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uss-butterscotch · 21 days ago

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Eddie almost becomes a 4th of July finger loss statistic and runs into a pair of sailors in the ER

cw: medical terminology, references to canon-typical gore

Eddie can feel his uncle’s glare from the seat next to him. He’s resolutely ignoring it and also attempting to ignore the pulsing pain in his hand, which he’s currently pressing a damp kitchen towel to.

Wayne, apparently, isn’t having it. “You know how many people blow their fingers off on this day every year, boy?” He says slowly.

Eddie presses his lips together. When he can’t hold his thoughts back anymore he half-whispers, “Last time I checked, all my fingers were still attached to my body.”

“They better continue to be that way by tomorrow morning.” Wayne huffs and leans back in his chair. Arms crossed tight over his chest.

They sit in silence for about 5 minutes before the doors to the emergency room practically fly open. The sudden movement draws Eddie’s eye.

He’s met with possibly the last thing he expects. The first thing he registers is that two of the people who just entered appear to be dressed like cartoon sailors, and that one of the sailors also appears to have been recently hit by a car, then the car reversed, and ran him over again.

The second thing he realizes is that the roadkill sailor is the one and only Steve Harrington. Not only is he Steve Harrington, he’s Steve Harrington, clearly on drugs.

“Hopper, we told you,” Harrington attempts to sound convincing while teetering precariously with every step, “we feel fine. I don’t even think this is as bad as last time. Nobody even… smashed anything into my head.”

The other sailor, whom Eddie has just identified as Robin Buckley, band kid and on Eddie’s short list of suspected fellow freaks.

“Nope!” Robin giggles, “just ripped a few fingernails out.” She wiggles her own fingers in front of Hopper’s face, which at the moment is locked in a simultaneously horrified and exasperated expression.

Now that attention has been called to it, and all of Robin’s fingers seem intact, Eddie sneaks a glance at Harrington’s hands, the left one of which appears to have bandages that are becoming soaked through with blood on the index and middle fingers.

“Maybe nothing got smashed into you, but Wheeler mentioned something about you smashing a certain commandeered vehicle into a certain Camaro.” Hopper leans in and speaks in a growl Eddie assumes he thinks passes for whispering, while directing Harrington and Buckley into matching plastic chairs to the one Eddie is currently occupying.

He gapes at them and blinks a few times before turning to see what his uncle thinks of this whole scene. He finds Wayne watching the newcomers with a slight squint to his eyes and a slight raise to his right eyebrow. A clear sign that he is equal parts concerned, Eddie would assume for the obvious poor condition of at least one of the teens, and intrigued, but not intrigued enough to risk intervening and complicating his already very mentally taxing evening.

Before he can do anything about any part of this scenario, a nurse calls Eddie’s name and in a blink he’s being led into the next stage of the hell of his own making. At first it’s several minutes of answering questions, nurses looking very intently at the half burn/half gash in his hand, and antiseptic. Finally he’s left alone for a few moments while they let the topical numbing cream set in.

There are two other beds in the section he’s been taken to. One of them is currently occupied by an older man, accompanied by a younger woman in a plastic chair next to him. Both of them appear to be fast asleep. The other bed is empty. Or at least, it is until there’s a commotion from the hallway, and the sailors are being ushered in Eddies direction, toward the bed next to his. Eddie catches bits of the conversation that leads to the two-high-teenagers-for-one deal he’s about to get.

Robin’s almost frantic voice, “No! They can’t separate us! Last time we got split up-“

“It’ll be fine, Rob, these guys are probably American.” Steve cuts her off nonsensically. Eddie kind of wishes he was on whatever stuff Steve was right now.

“Considering what you��ve tried to explain so far, I don’t know how much better that is.” Robin says, giggling again.

Steve clumsily grabs her hand with his right one, reaching across is own body awkwardly to get to her, and missing on the first attempt. “You also need to get looked at, little miss ‘ask me tomorrow’.”

Robin cringes at him, “Ok now I will leave you alone so you don’t call me ‘little miss’ again.”

Eddie watches the nurses lead Robin further down the hallway, and Steve to the bed next to his own. They’re left alone briefly after Steve gets settled and the nurse has rushed off to find a doctor.

The other teen stares almost blankly at him for a long moment before he exclaims suddenly, startling Eddie, “Munson! From Biology! That’s why you seem familiar.”

“Harrington,” Eddie replies, “you are aware we shared more classes than the one Biology period, right?”

Harrington blinks slowly with the eye that isn’t swollen shut. “No, actually, I dunno if you noticed, but I was sort of an asshole in high school, so…” he wobbles his head back and forth, “I kind of only remember that time you passed out when we dissected that cow eye.”

“Ah,” Eddie rolls his eyes and nods, “so you were an asshole in high school, but you’re not anymore. Got it.” He’s really going over the top with the sarcasm, but Harrington doesn’t seem to catch on.

“Yup. Earlier Robin said that I really was, but I’m not anymore, and she’s usually right about most things, even though it’s super annoying when she is right, because she won’t shut up about it, and she remembers stuff, like how many times I’m wrong and what I’m wrong about and what I ate for breakfast in Mrs. Click’s class and-“

He’s cut off by the nurse from before returning. “Sorry for making you wait, hon, it’s a real circus here tonight. While we wait for the doctor, I’m gonna get you set up with some fluids. The EMTs said you were pretty dehydrated.”

When she brandishes the needle in preparation for placing the IV, Eddie notices all the color that isn’t bruising drain from Harrington’s face. He tries to subtly scoot away from her, but the movement is a little too rushed to come from anywhere but a sense of panic.

“O-oh, no that’s, I’m okay, no-no thanks.” He stutters out, his breath coming in quick and shallow now.

“Oh, hon, it’s okay to be afraid of needles,” the nurse says sweetly, “just look away and take deep breaths, and it’ll be over in a pinch.”

Harrington winces at that. “I-I’m really- it’s- I’m fine, you don’t-“

He stops abruptly when what sounds like a screamed “No!”echoes from down the hallway. It takes half a second longer for Eddie to place the voice as Robin Buckley’s than it apparently takes Steve, because Eddie blinks and Harrington’s off the bed and rushing toward the voice with a half-shouted “Robin!”

The nurse, it seems, is just as stunned as Eddie, and it’s a few seconds before she’s racing after him down the hallway.

It isn’t until his stitches are almost halfway done that Harrington returns, now closely followed by Chief Hopper, and lead gingerly by the elbow by the nurse. The IV situation appears to have been solved, as he is now rolling a drip bag on a stand with his free hand.

Once Harrington is returned to his bed, Hopper leans over him slightly in what Eddie recognizes as his attempt to be intimidating. “Now listen closely, Harrington. You are going to stay right there in this bed, and do whatever Annette here asks you to do until I get back. Do I make myself clear?”

Steve stares at him open mouthed for a moment, before he starts giggling. “Huh, Mike’s right, you do have a little vein that pops out right…” he reaches up to try and poke Hopper in the forehead.

Before Hopper smacks his hand away, Eddie notices a thick band of bruising around Harrington’s wrist, adding to the already massive pile of questions he has about whatever series of events led to those two landing themselves here.

Steve is still giggling when Hopper stands back up, dragging a hand down his face. “Look. Just stay put for 20 minutes. Someone still has to call your damn parents.”

“Good luck with that,” Harrington says wearily to Hopper’s back as he retreats back toward the waiting room.

With all the commotion, Eddie almost forgets he’s currently getting his hand sewn back together. A distraction he’s secretly grateful for, since he was starting to get a little light headed thinking about it.

“Well, Eddie, that should be it,” the doctor says, patting the fresh bandage gently, “I’ll get someone to take care of your discharge papers and you’ll be on your way.”

Eddie gives a thumbs up with the hand that did not get nearly exploded several hours ago. As the doctor leaves, Eddie realizes he is once again left alone with Harrington. He can only handle about two minutes of the silence before he blurts out. “Ok, man, I’m dying to know. What the hell happened to you? You look like you rolled down a rocky cliffside for like a day straight.”

Harrington chuckles, “I feel like that.” He doesn’t say anything for a long moment before he apparently realizes Eddie asked him a question. “Oh, uh, the mall burned down.”

“Starcourt? The brand new mall?”

Harrington nods. “Yup.” He pops the p.

“Wh-” Eddie blinks at him in disbelief, “and you and Buckley..?”

“We were there, yeah.” He says it so nonchalantly Eddie almost thinks he’s messing with him.

“Right…” Eddie starts, not sure where he’s going before one of the questions swirling around his brain tumbles out of his mouth “so the mall was burning down and someone ripped your finger nails off?”

Harrington sits up straight, “How did you-?”

“I was in the waiting room when you came in,” Eddie answers in a rush, “overheard you and Buckley.”

“Oh.” Harrington says, then blinks slowly a few times and Eddie can almost hear him thinking. “Umm, no that happened… before the fire.” He finally says, frustratingly vague.

“Right, and the…” Eddie gestures vaguely to his own face in leu of actually asking.

Harrington hums. “Uhh, I think… falling debris…” he nods to himself, “yeah, you know, chunks of burning mall.” He mimes something falling from the sky and makes a cartoon explosion sound. Eddie’s not totally inclined to believe him, especially since he just noticed the finger shaped bruising on Harringtons arms.

“You think?” He presses.

Harrington huffs, almost like a kid throwing a tantrum. “Look man, I’m like super ultra concussed and on some kind of mystery drugs so my memory is like…” he flaps a hand around for a second, then lands on a thumbs down, “at the moment.”

Eddie nods. “Right, yeah, sorry.” Eddie puts his uninjured hand up in surrender, “Just, my curious nature, man.”

Steve shrugs, then winces. “Okay, my turn.” He points to Eddie’s bandaged hand, “What happened there?”

“Awesome firework experiment gone wrong.” Eddie says, deliberately not elaborating. It’s apparently enough for Steve who nods knowingly.

Another silence settles over the room, this time less awkward, but Eddie still feels the need to break it. “Okay this is my last question for real.” Harrington sighs, but motions for him to go on. “The outfit?”

He squints at Eddie for a moment. “Did you ever like, actually go to the mall?”

“Once. And it confirmed my suspicions that the whole thing was a capitalist nightmare that I in no way belonged within a thousand foot radius of.” Eddie proclaiming proudly.

Steve looked at him like he was speaking Spanish. “Um, sure. Yeah. That’s probably true.” He picks at some of the blood that has dried on the collar of his shirt. “Robin and I work, or, I guess worked, now that it doesn’t exist anymore, but, anyway it’s this ice cream place, and it’s like, ocean themed for some reason, so… sailors.”

The mood seems to have shifted slightly. Harrington’s no longer looking at him, instead focusing on his shoes, which also appear to be smudged with blood. No trace of the half smile that had been lingering from his random fits of giggles. With the way he’s fidgeting, it almost seems like he’s nervous.

Eddie decides the best way out of this is to pretend like he doesn’t notice and hope he can get the vibe back on track. “That sounds like the most ridiculous business I’ve ever heard of.”

Steve lets out a halfhearted chuckle. “Yeah, it was pretty stupid.”

They are both saved from trying to come up with a new direction for the conversation to go by the entrance of Robin Buckley, who is toting her own rolling stand of IV fluid with her.

“Dingus!” She calls, and Eddie notes the way Harrington relaxes slightly at seeing her. “I’m completely healthy!”

Steve mimes clapping and Robin bows dramatically. “I… am not.”

Robin taps his knee. “I could have probably told you that.” Her gaze scans the room, then catches on him. “Hey, you’re the guy that runs the D&D group, right?”

“In the flesh,” Eddie says, spreading his arms wide.

Robin cringes again. “Ew, don’t say flesh. I’ve had too much flesh for one day.”

Steve nods next to her. “He blew up his hand with fireworks.”

Robin gasps, “Really?” She turns to Steve, “I totally thought we were gonna do that, but” she holds out her hands, and while they themselves seem fine, Eddie notices the bruising on her wrists that match Harrington’s, “all my fingers. Intact.”

“That makes one of us,” he smirks and makes eye contact with Eddie.

“Did you know that on the Fourth of July, over 30% of hospital visits are related to injuries from fireworks” Robin says unprompted.

“Why would I know that.” Steve says flatly, “Why do you know that?”

Robin shrugs, “I read.”

It’s then that a nurse comes back to get Eddie out of there. As he goes, Steve waves a goodbye to him that he awkwardly returns. As he leaves them behind he hears Robin ask, “Did Johnathan Byers cut open a girl’s leg, or was that the drugs?”

He shakes his head as he returns to the waiting room, resigned to never have answers to his mountain of questions.

#un-fake-kills Hopper for this because i like hom and want him here #*raises hand* i think it’s funny if Eddie is squeamish with his whole metal aesthetic he’s got going on #idk if they were dissecting cow eyes in the 80s but I dissected like 3 cow eyes in the course of my high school career #i took a lot of science classes and they make you dissect a lot of stuff #anyway #apologies to those of you who were expecting an update of the other fic thos one simply possessed me #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #jim hopper #stranger things #and another thing!#i think they should have committed to the bit and taken some of Steve’s fingernails away from him #and im not afraid to say it!

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oneforthemunny · 28 days ago

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the badge |cop!eddie munson x reader|

prompt: how eddie became a cop, and how he met you. aka the lore lol.

contains: cop themes. drug dealing. cops. the justice system is fucked up. hopper is a good cop. small town shit lol. nothing heavy but does deal with the justice system/cops. language. angst at the beginning, but really just fluff and lore.

January 1989

Eddie’s knee bounced, chains on his jeans rattling against the metal of the bench, rusted with the rest of the holding cell. He wondered how often his dad had been in his same position, sat in this same spot, probably not as peacefully- definitely not sober.

“Munson,” Officer Callahan groaned. Eddie knew him a little too well, countless warnings as a teengager for disturbing the peace, playing his ‘satanic panic’ music too loud.

Eddie scoffed lightly, tongue rolling over the side of his mouth when Callahan turned his key. “No way. Wayne bailed me?”

“Not exactly.” Callahan hummed around a slow exhale, the bars groaning when he opened the cell.

“What?” Eddie frowned, boots dragging across the cracked cement. “Who? Gare- I know Gareth didn’t. Who was it? Was it- Did Jeff?”

“No.” Callahan’s bored gaze met Eddie’s. “I didn’t say you were free to go. No one posted your bail.”

Eddie’s spine tingled with an icy panic of fear. He tried not to show it, not to let his eyes widen and face pale, but still, his steps stuttered.

He shouldn’t be surprised, he supposed, that he was getting booked- that he was going to jail. He was an adult, afterall, selling weed to high schoolers and burnouts at The Hideout. How was he supposed to know it was a sting? That the guy he’d known from Geometry in tenth grade was really working for the DEA? They just let anyone be cops then, Eddie barked at Hopper before he was shoved under into the back of the cop car and taken here.

“S-So what? I don’t- Man, I don’t get a fuckin’ trial?” Eddie spat, following Callahan down the long hallway, the lights ominously flickering with each step. Callahan ignored him, keeping his same, slow stride, keys jingling in his hand.

“This is- This is illegal. Alright? I have the right to a fuckin’ trial. I know I have the right to a fuckin’ trial, o-or a judge, or whatever.” Eddie’s voice boomed, echoing off the walls. “Innocent until proven guilty, right? Is that not a thing anymore?”

Callahan shoved his key in the windowless room, pushing it open. Eddie scoffed, stepping back with disgust. “You fuckin’ pigs, pigs, all the same. Think you’re above the law, huh? Well, I’m not goin’ in there without a fucking lawyer-”

“-Eddie,” Wayne’s gruff bark came from inside the room. Eddie stilled, squinting into the dark room, a single lightbulb over a desk like something out of a cliched cop show. His uncle sat in one chair, Hopper in the other, a single manilla folder in front of them.

“Take a seat, boy.” Wayne nodded, arms crossed over his short sleeve coveralls, the lines on his face harder than usual, more prominent.

Eddie hesitated, looking back down the hall before stepping in, taking slow, calculated steps towards the empty chair next to Wayne.

“Thanks, Phil. We got it from here.” Hopper nodded to the man at the door, the hinges squeaking before the door fell shut with a heavy thud. Eddie was furious at himself for flinching.

There was a painful moment of silence, so quiet, Eddie’s thudding heartbeat rang in his ears.

“So, Eddie, you’re looking at one to five right now.” Hopper’s fingers drummed against the manilla folder, lips pressed in a tight, intimidating line. Eddie steeled himself, meeting his eyes, but he didn’t dare look at Wayne.

“First offense with a relatively clean record, the judge might only have you do a few months here with probation- might.” Hopper glared when Eddie perked. “That’s the best case scenario, and unfortunately for you, the judge has been around long enough to already see a Munson come through, a few times.”

Eddie’s brows furrowed, head tilting in challenging question, arms folded in defensiveness. “He’s talkin’ ‘bout Al, boy.” Wayne grunted, glaring at his nephew with a hard stare that had Eddie uneasy. “He’s gonna throw the book at ya because of your Daddy. ‘S worried you’re gonna be like ‘im.”

“What? They- He can’t do that-”

“-He can.” Hopper shrugged. “You still broke the law, Eddie. The judge can give you the max, the minimum, whatever he wants- it’s in his hands when you break the law.”

Eddie’s foot tapped, sulking back in his chair, arms wrapping around his torso tightly, scared his heart might burst right through his ribcage with the way it was beating, thumping rapidly with fear. He was convinced through the thick silence that they could hear it.

“But,” Hopper said around a slow breath, his eyes cutting to Wayne’s before they met Eddie’s. “You’re lucky he also knows another Munson, and happens to play cards with him on Saturday nights.”

Eddie looked over at Wayne, his uncle’s face unmoving, glaring back at him with the same unimpressed, stoic expression.

“And we’ve cut a little deal with Judge Dixon.” Hopper slid the manilla folder over towards Eddie. “There’s been a… lacking of officer’s lately in our department. Hawkins is growing, more people are coming in with all the new stuff, and we’re swamped and short handed. We need officers for the lower level things. Traffic conductors, petty crime reports- the small stuff.”

Eddie didn’t move- he couldn’t. Frozen in fear, in shock, maybe, at Hopper’s words, more so, what he was insinuating with them.

Hopper flipped open the manilla folder, a small, stapled form that read: Hawkins Law Enforcement Academy, in bold, threatening letters across the top. The form was already filled out, stamped with approval for acceptance by Judge Dixon and Hopper. Eddie felt light headed.

“So, we came up with a compromise,” Hopper continued slowly. “Judge Dixon agreed that if you go to the academy, become an officer, he’ll wipe this completely. You’ll have a job- with benefits- and you’ll handle the lower level stuff. Help us help you kinda thing.”

Eddie didn’t speak, he couldn’t, too shocked to even form a thought let alone a word.

“Or,” Hopper sighed heavily, pulling another paper out from behind the form- Eddie’s booking papers and court appearance request. “You can go to jail.”

“Send me to jail.” Eddie spat, gawking at the paper.

“Boy,” Wayne grunted.

“I’m serious. I-I’ll be alright, just send me to jail, because there’s not a chance in heaven or fuckin’ hell I am being a cop.” Eddie scoffed.

Wayne only glared, looking at Hopper. “Give us a minute, will ya?”

Hopper nodded slowly, standing from the table. “Take your time. Just knock on the door when you have a decision.”

The door shut with a heavy snap again, the room falling still for a moment.

“I-I’m not being a cop, Wayne, I don’t care. I’m not- There’s no way-”

“-You’re goin’ to that Academy, son.” Wayne narrowed his gaze at Eddie, hardening with his tone.

“The fuck I am.” Eddie laughed humorlessly, scoffing.

”I-I mean, a cop? A cop? I’m not- I hate cops! Cops hate me! They’re fuckin’ power hungry bastards who use it to fuck with people because they’re the law.” Eddie threw his hands up in exasperation. “That’s not me, alright? That will never fuckin’ be me, and I’m not-”

“-There. You just said it.” Wayne rolled his eyes. “‘S never gonna be you, that’s exactly right, boy. You ain’t gotta act like all ‘em dirty assholes. ‘S not in the job description t’act like that, so don’t.”

Eddie’s lips pursed, hands buzzing with rage, maybe fear, he wasn’t sure. “I’m not doin’ it. I don’t care. I’d rather go to jail, be a criminal-”

“-Be like your Daddy?” Wayne scoffed. “Because he wasn’t a pow’r hungry asshole, was he? He was a real winner, real nice guy. Don’t you remember?”

Eddie’s heart fell, his face falling with it. Wayne rarely brought up Al, rarely brought up the situation that led Eddie to stay with Wayne permanently.

“I ain’t lettin’ you be like him, boy.” Wayne shook his head. “I won’t have a second one of ‘im runnin’ around-”

“-I’m not like him.” Eddie grit through a tight jaw, his throat burning with tears he was desperate to keep down.

“You know, this is how it started for him?” Wayne narrowed his eyes at Eddie. “Started small, just sellin’- we all gotta make a livin’, Wayne, don’t tell me how to make mine.”

Wayne scoffed, shaking his head. “You should be thankin’ me for gettin’ you this, and not just tossin’ you out on your ass. Thankful that nice cop out there,” Wayne jammed a finger at the door. “Knows you’re not a bad kid, that you just make some stupid choices.”

Eddie didn’t move, fist balled by his side, his gaze unmoving from his uncle’s. “That guy, he wants to help people. ‘S why he helped me, ‘cause he doesn’t want you endin’ up like your Daddy either.”

“You should wanna end up like ‘im instead, not like Al.” Wayne’s glare narrowed at him. “‘Least he tries to help people, not just hurt ‘em… Hell, he’s tried to help you more than that sorry sack of shit ever did.”

Eddie’s jaw tightened, so tight he was sure his teeth might snap, crack and break out under the pressure. Wayne stood with a small groan. “‘S your choice, boy. I ain’t gonna make it for ya. You’re grown ‘nough.”

Wayne rapped on the door, slipping out, leaving Eddie alone, in the same deafening silence that seemed to follow him. The two forms in front of him, both missing his signature. Whichever he signed, whichever choice he made, sealed his fate- his future.

Nearly an hour and a half later, a small knock came from the other side, leaving both Hopper and Wayne jumping. The two men shared a look, before Hopper pulled the door open.

Eddie’s face was stoic, unreadably cold and expressionless when he passed the manilla envelope to Hopper, avoiding Wayne’s gaze entirely. Hopper opened the folder, eyes widening before they cut back to Eddie’s. Wayne’s chest tightened, fear filling and sinking in the pit of his stomach.

“You sure? No changing it once I send it in.” Hopper lifted a brow.

“Yeah,” Eddie nodded, arms folding over his chest.

Wayne’s shoulders fell, slumped with disappointment, a calloused hand running down his face. He was sure he’d gotten through to Eddie. Sure, the kid was stubborn, but he thought maybe, just maybe he’d got him pointed in the right direction.

Hopper sighed slowly, tucking the manilla folder back under his arm, walking over to Eddie. His hand stuck out, and Wayne steeled himself, ready to watch the cuffs come on, hear his rights being read- he’d seen it a million times with his brother, he just thought his nephew would have a better fate.

Instead, Eddie took Hopper’s hand, giving it a firm shake. “Congratulations, Eddie.” Hopper said. Wayne’s head snapped up. “We look forward to you joining our crew.”

“I have one condition,” Eddie paused. “I’m not cutting my hair. I won’t fuckin’ do it. If it’s just the low level shit, then I’m not doing it.”

Hopper looked over at Wayne, back at Eddie with a shrug. “Fine by me. You just have to keep it back.”

“Fine.” Eddie nodded, letting do of his grasp. He turned to his uncle, Wayne’s face bright with a grin he rarely saw, beaming with pride though he tried to downplay it.

“Proud of ya, boy. You’ll do good.” Wayne clapped Eddie on the shoulder, pulling him in for a brief hug.

The uneasy feeling hadn’t left Eddie’s chest, he wasn’t sure it ever would, but he did know that Wayne was right- he wouldn’t be like those other cops. Disgusting and power hungry, abusing others for their own ego. He’d be someone who helped, who made Hawkins better- because it sure as hell needed it.

June 1989

Eddie hardly recognized himself. Sitting in a cruiser, not his van; his curls pulled back in a ponytail; not a stitch of leather on his body, instead he wore a khaki uniform, and the only patches on it were regulation ones that said his name and Hawkins Police. Six months later, and he was still queasy when he saw himself- a cop.

He would admit, it was less dramatic as he thought it would be. After he finished academy, Hopper stuck him on the truly low level duties. Crosswalk duty in the mornings for the elementary school, which was humiliating. Or writing tickets on cars that let their meters expire. Or his personal hell, speed control in the construction zones. Hot days filled with sitting, watching with his speed gun to make sure no one was barreling through.

This week, Eddie was already dreading his shifts, the days longer and hotter. At least school was out, so he was freed from crosswalk duties.

“Munson,” Hopper didn’t look up from his desk. “Need you to go speed patrol out on North Avenue. We’ve got a lot of complaints about speeding. You can do that today until it starts to slow down. I’ll radio you if we need anything else.”

Eddie decided there were worse things to do at seven in the morning. While he’d rather be sleeping, he did find it a little humorous hearing the panic screech of tires breaking when they’d round the corner and see his patrol car.

He’d stopped a group of teenagers, new drivers, letting them off with a warning to drive slow and safe, before he’d gone back to his car. It was growing boring, Eddie’s fingers tapping with boredom, until a car zipped around the curve in the road, not slowing or even hesitating when it passed Eddie.

Sighing heavily, Eddie pulled out of his spot, flicking on his lights, tailing the car until they pulled over on the shoulder. Out of town plates, Eddie noticed, walking slowly up to the car.

The woman in the driver’s seat cranked down the window, hands gripping the wheel nervously when Eddie approached. She looked his age, but he didn’t recognize her- he’d definitely remember seeing her before.

“License and registration, please.” Eddie tried not to sound bored or annoyed, there had been a few complaints about that already and Hopper was getting pissed.

“Here you go.” Your hands shook when you passed them to Eddie through the open window. He examined the license, taking in your full name and your out of town address.

“You know why I stopped you?” Eddie leaned in lightly, scanning the floorboards and seats of the small car- no guns, no weapons, nothing criminally suspicious, though Eddie was curious as to why there was an excess of laundry baskets piled in your back seat, spilling over with clothes and towels and clutter.

“I-I was going too fast,” You squeaked, lipstick painted lip tucking between your teeth, nails tapping against the cracked leather of your wheel. Your hands still trembled when Eddie passed your license and registration back to you.

“I know I was speeding, a-and I swear, I-I don’t usually speed- I’m a really safe driver, I promise. I just- I just moved here, an-and it’s my first day of work, and I couldn’t find my alarm in my stuff so I tried to set a timer on my over and it doesn’t work, of course.” You threw your hands up in exaggeration, Eddie flinching, drawing back for his holster.

“I’m sorry!” You screeched, lifting your hands up, eyes wide with panic.

“No, I-I wasn’t- I’m so sorry.” Your lip was beginning to wobble, eyes glassing with tears that filled your water lines. “I just- I’m late for my first day and… and I really need the job, and I’m just already having a really bad start to my day.”

Eddie’s heart leapt when you sniffed, wet and dramatic, a tear leaking out of the corner of your eye. Fuck, he hadn’t meant to make you cry.

“No, it’s-it’s okay.” Eddie lifted a hand softly. “I mean, wait- speeding isn’t okay. You shouldn’t do that, but it’s not- They have me sit out here, y’know? Try to catch the teenagers on their way to school and stuff. It’s just- You’ll get used to it.”

Your brows furrowed gently, sniffing again, but no tears fell this time. Eddie’s chest loosened. “It’s a small town, so ya know how it is- or maybe you don’t, but- sorry, I don’t. You’re late an-and I…” Eddie’s tongue felt thick and awkward in his mouth, flopping around words that jumbled.

“Where’re you working at?” Eddie cleared his throat, trying to still the pubescent shake in his voice.

“Delia’s- the jewelry store?” Your eyes cut to your watch, knuckles tightening around the wheel. “I’m the manager- well, just the store manager, for the one that opened in the mall, but my general manager will be there and I’m still on my probationary period, and-”

“-No, I-I get that.” Eddie muttered around a breath. “Um, let me- hold on,” He paused, leaning back to look at you fully. You flustered when he stood at his full height, and sliver of a tattoo peeking out from the khaki of his cuffed sleeve.

“Do you promise not to speed again?”

“What?”

“I mean, if I don’t give you a ticket, do you swear not to speed again?” Eddie kept his face stern, voice tight, though his lips twitched when you blinked at him, wide eyed, a little confused- Fuck, you were cute.

“Y-Yes. Yes, of course, I-I won’t speed again.” You babbled around your shock.

“Well, maybe one more time, alright?” Eddie’s crooked grin had your heart skipping with excitement. “But it’ll be legal-ish. I’ll give you an escort.”

“What?” Your eyes flashed towards him. “Seriously? You-You don’t have to-”

“-C’mon, there’s not shit to do here, sweetheart.” Eddie scoffed lightly. “Welcome to Hawkins.”

Your cheeks burned with a tingling thrill. “It’ll take me five minutes, I promise.” Eddie craned his neck, looking down at your watch. “Get you there right before eight. If we go now.”

“O-Okay,” You nodded, shifting your gear into drive. “Thank you!”

Eddie waved back, jogging to his cruiser, sliding into the driver’s seat. Hopper would kill him, maybe worse, for doing this. Put him back on meter maid and crosswalk duty for weeks, if he found out. But looking back at you, your small smile that brought a familiar rush of heat that Eddie hadn’t felt in so long, he decided it was worth the risk.

Flying through the stop lights towards Starcourt, Eddie began to wonder if you’d lied to him about your speeding record. Judging by how fast you kept up with him, taking each turn barely pressing your brake, he was beginning to think otherwise.

Seven-fifty-six on the dot, you and Eddie were parked near the south entrance.

“Thank you so, so much again.” You scrambled out of your car, balancing a bag in one hand, barefoot in your pantyhose, slipping your pumps on. “I- I really needed that, thank you.” Your gaze lifted to his, shoulders falling for the first time since he saw you.

Eddie’s heart swelled at your sincerity, the lump in his throat growing more and more by the second. “Hey, it’s no problem.” He gave a soft smile. “I’m a civil servant. Here to serve.”

You giggled, pulling at your skirt, smoothing your hand over the fabric. “Well, I appreciate it again. And I promise I won’t speed anymore.”

“Good.” Eddie nodded, leaning against the hood of his car. You hesitated for a moment, looking down at your wrist watch before starting towards the doors.

Eddie’s heart leapt, jumping to run before you. “Here, let me-” He pulled on the handle, boot propping the door open for you.

“Thank you.” You muttered around a smile, chin ducking shyly when you passed him.

“Hey, um,” Eddie called out, a white knuckled grip on the steel doors. Your heeled steps stopped, turning towards him.

“Look I know you’re in a rush, but uh,” Eddie fumbled, patting his belt until he felt his notebook, pulling it out with shaky hands. He cursed when the pencil slide through the wired loops, dropping to the ground. “Shit, um, if-if you ever need someone to show you around or-or want someone to show you the not bad places around here, or whatever, y’know? I, um, I could-”

Eddie’s hands shook, each number and letter and scratchy, jittery mess on the faded lined paper. “I’d be more than happy t-to show you around… if you want.” Eddie’s hands were sweaty when he handed you the paper. “Or if you ever want to get a drink or something.”

Your lips curled in a bright smile, looking down at his wobbly handwriting. “Thank you… Eddie?” Your head tilted slightly, squinting at the name you tried to decipher.

“Yeah, sorry, my handwriting’s…” Eddie took a breath, shaking his head gently. He was sure you could see his red cheeks now. “That’s me. If you ever need anything.”

“Thank you.” You smiled, tucking the paper carefully into your purse pocket. “Thank you for everything, seriously.” You turned with a wave, giving one last glance over your shoulder before scampering away.

“Good luck!” Eddie’s voice cracked when he shouted after you, wincing. Maybe you hadn’t heard that- maybe it only sounded like it echoed off the empty walls of the mall. Why the hell weren’t they playing music?

Eddie was sure he’d blown it. Sulking in the cruiser, forehead pressed to his steering wheel. You weren’t going to call. He was sure of it. Convinced himself of it. You’d throw his number away with a snicker, just like all the other girls did.

After his shift, limbs heavy, filled with exhaustion from the day, Eddie was ready to smoke a bowl he’d confiscated from some high schoolers, and call it a night. His messaging machine flashing greeted him, finger jamming into the play button, plopping on his bed with a heavy groan.

“You have one new message,” The robotic voice droned. Eddie rolled his eyes, tugging at his boots with a grunt.

“Um, hello, hi,” Eddie nearly choked, head snapping towards the machine.

“I think I got the number right- I’m sorry, I hope this is the right number, I couldn’t really read them, but, uh, if this is Eddie. I-I just wanted to say thank you again, and see if you could call me back? Whenever you get a chance, I know you’re probably busy, but, um… I’d like to take you up on getting that drink. Or showing me the not so bad places around here.” Your nervous giggle floated through the line, and Eddie thought he might kiss the machine.

“But uh, if this isn’t Eddie… I guess don’t call me back an-and I’m sorry. Anyways, thank you again, and… yeah. Call me, please. Bye.”

Eddie nearly broke the receiver punching the call back button, boot half off, cradling the phone to his ear with shaking hands.

“Hello?” Your voice came through on the second ring.

“Hey, uh, hi,” Eddie stammered, swallowing around his excitement, maybe nerves. “It’s Eddie. I just- I just got off and saw your message.”

“Oh, good,” You giggled. “I was worried it wasn’t the right one. I thought I left some crazy rambling on some strangers' voicemail. I’ll get a looney reputation before people even meet me.”

Eddie snorted lightly in laughter. “No, uh, it’s- it was the right one.”

“Good,” You hummed, a pause filling the line. “Um, well, I wanted to say thank you again, an-and also see if you were serious about getting a drink? I want to buy you one for everything this morning, but I don’t know where to go.” You admitted with a small, shy laugh.

“I figured I’d ask you and see if you wanted to go out tonight? If you’re free.”

“Yeah, yeah, that would be amazing.” Eddie winced, fist balling in embarrassment, pressing it to his forehead. “I mean, I’m free.”

“Great. How about, um, eight? Would that work for you?”

“Yeah, eight is great.” Eddie pinched the bridge of his nose at his own embarrassment. “How about Shirley’s? It’s- It’s close to the mall, actually. Right across from the flower shop. In that strip. Do you know where that is?”

“By the main entrance?”

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

“Sure. I can meet you there.”

“Perfect.” Eddie’s lips curled, heart hammering in his chest. “I’ll see you then,”

“See you then. Bye.” You hoped you hung up before he heard you squeal, slamming the phone on the hook, jittery with excitement.

Where your going out clothes were? You weren’t sure. Looking around the piles and piles of boxes, you flung through totes like a mad woman, ripping through the tape and cardboard until you found the neatly folded dresses you were looking for.

“So,” Eddie’s fingers drummed on the glass of his beer, knee bouncing under the table, his chains on his jeans jingling. “How are you liking Hawkins?”

“It’s good so far.” You hummed, bringing your own beer to your lips. “Still trying to figure everything out. I just moved here. I haven’t even been here a week.” You gave a small, soft giggle that had Eddie’s head swimming.

Your eyes rolled down his frame, taking in his attire. You didn’t know what you were expecting, but you didn’t expect it to be that. Ripped jeans with chains, a torn leather vest decorated in various band patches, a Megadeath tee, and rings on each of his fingers- the only part of his outfit that gave a ‘cop’ effect, was the belt made of chains and handcuffs.

“There’s not a lot to do here, honestly. Won’t take you long to figure it all out.” Eddie snorted lightly. “I mean, there’s more now than there was before. With the mall and the other things comin’, but still… Not a lot, I guess.”

You nodded for a moment, a shy, nervous giggle passing your lips that you hoped he didn’t notice. “Where’s your favorite place?” You asked, desperate to fill the silent tension that was looming around the two of you. “Like where do you like to go to have fun? This place?”

“Yeah, its-I mean, Shirley’s is fun.” Eddie nodded, looking around. The barstools and high top tables with tiny candles on each table to create the ambiance. The bar tenders shaking cocktails in their white dress shirts and ties- too posh for anything in Hawkins, in Eddie’s opinion, the drink prices certainly were.

“I’m more of a fan of The Hideout. It’s more my crowd.”

“Where’s that?”

“Uh, it’s more on the outskirts, towards the quarry. On the other side of here, actually.” Eddie pointed, rings catching in the low candle light. “It’s a bar too, but more of a dive one..”

“Oh, we should’ve gone there then.” You smiled at him gently. “If it’s more your taste.”

“No, it’s- sorry, no, I like Shirley’s. This is… This is probably better for- It’s less rowdy here, y’know?” Eddie’s palms were beginning to sweat, rubbing them on his jeans under the table, hoping you didn’t notice, hoping you didn’t hear his chains jingle. “Plus they have live music, so it’s kinda loud, not as good for talking.”

You watched him, the way his eyes darted back from your gaze to the green velvet walls, his leg bouncing under the table. “I see,” You nodded slowly, lips twitching in a grin. “Next time, then?”

Eddie’s heart skipped, mind blanking for a moment. “Ye-Yeah, absolutely.” Eddie hoped you couldn’t see his blush, creeping hot up his neck.

A silence fell between the two of you, both of you trying to look nonchalant to the other, minds racing to fill the silence gap. “So,” Eddie swallowed around the bundle of nerves in his throat. “Do you, uh, do you like jewelry?”

He didn’t expect you to laugh; nose scrunching and lips curling in a laugh, it was infectious, had Eddie nervously giggling with you. “Sorry, I- Yes and no.” You grinned at Eddie from across the table. “I mean, I don’t dislike it, but I don’t have a burning passion for it. I just needed a job.”

“I get that.” Eddie muttered, shyly ducking his head, eyes trained on the ring of condensation left behind by his beer. “I’ve got a small collection, but, uh, not a lot anymore. I can’t really wear ‘em when I’m working.” Eddie twisted the skull ring around his middle finger. You leaned over the table lightly to get a better look.

“You need to get it cleaned.” You hummed, fingers reaching out to twist the skull pattern towards you. Eddie’s heart nearly soared out of his throat when your fingertips met his skin. He was sure you could see him blushing now.

“The silver’s starting to tarnish around the eyes, see?” You tapped your nail next to the eye, filled with a greenish tint. “It’s oxidizing. It’ll start getting everywhere. Turn your fingers and clothes.”

Eddie grunted, forcing a sound of thought to come from his strangled throat, unmoving- scared that if he moved you might let go. “Bring it by tomorrow if you’re free. I work eight to five again. We have a big silver cleaning machine with all the solution and stuff. I’ll clean them for you.”

“Yeah? That’ll fix them?” Eddie looked up at you, both of you suddenly aware at your closeness. Leaned in together across the table, your pointer and thumb wrapped around his middle finger ring.

“Yeah,” You squeaked out a reply, chin ducking shyly, but you didn’t pull back. “I’ll do it for you. It won’t take me long, promise. But they’ll look brand new.”

Eddie actually liked the tarnish look, thought it made them look more metal and sick, though he didn’t tell you that. He wouldn’t dare. He’d get them cleaned, shiny and new, if that meant he got to see you again.

“Cool, yeah, that would be great. Thank you.” Eddie nodded, too eagerly to be cool, nose scrunching gently in a wince of embarassment. “Hopefully I don’t lose ‘em before then.”

“Why would you lose them?” Your eyebrows pulled together, a giggle of confusion fell around your words. Eddie chest felt warm, heat spreading to his cheeks in an adrenaline rush of excitement.

“I don’t- I’m not trying to.” Eddie grinned back- your smile was infectious, he decided, gleaming when he looked at you. “I just don’t have anywhere to put them, I guess. I’m on tomorrow, so I can’t wear them, and I’m really bad at forgetting where they’re at if I don’t have them on me-”

“-I’m the same way.” You laughed, voice raising in enthusiasm, your own ring clad hand pressing into your chest. “I lost one of my favorite rings because I put it in my jean pocket, but I forgot to get it out, and I washed them and it’s gone.”

“That’s the worst.” Eddie sucked in a breath through his teeth. “I’ve lost a few that way too. I had a bad habit of putting them in my pockets when I started working, because you can’t wear rings- ‘specially not like those. My boss would bitch at me, so I’d put them in my pocket and forget about them every time.”

You squinted at him lightly, lips rolling, head tilting to the side- studying him, sizing him up. Whatever it was, it made Eddie’s hands sweaty, nerves rattling in his chest.

“So, how long have you been a cop for?” You hummed.

“Not long, actually.” Eddie laughed nervously, leg bouncing under the table. “Only a coupla months. That’s why they’ve got me on speed trap duty.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” Eddie shrugged. “It’s better than crosswalk duty, believe me. Or being a meter maid. There’s not a lot that goes on around here besides speeding and drugs, so I’m not missing out on much.”

You nodded, a silence falling between the two of you again.

“Besides,” Eddie added quickly. “I’m glad I got put on speeding today.”

“Yeah? Why?” You tilted your head gently, lips twisting in a smile you tried to fight back, like you knew what he was going to say- maybe you did.

“Well, I wouldn’t be sitting across from you if I hadn’t.” Eddie grinned, a dazzling smile that left you swooning, cheeks tingling with heat. It was cheesy, so, so corny, yet it made you swoon.

“I guess you’re right.” You shrugged lightly, lashes batting towards him sweetly. “I’m pretty glad you did too. Even if you did pull me over.”

“Hey, c’mon, I didn’t give ya a ticket.” Eddie grinned, throwing his hands out dramatically. “No ticket and a police escort? Can’t be that bad of a first impression.”

“You’re right.” You giggled. “I wouldn’t be here if it was.” You winked at him playfully, a dark yet teasing glint in your eyes that left Eddie’s tummy flipping with an excited rush of heat. It was a look, a tone, a feeling that he hoped he’d get to explore more of- get to know better.

Last call came before either of you were ready to go. Eddie paid for your drinks, waving off your insistence. “Next time is on me,” You pointed your finger playfully at him, slipping past him as he held the door. He didn’t fight you on that, heart bursting with excitement at the promise of next time.

Standing by your car, you watched him fidget, rambling about seeing you tomorrow and things to do, hesitating to move in- should he go for a hug? A kiss? Just shut your door and wave goodbye?

You didn’t give him a chance to dwell- pulling him in for a sweet, sloppy smooch against the driver’s side of your car. Eddie swore he was in love, even more so when you pulled apart, the same dark little grin that had him rushing with thrilling heat.

“See you tomorrow, Officer.” You winked at him playfully, climbing into your car.

“Drive safe.” Eddie waved, his voice cracking. He hoped you didn’t hear it, watching you drive away with a lovesick gaze.