the door swings open and he is met with-

No.Fucking. Way.

Part ll HERE

(Would y'all want a part 2? If you send in requests for blurbs or scenarios of Eddie and the girls I will 100% write them. Send em in.)

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@localemofreak @paradise-summertime @jenniquinn @eddiesxangel