#wayne munson fanfic

[ghosttotheparty]

also on ao3 cw: child neglect; mentions of underage drinking; brief weed presence; mentions of bullying

He doesn’t know what he was expecting. 

He should have anticipated this, really. The slow drag. The tie knotted around his neck too tightly. The clatter of dishes and ruckus of pretentious, pompous laughter that makes him want to shove his fork through his eye. 

He really doesn’t know what he was expecting. 

A gift maybe. A birthday cake. Maybe with frosting and sprinkles. Candles. A wish. A clap on the back and an approving statement about his manhood from his father. Childhood dreams, in hindsight. Silly. Immature. 

But he still longs for it all. To feel the rip of wrapping paper under his fingertips. To feel the warmth of lit candles on his face as he leans close to them. To blow them out with a silly wish and watch the smoke curl toward the ceiling before it fades. To hear his mother’s voice sing to him.

Something like in the movies. Something he’s never gotten before. Something he’s always wanted. 

He’s eighteen today. He should be celebrating somehow. Getting drunk with Tommy H and the other guys. Laughing as they all slap his back and tell him he’s a man. Flirting with some girl by the punchbowl. Humbly accepting her happy birthday. 

But he’s sitting next to his father at the head of their dining table, fingers drumming the dark wood as he stares down at the uneaten food on his plate. Steak and potatoes. An undrunk glass of wine. He’s listening to his father’s coworkers laugh about something, but he doesn’t know what exactly it is that’s so funny. Their voices don’t really make sense to him today. Usually he can talk with them just fine, ask about work and business deals and future plans and everything that they seem to care about. But today they sound almost discordant, like they’re all out of tune, a melody that he doesn’t recognize. He can’t follow along as they all talk, their voices blending and bleeding together, mixing with the sound of their forks and knives scraping the porcelain plates they’re using, the sound of their cups hitting the table harder than they should, the sound of their chairs scraping back over the floor. 

Steve stares at his plate. Counts the pieces of potato. Six. Counts the prongs of his fork. Five. Counts the flowers on the edge of his plate. Seventeen. He drums his fingers on the table, taps his feet on the floor, takes measured breaths. Waiting until he can be dismissed, until he can leave. He doesn’t know where he wants to go, really. He thinks he’d like to go to bed, but the idea of sitting in silence after all this seems suffocating. Maybe he’ll go for a drive. He’ll have to insist to his father that he’s eighteen now, that he should be allowed to go for a drive if he wants to. It probably won’t work. But by the end of dinner, his father will probably be so drunk Steve will be able to leave without him knowing. He probably won’t remember it in the morning. 

And even if he gets in trouble, Steve thinks, it’ll be worth it. To drive in the night with the windows down, the wind in his hair. A CD in, playing on the highest volume possible as he leaves town, even if just for an hour. He’ll take his tie off. Want to toss it out the window and then leave it behind along with Hawkins and this house, but he’ll just put it in the backseat and forget it there for a while. 

He’s distracted from the daydream when his father claps him on the back roughly, startling as he jolts forward with the force of it. He’s always hit Steve too hard when he does this, fatherly slaps on the back when Steve’s done well in something he actually cares about. The most recent one was after a swimming competition; Steve hadn’t put his shirt on when he’d done it, and it stung like a bitch in a way that made Steve feel like a little boy again, but it was worth it. 

“To Steve,” his father is saying, raising his fifth glass of wine to the ceiling, smiling. He has an eerie smile. Steve’s always thought so. His teeth are too white, too straight. Like he’s wearing a mask. 

Steve smiles bashfully as a chorus of his name goes around the room, ducking his head and nodding when the men raise their glasses to him. A few of them wish him a happy birthday. One says something about him being a man. His father drains his wineglass, tilting his head back as his hand rests on the back of Steve’s neck, holding him too tightly, like he’s using him to hold his balance. 

As far as birthday parties go, it was shitty. 

Not that Steve would really have a good party to compare it to. All his birthday parties have been like this, ending with a bunch of wasted men in business suits crashing in his living room or recklessly driving home to their bored wives. Or, in recent years, ending very similarly but with teenage boys instead. Though Steve doesn’t allow them to drive home; usually a few stay in the guest room (often on the floor) or in his room for the night. He doesn’t sleep. 

It’s dark in the living room as he steps around one of his father’s coworkers. It’s the one with the red tie that Steve had admired when he arrived. It’s looser now, draped over his neck as he lays on the floor. He’s snoring. 

The floor creaks as Steve makes his way toward the door. His father is in bed already, probably passed out and reeking of wine. It’s a small comfort to know that Steve’s mom doesn’t have to deal with him tonight. She’s at a bachelorette party or something. She’s probably just as drunk as he husband. 

Steve finds his car keys in the dark, and they jungle in his hand as he opens the door, but he doesn’t bother looking back to check if he’s awoken anyone; he doesn’t particularly care. 

His vision is blurring before he’s even to his car, and before he can think anything else, he’s dragging the end of his key across the door of one of the cars he’s passing. He doesn’t look back, but as he gets into his own car, he realizes it was his father’s car. Maybe in the morning, he can convince him that one of his coworkers did it in a drunken stupor as a joke. 

He rolls the windows down as he drives, blinking tears out of his eyes. 

Eighteen was always supposed to be a big thing, wasn’t it? Adulthood. Manhood. He can vote now. Isn’t that a big deal?

All his friends couldn’t wait to turn eighteen. Steve isn’t the first of them to reach it, but he isn’t the youngest. The other day at school a few of them complained that they have to wait a few more months, and Tommy H joked about celebrating by going into Indy and hitting up a strip club. 

They all laughed at that. And told Tommy it was a great idea, that Jared could drive them all. (He’d gotten his license before anyone else and it was decided that he would always be the designated driver.) They’d all wanted to do it, go out together, have a good time. Et cetera. 

But looking at the sky, the wind drying the tears that are streaking down his cheeks, Steve’s never felt more alone. And he fucking hates wine, hates being drunk in general, but he would do anything for some weed right now. So he takes a left turn toward Forest Hills instead of toward the Leaving Hawkins sign. 

Eddie knows he should have gone to bed hours ago. He doesn’t even know what time it is, but he’s so comfortable here, curled up on the sofa in his sweatpants, shirt off because it’s warm enough that he doesn’t need it. There’s a book in his lap, and his head rests on the back of the sofa as he reads it, thumbing over the page as he silently mouths the words to himself. The glow of the lamp behind him makes the pages gold. 

He’s startled when there’s a knock on the door, and he looks up, wide-eyed. He’d vaguely heard a car pull in in front of the trailer, but he hadn’t paid it any attention, too engrossed in his book, which he sets aside after folding the corner of the page he’s on. It’s just a small fold, but he knows Wayne would smack him upside the head for it. 

He stops short when he opens the door, eye to eye with the King. 

It’s quiet as they stare at each other for a moment. Steve’s eyes wander down to the tattoos on Eddie’s chest, and Eddie is suddenly embarrassed that he’s shirtless and in sweatpants, especially when he realizes Steve is literally wearing a suit, a black tie tied around his neck. The only comfort is that his hair is a mess, which is oddly more satisfying than it should be.

“Hey,” Eddie says hesitantly. It’s odd that Steve is here. It’s not like Eddie’s never sold to him before, but he definitely isn’t a frequent customer. And it’s Sunday night. “What’s up?”

“I, uhm. Can I have some weed?”

Eddie realizes he’s holding his wallet in his hands, looking at Eddie like he’s pleading, and Eddie’s chest feels a little tight, like he’s looking at a dog abandoned on the side of the road. 

“Yeah,” he says, swinging the door open wider and stepping aside. “‘Course.”

Steve steps in, ducking his head like he’s going to hit it on the doorframe, and Eddie shuts the door behind him, awkwardly glancing at him. He looks nice in the suit. Unfairly nice. Criminally nice. It should be illegal for him to be in public like this. 

“What kinda party you headed to?” Eddie asks, going to the kitchen and grabbing the tin lunchbox from where he left it on the counter. 

“Uh, I left one, actually,” Steve says, pushing a hand through his hair, and Jesus, that should be illegal too. 

“What kinda party you ditch?” Eddie fixes, going to sit on the sofa and opening the lunch box, half-smiling when he sees Steve’s expression lighten. 

“A shitty one.”

“How so?”

Steve sighs, looking around the room. 

“Just… A bunch of my dad’s coworkers came over for dinner. They got wasted. I don’t know. It sucks.”

Eddie glances up at him, pulling a baggie of weed out of the box and preparing to hold it out to him, but Steve hasn’t made a move to open his wallet, and his face is tight again as he looks at Wayne’s hats, like he’s thinking too hard. 

“Tell me,” Eddie says, opening the baggie instead and instinctively lifting it to his nose to smell it. 

“It’s…” Steve pauses, blinking and glancing at him. “It’s nothing, you don’t— You don’t wanna hear it.”

“Yes, I do,” Eddie says lightly, pulling the grinder out of the box. “Go ‘head,” he adds with a jerk of his chin. “You need to talk about it, I can tell. Tell me.”

Steve blinks at him and sighs again. 

“I don’t know,” he says again, turning away to look around again. It’s like he’s fascinated by the living room, like the hats and mugs are from an art gallery or something. “I guess I thought maybe my dad might actually wanna do something nice for my birthday, like— like he might invite over my favorite aunt and her kids, and we’d have, like, a nice dinner. Even though her kids are only in, like, fifth grade, it— it could have been nice. But he just wanted to convince his coworker of something or whatever, so he bought a bunch of wine, and…”

He trails off, grimacing at the wall, and Eddie’s hands slow to a stop, looking up at him. 

“And Mom went to some party,” Steve continues, his voice shaking for a moment. “Some bachelorette or something. Which, I mean… She couldn’t change the date on that, but it still, like, I don’t know. Kind of hurts that I haven’t seen her all day. But also, I mean, I’m kind of glad she wasn’t there with my dad’s coworkers, I mean they… They’re so gross. Especially when they drink.”

“It’s your birthday?” Eddie interrupts, and Steve blinks and looks at him. He’s quiet for a moment, eyes searching Eddie’s like he’s lost.

“...It’s my birthday,” he says, and it’s like he’s just realized it, like it’s just set in. Eddie’s chest hurts. 

“Why… Why didn’t you throw yourself a party?” he asks after a moment, still holding the grinder even though he isn’t doing anything with it. Steve looks away, blinking his eyes hard, tossing a hand with a huff. 

“I don’t know,” he says. “I think— I think maybe I just hoped they’d do something for me. Stupid fucking hope, though,” he scoffs. “Like they’d do shit for me after eighteen fuckin’ years.”

“Didn’t you do something last year?” Eddie asks, finally setting the grinder down. 

“Yeah.” 

He says it so softly. Like he’s remembering. Like he’s sad. 

“Fucking sucked,” he says. “I’m so…”

He trails off, exhaling, but Eddie is curious. 

“You’re so…”

Steve shrugs. 

“I don’t know.” His voice shakes again, and he shrugs, blinking his eyes hard as he pinches his nose briefly. “Tired of it all.”

“What all?” 

Eddie knows he’s pushing it. Steve is going to snap at him. Tell him he came for weed, not therapy. But Steve just exhales again. 

“Everything,” he says. “I’m fucking sick of— of my dad and I'm sick of the house and I'm sick of Tommy fucking Hagan and Carol Perkins and I'm sick of parties and booze and those stupid fucking plastic cups—”

He cuts himself off, turning away, and Eddie blinks, furrowing his brows. 

“...Steve?”

Steve turns a little bit, looking at him, and his eyes are shining with unshed tears, and he looks so small. Like a cornered rabbit. Scared. 

“You can stay,” Eddie says quietly. “If you want to. As long as you need.” 

Steve looks like he crumbles, face falling as he looks at the ground, and he sits heavily on the armchair next to the sofa. Eddie kind of (really) wants to reach out and touch him, but he doesn’t.

“I keyed my dad’s car,” Steve says after a moment. “When I left.”

“Bastard probably deserves it.”

Steve finally gives a soft laugh, half-smiling, and he nods. 

“I didn’t even realize I was doing it,” he says. “Or that it was his car. I just… I was already doing it before I even noticed there was a car next to me, it…”

“I think that’s God making you do what’s meant to be.”

Steve scoffs. 

“Doesn’t that interfere with free will?”

Eddie shrugs, grinning, leaning back on the sofa. 

“He’s gonna be so pissed tomorrow,” Steve says, sighing heavily and leaning back in the armchair. His jacket falls open, and Eddie forces himself to look away. “I might convince him his friend did it while drunk, but…”

“Worst case scenario, you can just blame me,” Eddie says. Steve looks at him, blinking in confusion. 

“Why would I do that?” 

Eddie shrugs. 

“Believable. I can say I was on a nice midnight walk and heard some rich fucks havin’ a grand ol’ time. Pissed me off. Keyed a car.”

Steve listens, looking at him in a way that Eddie can tell he isn’t going to take him up on his offer, but he looks amused, which is nice. 

“Plus it would make more sense if it was me,” Eddie says lightly. “You know. The Freak keying a car compared to the King keying a car. Seems more my speed. Also with all the shit I get into, keying a car is barely a blip on my record,” he adds dismissively. Steve raises an eyebrow (hot), and scoffs. 

“Yeah?”

“The law can’t touch me, baby,” Eddie jokes, and his chest lights up like the sun when Steve rolls his eyes and looks away, his cheeks flushing with color. 

Of course he knows how pretty Steve is. And of course, because why the fuck wouldn’t he, he’s had a crush on him for years. It’s bullshit, in Eddie’s opinion. That Eddie, the Town Queer, falls for the fucking King, the epitome of the Straight Man, the Ladies’ Man. But he fell so easily. And it doesn’t help that Steve is hanging out in his living room, looking around, hair shining in the light of the lamp like it’s threaded with gold. 

“Why are you being so nice to me?” Steve asks softly. 

“You’re not really that bad,” Eddie says lightly. 

“...I’m an asshole.”

Eddie blinks at him, tilting his head.

“Steve,” he says firmly, prompting him to look up at him with those fucking sad puppy dog eyes again. “I told Tommy Hagan his money should pay for a better wardrobe and he called me a fag and told me to kill myself. I told you I could smell your hairspray across the cafeteria and you just laughed. I stand up on the tables and harass you guys in the hallways in you're the only one that doesn't try to shove me into a locker or call me a slur. You're not like them.”

Steve looks away. He looks sad. 

“Why do you do it?” he asks after a moment, looking up at Eddie, and he’s changing the subject, deflecting. “Draw so much attention to yourself when everyone is so shitty to you?”

Eddie relaxes into the sofa again, sighing, pausing. 

“I kind of… I don’t know. Try to keep the target on me. The kids that hang out with me already put a target on themselves by being near me, but they… I don’t know, they’re, like… Fragile, I guess. A lot of their families are shitty, and they’ve been dealing with bullies since they were little, so… I try to keep the assholes’ attention on me as much as I can.” 

He pauses, looking up at Steve to find him looking back already, chin resting on his palm, elbow on the armrest. Eddie looks away again, shifting. 

“That’s kinda why I answered the door so fast,” he says. “Sometimes it’s one of my little sheep. Sometimes they need, like… Ice and painkillers. Or a place to spend the night. Sometimes just… someone to listen to them. Or take their mind off something.” He looks back at him. “Imagine my surprise at finding the Hair at my front door.”

Steve doesn’t laugh, but he’s almost smiling still, eyes shining, lips curved just a little bit. And he’s quiet for a few moments before— 

“I really like you, Eddie.”

Eddie blinks in surprise. 

They haven’t even smoked anything. (Eddie was planning on just lighting a joint up without charging Steve. Because it’s his birthday. Duh.) But Steve fucking Harrington just told him he really likes him. 

Eddie forces a light laugh. 

“Careful who you say that around,” he says weakly. “People might get the wrong idea.”

Steve looks back at him. 

“There’s no one else here,” he says quietly. 

And then it’s quiet as they just look at each other, and Eddie really shouldn’t be reading into this. (Again: Steve Harrington. The King. Straight Man. Ladies’ Man.) But it’s hard not to in this silence, which Steve looking at him like that in the warm glow of the lamp. 

“Do you wanna spend the night?” Eddie asks without thinking. “I… I have some, like, sweats you can borrow, and we have spare toothbrushes and everything.”

Steve finally looks away, toward the door, like he’s expecting someone to come in. 

“I don’t know, it’s… I don’t wanna be a bother—”

“You’re not,” Eddie interrupts. Steve stares back at him again. 

“We have school tomorrow.”

“Fuck school,” Eddie says, shaking his head. “...You deserve to rest.”

Steve is quiet again. 

“...Okay.”

Eddie smiles and beckons with a tilt of his head. 

“C’mon.”

Steve follows him to his room after he toes his shoes off and leaves them by the door, and his mismatched socks are oddly endearing. He pushes his hands into his pockets while Eddie gets some clothes from his closet (a pair of black sweatpants and a black sweatshirt that’s stained with bleach, reddish-orange spots near the hem and on one of the sleeves), and Eddie leaves the clothes on his bed before he leaves to the bathroom to find the extra toothbrush. 

When he comes back, Steve has taken off his jacket. It’s resting on Eddie’s desk chair, almost blending into the mess, and Steve is struggling with the knot of his tie, brows furrowed with frustration, lips pursed in a pout, and Eddie wants to squeeze him. He steps forward and swats his hands out of the way, taking over gently. They’re close as Eddie works on the tie, hands shaking a little bit because Steve is right there, and also because Eddie still hasn’t put a shirt on. (He forgets he isn’t wearing one. Wayne scolds him often for it, but Eddie’s been like this since he was thirteen.) 

He can feel Steve’s eyes on him as he undoes the tie, and when it finally comes loose, he carefully slides it out of Steve’s collar. 

“There you go,” he says quietly, almost whispering, and Steve takes the tie from him, his throat bobbing as he swallows. 

“Thanks.”

Eddie tries to clean up while Steve uses the bathroom to change and brush his teeth, and he tugs on a t-shirt as he does so, pushing his hair out of the way as he clears off his bed and shoves his laundry into his closet. It’s not as awkward as Eddie expected when Steve comes back into his room, his eyes glancing Eddie up and down like he’s analyzing his shirt before Eddie nods at the bed. It’s big enough that they’ll both have space without crowding each other, and a part of Eddie mourns not having a smaller bed. 

Steve falls asleep quickly, facing Eddie, curled up into a little ball with his arms wrapped around one of Eddie’s pillows. His face is buried in it, his hair falling across his eyes, and Eddie holds back from pushing it out of the way. His shoulders rise and fall slowly, steadily, and the sound of his breathing almost lulls Eddie to sleep too, but he stays up with his book and the dim lamp until three. 

He’s careful as he goes back to the living room, stepping over the floorboards he knows are creaky, shutting the door as quietly as he can so he doesn’t wake Steve. And he calls Wayne’s work. One of his coworkers picks up. 

“Hey, it’s— it’s Eddie.”

“Oh, Eddie, hey, kid. How’ve ya been?” 

“I’ve been good, I just, uh, I had to talk to Wayne, is he available?”

“Yeah, he just started his break. He’s eatin’ those damn boiled eggs. Wayne! ‘S your boy.”

It’s quiet for a moment before Wayne’s gruff voice speaks into the phone.

“Eds? You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, I just… Okay, so—”

“What did you do?” 

“I didn’t— Excuse me. I didn’t do anything. I was wondering if you could do a favor for me.”

Wayne sighs heavily. 

“What?”

“Okay, uhm. A friend of mine is over right now, and he… It’s his birthday, right? But his parents are dicks and his dad just had, like, a business meeting for his birthday dinner, and his mom is at some party or something for her friend, and my friend is kinda… I don’t know. It sucks. His friends suck.” He knows he’s speaking choppily, awkwardly, and that the word friend sounds foreign in his mouth, like it doesn’t really fit between his lips. And he knows Wayne is picking up on that too, and that Wayne definitely can already tell that Eddie has a crush, but Wayne, bless his heart, doesn’t say anything. 

“So what’s this favor?”

“I don’t know, do you think… Do you think you can get, like, a cake or something on your way home? He’s spending the night.”

Wayne is quiet for another moment, and Eddie hears a clatter behind him, followed by some laughter. 

“I’ll see what I can do,” he says finally. 

“Thanks, Wayne.”

“What’s his name?”

“Uh. Steve.”

“Steve,” Wayne repeats slowly. “Steve. Of the Harrington sort?”

“That’s the one.”

“I didn’t know you were friends.”

“Well. Our relationship is mostly professional—” 

“Right,” Wayne says with a light laugh. “Go to bed, Eds. I’ll see you when I get home.”

“Thanks, old man. Love you.” 

“Love you too.”

The phone clicks when Eddie hangs it up, and he avoids the creaky floorboards again as he makes his way back to his room. Steve is still laying the same way, hugging Eddie’s pillow to himself, and he looks so… 

Small. 

Not at all like a king. He looks so young here, so little and helpless, and Eddie wants to wrap his arms around him and kiss his forehead. Which would definitely cross some lines. 

He gets into bed slowly, lifting the blanket carefully so it doesn’t move where it’s draped over Steve’s body, and he clicks off the lamp. 

It’s different in the complete darkness. It looks just like it does on any other night, dark and empty and easy for him to close his eyes and forget about the world, but he can hear Steve’s slow breaths. He can almost hear his fucking heartbeat. 

At some point in the night, they move closer, and Eddie, half-asleep, blearily opens his eyes to try to find him in the dark. He can’t see anything, but he doesn’t need to when Steve shifts closer under the blanket. Eddie’s arm wraps around Steve’s waist, and Steve’s head finds its way to Eddie’s chest as he curls up into an even small bundle. The movement feels instinctive, his arm wrapping around him before he’s even fully realized how close they are, and as they settle against each other, Eddie wonders if that’s how it felt for Steve when he keyed his dad’s car. Natural. Right. 

Wayne knows the Harringtons. 

Richard was called Dick in high school, and Wayne always felt that the nickname was fitting. He was a rich, pompous asshole, who no doubt treats his son the same way he treated anyone he went to school with. He pulled girls’ hair and left ugly notes in their lockers and in their textbooks. He tripped younger kids in the hallways and smacked their notebooks out of their hands, and he and his friends would walk all over their worksheets and loose papers that fell across the hallway floor. He thought of himself as above everyone else, flaunted his big house and fat wallet, and Wayne always kind of hoped he would grow out of it, even when he went after Al relentlessly. It was like he had a personal vendetta against Al, and Wayne would be lying if he said he doesn’t think Richard Harrington is part of the reason Al is gone now. 

And Wayne remembers Catherine. Future trophy wife, queen of Hawkins High, with her pretty brown curls that were always done up so perfectly Wayne sometimes wondered if she had a professional hair stylist. She was similar to Richard, maybe a little nicer. Though, maybe Wayne just thought she was nicer because she was so passive. Everyone knew she was the one that started most of the rumors about the other students. Cruel, cruel rumors. 

They’re perfect for each other. 

Wayne had heard when they had a child, but he never thought much of it. It seemed right to him. Richard and Catherine, with their bright smiles and pretty hair, with their big house and shiny wedding rings. Of course they’d have a son. 

Wayne remembers seeing Catherine with Steve when he was a toddler. They were with one of Catherine’s friends, walking down the sidewalk in town, and Wayne saw them as they passed by the grocery store. Steve had been holding a bare dead dandelion, the seeds already blown off into the wind, but his tiny fist was clutching the stem like he was scared to lose it. Catherine hadn’t seemed to notice, too busy engrossed in the conversation she was having with her friend as Steve stumbled behind them, his legs too short to keep up properly. 

He supposes it makes sense for Steve to buy from Eddie. The rich kids always do. Wayne remembers the local dealer when he was in high school. He was a dick, too. 

But it doesn’t make sense for Steve to be spending the night at Eddie’s. Wayne doesn’t mind, of course. Anyone’s welcome at home. He’s come home from work countless times to find some kid passed out in Eddie’s bed or on the sofa (and once on the floor), and Eddie is always quick to explain. His dad was scaring him. He got jumped on his way home. She thought she was being followed. I’ll drive her home when she gets up. And Wayne, of course, always prepares an extra plate of breakfast before he crashes. 

But Steve Harrington. 

He can’t be treated well by Dick. 

It’s all Wayne can think about as he leaves work, waves bye to his coworkers, drives into town. Everything is starting to open, and Wayne loves this part of the day. The sky is pale and bright, and the world is starting to wake up. Doors opening, sleepy eyes finding one another and greeting each other with waves and calls of “Morning!” 

He’s the first customer of the day in the bakery that’s in town center. (He watched the owner flip the sign to open from his car.) He makes conversation politely as he looks around, ignoring the way the shop owner’s eyes linger on his oil-stained hands. And he points to one of the cakes in the display. 

And he thinks some more about Steve on his way home. He hasn’t seen him in ages. He wonders if he would recognize him, if he resembles Catherine or Richard more. 

The trailer is quiet when he comes inside, and he takes off his heavy boots before moving into the kitchen. There are a pair of nice shoes by the door, shiny and new-looking, and very clearly Steve’s. Wayne puts the cake on the counter before he goes to scrub his hands, and then he searches through the cabinets and drawers for candles. He finds a few, and they’re all uneven and different colors, but they’ll work. One is orange and striped, and Wayne knows it’s from Eddie’s thirteenth birthday. 

He arranges them on the cake carefully, leaning down to make sure they’re straight, and he finds his cigarette lighter in his jacket pocket. 

He makes coffee and waits at the table with a newspaper until he hears them wake up. They emerge from Eddie’s room sleepily, and Wayne sets aside the paper as he reaches for the lighter, suppressing a smile as he lights the candles carefully. 

Steve is wearing Eddie’s clothes, and his hair is so messy he barely looks like a Harrington at all. But when Wayne looks at him, he can see his parents. Catherine’s eyes and nose. Richard’s mouth. Catherine’s hair. But then Steve freezes, eyes finding the cake as Wayne finishes with the candles, and they widen, shining as he stares at the flickering flames and white frosting and colorful sprinkles, and his parents are nowhere to be found. 

The candles are mismatched. Orange and striped and blue and purple and green and white, short and used and loved. They’re all flickering with tiny flames that look warmer than Steve’s ever felt, and Steve just watches. 

It’s a small cake. Round and white, dollops of swirly frosting decorating the top with rainbow sprinkles that are brighter than the wax of the candles, and it’s beautiful. Steve’s never had a birthday cake before. Not even at the bigger parties with his friends. They brought beer instead of cake. 

But Eddie’s uncle is looking at Steve happily, eyes crinkling under his smile, and Steve thinks he’s beautiful too. His voice is gruff when it says, “Happy birthday,” and then Steve can’t see because his eyes are welling with tears and spilling over his cheeks before he can stop them or turn away to hide his face. 

“Oh, Stevie,” Eddie says softly, and he pulls Steve into a hug. No one’s ever called Steve that. He thinks he likes it. Maybe he only likes it in Eddie’s voice. 

Eddie’s hands are gentle as he runs them over Steve’s back and over the top of his head. They sway a little bit, and even though Steve is still crying he opens his eyes enough to see the cake over Eddie’s shoulder. The flames glow brighter with his tears in the way, blurred together with the frosting that looks like it’s glowing too in the morning light. 

“You’re supposed to blow them out,” Eddie says softly when Steve’s crying slows, and Steve lets out a wet laugh, wiping his face with the end of his sleeve. 

“C’mon now,” Eddie’s uncle says, nodding toward the cake. “You’re gonna let them get wax all over the frosting.”

“Sorry,” Steve chokes, moving closer to the cake and looking at it from above. The candles are arranged in an uneven circle, the flames flickering as his breath hits them, and he pauses. 

He knows birthday wishes are silly and childish, but he really, really wishes every birthday would be like this. 

He blows the candles out. 

They sit at the table as Wayne gets a knife to cut the cake. Steve can’t seem to tear his eyes away from it, eyeing the frosting and sprinkles and candles like they’re something made of magic, and Eddie can’t seem to tear his eyes away from him. 

He’s got this sort of absent smile on his face, and Eddie wants to reach out and touch him, but he doesn’t. He still has the light traces of tears on his cheeks, and his eyelashes are wet, and his eyes are glistening, and in the morning sunlight, he looks like a painting, like he’s too good to be true. 

They’re all quiet as Wayne cuts the cake carefully, three little plates stacked next to the cardboard platter. Eddie looks at Steve again. He’s watching intently, unblinking.

Eddie nudges him under the table with his foot, and Steve’s eyes jump up to him, his expression softening. Eddie raises his eyebrows at him, nodding a little, asking, checking. 

Steve blinks at him, his eyes flickering across Eddie’s face, and then he’s leaning over, moving closer, and he’s kissing him. 

It’s a brief kiss. Soft and chaste and tentative, and accidental, instinctive, it seems based on how Steve’s eyes widen as he pulls away. His cheeks flush red, and his lips part, stammering silently. 

“I—” 

Eddie leans in and closes the distance between them, hands finding Steve’s face and holding it between them tenderly. Their eyes flutter shut, and Steve exhales, shoulders falling as he melts into the kiss, and Eddie feels like he might burst. They part slowly, and it takes a moment for Eddie to be able to open his eyes. When he does, he finds Steve gazing back at him, eyes wide and shining and almost fucking hopeful. Eddie’s thumbs brush over his cheeks softly, and his lips curve into a smile. Steve blinks, his eyelashes fluttering at Eddie like a butterfly, before he smiles back, tentative and shy. 

“So I guess I should know your name.”

They both jump, having forgotten Wayne was there, but Wayne isn’t looking at them, smiling as he focuses on cutting and serving the cake. Eddie raises an eyebrow at him (he told him Steve’s name), and his hands fall from Steve’s face as Steve blushes again. 

“I’m so sorry, I’m— I’m Steve.”

“Steve,” Wayne repeats, setting down the knife, looking up at him. Steve is still red. 

“Uh, Harr—” 

“I don’t need your last name,” Wayne says lightly, lifting a hand up, and Steve hesitantly reaches for it to shake. “Steve’s enough.”

They shake gently, and Steve is starting to smile again, like he knows Wayne is cool. The handshake lingers, and Wayne squeezes his hand a little. 

“Happy birthday, Steve.”

“Thank you, sir,” Steve says softly when their hands fall, and the face Wayne makes at sir is enough to make him giggle. 

They eat the cake. It’s sweet, and Eddie can’t help but wonder if Steve will taste sweet afterwards. He kicks at Steve’s shins under the table, and Steve glares at him, suppressing a smile, rolling his eyes as he sips the coffee that Wayne gave him when they started eating. He and Wayne chat about sports and work and school, and Eddie is content here with them. 

Wayne pats both their backs when he finishes eating, ruffling Steve’s hair with another happy birthday wish before he goes to take a shower and go to bed, and Steve’s cheeks flush pink as he watches him go, glancing at Eddie. 

“What?” Eddie asks lightly, licking his fork. Steve shrugs. 

“He’s really nice.”

“I know,” Eddie says, glancing down the hall. 

“What’s his name?”

“Wayne.”

“Wayne.” Steve repeats it like a prayer. “He’s nice.”

Eddie looks at him. He’s fidgeting with his fork, dragging it through the remaining frosting on his plate, and Eddie is about to say something before Steve speaks again. 

“Sorry for kissing you in front of your uncle.”

Eddie snorts, and Steve looks up at him, eyes sparkling with amusement, suppressing a smile. 

“I don’t mind,” Eddie says, flirting, leaning over the table. “Wouldn’t mind if you wanted to do it again.”

Steve’s eyes flick across his face, and Eddie realizes that’s how he was looking at him last night, glancing at his tattoos. Eddie’s smile grows.

“I’ve never kissed a boy before.”

“Third time for everything.”

Steve laughs softly, leaning closer, and their noses nudge together. 

“You really don’t mind that it’s me?” he asks softly, whispering. Eddie blinks his eyes open, looking at him and tilting his head. 

“Ain’t nothin’ to mind.”

“Really?” Steve breathes. 

Eddie smiles fondly, lifting a hand and touching his face gently, running his thumb over his cheek lightly. And he kisses him as softly as humanly possible, so light he almost can’t feel it. Steve sighs, his hand reaching to find Eddie’s neck, and his fingers are warm on his skin, especially in the morning air. Eddie rests their foreheads together when they part, his eyes closed. 

“Really.”

He opens his eyes to find Steve smiling brightly, eyes squeezed shut. 

“Okay,” Steve breathes. Eddie kisses him lightly once more. 

“Happy birthday, Stevie.”

“Thank you, Eddie.”

Steve pulls him into a hug, and then he kisses him again, and it tastes like birthday cake and fresh coffee and eighteen years’ worth of shitty birthdays turned upside down. 

[finntheehumaneater]

I owe you a black eye and two kisses (pt 3)

(Part one) (part four)

playlist | pinboard

@hack-saw2004 THIS IS FOR YOU. THEY DID THE THING. And also more than that because I thought “this needs to be gayer”. I also have never smoked, so…sorry if it’s inaccurate lmao

some tags for people haven’t been working, so I am so sorry if you’re on the taglist but it didn’t go through :(

(notes and taglist under the cut)

CW: smoking, swearing, nightmares

It was windier than it had been before when Eddie pulled up to his trailer, and any semblance of neatness in Steve’s hair was blown away the second he stepped outside. The wind stung against his face, and he blinked back tears as he squinted at the trailer. It wasn’t supposed to be this cold, it was July sixth.

He waited for Eddie to get out, and then hobbled behind him to the front door. Every step made his chest ache and his lungs burn. The painkillers helped a bit, but it was only Ibuprofen so it just made him feel less tired. He still needed sleep, though. Maybe a good shower. He smelled like blood sweat and dust, even though his clothes were clean. 

Eddie opened the door and helped Steve up. His hands were warm, but his rings were cold, and Steve didn’t realize he had been staring at the metal skull until Eddie tried to wriggle his hand out of Steve’s grip. Steve let go, his cheeks pink. 

“Sorry,” he tried to say, but he barely got the words out before a gruff voice called, and Wayne Munson shuffled into the room, eyeing Steve over.

“Ed? Who’s this?”

Wayne’s brown flannel hung loosely off of him—the same with his ripped-up jeans, that Steve didn’t think were supposed to be that ripped. He had lost weight since the last time Steve had seen him out. Which has been a few months ago.

Steve wanted to say that he was nobody—that he was just a stranger staying the night because he felt too broken to go and sleep alone—because he couldn’t just accept the fact that he had to be okay, even after everybody that happened. But he stayed silent, watching Eddie go up to Wayne and whisper something.

Their tones were hushed, and Wayne kept looking back over at Steve, which made him shrink into himself slightly, feeling bare again. He wished he had a jacket or something—something that he could pull around himself. He tugged the waistband of his jeans up a bit higher and crossed his arms over his stomach.

He honestly didn’t know how long he had been staring at the floor, but eventually Eddie came over and took his hand, tugging him down the very small, thin hallway and towards the bathroom. Steve felt a few tears slip down his cheeks, but Eddie ignored him, looking over his face for a minute before he pushed Steve gently into the bathroom, stating simply, “Shower.”

Steve nodded and wiped his eyes. He really needed to stop fucking crying. But he knew that wasn’t going to happen. Not for a while. He watched Eddie run a hand through his hair, his eyes wide as he huffed and held his hands out in front of him—palms facing Steve like he was a spooked animal that might run. He might’ve.

“Jesus, okay. We have very little hot water, so try not to use it all, yeah? Like a ten minute shower tops? I’ll come in and leave some clothes on the counter, and then I’ll go and make up the couch for you. You’ll be okay in here by yourself?”

He said it like he was offering to stay, and Steve really would have fucking liked that—just to have someone in here with him even if he couldn’t see them through the shower curtain—but he knew that’s not what Eddie was asking. So he nodded even though he didn’t mean it and let Eddie start the shower for him, tucking himself into the corner. He watched as Eddie grabbed a towel from the cabinet below the sink and placed it on top of the toilet seat, before patting his shoulder and leaving.

Fuck, the shower felt amazing. Eddie came in at some point to put clothes on the counter, but Steve wasn’t really aware of anything more as he sat there, letting the water run over him. He regretted washing his hair, because he didn’t know what the hell was in Eddie’s shampoos—the bottles kind of sticky and the labels long worn off—but it was better than having his hair flopping over and stuck to his forehead. He also didn’t think that Eddie had any hairspray—let alone the kind he normally used.

He tried to get himself out before the water turned cold, but he regretted it immediately after, because the air was too-cool and his hair was sticking to the back of his neck in a way that made him want to cry.

He dried off and changed into the clothes Eddie had left on the counter—an old brown sweater and some shorts that clung to his thighs in a way that was almost uncomfortable, but he’d live. It was better than sleeping in jeans, anyways. The door to Wayne and Eddie’s rooms were closed, so Steve went to the living room, falling onto the couch that had a blanket draped over. He had kind of expected it to be more made up than it was, but then felt bad for thinking that. He had shown up last minute, to people that he knew didn’t like him that much, so he deserved to sleep on the couch where the springs poked into his side, with a scratchy pillow and a thrown blanket that Steve thought was supposed to be white. And it probably had been, at some point. Maybe twenty years ago.

He tried to get comfortable—tried to shake off the gross feeling of his damp hair, which was going to look horrible in the morning, but at least it was clean, now—and closed his eyes.

There was blood everywhere. It was on him, and on the floor, and dripping into teeth. He was alone and the room was dark and fuck, he couldn’t see. Everything was blurry. His face hurt. His head hurt. His chest hurt. He heard the door open, and backed into the corner, barely able to see through his swollen eyes.

“Please,” he begged, but he didn’t even know what he was begging for. He just wanted it all to stop. He wanted to leave. He wanted to die. He wanted Robin.

Steve woke with a start as he heard the screen door swing shut, sitting up quickly and gasping. His hands immediately went to his face, feeling it over, and he crumpled back into himself when he felt the stinging of still-hurt skin. It had happened. He wasn’t okay. 

He got up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as gently as he could and stumbled outside, his feet tripping over themselves. He kind of wished he had kept his socks on after the shower, even if they were dirty. 

Eddie was perched on the picnic table just outside of the trailer, a cigarette dangling from his lips, an open notebook in his lap. He had headphones on, and Steve could hear the loud music coming through, but the Walkman was too far away for him to read what the tape was. There was a small tin sitting next to it, cream colored with a gold-looking lid. It looked outdated.

Steve made his way down to the grass and sat next to Eddie, who still didn’t notice him, his eyes glued to the notebook and whatever drawing he was making. Steve picked up the tin. It had the face and shoulders of a woman on the front—long blonde hair and a laurel wreath, her pale skin almost the color of the tin. There were green and gold designs around her, outlining the font. Some of the words were faded and scratched over, but Steve could make it out. Or at least what he thought it said.

Colgate’s Dactylis. Talc Powder. Boric Antiseptic. COLGATE & CO. New York, USA.

He opened it, and there were cigarettes stuffed inside, a lighter stuck with them. The tin in itself wasn’t very big, but it fit maybe four or five of them with the lighter. 

He felt Eddie startle as he set the tin back down, flinching in on himself, one of his knees raised as he threw the notebook onto the bench and wrenched off his headphones. “Jesus, Harrington…,” he muttered, putting a hand over his heart and sighing. His eyes looked kind of red, like he had been crying. Steve wanted to ask what was wrong, but he knew Eddie would yell at him if he did. “Give a man a warning.”

Steve nodded and looked down. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Don’t be,” Eddie muttered, huffing and picking up the Walkman. Steve tried to catch a glimpse of what it was, but Eddie tucked it away after he paused it, too soon for Steve to see.

Steve sighed, settling into the almost-uncomfortable silence, before he saw Eddie’s hand in his vision, holding out the cigarette for him. Steve looked over at him. Some of Eddie’s curls were falling over his face, acting like a curtain, making his expression unreadable, but he saw Eddie nod. 

He put his to his lips and took a drag, holding it for a second and letting the smoke fill up his lungs, before he breathed out, watching the smoke cloud in the cool early-morning air in front of his face. At least he assumed it was early-morning.

“So graceful,” Eddie murmured as Steve handed it back to him. He didn’t know why, but it made his cheeks flush. Eddie took a drag himself and sighed out the smoke, dropping his head before he handed it to Steve.

Steve just looked down at it for a moment, watching the very tip of it sizzle to ash. He heard Eddie clear his throat and looked over. His hair kind of looked golden around the edges from the light of the porch light of the trailer behind them. It looked good on him. Made him look almost god-like.

“You smoke often?” Eddie asked quietly, and Steve shook his head.

“Not really?”

“Is that a question or an answer?” Eddie mused, eyeing Steve over, a kind of annoyance in his face that was overshadowed by the soft yellow light around him. 

Steve shrugged, looking away and sighing. He didn’t mean to keep making Eddie angry with him—and to be honest, he didn’t even know what he was doing to make him mad—but maybe he deserved this, for being such a dick to him years ago. 

He was about to say something stupid that would probably make Eddie even more mad, an apology for his past actions on the tip of his tongue, when Eddie spoke up again. “You ever shotgunned?” 

Steve froze, shaking his head. “No.”

“I meant with smoking.”

“There’s another one?” Steve tilted his head.

Eddie nodded. “S’the, uh…you stab the thing?” He mimed stabbing a knife into something and then taking a sip. “With the beer? I’ve seen you do it at parties and shit. The girls seem impressed by it.”

“Oh. I didn’t know that’s what it was called,” Steve said quietly, shrugging. “I’ve never…done the smoking one, then.”

“Do you want to?” Eddie asked, and he sounded kind of unsure. Steve looked over, feeling his eyebrows raise, and he hesitated.

“Hm?”

“Shotgun? Do you want to?”

“Yeah, sure,” Steve scooched a bit closer, handing the cigarette back to Eddie. “How do I do it?”

Eddie raised onto his knees on the top of the picnic table, hovering above Steve before tucking a finger under Steve’s chin so that he could raise his head. Steve leaned into his hand slightly, and maybe it was the fact that he was fucking exhausted that made him do it.

Eddie grabbed his face gently, his fingers were a bit harsh in a way that Steve kind of liked, the other man’s fingers pressing into his cheeks, the cigarette in his other hand.

“Open your mouth,” Eddie whispered, and Steve did. He felt like an idiot, just sitting there with his mouth hanging open as Eddie towered above him, taking a drag of the cigarette. He didn’t blow it out in the air, though, instead leaning forward, his lips ghosting over Steve’s, and Steve thought about leaning in for a split second, before Eddie breathed out into Steve’s mouth. 

It startled Steve so much that he flinched back, his eyes wide as he choked on the smoke and coughed, doubling over with his face tucked into his arm. Eddie laughed softly and shook his head slightly, putting out the cigarette against the heel of his shoe when he sat back down. He grabbed his notebook and Walkman, standing up and flicking the stud of a cigarette into the grass. “That was shotgunning. Like it?”

Steve nodded as he coughed, his face burning red and his eyes watering. What the fuck just happened? Eddie walked back into the trailer, closing the screen door behind him. Steve got up and grabbed the cigarette but, tugging the sweater down lower, his thighs stinging from where they had been stuck to the picnic table. 

He wanted to talk about this, because all of that seemed to…it seemed too much like a “friend” thing, for two people who “hated each other”. Maybe even more than a friend thing. But he knew they wouldn’t talk about it. He didn’t know Eddie that well, but he did know one thing about him. Hell, everyone knew it.

Eddie didn’t talk things over with people.

Eddie’s cigarette tin. If you even care.

I don’t read the parts of this fic over, if you find a mistake, lmk!!

taglist (WHICH IS ALWAYS OPEN ♥️):

@estrellami-1 @randombibitch @insteviewetrust @anne-bennett-cosplayer @lolawonstuff @goodolefashionedloverboi @slowandsteddie @ellietheasexylibrarian @mugloversonly @littlebluejane @zombiethingy @steddie-island @rozzieroos @ohimamarigold @origamiplushie @mamafaithful @stillfullofshit @gleek4twd @swimmingbirdrunningrock @anaibis @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @honhonbaguettegofuckyourself

[madaboutmunson]

Hot For Teacher

Fic by me for the @st-rarepair-minibang event Art by the wonderful @busyheadkeepbreathing (Mischievous_Oddity on AO3 - Their fic is posting tomorrow and it is so awesome so keep an eye out for it plus all the other amazing fics they have posted already!) - Thank you so much for these incredible moodboards!

Summary : It's not every day that Eddie wakes up to find that his uncle has managed to seduce someone, and it's definitely not every day that he happens to recognise that same someone. So when he happens to screw up and upset both his uncle and his date there's only one way he can fix it Pairing: Wayne Munson/Principal Higgins Rating: Teen and Up Word Count: 7.7K AO3 Link

Another day, another dollar, Eddie thinks to himself as he idly scratches his stomach whilst taking the time for a stretch and overly dramatic yawn.

He rolls and forces himself to a slumped sit as the morning light battles through his blinds. He rubs his eyes again, reaches for his watch and grunts when he realises he can't just roll back into bed.

You know, graduating was a whole lot shittier than people made it out to be because now, with no college waiting for him at the end of summer, he’s been unceremoniously booted into the world of work. Well. Looking for work. Unfortunately, rockstar was not a job you could just apply for, so Eddie had taken to photocopying his resume of transferable skills and was handing them out everywhere! Handling money, self-motivation, communication skills, attentive to detail, customer service experience, creative, team player. All that jazz. Technically, he has been doing it as part of a band and his little side business at school with the help of Reefer Rick.

’You gotta get your foot in the door, Ed.’ That’s what Wayne had advised when he’d proposed on going on an open mic night road trip around the states, ‘All those other kids’ll be off on vacation, you get first pick for a change. Better chance of finding something you might like when it’s less competitive,’ and as much as he hated everything about it, he knew Wayne was right. But also has to be the sweetest lil’ puppy-eyed nephew he can be because he needs Wayne to take him to jump-start his van, which he had to leave at Gareth’s because the old girl had given up the ghost.

He gets to his feet, puts on his Garfield slippers to match his boxers from the same gift set and pads out quietly to the kitchen. 

He rubs his eyes and yawns a little more, making his way to empty and refill the coffee machine.

Gazing bleary-eyed into the living room, he can just about make a form on the fold-out bed. He grabs his mug, and then as the form fidgets on the bed, he sleepily smiles and reaches for another cup.

He’s putting the third sugar in his Garfield mug when something occurs to him. He frowns at the wall and pushes out his bottom lip. Something wasn't right. 

Narrowing his eyes, he takes a step backwards and looks into the living room again, and his eyebrows nearly shoot off his face entirely, covering his mouth not to let out a laugh and to hide the mischievous look on his face.

Well, well, well, Ol’ Uncle Wayne seemed to have got lucky last night, the fucking hound dog! The form on the fold-out bed wasn’t his uncle because he was on the sofa. Eddie can see his shiny balding patch from here. He secretly hopes he takes after his mother’s side, who all had full heads of hair until well into their seventies. He steps forward and tries to take a closer look at the form under all of the goddamn blankets. Shit, his Uncle is taking chivalry to a whole new level, probably freezing his balls off for this chick.

Eddie grimaces, hoping they hadn't been bumping uglies, and he was breathing in their stale sex air, fucking gross! No, they’d be all snuggled up together, and his Uncle is a gent, not a one-night-stand guy. No way.

He smiles and begins plotting all the ways he will mercilessly tease Wayne about this for the rest of the month at least. He reaches up to the cupboard to get another mug, pours half a cup, no sugar or milk, and finishes the one for himself and Wayne.

He hears the creak of the couch springs first, then a gruff but hushed, “Mornin’ Ed. You’re up early, ain't ya?”

“Well, you know the early bird gets the worm and all that shit,” Eddie whispers with a theatrical splaying of his hands, “Talkin’ of dirty old grubs, who’s your friend here? Didn’t you make me promise to tell ya if I had someone stay over? Do these rules not apply to you?” Eddie blinks like one of his condescending teachers at school, and his uncle rolls his eyes with a wry smile.

“Shut up and gimme my coffee, you little punk,” Wayne teases.

“Why don’t you wake up your friend here, so I can take her fucking order, too, huh?” Eddie pretends to be put out and curtsies, but he can’t hide his smile. This moment was going to fund the bank of ribbing his Uncle for weeks.

“I don't think that's a good idea. Best let ‘em sleep. He had a rough night.”

Inches away from picking up Wayne’s cup, Eddie’s human engine completely cuts out. First of all, what was he hiding? Second, he sounded nervous. Wayne only ever sounds nervous when the church women come around and start fussing about the place. And last, he’s still sleepy but heard what he heard.

“He?” Eddie questions quietly with raised eyebrows.

“Yeah, he. That a problem?” Wayne says with all the defiance of a teenage girl being asked about her greaser boyfriend in the fifties. If he had the capacity for a ponytail, he’d be swishing with attitude at Eddie right now.

Well fuck! Is his Uncle gay? Not an issue if he is. Eddie’s very open-minded when it comes to all that sort of thing. In all fairness, he’d never known his uncle to be involved with anyone. At one point, he thought maybe he’d had his dick blown off in ‘Nam or something, and that's why he wasn’t interested in that kind of thing. My god! That raises new questions. What kind of guy had changed his Uncle’s mind? A hundred bucks says this guy thinks John Wayne is the greatest or is at least from the South because those were the two things that you could talk about five miles away from his Uncle, and he’d magically turn up with a big smile on his face like, “Talkin’ ‘bout Cowboys are ya?” Eddie facepalms. What an idiot. Now, it makes sense. No wife and no kids (apart from the blessing that was his good self). He always said he had better things to do but was obsessed with Westerns and Cowboys. Clearly, it's not just for the predictable plots.

Taking a sip of his coffee and setting it down on the countertop, he leans over and observes the shuffling form. Now he knows it's not a broad. He doesn't have to avert his eyes.

“Don't gawk, Eddie, Jesus!” Wayne mouths quietly, making Eddie poke out his tongue, fold his arms and turn away.

His mind is running a million miles a second. Who was this guy? Why was he so special? It can’t just be Westerns. Was it tough for older gay people to meet? He knew it fucking sucked in high school, not that he was gay, of course, just, you know, it must be tough. He liked girls, definitely. Just could appreciate a handsome dude, that's all. Sure yeah. 

He can hear them quietly muttering to one another, and the fold-out bed creaks from movement. He’s stood up. Eddie knows all the noises of that goddamn thing. He had to learn them from sneaking back in late at night.

You know what? He’s got things to do and places to be. He’s gonna break the ice. “I made you a coffee too. I didn’t know how you took it, so it's just straight out the pot.” Eddie says kindly, utilising a bit of the voice he’s been practising for if he ever lands an interview.

“Well, that's very kind of you, Edward. Thank you. That's how I take it anyway,” A not southern voice replies, but there is something familiar about it. Maybe it just sounded local.

“Best call him Eddie. He’ll start actin’ up otherwise. Well, more than usual,” Eddie can hear the smile in his uncle’s voice, and then the pair of them chuckle together. Eddie wrinkles his nose. That laugh was familiar, too. He gets an odd sensation and a twitch in his middle finger.

“Sorry, of course. Eddie is quite right, of course. Early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise,” the voice says as the focus of the entire universe warps, pulls and at lightning speed zooms in on him as his brain places the voice.

No. No way. Absolutely not. That would be crazy. It could not be that asshole. It doesn't even make sense why he would be here. Eddie takes a deep breath and decides to stop being insane. His brain is just used to hearing the voice of that dickhead every goddamn day. Lovely day for it, isn’t it, Edward? I can’t wait to see the latest production. I hear you’ve been the driving force behind it. So I know it's going to be an absolute stormer! Nah, Eddie is unlucky, but he’s not that unlucky. Imagine finally leaving school and that happening. He laughs.

“Like that little quote, did you, Edward? It's one of my favourites,” the voice adds, “Sorry, I mean Eddie. I’ll get it eventually, just habit,” Eddie's stomach drops out of his ass, through the floor, plummets right through the centre of the earth, out the other side and gets swept up in the planet's orbit, amongst all the additional space junk.

He turns back towards the living room, and it must be the day that all the gods of every faith have decided to test him because there stands Principal Higgins.

Most of his body goes slack for a second, and his knees feel almost like they might buckle from shock. What the fuck? But soon, a furious tension arrives, and like the bubbling kettle that he is, he blows its top with his own version of a whistle.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING?!” Eddie screeches, “Why are YOU in my home?” his eyes are so wide you can see the whites all the way around his irises, “Where are the rest of your clothes?!” He looks between them but gets no further answers, just another helping of trauma.

“Now, Eddie. Son. I’m gonna need ya to calm down, ‘kay? It's not whatcha think,” Wayne slowly gets up off the couch, his arm outstretched towards him like he’s trying not to startle an already rabid dog, and currently, the way Eddie is almost foaming at the mouth, he’s not entirely wrong in his approach.

“Is that- IS THAT MY NEW METALLICA T-SHIRT? OhmygodOhmygodOhmygodOhmygod  OH! MY! GOD!” Eddie raises his hands and grips onto his hair while pacing in the world's smallest circle, hoping this is all a fucking nightmare because it feels like one. It has to be one. The worst one. He can feel his heart racing. Is this how he’s going to die? No, not like this. Please, gods, not like this. He slaps himself hard in the face.

“EDWARD! What in the blue hell?” Wayne yells.

“Oh, you! You don't get to tell me anything!” Eddie gestures vaguely between them, “Whatever arrangement you have!” Eddie's insides recoil at a thought, “This isn’t so I could graduate, is it? You didn’t sell yourself to this tyrant for a scroll, did ya, Uncle Wayne? SAY IT AINT SO!” Eddie rubs his hands down his face, and he can feel the thin layer of sweat forming from pure panic.

“You know, I think Edward is very distressed right now, and I should probably go.” Principal Higgins says as he goes to remove the t-shirt, and Eddie almost full-on convulses with repulsion.

“Jesus H Christ! Keep it on! Keep it. Burn it. Whatever. I do not want that back!” Eddie puts his hand out in a stop motion and turns away from the potential hellscape about to be uncovered.

“Ok, that's enough. George here was just-” Wayne tries to douse the fuse to the time bomb that is Eddie but instead fans the flame, and it starts moving exponentially quicker.

“GE-OR-GE?! GEORGE, IS IT NOW?” Eddie's eyebrows are raised so high they might be two surprises away from leaving his face altogether. Wayne folds his arms and purses his lips like he’s waiting for Eddie to finish.

“Thanks for the ride and for letting me stay, Wayne.” Principal Higgins says, gathering his clothes from a drying rack.

Eddie points at him accusingly with one hand clutching his fluffy robe around himself with the other, stepping towards him with a renewed sense of purpose. “No! No! Uh-Uh. He’s not Wayne to you. He’s Mr. Munson. Not Wayne” 

Principal Higgins puts his hands up in front of him, “Alright, Eddie, alright. Mr Munson it is.” Eddie shocked face moves between the two of them like he's watching a tennis match, “Just calm down, ok?” and that makes Wayne close his eyes slowly and shake his head because telling Eddie to calm down only means one thing.

Eddie erupts.

“CALM DOWN?! CALM THE FUCK DOWN?!”

“Language, Eddie,” Wayne mutters lacklustre because he knows it's useless.

“Oh, sorry if my language offended you, sir. Maybe if you get off your moral high horse when you've spent the night with MY PRINCIPAL.”

“Ex-Prinicpal, Eddie. You graduated, remember?” He offers him a small smile, sending Eddie into toddler mode. He’s holding his breath, wrinkles up his nose and clenches his fists until he’s red in the face because he's so mad he can’t get the words out to express it.

So he does something else.

He stretches his hands directly out in front of him, pointing them at Higgins, Wiggling his fingers slowly muttering under his breath.

“Erm, Way-Mr Munson, what is he doing?” Higgins says, a little nervous.

“I’m cursing you, Higgins,” Eddie says in his best demonic Freddie Kruger impersonation, and that puts the fear in him.

“Ignore him. He’s just being dramatic.” Wayne tuts and shakes his head. Eddie raises his chin and widens his eyes, looking down his nose at Higgins and pushes his hands towards him quickly, making Higgins jump back with a yip.

“Are you sure he’s not cursing me?” Higgins says, a little afraid, starting to gather his things much faster.

“You crossed the threshold to my lair, and now you must pay the price, Higgins, with your soul.” The Principal backs away, frantically trying to put his knitted vest over Eddie’s Metallica shirt, and Wayne simply rolls his eyes, sits down and lights up a smoke.

Eddie widens his eyes a few times, muttering some pig Latin, which makes Higgins's face contort in confusion as he backs towards the door. “Thanks again, W-” Higgins starts to say but is cut off but Eddie rolling his eyes back into his head and chanting louder, “I-I-I mean Mr Munson. Thank you. I’ll pay you back for the t-shirt Eddie.” he whimpers quickly, as he reaches behind himself for the handle of the door to reverse out of the trailer half dressed. Not Eddie’s concern as long as he was out of here. That was the main thing.

Eddie sports a broad closed, mouth smile as he turns back to his uncle, making a show of dusting his hands, “No need to thank me for taking out the trash for you, Oldtimer. This time, the pleasure was all mine” he chuckles and heads back to get their coffees. 

Strangely there is no echo to his chuckle nor any nod or smile of thanks when he delivers the hot drink—more of a snatch of the mug and avoiding looking at Eddie altogether. 

He scrunches his face and walks over to sit at the two-seater table. He knows this feeling. He doesn't like it. He slides into his seat, brushes down his robe, and eyes Wayne weirdly, “Want a fresh cup?” Eddie tries to break the tension. He can’t seriously be mad about Higgins, the Mega-bastard.

“No, Edward. I do not want a fresh cup.” 

Oh shit. A sentence of whole words, no contractions, hardly any drawl, and Edward. He knows what this might be, and it's way worse than Wayne being mad at him.

“You know, I thought I might try some of the stores near the arcade today, then maybe a few construction companies or the library…” he lets his voice trail off. Obverses his uncle pointedly, flicking over pages in the car magazine that he is obviously not reading. He doesn't even have his glasses on, “maybe join the circus or start my own cult?”

“That sounds nice for you, Edward. You do that.”

In another dimension where Eddie doesn't have to go job hunting imminently, he’s banging his head against the desk.

“Well, the thing about that is there is a small issue with, uh, the whole doing of things today, and I was hoping-” Eddie gets cut off mid most charming smile and fluttering of eyelashes.

“And you were hoping I’d take ya to pick up the van from Gareth’s because she’s not speakin’ to you either. Can’t say I blame the ol’ girl. You never look after her how you’re ‘sposed to” Ok, well, at least he’s talking like himself again. That's progress, at least. “Always drivin’ the poor thing like she’s a drag racer, never check her levels. Twice I seen her smoking, Eddie,” he continues to mutter a checklist of vehicle crimes Eddie has committed to his precious van, and he dares not interrupt because he really needs his help, “Well, how ‘bout this buddy.” Eddie beams in anticipation, “It's a no.” The surprise of a ‘no’ smacks so hard he might as well have got up and slapped him across the face with a wet salmon.

Uncle Wayne doesn't say no to Eddie, he says maybe, or we’ll see, or maybe in a few years, son.

“But-but you said about getting in with job applications and getting up early, and I did that, and I got the smart clothes that you got me all hung up ready to go. Come on, Wayne, please?” Eddie is all but on his knees, begging. Walking into a shop from the car park dressed like a prep was one thing, but from here to town? He’d be a laughing stock.

“No, Eddie and that's final!” Wayne says, glancing at him and then back down at the magazine.

Eddie closes his eyes slowly and presses his lips together. He knows what he has to do. He doesn't want to, but he also does not want to have to walk or bike to hand these resumes out.

“I’ll find Higgins and apologise straight after, I promise,” he says with absolutely no intention of doing it, but he’d figure out something later.

That gets his full attention. The magazine is closed shut, the mug is on the coaster, his arms folded, his lips pursed, and he’s looking directly at Eddie. And Eddie can see it in his steely eyes. Wayne is plotting.

“Ya know, I get rebelling against authority, and I get the whole hate the principal thing, but I can’t say I’m not disappointed. Didn’t even ask what happened. Just chased him outta here. Ya coulda be chasing him back out to anything.” Wayne says with a huff.

Anger he can stand, but disappointing Wayne is his kryptonite, and his uncle damn well knew it too. Eddie takes the bait.

“Go on then, what happened? What was so bad you had to invite my nemesis to have a sleepover with you?” Eddie waves his hand in front of himself to gesture for Wayne to continue.

“Nothin’ to it, really. Was on my way back from work in the small hours, saw someone walking in the pourin’ rain an–”

“Ok, whoa whoa whoa! You just pulled over in the dark to pick up some stranger at the side of the road in Hawkins? Are you insane?!”

Wayne rolls his eyes and continues, “As I was sayin’, I saw someone walking in the pourin’ rain, and as I passed them, I saw in my mirror it was George,” Eddies face automatically displays disgust at the mention of Higgins’ human being name, “I stopped an’ offered him a ride home. He was all embarrassed said he couldn’t go back there,” he eyes Eddie, “For reasons I’m not about to let his mortal enemy in on. He’d been sleepin’ in his car for a while. Yeah, since before your graduatin’. Anyhoo, his car is a bust. It had been playin’ up since the graduation ceremony and finally gave up the ghost, and he was stuck. I offered to take him to a motel, but he was worried about anyone else findin’ out, so I brought him back ‘ere. Someone forgot to pick up my laundry, so the only clean items around for him to sleep in were fresh goddamn air or a t-shirt I found.”

A cold, harsh realisation hits Eddie at full speed. He’d been the one the tamper with Higgins’ car. Said he had stage nerves, pretended to take a leak and instead fucked around with the car. One final act of revenge.

“Look, man. I didn’t know any of that shit.” Eddie laughs awkwardly, “I was just, you know, caught off guard.”

“Oh,” Wayne says, raising his eyebrows, “So if I’d woken ya up last night after my very long work shift and explained the entire situation to you. You would have what? Willingly give your ex-principal a t-shirt and show them some sympathy? Is that what you are saying right now?” Wayne stares him directly in the eyes and simply waits. He’s waiting for Eddie to lie or to be proven right.

“I don't like the guy, ok? There isn’t any law against disliking people,” Eddie says hurriedly, suddenly needing to wrap himself tighter in his fluffy robe as Wayne slowly looks down into his cup with a nod, and Eddie can feel it brewing.

“Thing is, Eddie. Ya didn’ even ask. Ya saw a guy lying on a bed he didn’t choose, in clothing, he wouldn’t have picked out in a montha Sunday’s, embarrassed, an’ scared, and ya drove him outta the house.” Eddie sheepishly raises his eyes to Waynes from under his hair, “Ya kicked a guy when he was down and out, Eddie. That ain’t right.” Wayne says sadly and shakes his head a little, averts his eyes.

Eddie’s insides squirm uncomfortably, and he tries to get back on the right side of Wayne, trying to get him to see if it had been anyone else, Eddie would not have done that, “But he’s not just some guy, Wayne. It was Principal Higgins. Come on, don't be mad. Once I’m done with these resumes, I’ll go apologise, yeah?” Eddie nearly gags on his own words, a small price to pay to avoid the words that would absolutely crush him

Wayne gets up, puts his mug in the sink, and mutters, “I ain’t mad, Son, just disappointed, is all.” 

FUUUUUUUUCK!

Eddie's heart crumples in on itself. That's it. He’d finally done it. 

After years of fucking up, everything from breaking a mug to being brought home by Hopper, who broke the news to Wayne that whilst he didn't strictly mind that Eddie was dealing on a small scale, he should be fucking quieter about it. Then the general weird appearance that makes most of the town stare or spread idle gossip, getting less than impressive grades at school, getting into fights, losing his temper with Wayne regularly all the way through puberty and getting high or drunk way too often with his friends. The recovery of which would lead to letting Wayne down with something he should have been doing instead.

After all of that, Wayne always looked a little disappointed but never outright said it, always found a way around it, but this. This was a step too far, and the words echo in his dumbass empty head.

“I ain’t mad, Son, just disappointed, is all.”

Eddie winces at those words as they stab into him repeatedly, dagger-like.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie tries, and it's a real one, the lump in his throat trying to choke him out and the sting at the corners of his eyes, but he knows it's not gonna fly this time. He’d really let him down. Even at his age, the unknown of what would happen next makes his pulse race. 

Wayne nods and collects his hat and keys. He walks over, but his eyes do not meet Eddie’s as he puts on his cap and places the keys in front of Eddie on the table, “You ain’t gotta be apologizin’ to me. Take the truck. ‘M going for a walk.”

And with that, he’s gone. Eddie watches him walk away through the window, suddenly feeling small and engulfed by the robe that he pulls tightly around himself. He slumps off to the bathroom to finish getting ready for the day.

Twenty minutes later, Eddie finds himself in a situation he never thought possible, dressed in a button-down and un-tarnished jeans, his hair tied back in a low ponytail, driving around the trailer park and surrounding roads looking for Principal Higgins, or should he say, George Higgins. He isn’t his principal any more, thank Christ. You know what? No. It can be just Higgins. There. Good! Fucking Higgins! Jesus Christ, on a bike.

Not far from the entrance to the trailer park, he spots the tour dates on the back of the t-shirt, teamed with tan slacks and a chequered jacket slung over his arm in a hunched plod back to town.

Eddie drives a little ahead and pulls over, watches in the rearview mirror how the guy’s face lights up and his pace quickens towards the car. Man, was he in for a surprise.

“Wayne! Thank God. I didn’t know what I was gonna–” he starts saying as he sits in the passenger seat and on Eddie’s resumés. He swallows that one down and reminds himself this is for Wayne, “Oh. Uh. Eddie. Do you want me to get back out? Did you stop for someone else?” He struggles as he raises himself out of the seat again to hold the stack of papers he’d say on.

OF COURSE, THATS WHAT I WANT, Eddie thinks to himself, but buries it, grips the wheel white-knuckle tight, forces a small pinched smile and through gritted teeth manages, “No, of course not. I thought I’d see if I could help with your car. Wayne said it cut out on you?”

“Y-Yeah, that's right, b-but it's fine. If you drop me in town, I can speak to a mechanic there,” Eddie watches him pat for his wallet and scrambles to another pocket. He knows this dance, had to do the moves many times himself.

“You could do that, sure, or…” Eddie starts and trails off because two halves of his brain are having a slappy hands fight with one another.

“Or?” Higgins asks, and he sounds genuinely confused by what the other option could possibly be, but Eddie detects that slight waver of hope in his voice. It makes him roll his eyes, and the side of his brain that is only concerned with getting on the right side of Wayne again sends the one concerned with being cool and tightly held grudges built on dry sand, reeling into next week with an almighty whack.

He takes a deep breath and tries but fails to relax his shoulders, “Or I can take a look for free. I help out with a lot of cars in the trailer park.”

He’s met with silence. 

He waits a little longer, and there is still no response, and out of sheer concern that Wayne was gonna be extra pissed if he had literally killed Higgins with kindness, he turns to look at him.

Immediate deep regret!

The guy's bottom lip is wobbling. How did this guy run that fucking hell hole? He’s a jello of a person. Eddie looks back at the road to direct his flicker of a sneer somewhere.

“It’s not a big deal. Whereabouts is it?” Eddie tries to steer the conversation to something easy for him to digest.

Higgins clears his throat and blubbers, “Er, just one first side road into the forest after the school.” Eddie can’t bring himself to ask for anything more specific in case he gets emotional, and he would have to comfort him. The thought almost makes Eddie heave. He’ll stop this car and run to town himself before he does that. No way! He tries to think of something else.

“You friends with my uncle then?” Eddie tries, and he almost snaps his head around when the reply is immediate.

“Oh yes! Way- I mean, Mr Munson is a fantastic pal.” Higgins enthuses and then quickly corrects himself. There is another clearing of his throat.

This is what Luke Skywalker felt when he found out who his father was. Fantastic pal? Pal? What the fuck?

But Eddie beings to experience something worse than realisation. He’s curious.

“I didn’t even know you were friends,” Eddie says, a little weirded out.

“Oh,” Higgins says disappointedly, “He hasn’t mentioned me to you?” Eddie’s fingers tighten around the wheel again. What the hell was happening right now? Eddie chooses to ignore how much that sounds like someone realising their love is unrequited. No. No, this is not what he thinks is happening. He remembers now. Of course, he means the school stuff. 

“Well yeah, of course, he’s mentioned you when you’ve called about me,” Eddie laughs and shakes his head, “You know all those meetings with the three of us, and sometimes an extra teacher, to bring forth the ‘evidence’” Eddie makes air quotes whilst still holding onto the wheel with the remaining fingers.

Then there is a small laugh from Higgins, “He never did listen to any of it though, did he? Always team Eddie,” And the fondness dripping off those words almost makes Eddie want to slam on the breaks and vomit somewhere, not just out of repulsion but also because he’s just been reminded of all those times Wayne’s backed him against all odds, against all comers. It must be that that makes the words fall out of his mouth.

“Until today,” Eddie grumbles.

“What because of what happened in the trailer?” Higgins asks dumbly but with concern. The fucking dick!

“Yes! What happened in the fucking trailer!” Eddie all but hisses back, sighs, and tries again, “Sorry about that. Yes, how I overreacted in the trailer didn’t impress him as you can imagine.”

“Well, it must have been a hell of a shock for you, honestly!”

Eddie nods and smiles. Then his eyes shoot open wide, realising that he’s agreeing with his mortal enemy!

“Shit,” Higgins laughs, “If I had woke up in my house at your age and my Principal was asleep in my living room. I’d have questions too!”

Oh! Now he’s cussing and relating like they’re fucking buddies or something. A whole body shudder ripples through Eddie. He tries to get to the controls of this conversation again.

“So, what were you expecting him to mention?” Eddie asks. Even though he might live to regret it, the claws of curiosity are gouging into him.

“Oh, it’s stupid, honestly. He's a busy guy, and he probably was more interested in what you had to say. He’s always recounting your funny stories and jokes. He always says he doesn't do them justice because he says you tell them best.” Higgins says like it's nothing, but Eddie is so glad this section of the road is creating extra noise. Otherwise, he would have heard the gasp that just left Eddie as his heart squeezed.

Of course, his uncle wouldn't mention anything to Eddie, that was not to do with Eddie because everything was always about Eddie. He knew Wayne always had his back, no matter what, but to hear that he openly talks fondly about him to other people is almost enough to turn Eddie into a blubbering mess himself. “You guys, old friends or somethin’?” Eddie tries to say something quickly so Higgins can prattle on whilst Eddie composes himself.

“Ah,” curiously Higgins stops, “not really. I mean, not from school or anything, if that's what you mean?”

Eddie gets another sinking feeling that the reason they have bonded was also his own doing, “Well, you don't work at the same place. It’s rare Wayne goes out, and I was in those meetings too, so, uh, forgive me, but I fail to see how you’ve managed to befriend my Uncle. What do you have secret phone hangouts or something?”

He glances over at Higgins, who seems to be shifting in his seat, “Uh, well, we have a kind of brunch sometimes at the diner,” he says quietly.

“It's either brunch or it's not, Higgins,” Eddie laughs.

“My lunchtime but your uncle’s breakfast time, Happened accidentally at first. Then your uncle is such an empath. I guess he just did it out of kindness, really, maybe pity.”

Oh, sweet satan. This guy used the word empath unironically. Though this is a standard Wayne move, always the good Samaritan, even if it bites him in the ass later, “Don’t you have lunch with the rest of your henchmen at school?”

That makes Higgins scoff out a laugh, “I understand why you’d think that Eddie, but, uh, it’s not like that. They don’t like me as much as you think they do.”

Eddie swirls that around his brain for a while, thinking about how often he’d been sent to Higgins’ office. How many times did Higgins do anything other than make Eddie sit in his office with him while he did other things, and Eddie finished up some work or doodled?

“I like a good story. How did your first brunch happen?” Eddie asks quickly, eager to avoid further dismantling his personal Munson doctrine.

“Not that exciting, really,” but Eddie can hear the smile in his tone, “Diner was busy. Your uncle’s usual booth was occupied by some noisy sports team passing through. You know, the smaller booth that overlooks the bit of the car park with more greenery in the distance? So he sat at the corner of the counter near me. And we sorta knew one another, and we just got talking.” There it is again that softening in his words. A quick glance over, and he’s sure there is a blush on his cheeks.

Was this why it upset his Uncle so much? He remembers their mutual chuckle from this morning. Though he wishes Wayne would have befriended any other sadsack fuck in this town, he knows how particular his Uncle is about getting close to people, so Eddie does a quick check.

“And then what? You just bumped into one another and talked about…well, what did you talk about? Other than my good self, of course,” Eddie asks more gently.

“Yeah, guess there was a coincidental element to it, but then, at least on my part, it became a little more purposeful,” he drifts off a little and then quickly stutters back into action, “It-it’s not every day I get the chance to talk to someone who I have so many common interests with, you know?

Eddie can feel him looking at him intermittently. It reminds him of when John, one of the original members of Hellfire, was persuading Eddie to let Jenna join. He didn’t have an issue because she was a girl, just she was one of the science kids. She turned out to be a great player and also John’s girlfriend. 

Eddie’s suspicion meter is close to all the springs exploding out of it like a cartoon, and suddenly there is a new emotion leaping off the bench to join the team. Protectiveness.

“Common interests like what?” Eddie frowns a little.

“Uh, music, like rock n roll, but also some of that folk element, country and soul. Westerns, Hammer Horror,” he chuckles. Eddie feels himself want to look round at him, to see if he could telepathically find out what inside joke they had about dated scary movies, “Sports, human rights and well,” there is a pause, “you, of course, but purely from an academic side of things from me,” and though he doesn’t want to be, he is impressed by his apparent honesty.

“And how long have these brunches, or whatever the fuck, been happening?” Eddie asks.

“A little over a year now. Probably could have been longer, but I guess we never had a reason to sit together before,” Higgins shrugs, “Just nod hello or sometimes he’d check in about how you were doing.”

Wow, so now he’s two for two bringing this pair together through his own idiocy. 

“Uh, you know, Eddie, while I have this chance, I just wanted to let you know, regardless of what some of your teachers may have said to you. I always thought you were a very bright and creative kid. Just maybe the way a school is structured didn’t give you the right space to flourish,” Ok, so now this confirms it. He was totally trying to kiss Eddie’s ass here. Actually, it was more likely, at this point, it was Wayne’s ass he might be after.

Eddie grimaces at his intrusive thoughts. They threw him for a loop sometimes, and that one was several inversions leaving him feeling grossed out and nauseous.

“Look, man, you don’t have to say all that crap, I’m not gonna curse you, and I was going to look at your car anyway,” Eddie says to try and make him back off a little.

“Oh, so Wayne was right. You don’t go for all that spooky stuff, then?” Higgins asks happily.

“Now, now Higgy Wiggy, I didn’t say that. I just said I’m not gonna curse you this time.” Eddie says semi-seriously, and silence falls in the vehicle again, making Eddie look over at the gulping guy in a Metallica tee, “I’m just kidding, Higgins, geez!” Eddie laughs as the deserted car comes into view.

Within minutes Eddie is rolling up his sleeves and popping the hood to undo the damage he’d done previously. Meanwhile, Higgins was shuffling around in the back seat.

One particular shuffle almost sends the open hood smearing muck onto Eddie’s freshly washed hair, and that makes him say something. He storms around the side of the car, “Hey man! Could you take it easy whilst I’m under there? I’m pretty fond of my head. It completes my whole look, you know?” He yells sarcastically.

As he rounds the vehicle to stare daggers at Higgins, the sight that befalls his eyes is something more worrying. The guy was halfway through donning a crumpled suit and filling a trash bag with wrappers and cans.

Higgins can’t meet his eyes, “Sorry, Eddie. I was just eager to get into my own clothes and, well, didn’t want you to see all this,” he half smiles awkwardly, “too late for that now, huh?”

And amongst the general chaos of the backseat, he notices a few things. His Uncle’s copy of The Hobbit, a few blankets that were crocheted by the old lady that lives in the trailer park, but they have so many they end up in a cupboard, and a T-shirt from the Indi 500 the year he and Wayne had gone to it, “You like racing?” Eddie asks, gesturing at it.

Higgins responds with a melancholy, forced smile and water-brimmed eyes, shaking his head in a no.

“Just like the T-shirt, huh? He’s got some cool ones, thanks to me,” Eddie jokes, and it earns him a little laugh as Higgins wipes his eyes on his jacket sleeves. Eddie returns to an issue he feels more comfortable dealing with, leaving Higgins to sort out what he needs to.

A little while later, Eddie returns to a much cleaner car and a much more Principal looking Higgins. As he hands him the keys, “Try starting her up for me, yeah?”

Higgins nods with a smile and does as asked, and life breathes back into the engine, “Oh, Eddie! This is wonderful, thank you!”

“Least I could do,” Eddie sighs, cleaning his hands on a rag from his Uncle’s tool kit before loading it back in the truck.

He stands there momentarily, looking at his strange reflection in the paint, and ponders. Eddie and wherever he’s lived previously had the Munson name associated with things more shaped like his dad’s opportunistic and, let’s face it, criminal ways, but what if he could amplify the other side of that name? The one that protects and fixes. The one that helps others in need and shows kindness even when it may not be deserved.

He turns back.

“You know, I feel like I’ve got some bridges to mend, so after I’ve dropped these around town, I was thinking I might pick up some wings and make Wayne his favourite kind,” Eddie announces as he paces around the car. Higgins looks up at him, “I get a little carried away sometimes, and we usually have to live off them for a few extra meals to get my money’s worth,” Eddie’s nose twitches a little before he says the improbable, “I could swing back round this way, and pick you up, so you could save me from chicken wings for breakfast?” He pauses, but Higgins is just staring at him, “Don’t get me wrong, they’re delicious, even if I do say so myself, but that kinda heat first thing in the morning, we’ll that’s an interesting way to start the day,” he grins and kicks at the ground.

“Y-yeah, I’d really like-“ Higgins starts, but Eddie gives him a quick glare, “I mean, I think I could help you with that, sure,” Eddie sends him back a nod.

“Cool. See you in an hour or so.” Eddie says finally before hopping back into Wayne’s truck.

A few hours later, Eddie finds himself in clothing mostly more suited to himself, other than his Hot Stuff Garfield Apron. He had two plates piled high with wings around a small bowl at the centre with a sauce of his creation, one spicy, one blue cheese, plus a pot of mac n cheese from a box. 

He lines the plates up and looks over at the two of them watching the game on the TV, occasionally squabbling over who was at fault on which team for things not going in their favour, occasionally laughing loudly at the other when their prediction was correct or a commentator agreed with them.

Eddie can’t remember a time in the last few years he’s seen Wayne this animated. His eyes are sparkling even, and a secret smile graces his face even when he’s proved wrong, and trying to look annoyed about it. 

“Grubs up, jocks!” Eddie yells over with a laugh. The two of them scramble to see who can get there first. They both look over the food and then up at Eddie.

“Wow, Eddie, this is quite the buffet!” Higgins says enthusiastically, as Wayne and Eddie exchange a comical look at the word buffet.

“Yeah, it looks great, buddy. Thanks,” Wayne says with a big smile, and he blinks softly at Eddie, “Ya done me real proud today, son.” His voice is gruff as always, but that gentle fondness is back, and Eddie grips tightly to the countertop and presses his lips together not to get emotional about it.

A moan of delight comically breaks their shared stare. Higgins has taken a bite from a chicken wing doused in the blue cheese sauce.

“Told ya,” Wayne says as he puffs out his chest, “Best chef in town, right here in my own home!” He beams over at Eddie and back to Higgins.

“It’s not that I didn't believe you!” Higgins protests, “But I’m thrilled I got to sample the proof,” he smiles at Eddie before reaching for another and freezes. This time an unmistakable blush hits his cheeks, “Sorry, I just got carried away.” He says meekly.

Eddie turns to the plate of food to see the issue, Wayne has reached for the very same wing, and his fingers are draped lightly over Higgins’. Eddie traces the arm up to Wayne’s face. It’s hard to make out if he’s blushing on his face just from stubble and the ageing of his skin, but the top of his ears give him away.

Wayne is staring at Higgins, completely frozen too, until he gradually turns his gaze to meet Eddie’s. The sparkle of mischief and laughter is gone. In its place is fear. His eyes dart away momentarily, and he almost seems to force himself to look back at Eddie, who gives him a weak but encouraging smile.

Then Wayne does something incredibly brave, he wraps his fingers around Higgins’ hand, making a small gasp escape from his old Principal, and waits.

Eddie looks between them both.

“I fucking knew it!” He yells and laughs.

Wayne smiles, and Higgins looks bewildered, “What, you’re just ok with this?”

“With people being gay? Yeah!” Eddie makes a face like he just asked him if the sky was blue, “About this situation in particular?” He gestures a finger between the two of them and folds his arms, “Absolutely not!”

Higgins looks deflated, but Wayne still has a smirk on his face.

“But you know, I suppose,” he rolls his eyes to the ceiling and shakes his head, “It deserves a chance, right?”

Higgins' face lights up, and he throws his arms around Wayne.

“Hey! Hey! Hey!” Eddie claps his hands together, “Do not make me load up the spray bottle, ok? Your orientation I’m indifferent to, but no fucking on my stuff and nothing tonsil hockey or worse whilst I can hear or see you, understood?” Eddie says, flicking the kitchen towel over his shoulder and looking at them both in turn.

They both nod at him quietly, Higgins crimson-faced and serious, Wayne with a smile he’s trying to repress and a twinkle in his eyes, possibly caused by the tears that almost welled up in them.

“Tomorrow, I’m gonna help you find a place, and until we have that squared away,” Eddie says, leaning over the counter and looking at Higgins seriously before turning to look at Wayne, “Let me know if you’re having a fucking sleepover!”

[farahsamboolents]

All Still Breathing: Deleted Scenes

All the deleted scenes from my fanfiction All Still Breathing on Ao3, and why I deleted them.

If you notice that I keep switching between present and past tense, that’s a sign that I was reading fanfic right before writing my own :P Most fanfic is in present tense, but I write in past tense by default, although I do get tripped up sometimes, obviously. I’m pretty sure some tense errors made their way into the final cut, even, but I keep losing them every time I try to edit.

He goes to the school to sleep, on the little cot he’s claimed as his own. He wondered what the room looked like without hundreds of little cots stuffed in, side by side. He hoped that his cot was near where Eddie liked to sit, when the room wasn’t a safe space and still a cafeteria, and fell asleep imagining him causing his usual Eddie ruckus, the kind that has brightened his trailer for the past nine years. He dreamt of Eddie playing his guitar up in the rafters. He’d probably make his way up there somehow.

On the second morning, he was out the door, on his way to the hospital, when he saw a group of kids, ranging from early to late teenagerhood, unloading a car full of spare clothes and linens to donate. This isn’t unusual, the donations come in at all hours - including the middle of the night, with whispered apologies for the hour and quiet footsteps making their way to the donation bin - but the first thing Wayne noticed is that that’s a nice car. The kind Eddie would’ve drooled over. Didn’t look large enough to fit the whole group and the giant bags of stuff, but they must have done it somehow.

The second thing he noticed is that one of the older kids was clutching his side as he moved, walking gingerly so as to not disturb it. Wayne stopped midstride, at first with concern for the kid, but then he heard him speak.

The drill sergeant.

It’s not the same barking tone that he used when he barged into the hospital, but was directing the gaggle of people surrounding him, calling out names and tasks, and they all pick up their respective bags dutifully, and oh there were bikes surrounding the car, that’s why it didn’t look like everyone fit, because they didn’t.

He found himself approaching before he could even think about talking himself out of it, and a young woman with bushy curls caught his eye and smiled. He thought he recognized her, but he was no good with faces. She’s a delicate little thing, he thought, and he’s sure that the drill sergeant keeps her safe like he kept his Eddie safe. She gave him a small wave as he approaches, hand awkwardly curled around the duffle bag she’s holding.

The drill sergeant followed her gaze and met his eyes.

He really is just a kid, he realized as said kid’s eyebrows furrowed in recognition and worry.

“Mr. Munson, right?” he said, making the first step towards Wayne’s direction. He held out his hand. Wayne took it. The kid’s handshake is gruff, not unlike a drill sergeant’s might be, he imagined.

“My name is Steve,” he said, “I was with Eddie when the earthquake hit.”

“It’s good to meet you, Steve. Good to finally put a name to the voice.” He was tempted to say no shit instead, but frankly he’s a little intimidated by the drill sergeant - or rather, Steve. Bit of a dull name in comparison, but it’s not like the kid signed his own birth certificate.

He was hoping his voice wouldn’t shake as he continued, “you saved my boy.” But it did, and his voice cracked like he’s younger than the drill sergeant. Shit, he feels younger than the drill sergeant, and not in a good way. He feels so helpless, all the time, and not only is the world surrounding him falling apart but so is his own little world, and suddenly an unexpected sob made its way out of him, tearing out of his chest like it was a big snapper caught on a fishing reel.

And then several pairs of arms were surrounding him, wrapping around his waist, his shoulders, and back. It was a risky move, he thought, and if this were any other scenario at any other point in time, he probably would’ve punched someone for coming too close without asking, but after spending weeks staring at dirt, ceilings, and finally Eddie’s lifeless body wishing he could hold him again, the physical contact is more than welcome.

Distantly, he registered that someone who must’ve been excluded from the huddle had grabbed his hand and was gently patting it. He wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry, and somehow wound up doing a combination of both, wetting the drill sergeant’s shoulder with his tears.

They eventually broke apart, and everyone pulled away with wet and glassy eyes, even the drill sergeant, which made Wayne feel a bit shaken. He saw the kid pass out, sure, but he had fought it even then, refusing to show vulnerability until his body didn’t give him the choice.

“It uh,” says the sergeant, wiping his eyes on his sleeve, “it was a group effort. It was actually Dustin here who found him,” he says, patting one of the smaller members of the group on his baseball cap. Dustin gives him a wet smile, lips trembling.

“And Robin and Nance helped me bandage the worst of the bleeding,” continues the sergeant, gesturing first to Robin, the one who had patted his hand, now biting her lip and staring in the distance, then to Nance, the one who waved, who was taking deep, steadying breaths with a placating smile.

“…all I did was drive him.” finishes the sergeant. Wayne fought back the urge to scoff in his face, picturing the way he looked holding Eddie, like something straight out of an action movie. That sure didn’t look like driving.

Instead, he turned to the last little face, the smallest of them all. A little black girl, who looked about twelve, boldly making eye contact in a way that reminded him of Eddie when he was that age.

“And you?” he said gently, hoping his tone conveyed humour as intended. Clearly this girl was just along for the ride today, donating her old teddies.

“I distracted Jason Carver and kept him and his stupid cronies away from Eddie. You’re welcome.” she said smugly.

He was taken aback, but internally chided himself for thinking so little of her. He could almost see a twelve year old Eddie, sitting in the principal’s office, jaw set just like hers, saying, “They shoved me off the bleachers, what did you want me to do?” after throwing a rock at his bully’s head.

She was a little young to be doing that alone, but he’d ask for details later. In the meantime, he felt his features turn solemn, and he patted her on the shoulder. “Thank you.” he said, hoping that she understood just how much he meant it. She nodded back.

He straightened his back and turned back to the rest of them. “I genuinely can’t thank you all enough, I...” he trailed off as he felt his voice wobble again.

But they were all still so kind.

~

He wound up giving the drill sergeant - Steve - a ride to the hospital after he helped them unload their donations.

END SCENE

Deleted because I got stuck with writer’s block, and then realized that focussing between the school and the hospital was too much, so I essentially put the fic in a “bottle episode” it until chapter three. I really wanted to keep Erica’s line and Wayne’s corresponding memory of Eddie, but it also felt a little weird having everyone announce themselves like a child’s TV show. Also, Robin patting his hand was really funny to me.

___

Wayne leaned forward in his chair. He knew this might hurt to hear, but he wanted to know it too.

“From the…?” Eddie mimicked a pounce again, smaller this time.

“Sure, I guess. I think I’m just trying to piece togther what happened.”

Eddie snorted. “Me too,” he said derisively, but he was nodding, and then humming in thought, staring off into nowhere in particular.

“I… I was playing my guitar.” Buckley nodded. Wayne was confused. Eddie’s guitar was in the trailer, last he saw it.

“Then… it didn’t work. I think.” Buckley was still nodding. Wayne was even more confused.

“The bats.” Bats? “They were in my trailer.”

Eddie had gone home?

“Coyotes.” corrected Buckley with a soft smile.

Eddie’s eyes locked on hers for a second and they had a silent conversation that Wayne was desperate to be a part of, before Eddie giggled slightly hysterically.

“I’ve been on some hard shit, Robin,” he said, dragging out the r in hard. “Coyotes. Alright. Coyotes. Clever little shits. They broke in, through the… door.”

Buckley was nodding.

“Dustin. Dustin was there, so I shoved him through… the hole in the ceiling.” And now Wayne’s jaw was dropping, because since when was there a hole in their ceiling?

Buckley was still nodding, but now she was biting her lip in worry.

“Then the… the coyotes wouldn’t let up.”

There was another long pause as Eddie stared off into the distance again, his face grave.

“I just… I just remember being tired of running. From the cops. From Carver. From Chrissy. I’ve been running and hiding for so,” his voice broke, but he shrugged away the comforting hands from the pair of them, “so long. So I got the coyotes to follow me. It must’ve been on the bike, right?”

Buckley nodded like that made sense.

“Yeah, it’s not like I could outrun them. And then I just, swung at them. And you know, obviously I didn’t win, but in my defense they fight dirty.”

He sniffled. “I got a few hits in though, I think.” He said with a weak smile, before his face turned back to solemn.

“And then I remember Dustin crying. And then… someone was carrying me?” he said this as a question, but continued before Buckley had the chance to respond, “Yeah, Nancy was ahead, and you were carrying two backpacks, so… Steve carried me, huh?”

Another nod from Buckley.

“And then I remember the inside of a car. Was a nice car. Then I was here.”

Eddie gave himself space for a few more sniffles, and let Wayne grasp his hand, before shaking his head as if to shake away all the memories.

“But enough about Eddie the Banished!” he exclaimed loudly and dramatically with a forced grin, “It’s all been Eddie Eddie Eddie over here, and everyone already says I have a big head. How’s everyone else, how’d Red’s hero mission go?”

And this was the wrong thing to say.

Buckley squeezed her eyes shut and ducked her head down into her palms. Eddie’s face fell. “Oh no.” he breathed.

Buckley’s head slowly raised with shaky breaths. Her cheeks were wet. “She’s alive,” she croaked, “but it’s bad, Eddie. We don’t know if she’s gonna wake up.”

Wayne didn’t even know this Red person, wondered if this was the Max person Dustin had talked about, but there were tears down his own face, too. Enough hearts were broken today.

END SCENE Deleted because it felt a little too close to telling Wayne what actually happened. A sanitized version of this made its way into the final cut, which I was honestly still on the fence about, but it felt in character-ish for Robin to be curious, so I kept it.

A rapid beeping sound distracted Wayne from reading any further, and he looked up to find that it was Eddie’s heart monitor. Eddie had opened the envelope, and he was holding a piece of paper, but it was impossible to tell what it was because his hands were trembling severely, and it was flapping like a flag in the wind.

Wayne leapt up immediately, started petting Eddie’s hair with his usual it’s okay and we’ll get through this, while internally his heart had dived straight out of his chest and through the floor because they must have changed their minds, it was all a ruse, Eddie was being taken away, they’d be back any second with the cuffs and -

Wait.

Eddie had shoved the slip of paper into Wayne’s hands, crumpling it in the process, and away from trembling hands, Wayne was able to actually see the damn thing.

It was a cheque.

Wayne’s hands blindly reached for his chair, and he used it to pull himself back in, because he needed to sit down, eyes glued to the cheque. Finally, he looked up to meet Eddie’s eyes again, who was now covering his mouth with his uninjured hand, fingers curled in on themselves. His cast was clumsily pressed against the side of his head, pushing his hair up.

Wayne tore open his own envelope, and sure enough it was another cheque.

Wayne had always thought, if given the opportunity, he would look at hush money and tell the person offering to shove it up their goddamn self entitled ass. And that’s clearly what this was, hush money, the memorandum even said “for your discretion”, which was the least subtle thing something like this could say.

And Wayne knew he could do it, too, having spent his youth spent lounging on makeshift furniture made from crates and boxes, shouting fuck the man when given half an opportunity to say so. A fancy meal was anything that didn’t come from a can, and the trailer that he had called home until now was something he considered extravagant. In his twenties, he had once dated a man who had his own television, and even though it was stolen, Wayne felt like he had gone up a tax bracket just by watching it.

But now it wasn’t just him, and while he was proud to say that his nephew took after him, he had just watched the poor boy be pulled from the brink of death and back into his arms. He had seen him covered in enough blood to paint a house red, and was now hooked up to a blood bag to replace all that he had lost. The click of the handcuffs from Officer Protocol echoed in his mind, and had he even been gentle with Eddie’s wrists, with his fractured arm? Eddie had looked so small, unconscious in his hospital bed, but when his arm was being put in the cast, he looked so small then, too. His Eddie was wild and exuberant, but life had spent the last two weeks chewing him up, and it spat out an Eddie that flinched when pointed at, and sniffled when a doctor blatantly admitted wrongdoing with no shame.

A younger version of Wayne would have champed at the bit to tear up a cheque directly from the Department of National Security, of all things.

This version of Wayne knew that a hospital bill was making his way towards him, and that both he and his nephew were now homeless. This version of Wayne had literally never seen such a large sum of money all at once, from either cheque.

Hell, if Eddie decided to say fuck the man, he would downright encourage it. Wayne’s cheque alone, which had a much smaller amount on it, could still support the pair of them until he was Wayne’s age, and then some.

END SCENE

Deleted because Eddie crying felt off to me. Also, because I got a little too specific about the amount of money, and like, I’m in Canada almost half a century after the show takes place, I have no clue what the conversion rate + inflation rate would make it into, so I wanted to keep it as vague as humanly possible.

“…and the rest of the guys are helping Hopper set his house up, the Byers are moving in with him,”

“No shit? I’ve heard many a tale about Will the Wise, do I finally get the honour of meeting him?”

“I’m sorry,” interrupted Wayne, pulled from his relaxation with a start, “Did you say Hopper? Like Chief of Police Hopper? Is this a relative of his?”

Lucas shook his head, “No, it is Chief Hopper. He’s been undercover, but they pulled him out of it after the earthquake.”

“Huh.” was all Wayne could say.

Eddie was leaning over in his chair to see around Lucas, elbow on the wheelchair armrest so that he could prop his chin up on his good hand. He had an affectionate smile on his face as he said, “Uncle Wayne, he came by.”

“Did he?”

“He offered to get me waffles, remember?”

Pause. “That was Chief Hopper?”

“Sure was.”

Oh.

Wayne sat back, reeling, as the boys delved into a conversation about Dungeons and Dragons. He used to be able to recognize Hopper, with his large, wide, build and confident walk. The man that sat in front of them looked like skin and bones reanimated into a person, and had a wild look in his eyes, almost like a caged animal.

And since when had Hopper had a kid?

END SCENE

Deleted because I didn’t want Lucas and Eddie’s conversation to be about Hop. Also, I wound up rewriting this entire chapter because I didn’t put enough effort into it and it felt sloppy.

“We found more of your bedsheets from the upside down and used it like a trampoline and threw you through the gate.”

“You-?!” Eddie cut himself off with a strangled sounding noise. “How?!”

“The gate got bigger, took up the whole trailer. The hardest part was aiming for the mattress.”

After weeks of listening to coded discussions, strange euphamisms, and the bullshit fungus story, Wayne was pretty used to being confused. But right now, he was pretty fucking confused by what the Sarge just said.

But Eddie was giggling.

“Wait, how is this funny to you, we probably caused some internal damage!”

“Shh, don’t wake him up,” whispered Eddie between quiet giggles. “But I just, the image of you throwing me,” he didn’t finish his sentence, instead delving into more giggles.

“It really wasn’t funny at the time.” said the Sarge, but his voice was warm with humour.

“Whee!” said Eddie.

And then both boys dissolved into fits of quiet laughter, and Wayne figured the conversation was probably useless from there on out, and let himself drift the rest of the way off to sleep.

~

Eddie was going to be out of the hospital soon. This excited and terrified Wayne; he had been terrified when there was suddenly a child in his care all those years ago, but at least there were books on how to take care of children. He scoured the library for books on how to take care of someone who could no longer reach their own feet, but couldn’t find any that weren’t about senior citizens. He didn’t know if the same rules applied.

END SCENE

Deleted because I’m pretty sure that method of getting him out of the Upside Down would literally kill him. I really liked the “whee” though.

And retire he could do, with enough money to comfortably pay the bills as long as he wasn’t particularly extravagant. He did, however, invest in a good home insurance plan, having seen first hand the kind of destruction that came when Mother Nature sneezed.

Eddie was still in the hospital, and even if he wasn’t, he had only just graduated from wheelchair to walker, so Wayne was on his own in setting the place up.

Or so he thought, until a van pulled up in his brand new driveway.

His first thought was one of worry, seeing a tall and bulky man exit the driver’s side door, and he was frozen to the spot as he waited for him to do anything more than wave politely. Wayne had met with more than enough aggression in the past month from people showing up at his door uninvited, and was not looking forward to it in his brand new home.

One of the back doors opened, then, and a familiar swoop of hair hopped out of the van.

Wayne let out a breath of relief as the sight of the Sarge, dressed in his usual polo shirt, who waved energetically and said “Hi, Mr. Munson!” brightly.

Two women exited the vehicle as well; one lanky figure that he was pretty sure was Buckley, and another that he couldn’t place whatsoever.

“Hi Mr. Munson!” Yep, Buckley.

“Shouldn’t you be in school?” Said Wayne. He figured it was a more polite question than who the fuck are these people?

Buckley shrugged, a lazy grin decorating her freckled face. “I passed with honours. Got three acceptance letters already. I think I’ll be okay with skipping a random Wednesday.”

“I gave her the okay, too.” Said the driver of the vehicle, and oh this was the strange man who had delivered him the fungus story. “Don’t get used to it, kid.”

“Are you… her father?” Wayne asked, hesitating. Hadn’t he said his kid was fourteen? Eddie had been a lot shorter at the age of fourteen. And Buckley must’ve been a prodigy if she’d gotten three acceptance letters already.

The strange man barked out a laugh, and Buckley’s face pulled in on itself in a strange amusement. “No, just a cop. Special privileges.” He said.

END SCENE

Deleted in the rewrite. I kinda regret it now that I’m rereading it, though, it’s a more fun interaction. Ahh, the joys of self doubt. Although I did give Robin a gap year after this, so I guess it works out.

[silent-stories]

𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘

Pairing: Eddie x F!Reader

Summary: Wayne didn't trust you, until one night.

Warnings: angst, fluff, nightmares

Wayne Munson just wanted to protect his boy. And that's why he was so reluctant towards you.

It wasn't that he didn't like you, it was that he didn't trust you: after all the years Eddie had spent almost alone in school, you came in the picture. You, saying you cared about him, saying you were interested in the music he listened to and the books he read, saying you loved him.

It all seemed too perfect and Wayne just knew there was something wrong.

Not because he was a bad person, Wayne absolutely wasn't, but because he was afraid you were playing with Eddie's feelings. He was afraid that one day you'd laugh in his face and tell him there was no way a girl like you could ever love someone like him. An outcast. A cult-leader. A freak.

The worst part was that Eddie, on the other hand, was really in love with you. He could see it by the way he talked about you when you weren't around, by his loving gaze when you visited him at the trailer, by the smile that appeared on his lips whenever he mentioned you in a conversation.

Wayne was afraid Eddie would suffer when you left him.

Because he knew you would. It was just a matter of time.

After what had happened in the upside down, after Eddie had almost died (because yes, he knew the whole truth even if he had a hard time believing it at first) he often woke up due to nightmares.

Often he heard the bed creak as if Eddie was tossing and turning in pain, sometimes he heard him talking but never understood what exactly he was saying. He was probably calling your name, the name of girl he was in love with, poor naive boy.

Once, he opened the door to his room slightly, slowly and asked if everything was all right, watching the figure curled up on the bed, his legs drawn up to his chest in a defensive position.

Even in the dark he could clearly see that Eddie was shaking.

It was pretty obvious that no, he wasn't all right. He was far from it.

Eddie told him to go away, that he was fine. Wayne pressed for a while but Eddie didn't seem to want to talk to him. Finally he closed the door and went back to his room, hoping that giving him the space he wanted would help.

He wasn't sure if it had really helped him when he started hearing muffled sobs coming from his room.

He really didn't know what to do. Eddie should have talked to someone about it, vented in some way but he didn't seem to want to do it with him.

He didn't seem to want to talk about it even with you, his "girlfriend". Wayne had expected this too: You wouldn't be there for his boy when he needed it.

After that night, Eddie had locked the door to his room, so even if Wayne wanted to go inside to check, he couldn't.

One night though, Wayne woke up to a noise coming from the room next to his, from Eddie's room.

He sighed running a hand over his face, tired, knowing he was going to have another sleepless night and that Eddie would too.

Thar time though, he heard the door to Eddie's bedroom open and the sound of bare feet making their way down the hallway where the phone was hanging on the wall.

What the hell was he doing?

Wayne got out of bed and headed for the door to his room but, when he was about to open it, he heard Eddie's voice on the other side of the door and stopped.

He knew eavesdropping was wrong, but that didn't stop him.

"Hey, sweetheart."

Wayne realized Eddie called you. At two in the morning.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine." Eddie whispered, almost as that was all the voice he could get out at the moment.

"Yeah, don't worry. I just... I think I just wanted to hear your voice. I'm sorry, I'm sure I woke you up. Yeah, I told you I'm fine." Eddie muttered, if his words were to sound convincing, he was failing miserably.

He sounded like a kid scared by a thunderstorm, in moments like that Wayne wished Eddie's mom was still there with him, some things really would've been easier.

“No, that's stupid, I shouldn't even have called, you probably just want to sleep and not worry about my dumb problems. It's just…I'm tired, Y/N. I'm so tired and the nightmares won't stop and I… I don't know what to do. Every time, every night I'm there again and there are the bats and the lightning and- and It's hard to sleep without you. I'm scared Y/N. I'm scared they'll never stop, that I'll never be okay." Eddie sniffed.

Was he crying?

"But it's okay. I mean, yeah, I- don't worry and-" he probably stopped to hear what you were saying.

Were you telling him to go fuck himself for calling in the middle of the night? Were you trying to console him? Wayne couldn't know but either way, he didn't trust you. He had never done that.

"No. You don't have to. No, Y/N, no please, really, I-" Eddie stammered before silence fell on the other side of the door.

You hung up the phone. You hung up the phone on Eddie's face when he needed someone to listen to him and when he trusted you enough to call you and talk about how he was feeling.

Wayne knew it would end like this. You never loved Eddie like you said you did, you didn't even care about him or you wouldn't have hung up the phone. Maybe it was a joke all along, "make the freak your boyfriend, make him fall in love and trust you and then leave him when he needs it most and break his heart."

He knew how mean teenagers could be, they always managed to hit where it hurt the most. And, of course that's what you did with Eddie, you played with his heart that had already been broken too many times for someone so young.

He heard Eddie pacing nervously down the short hallway a couple of times, and just as Wayne was about to walk out of the room despite having no idea what to say, he heard the trailer door open and close.

Eddie went out. And Wayne wasn't going to let him spend the night in the cold or whatever that boy was up to.

The older Munson finally came out of his room and made his way to the door Eddie had disappeared through.

He opened it slightly and looked out, finding himself faced with the most unexpected scene he had imagined.

There you were, your car parked in front of the trailer, the door still open, and you were striding towards Eddie.

The sky was dark and moonless, only a few stars were visible, a nearby street lamp allowed the man to see what was happening.

Wayne leaned against the door frame, watching the scene a few feet away from him.

As soon as you reached Eddie you wrapped your arms around his neck and pushed him towards you, he immediately wrapped his arms around your body in a hug Wayne wondered if it could actually break any bones.

Eddie held on to you as if his life depended on it, squeezing the fabric of your shirt with his hands and closed his eyes, letting out a sigh of relief as he hugged you, as if having you there in that moment solved all his problems, as if Eddie was okay again just because of your presence.

"I'm here. It's okay, I got you." You said holding him, your voice soft and sincere.

That was the moment Wayne realized he was completely wrong about you, all along.

"You didn't have to come." Eddie whispered, not letting you go.

"But I wanted to." You responded by stepping away from him slightly, cupping his face with your hands and running your thumbs on his cheeks.

"I swear, you are something else." Eddie said with a slight smile. "Thank you for coming, really."

And Wayne, seeing you looking at Eddie as if he was the most precious thing in the world, wondered what had been on his mind every time he doubted your sincerity, every time he thought you didn't really care about Eddie.

You went there in the middle of the night because you knew he needed it, and he didn't even ask you. That was all it took to know that you were a good person. That you were there for his boy.

"I love you." He murmured before bringing his lips to yours in a light but affectionate kiss. Wayne had to look down, feeling he was slipping into a too intimate a moment.

"I love you too." You responded leaning your forehead against his. "And I'm here for you. I'll always be here for you, you know that."

"Do you- think you can stay the night? I understand if you can't- if you don't want to- I mean-"

"Eddie, I've come to stay. I wouldn't leave even if you begged me, right now." You reassured him.

He nodded, leaving a kiss on top of your head. "I love you so much."

You smiled grabbing his hand with yours, intertwining your fingers ready to reenter the trailer.

Your eyes met Wayne's still in the doorway.

Eddie's hand squeezed yours tighter as you reached for him.

"She's spending the night here whether you like it or not." Eddie announced to his uncle.

Wayne looked between you and Eddie, then back to you as you started to talk.

"I'm sorry I showed up here in the middle of the night but I can't leave now, I-"

"I'm sorry I didn't trust you." He finally admitted.

A surprised expression came onto your face.

"I was wrong about you, I was wrong from the start." He said leading you into the trailer.

Eddie smiled at his uncle's words.

"It's okay, I understand where all your resilience came from. Really, don't worry about it." You answered with conviction.

Wayne patted your shoulder. "You are a good kid, thank you for being here."

You smiled again. "You don't have to thank me. None of you have to."

Eddie put his arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer to him, up against his Metallica shirt he used to sleep in.

"We're going to sleep, uncle Wayne." Eddie said before heading to his room, dragging you with him.

You turned one last time to Wayne before disappearing behind Eddie's bedroom door. "Good night."

The man's gaze softened even more. "Goodnight kids."

Eddie was in good hands now, he always had been even when Wayne didn't know it.

You were always there, even when Wayne didn't know it. You were family.

Tags: @jacklesdeanvessel @morning-sky7

[sp0o0kylights]

Wayne takes in a Beat to Shit Steve Harrington after Starcourt as n Owed Favor to Hopper Part 4

Part Three: link

First Chapter (parts 1-3 on tumblr) on A03: Link

The kid was madder than a wet hen.

Just as slippery as one too, when he got like this--music pulsing like a living thing to signal all his rage and upset. 

Not like Wayne hadn’t expected it. 

He just wished it wasn’t quite so damn loud. 

The music had started up almost immediately after Eddie had stormed to his room, startling Steve awake and nearly making Wayne curse for it.

Normally it was a good thing--music meant Eds was willing to listen instead of heading for the hills.  

Normally, they didn't have a house guest who looked like he'd gone ten rounds with a bear.

They had a routine for this, was the thing and the music was a key part of it. It worked all the edges off for Wayne, and he'd long figured out that about thirty minutes was a the perfect length of time for Eddie to stew before he could actually talk things through.

Given the hand Harrington put to his forehead, Wayne wasn't eager to give him that thirty minutes.

Not when Steve deserved little peace he could have.

Unfortunately, so did Eds. 

Still.

 Strutting through the door and demanding to talk right now was a bad move and so, with a sympathetic look given to Steve, Wayne did what he did best

Gave space.

Let Eddie rage, as Wayne got up and shuffled about the kitchen.

Pulled out the soft earplugs he pretended weren’t there for Eds to steal (playing that damn loud guitar all the time could not be good for his ears) and offered them to Steve, before making two cups of what Wayne privately thought was the Munson “chitchat” drink. 

One cup of hot water, one packet swiss miss, a small amount of maple syrup drizzled in, topped with little marshmallows they reserved for these types of situations. 

Wayne took his time with it, thinking through what he wanted to say. 

‘I understand that this is a screen door on a submarine kind of situation...’ 

Nope. 

‘Son I know you hate listening to anyone for anything but this is serious...’ 

Absolutely not--that would end up with the boy bolting for sure. 

‘Ed’s, I love you but could we please turn Ozzy off while we talk? That man wails louder than any damn cat I have ever met.’

That one was purely self indulgent, mostly because the wall was starting to shake. 

Wayne put the finishing touches on the cocoa before staring at both of them. 

Perhaps if he stared the Garfield mug in its eyes hard enough, the right words would come through. 

They did not.

He kept trying, standing there long enough for the cocoa to reasonably have cooled and for Eddie’s song to flip over to something with more screaming in it than singing. 

Wayne supposed that this was the hardest part of being a parent. You just didn’t get to have the magical one liner. The right thing to say at just the right time.  

The joke that would ease all the tension and let things progress forward nice and easy.

Instead, you got to fumble your way through the dark with a flashlight up your ass and hope you were going in the right-ish direction. Ideally without making things worse. 

Wayne was here though, and that had to count for something. 

(Knew it counted for something--because Eddie was still here. 

They had cleared hurdles far higher than this when it came to trust. They’d get through this too, come what may. 

Steve too.)

“Can I just ask,” Eddie started, aggressive as always when Wayne finally gave in and entered his room, feeling all sorts of awful for the migraine Steve had to have, “what the absolute fuck is happening?” 

Sure as fire he was sitting on his bed, leg bouncing a mile a minute.

An unlit cigarette hung between two fingers, looking a little chewed on, but otherwise undisturbed--as it should be, because one of Wayne’s few rules was that smoke stayed outside the house. 

“You could.” Wayne said loudly but agreeably, as he turned himself around and dropped down next to his kid.  

Held out the Garfield mug, and was happy when it was taken from him. 

“Figured you might have other things to say, though.” 

Likely a lot of things. 

It was as good an opening as any, and his kid didn’t disappoint, launching right to it. 

“Why is he here and not at a hospital?”

 ‘Here’ was punctuated by Ed’s hand winging towards the door, and while it wasn’t the righteous fury Wayne expected, it was at least, an easy answer to give. 

“Steve has some people looking for him. Bad people. Hospital makes him an easy target.” 

Wayne was still talking loud. Could only hear Eddie himself because he was looking at the kid’s lips more than he was actually hearing his voice. 

Eddie took that in, swallowing it about as well as he’d swallowed anything he hadn’t liked. 

And thank the stars above, he finally reached a hand out and turned the music down. Not a lot--Steve wouldn’t be able to hear them over all this--but enough that Wayne didn’t have to struggle. 

“We’re hiding him from the cops now?!” Ed’s spat. 

“Cops know he’s here. Hopper’s the one who asked me to take him.” Wayne reminded him, because it was the truth. 

Not the full truth, but given how Ed’s pissed off half the local PD on a good day, Wayne absolutely did not want to see his nephew take on Federal Agents.

(Particularly not the kind who were going ‘round killing kids.) 

“So--what?” Eddie yanked hard on his hair, a gesture that looked less intentional and more like he was trying to fight his own anger down. “Hopper just called you up and said ‘Hey, we had a whoopsie with the rich kid, the hospital’s not safe anymore. Can we stash him with you for a few days?” 

Wayne nodded once, slow-like. 

Always remembered how too fast movements had made Eddie flinch and jerk back when was littler, and given the way Steve was looking, figured it was a good time to be cautious again. 

“He did.”

“And you just--agreed? Just like that!?” 

“I did.” 

He pretended not to see Eddie boggle at him at the simple admission, so furious that he seemed to struggle for words when he normally had too many to say. 

Wayne took advantage. 

“We did talk a bit more than that, I’ll admit.”

Ed’s scoffed. “About the weather I’m sure.” 

“‘Bout trust.” 

Eddie blinked at that. 

“Trust.” He echoed flatly. 

“What have I always told you? People like to ask you to trust them, but you they don’t get to have it until--” 

“They provide proof or a reason.” Eddie finished with an eyeroll. “So which did Hopper provide then?”

Wayne took a noisy sip of his coca. Smacked his lips a little before saying: “Both.” 

Didn’t bother to say anything else, because he knew Eddie would finish the thought for him. 

“One of them was me, wasn’t it.” 

Eds didn’t say it like a question, but Wayne hummed in agreement anyway. 

He wasn’t gonna shame his boy, but he wasn’t gonna sugar coat Eddie’s involvement in this either. Not when he’d already admitted that was half the reason Hopper had gone to Wayne to begin with. 

“No one is expecting Steve to be here.” He said, seeing the chance to hammer home the most important part of this entire shitshow. “So long as no one finds out he’s here, he’ll be safe. Everyone will be safe.” 

Steve from the Feds who were hunting him for while he was busy being involved in shit he couldn’t control and Eddie because he had a mouth that most people didn’t like. 

Not small town people anyway, and absolutely not authority figures with guns. 

“Who’s even after him?” Eddie was theatrical as always, hands waving away as he talked. “Did he make a deal with the mob? Piss off some other rich guy? I know it’s not anything drug related, I’d have heard about it by now.” 

After years of experience, Wayne knew exactly how far to lean away to stay out of range, too used to his nephew talking with his entire body.

“That’s his story to tell ya, Ed’s. It ain’t mine. Same way it ain’t my place to tell him your story.” 

That at least got the boy to think for a minute. Put down that frustration he carried with him all the time, and use the brain they both knew he had. 

“How long is he staying here?”

Wayne shrugged. “Don’t know.” 

Eddie sighed and mockingly mimicked Wayne, taking an obnoxious slurp of his cocoa. “The neighbors are going to notice if he’s here more than a few days. The trailer park isn’t exactly big.” 

“They didn’t notice that time you decided to make fireballs with the cooking spray and about blew up half the driveway. Don’t think they’re gonna notice someone being quiet in the house.” 

Eddie snorted, and probably rolled his eyes again, not that Wayne could see it given the kid was looking into his own mug as he thought it all through. 

Wayne sat with him as he processed. 

Eds worked at his own pace with things, and while life at large might be against that, Wayne was happy to let him do it. Found it easier that way, then trying to poke and prod and force him like so many father figures did. 

Wayne’s patience was rewarded not even a full minute later, when Eddie turned to him and asked; 

“What if he finds out?”  

This in a quieter voice. An unsure one--words and body hunching in a way unlike the Eddie the world outside knew, but very much like the little boy Wayne had brought inside his home. 

It took Wayne  a moment to connect the dots--he’d been speaking out of the place parents and authority figures often do, and in doing so hadn’t thought much of the fact his nephew had a real secret. 

The kind small town minds didn’t like--and would kill him over. 

This all wasn’t about Wayne taking in Steve, he realized abruptly.  It was that Steve being here meant Eddie couldn’t be himself. 

Could not relax in a place he was accepted for who he was, because Wayne knew and made sure Eddie understood he was wanted here, had a place here, regardless of who he loved. 

Now, Wayne had gone and removed it.

‘Shit.’ 

“He won’t.” Wayne said. 

Knew that wasn’t enough, and so, promised: “But if he does, I’ll make sure he understands his safety here relies on your own.” 

Ed’s chin jerked in a nod, the two of them sitting in silence for a moment before the boy did as he often did when he wanted a hug but felt too awkward to ask for one, and tipped himself into Wayne’s side. 

“Thanks old man.” Eddie whispered into his shoulder and not for the first time, Wayne wished things were easier for the poor kid as he put his mug in one hand and hugged his kid with the other. 

Hoped that in the future, it would be.

Even if he had to force everyone and everything coming after him--and now Steve--to do it.

(Wondered vaguely, how bad it was that he was already getting as protective as Steve as he was of his own kid.

Probably very, given his kid clearly hated Harrington.)

xXx

Wayne took the first night of Steve’s stay off.

He wasn’t the type to use his PTO lightly. Was used to rationing it for any possible thing Eddie might need him for.

A night up sick when he was younger, to a night spent chasing him down during some of their bad spots--but the last year or so Wayne had slowly realized he hadn’t had to use it much.

He was still careful with it though, precious as it was, and was thankful for it now as it ensured his nephew didn’t murder their house guest. 

Or at the very least, didn't sit there pecking at him.

The kid might've failed English a few times, but he had a real gift with words and an even better one with insults.

(Wayne wasn't quite clear on what all the "King" jabs were about, and absolutely did not get why Steve looked far more hurt at the comment about his "sad ass floppy hair" but given the increasingly flat look Steve was throwing Eddie's way, Wayne figured it couldn't be anything good.)

Thankfully a pointed reminder about Steve's injuries had finally gotten them all some peace, enough for Harrington to drop back to sleep--and for Wayne to realize he looked a little too dead while he did it to be comfortable getting any sleep himself.

The kids chest barely moved, and that it ate at Wayne’s until he got up and shoved a hand under his nose. 

Felt his breath, and told himself the poor sod was fine. 

Hurt, absolutely, but alive. 

Over and over again, until the sun had made its rotation in the sky, bringing the morning with it.

‘Better than nightmares, I suppose.’ Wayne figured, as exhaustion scraped at his eyelids.

Those Wayne knew, would come later. When Steve’s brain caught up to the rest of him, and stopping dumping survival chemicals through his battered body. 

He'd given up on sleep entirely sometime around 1 am, and now he sat at his small kitchen table, writing out a medication schedule for Harrington so he and the kid both knew when he could have his next Tylenol. 

Wasn’t even halfway through it before Eddie made his typically late appearance and blew through his door. 

Had his back up from the moment he’d stepped a foot in the kitchen and it didn’t take a genius to see he’d worked himself into a snit again.

Unfortunately for him, whatever scenario that imaginative brain of his had cooked up fell flat to the reality that was the poor kid on the couch. 

Steve Harrington was one a hell of a sight.

Didn’t help that he was doing his level best to make himself as small as possible, curled deep into Wayne's ancient couch.

The blankets covered the ribs and hid away most of the damage, but there wasn’t much Steve could do to hide the shiners on his face--or the marks around his neck.  

Not when they’d grown worse overnight, practically inviting questions.

It was almost laughable how quickly Eddie ate whatever words he’d prepared, mouth awkwardly chewing around them as if they were tangible. 

The less-than-sneaky looks he threw at the younger teen were equally amusing, and if Wayne wasn’t trying to peace keep, he’d have given in and chuckled when Eds split attention caused him to pour half his coffee into the sink rather than a cup. 

Looked utterly lost when, after finishing putting his coffee together and grabbing some junk food thing that absolutely was not a breakfast item, he came to stand awkwardly at Wayne's shoulder, openly staring as Steve blatantly ignored him.

Eds didn’t know what to do, and Wayne couldn't blame him. 

Seemed to keep thinking he was going to encounter a boy that likely no longer existed, and whose blood tinged specter just made things sad.

Shit like this, Wayne knew, took a man’s ego and warped it, shaping it to something else entirely. 

At least for Steve, it seemed that getting wrapped up in whatever mess he had had shaped him for the better, instead of pretzeling him into something worse. That, Wayne thought, spoke to the boy's character more than anything he’d done prior. 

(It helped to know what Hopper tolerated and what he didn’t. That he’d vouched for Steve in the same way Wayne knew he’d vouched for Eddie, even if Eddie didn’t yet realize the cop he antagonized so much would do that for him.) 

That didn't erase the history his kid had with Harrington, though.

Wouldn't stop him from seeing the old Steve, first.

‘Don’t you got school?” Wayne asked when he decided Ed had stared enough. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Eddie waved him off, trotting out the door. “Bye old man, house parasite!” 

It was clearly a jab, meant to nettle, but Steve barely acted like he heard it. 

Wayne rolled his eyes. 

“Goodbye, Eds.” He said firmly, much of a warning as he ever gave, and fondly watched his nephew scuttle out the door. 

Turned to see how Steve was taking things, and was once again given a reminder that Steve wasn’t doing a hell of a lot other than feeling his injuries. 

“I think I promised you a game, son.”  Wayne said gently, startling Steve out of the distant, dim look he had trained on the wall. 

It wasn’t a lot to offer in terms of a distraction, but it would have to do.

[mysticmunson]

between four walls (e.m.)

a/o/b: alpha!eddie munson x omega!reader

summary: when you disappear from school for a few days, eddie is a bit bewildered, until he has a sneaking suspicion.

warning: a/o/b, smut, language

an: hi friends, thank you so much for another follower milestone! i asked what you would like next and this won! i've been working on a/o/b fics off and on for a few months, i think its very fun so feel free to message me ideas about them for blurbs! all my love. xx elora.

The sticky air of Hawkins, Indiana made Eddie’s slovenly curls cling to his neck, likely getting tangled in his beaded, silver chain as his sneakers padded across the rubble. The last place he wanted to be was in Hawkins High, the fluorescent lights bouncing off the cream walls too poignantly and banners announcing peer events. 

He had always had a distaste for conformity, but after presenting as an Alpha, he clandestinely craved a sense of ordinariness. His toes pressed against the tip of his sneakers, his favorite leather jacket felt tighter, and his skin felt like the fizz on a freshly opened Coca-Cola. Sensations fluctuate depending on the day with his body attempting to steady itself as his mind tries to comprehend his new demeanor. 

While every day had been weird since that fateful day last month, his friends tried to maintain normality by focusing on Hellfire or acknowledging how his buff physique made him look menacing, but things had been slightly off with you. 

Every day you sat beside Eddie, even if he assured he wouldn’t be upset if you decided to relocate to avoid the relentless teasing he faced, but you stayed. After years of friendship, you chose to ignore any conflicted gazes, opting to enjoy your company. With satin ribbons in your hair, flowy, floral dresses that rest just above your knees, and your soft skin that always smelled like vanilla from your tube of hand lotion, he felt protective over you.

So when you moved from his left to the very end of the table, each inch felt like miles, cursing himself for feeling so intensely. Always admiring your beauty from a respectful distance, he adamantly maintained the friendship boundary, learning the line and fighting to take a step over.

As he sat in his math class, he awaited your arrival to your assigned seat at the second row of wooden desks, but the bell rang and it remained empty. This was the third day in a row, the first time you had even missed a full day, always finding some hidden strength to persevere through most of the school day. Hell, you often grilled Eddie on his lack of punctuality when it came to his education. 

The hairs on his arms stood up, his foot tapping relentlessly against the freshly waxed tile below, trying to rationalize your behavior and disappearance. Plucking the loose threads on his ripped jeans, he couldn’t bother to even think of equations. 

Your lack of communication had him on high alert, resisting the urge to confront you in fear of scaring you. He didn’t feel a need to worry about it until he presented, his voice dropped a tad lower, his facial hair growing faster which left him with consistent stubble, and his eyes felt sharper despite their baby-like softness. 

As class ended with Eddie not retaining a word of information, he looked at the double doors sending sunlight through, thinking how easy it would be to drive to your house and find out what was wrong. Why you hadn’t been answering his calls, why you weren’t at school, and why you even missed Hellfire. Granted, you didn’t know much about Dungeons and Dragons and usually just sat and watched, it felt peculiar to see your chair empty. 

Meanwhile in a quiet house at the curve of a cul de sac, you laid in bed wearing a shirt a size too big and underwear, leaving your mouth open to breathe. The fever encompassing your body added to your discomfort, tears selvage as your tired eyes stare at the wall, hoping that you would be back to normal soon.

Initially convinced it was a stomach ache, an awful flu that had you withering away in your bed, flustered as could be with clammy hands. But your gut wasn’t repulsed, it was the opposite, despite your body feeling like it was on fire as you laid in your bed, alone. 

It had been two miserable days since you presented as an omega, leaving you stranded with nothing to assist yourself. The clock only seemed to be moving slower as you could barely sleep without finding yourself in the depths of another dream, a dream of him.

“I’m glad we checked on you, you look like hell.” Robin joked, walking through your bedroom door with Nancy right behind. Even in your delirious state, you knew they typically didn’t hang out together, furrowing your brows. 

“Steve’s in the car waiting,” Nancy responded to your voiceless query, reaching her hand up to your forehead with a frown. “Shit, you’re burning up, have you gone to a doctor?” 

You shook your head, burrowing half of your face into your pillow with a deflated sigh, “I feel like shit and my stomach hurts, but not in a bad way, but so much that it is painful?” You stuttered in confusion, eyes hazy and unfocused. 

Robin fiddled with the various knick knacks in your room, lifting a pair of earrings to her in the mirror. Nancy stood back, looking at you with a thoughtful expression, rubbing her chin almost comically. 

“I also just want to call Eddie, but I keep feeling like I’m going to cry if I do. I talk to him everyday! It’s not my period either, I don’t know what's happening!” You exasperated, clenching your sheets closer to your chest as Nancy’s features clenched, sitting on the corner of your bed. 

Eddie had been your best friend for years and your longing crush for most of them. Conversations on the phone were routine for you, usually playfully arguing about something meaningless or watching a tv show while giving commentary. 

“Sounds like you're presenting, dude.” Robin laughed, turning around, only to be met with your fear filled face and Nancy’s “Did you seriously just say that?” expression that Robin had experienced frequently. 

With your parents being an alpha and omega duo, the chances they gave birth to one was highly likely, it was something you had expected. The days prior had left you anxious and exhausted, believing it just to be school related and nothing to note. 

“What?” You mumbled, sitting up, breath picking up as tears welled up, “Eddie’s an alpha, right? Oh my God!”

“Hey, hey! Calm down, you’re fine.” Nancy assured, pushing your shoulder gently back, looking at Robin for some form of support.

“I just want Eddie, but I-” You whimpered, hands coming up to your face before a random flannel was thrown at you from Robin. 

His flannel. 

His fucking red and black flannel he had accidentally left last weekend, you could’ve cried when you smelt it, the pain intensifying, but also blooming peace. 

“I don’t think that’s the best idea right now.” Nancy stroked your hair, even her heart breaking a bit at your muffled sadness. “Just try to relax, drink some water, and distract yourself. Okay?” You nodded, thanking them through the fabric in front of your face. 

As the girls trudged down the stairs, Robin looked at Nancy with a bewildered face, the front door closing behind them.

“We should tell Eddie! Apparently it’s fucking brutal the first time around!” She kept her tone hushed, Nancy sighing as she looked at the grass beneath our feet.

“She’s had a crush on him for years, Rob. What if something happens and it ruins their friendship? We have to let nature run its course. If she calls him, so be it, but we can’t be the ones to make that call.” Nancy sighed, opening Steve’s back seat door and piling in, Robin filing in the front.

The days for you were fairly torturous, only comforted by the smokey scent of the old flannel and the fantasies you entertained. Your mind began to run as you envisioned Eddie in all his alpha glory, which you hadn’t had the honor of seeing since he immediately goes into hiding when his rut hits.

His broad shoulders, firm grip that is free of rings since his hands swell, his plush lips cascading down your frame. The thought alone made you whimper, opening your eyes to glance at your pink phone, your shaking hands not even able to spin the dial. Your wooden bedside table felt miles away as you stared at it, tears pooling in your eyes at your helplessness. 

Part of you hoped he noticed your exodus while the other hoped things would go completely back to normal when you returned. The concept was naive, knowing there was no way you would be able to go back to a regular friendship with him, a thought that plagued you as soon as he returned to school after his first rut.

The front doors of the school couldn’t open quick enough, having not spent a week apart throughout your whole friendship. Even when your family would go out of town, you would call and talk on the phone as if he were right in front of you. 

His shoes squeaked against the freshly waxed tile of Ms. Green’s history class, Eddie strolling to his assigned seat towards the front. His chest was broader, thighs a bit thicker, and his face had a certain maturity that you didn’t recall. He turned over his shoulder, ignoring the stares from everyone else and locking eye contact with you, giving you a grin that you exchanged. 

When you walked out of class, he yanked you into a hug playfully, laughing in a huskier tone. For a moment you felt dizzy, shaking your head and pushing the unwarranted anxiety to the side. He was your best friend who you had seen shitfaced, crying at romcoms, and shared his bed when you didn’t want to go home. 

Things felt different though, never having been friends with an Alpha made everything novice. Each interaction with him made you shiver, feeling light headed with a subtle pain in your abdomen. So you forced space between you, keeping conversation to a minimum and avoiding him if possible. You assumed the pain would subside after a few days, but every time you tried to inch closer, it came crawling back.

In the solitude of your bedroom, your mind drifted to Eddie, starting with the curiosity of where he was or who he was with. Then the thought of him with someone to help him through his rut crept in, bringing a wave of sadness with it. Your feelings for Eddie were prominent for a long time, but you feared losing your best friend, choosing to have him as a pal than not at all.

You thought of him buffing up even more than when he was at school, remembering when you felt his crotch pressed against you when he scooted past, the prominent bulge gathering your attention. Envisioning the chance to touch him made your mouth water, trembling in your pajamas at the thought of his arms holding you and pressing his chest against yours. The way his dick wouldn’t fit your hand, having to use both to fully wrap around it and pleasing him. 

The idea anyone else did it made you feel sick, grabbing his sweatshirt he left over once and inhaling the scent. The seemingly innocent action made you feel like a pervert as his perfume lingered faintly on the cotton. 

Those thoughts felt like pure cotton candy to the ones you had now, of how he could walk in and do whatever he wanted and you’d love it. No matter what action he was committing, you would cry and beg for more. Even the idea of him being in the same room as you had you whimpering, twisting and turning with huffs of built frustration. 

Nancy and Robin stopped by a few times to check in on you, knowing you were too overwhelmed to make yourself food or get water. The school hours they had would usually sync with your nap time as you always woke at random moments in the night. Eddie had mentioned you to Robin that morning, wondering if she had seen you, which she attempted to deflect. 

“Why don’t you and Wheeler sit with my boys today?” 

Nancy almost killed Robin for saying yes, not because of Eddie’s reputation, but because she knew Robin was close to breaking. Always going soft after seeing you, saying how they need to just get you help and speed up this process.

So with sandwiches in hand, they sat quietly as the members of Corroded Coffin conversed about the latest Hellfire meeting. The younger boys were on a freshman field trip, conveniently leaving room for the girls to sit. Eddie snacked on the cold cafeteria food with lingering eyes on them, their skin crawling at the information they knew. 

Thankfully, the talkative nature of Gareth and Jeff derailed everyone’s attention, only noticing the 5 minutes left when Nancy took a glance at her watch as they went to throw away their trash. With freedom at their fingertips, it only seemed pleasantly ironic for it all to come tumbling down when Jason Carver appeared.

The potent bags under his eyes made him resemble a tortured Greek God, bronzed skin under the sun kissed hairs on his head. Eddie opened his mouth to begin his tangent, feeling his legs twitching to hop upon the tabletops, even though his recent development made him a bit calmer.

“Where is she?” Jason asked, not even glancing at the man beside him, locking on the girl's enlarged eyes. 

“Who?” Robin questioned, providing an awkward smile that made Jason scoff, wishing his skills developed enough to find you himself.

Jason was one of the other alpha’s at school, his rut helping him with sports and wearing it proudly on his sleeve. His progression made sense, fulfilling the family history of powerful alphas, but he had yet to find an omega to care for. Or even just to hold him over as most went into seclusion during their heats.

He wouldn’t have even known if a fellow member of the basketball team overheard the girls talking in hushed tones in the hallway, presuming no one could hear them over the sounds of chatter and clashing lockers. 

As if intended, the bell rang loudly, everyone standing to return to class. Jason kept his intense gaze until his friends yanked him away, pestering him for information about that night's practice. Eddie’s gaze didn’t waver as he looked at the both of them, smelling a tinge of anxiety on them, a convenient sense he inhabited. 

“You guys have 10 seconds to say why Jason Carver just said her name.” He responded with fraudulent tranquility, his black lunch pail secured tightly in his palm, holding his ground despite the varying rushing bodies beside them. 

After a moment of silence, Nancy found herself surprised at her lack of a quick rebuttal, something about the look Eddie was giving her making her freeze. It wasn’t one of infatuation, more akin to fear as his tensity remained.

“She presented!” Robin sighed, shoulders relaxing as if pounds had been removed from her chest. Her friend smacked her arm, watching as the man across from them went stagnant. Despite the fleeting deliberations, all the girls across from him saw was his clenched jaw and his eyes diverting to the spot you typically sat.

“As what? And why the fuck does Jason Carver know before me?” He gritted out, clenched fists glued at the side of his thighs.

The bell signaling class started went off, jolting Nancy and Robin from their subtle haze, trying to think of anything to divert his attention. However, Robin couldn’t stop thinking about how you were crying for him, that you would feel infinitely better if she just mentioned the slight detail.

“I don’t know how he found out Eddie-” Nancy snapped, becoming irritated with the theatrics, wishing she was just in algebra class for the first time ever. 

“As an omega!” Robin blurted, Eddie’s eyes widening as his fists loosened, “She presented and has been a mess! She’s too emotional to do anything, just wallowing away and whining for you.” The last part trailed off, but Eddie understood it clearly, his instincts that just were beginning to sprout commencing to full bloom.

With tunnel vision, he found his way out of the school, not caring if any teacher saw him. His mind was on you. You, who had been crying in pain for him for days and no one cared to mention it. 

The way to your home went by in a blur, glad he knew the route well enough to not maintain complete fixation on the journey. His respiring didn’t cease as he sped down the old roads, trying his best to avoid the potholes or random piles of trash. 

He barely put the car into park before he was racing up your driveway, putting his hand behind the potted plant at the right side of the maroon door. With the key in hand, he was soon in, putting it in the nearby bowl at the entryway table. The house was quiet, everything in a perfect state, making him remember your parents were out of town for the week. 

The aroma reached his nose like a tidal wave, unfamiliar yet agrestal as he saw the light glowing from under the door at the end of the hall. His socks hit the carpet as he yanked his shoes off, promenading down the beige carpet with small floral detailing. 

The door opened when his hand gripped the bronze handle, finding you asleep in an oversized shirt, curled in on yourself with his lapsed flannel. A warm spread across his chest and his groin, stifling the animalistic noise fighting through. Approaching you, he pushed the hair from your face, feeling the intensity of your fever on his shaking palms.

His scent made you stir, squeaking as your body searched for the touch with the twist of your neck. He trailed his finger down the bridge of your nose, noting the small pores he had never been able to see before, trailing to your cupid's bow. 

Your eyes fluttered open as he knelt beside you, cupping your cheek gently as if you were fine china. Your pupils were dilated, practically encompassing your whole iris, and he could feel your internal heat increasing with his proximity. 

“Eddie.” You mumbled, confused if this was a cruel dream that your hormonal mind was conjuring, but he smiled, his thumb brushing past your bottom lashes. Lunging forward without a second thought, you wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him on the bed, legs squirming with the growing discomfort between them.

As his body enveloped yours, he clenched his eyes tight, feeling the profound burst of testosterone. His stupor was interrupted when he felt a surge of wetness on his jeans, pulling away to see the slick that seeped through your thin cotton panties and to your mattress.

Wanting to avoid any embarrassment on your part, he smashed his lips to yours, keeping a steady hand on your jaw to maintain the pacing. There was no time to think about what you were doing or what your friendship would be after this, just the need to be close.

“You’re okay, I’ve got you, my omega.” He puffed as you whimpered, sitting up on his knees to pull off his shirt, initially going to throw it on the floor until you snatched it to bring to your nose. He plucked it out of your grasp with a teasing smile, putting it above your head beside your white pillows.

His hands found the hem of your shirt, inching it slowly up your body, revealing the skin he had been dreaming of. Discarding the old cloth, he stared in hunger at your chest as his hands grasped the mounds of flesh upon them. Wincing at your cry from the abrupt touch, simultaneously becoming harder beneath his constricting jeans.

Managing a way to strip them, he was left in boxers that did little to conceal his arousal, yet all his attention was on the sea between your legs. The fabric was so wet, the baby pink went to a darkened tone, making him rip them off.

“Oh, this cunt is just drooling for me, isn’t it?” He chuckled, running a finger through your folds before slotting it between his lips. Gasping, you reached to grab him, which he obliged. His lips met yours like slotted puzzle pieces, shimmying off his last article of clothing.

“Alpha, please.” You mewled, eyes wide as your lips hung open as he grabbed his length. The growl that escaped was impetuous, your nipples skimming across his milky chest, his hand stopping your jaw from when you tried to look downward.

“You’re okay, omega- Shh, it’s okay. Take a deep breath.” He says softly, thumb stroking across your scorching skin, applying slight pressure.

He had always been well endowed, but after his presentation, things became more intense, especially when he was aroused. Eddie thought the idea that alpha’s couldn’t be with beta’s because it was dangerous was just dramatics, but when he came to full hardness with his knot in place, it made sense.

The last thing he wanted was for you to see him below right now, knowing your brain was already scattered and that he didn’t want to scare you. As an omega, your body was made for this, it was begging for it. It just took a little getting used to. 

His tip had barely probed your walls before you winced, clutching onto his shoulders like a lifeline. Though he knew you were in slight discomfort, something brought him amenity knowing he was going to help you feel much better.

Protruding further in, he slowly rocked his hips back and forth, pressing wet kisses to your skin and savoring the essence coming from it. He thought he could become high on you alone as you basked in his own scent, feeling as if it coated you from head to toe. 

“Feelin’ okay?” Eddie mustered, jolting his head back slightly when you started nodding profusely, making him chuckle and go deeper.

“You f-feel so good, so so good. Y-your cock,” You cried out, the tears tumbling down with mixed moans, “You’re so pretty and so n-nice to me, s-so nice even when you don’t-t have to be, which is so nice of y-you.” 

“Baby,” Eddie’s chest constricts and he smiles down to continue, only realizing he had inched his way fully inside when his balls bounced against the swell of your ass. A loud moan that vibrates within his chest comes out, making you grip to him more securely. 

“S-so big and full, so full, I don’t want you to leave, please.” You whimpered, hand reaching to feel his hair, “You m-mean so much to me a-and I l-love you. Thank you, thank you.”

“Sweetheart, shh, it’s okay.” He coos with a huge grin, almost laughing with how precious you are to him right now, “I love you too, I’m not going anywhere.” 

The first orgasm you experience hits you like a sucker punch, his words of affirmation being the final straw, shaking like a leaf against his firm chest. Your mind goes blank as you let out a string of noises, feeling the way he feels inside you in such intense detail. Your eyes reopened as you whined at the pain still persisting, which Eddie was mere moments away from solving.

He never thought he’d be able to see you like this, not even as an omega, just in general. Your iris’ so wide, he could see his reflection down to the small lines next to his lips. It felt so natural to be inside you, to be protecting you and fulfilling your needs. The thought that Jason Carver almost made it here made his blood boil, thrusting sharply out of instinct, before focusing on you.

“Want you cum, Eddie, want your cum, alpha. Please, please, please! I’ll be good and do whatever you say, you can do whatever you want to me, just, please!” You cried out, sending Eddie to his final straw, his knot snapping loose with a potent moan. 

Sublime existed within you, he thought, his mind going completely blank as he pumped you full of his release. Your sobs had turned into subdued mewls as your body felt relaxed for the first time in days, clutching to Eddie with your face in his neck.

Groaning like an old man, he managed to roll onto his back with you still attached and startled by the movement. “It’s okay, just get comfortable, sweetheart.” He murmured, yanking your blue quilted blanket over the both of you despite the sweat, already expecting your come down to be reasonably harsh.

To say Eddie wasn’t the best student was valid, but he did pay attention in health class, learning the dynamics of alphas, omegas, and betas. There was something so intriguing about it to him, thinking it was intricate enough to be a part of Dungeons and Dragons, when a brave warrior saves a helpless civilian. 

Even back in the freezing classroom, he felt his heart clench at the explanation of omegas while some tried to joke about it and laugh. Describing the genuine distraught they endure if they’re without a caretaker, a toy being a last resort because of how much emotional support they would need afterwards. 

Alpha’s could get away with going solo, a bit pent up and lonely, but nothing like omega’s who became practically helpless. For an auxiliary learning experience, they played a video of a female omega in heat for the room for pre-presenting 18 year old boys. There wasn’t any sex, but it was how emotional she became after just a few minutes, only finding peace when a man came in and picked her up, her alpha. They played one of an alpha, but the pretense didn’t last nearly as long as he could smell out his omega in the room from the start.

The worry that you had been in here for two days plagued him as you took deep breaths on his chest, his knot gradually diminishing. He squeezed you tighter unintentionally, angry that he didn’t know sooner, that he didn’t realize it or that no one told him. 

“Look at me.” He stated, a bit too sharp than intended, your obedience falling into place as your chin rested against his chest. Your cheeks were still wet, sniffling as the aftermath endured, looking with distressed eyes.

“Don’t wait to call me, okay? It doesn’t matter if you’re embarrassed. You could’ve hurt yourself.” He exaggerated, regretting his tone as soon as your lip began to wobble, “Hey, sweetheart, hey. It’s okay, I’m not mad, I just don’t want you to be in pain, okay?”

You nodded as he rearranged you both, his length slipping out, much to your dismay. But the need to nest festered within seconds as he went to go get you both drinks and snacks, grabbing his shirt and flannel. Even his jeans joined the pile as it surrounded you, nuzzling into the cotton of his top, toes flexing in delight. 

He entered with some water, granola bars and bananas, somehow remembering they were a positive supplement for after a heat even though he forgets his own house number sometimes. Chuckling at the sight, he sat against the headboard as you shuffled into his side, curling up. Holding the cup to your lips, he swiped the spare stream that dripped down your tongue before drinking some himself.

Handing you a piece of the fruit, he opened his snack, but kept his attention on you as you looked downward. His fingers found the loose strands of hair by your ear, stroking them rhythmically as you finished and handed him the peel. You both sat contently as the wrapper and peel were thrown into the bin, but he could feel the slump of your frame, assuming you hadn’t got much rest the past few days. 

“Go to sleep, omega, I’ll be here. You’re safe.” He assured, scooting farther down so you were both lying on your backs, wrapping his arms around you. 

The sleep was like no other before, instantly submerged into tranquility of varying levels, Eddie being exhausted and waiting till you were out to fall. While you slept, your body still buzzed with nerves, still coming to terms with the new elements surfacing. 

Stirring awake in the dark room, you rubbed your eyes and smelled the pheromones exuding from Eddie’s sleeping body that you could now process. The discomfort between your legs surged with wetness, worried you would wake him and he would be displeased at how early it was. The red clock blinked at 5:43am, the sun wasn’t even beginning to show.

Mistakenly peering down at his boxers, your mouth watered at his bulge, feeling an encompassing need to see it. You wanted to press kisses all over him, around the coarse hairs below his belly and sucking on his tip to taste his arousal.

Eddie woke up to quiet fussing, feeling you twist against his chest and look up at him, shocked to see his eyes opened. He could see the guilt right on your face, to which he silently shook his head with a smile, stroking your head. 

“Alpha, ‘m sorry, I need your c-cock, please.” You begged, wiggling down to his waistband, pulling out his half hardened length, “S-so big.”

He knew he only had a few minutes before you wouldn’t be able to have him in your mouth anymore, becoming too thick for your throat, so he let you indulge in this. You wanted this, he could see the drool dripping down his shaft as you sucked him, but he also knew this wasn’t going to do anything for you emotionally.

“My pretty, sweet, omega.” His voice coaxed in a morning gruff, “Can have this for just a minute, okay? Did so good yesterday, so proud of you.” 

He saw your eyes haze over, eyelids drooping as you hummed around him, his hips resisting the instinct to snap forward. Your repeated suckle made him thicker, unbeknownst to you as the action only soothed you, ignoring the growing pain between your legs.

His hand intertwined with yours as he looked out the slit of the curtains of the window, the orange rays of the sun just cresting the Earth. Something about waking up before sunrise felt forbidden, like the world wasn’t awake yet, that this was stolen time. Time where only you and him existed.

The ache of his knot began to form as he reached down to pull you up, only to hear a yelp. He flinched, looking down to see your wide eyes with his dick between your lips. He forced his growl down to not give you mixed messages, only raising his brows and curling his finger up to him. 

When you failed to do so, he lifted you despite your begs, laying you down and hovering over. He hushed you, feeling himself throb against your pretty thighs, ones he definitely wanted to explore more when you weren’t as sensitive. If he were to love on them now, he thinks it’d feel more cruel to you than anything.

You wiggled beneath him, faint pleads escaping your lips as his scent covered you, not being able to comprehend all the feelings that swarmed you. Eddie managed to throw off his boxers, caging you in beneath him as his necklace trickled on your sternum. One of his arms went downward, grabbing the base of himself and giving a few tugs.

“I know what you need, omega.” He gritted, his tip sliding between your silk-like folds with ease, making him shudder. Somehow this managed to calm you down slightly, knowing he knew what to do, even just based on pure instincts.

Slotting inside you, he shut his eyes and moaned, your wetness helping to aid the size of himself. Your moans may have been considered singing if anyone heard the way they flowed together and he wondered if it just sounded that way as your alpha. 

“Alpha, please, need your knot. Need so many.” You begged, breaths shallow as your body began to shake, already succumbing to your first orgasm. He couldn’t help, but chuckle at you, nuzzled into the crevice of your neck as he kissed the skin softly.

“My sensitive girl.” He mused, pressing himself further to rub at your clit, making you jolt. His speed increased as he felt himself growing impatient. He could last longer than this, he knew that, but he wasn’t going to try and prolong it, especially when it helped make you feel safe.

“I’ve got a rule, omega,” Eddie began, your eyes wide like saucers as you looked up, “You have to come twice every time I knot, okay?”

Your petulant whine sounded through the room before he hushed you with his own lips, his hand going between your legs to rub at the bud of nerves. Your legs shook profusely against his hips, not expecting the added pleasure that left you speechless. 

“Come with me, baby. Gonna fill you up, give you my knot.” He growled, gripping onto the headboard to thrust faster than before, “Fuck, need to fill you up. My omega.” He watched as your tits bounced in rhythm, your orgasm sneaking up on you.

His knot shot into you with velocity, covering your walls completely as you mewled, coming for a second time as your back arched. Eddie thought he almost dented the metal headboard, his hands a mix of red and white as he let go, twitching from the intensity his body was encountering.

Peering down, he saw your eyes shut, mouth opened as you caught your breath with just the tip of your tongue poking out down the middle. He smiled, pushing the hair from your face and kissing you. His knot was still throbbing as it deposited completely within you, hoping he’d be able to keep doing this. Now more prepared for when he rolled onto his back, you just adjusted to be comfortable, hoping he wouldn’t get soft too fast and you could continue this close.

The first presentation was usually a false heat, it has all the same symptoms, but there is little chance of pregnancy. It was one of the reasons he wasn’t too paranoid about giving you his knot, since that is what sedates omegas, but he didn’t want to be too risky. His heart bursted as you settled in his arms, wondering what would happen after your heat was over, trying to assure himself you wanted him. You whined for him and he wasn’t going to let that go.

The next few days consisted of waking up, having sex, Eddie cooking for you, and naps. It was like a slice of heaven in four walls, embracing the affection you were both giving each other. 

He had gone back home once to grab clothes, cigarettes, and some notebooks to work on his campaign and music. He had given Wayne a call the first day, saying he was out for the night, but would be back home soon. He hung up before he could hear the response, but knew he’d have to face his uncle eventually. They were close, practically father and son, but they weren’t open in that nature.

He pulled up to the trailer, seeing the familiar truck in the dirt in front, taking a deep breath before stepping on the damp ground. Opening the door gently, he spotted his uncle asleep on the recliner as the news played softly on the TV. Going straight for his bedroom, he shoved as much as he could in his duffle bag.

Truthfully, he was missing you more than he wanted to admit. It was only minutes, yet, he felt a pain in his chest that you were alone. He did wait for you to fall asleep as you tried to act okay with him departing for an hour, untangling your arms and legs from one another. 

How he managed to quickly pack his bag with minimal noise was a mystery, but he was grateful, hoping to utilize whatever freetime he had with writing or planning. He even brought some extra shirts for your nest as those were your favorite and his jeans kept rubbing weirdly against your cheeks. Racing to the front door, he had almost escaped as his grasp reached the handle.

“Where were you at and why aren’t you in school, boy?” Wayne grumbled, not even bothering to open his eyes as he laid back. Something about his demeanor could make him seem laid back, but he meant business when it came to Eddie’s future and he didn’t want to add another senior year.

“It’s excused.” Eddie responded cooly, mentioning quickly that he stayed at your home, leaning against the door and rocking on his heels. His nonchalant attitude made the older Munson open his eyes, looking with a squint as he adjusted to the light and to whatever game he thought his nephew was playing at.

Awaiting the explanation, Eddie imagined the ground swallowing him whole, teleporting him back to your cute bedroom with frills and stuffed animals. But no, he was standing in front of his uncle, who was in no mood for shenanigans after an exhausting shift. 

“She presented. The school excuses both, uh, parties.” Eddie mumbled, the rubber of his shoes touching as he looked down at them, not seeing the way the man in front of him straightened up. 

Humming in response, Wayne sat in thought as the boy refused to make eye contact, unsure as to what his reaction would be. How does one react to something like this?

“Takin’ care of her? She’s a sweet girl, always liked her.” Wayne mused, making their eyes finally meet. While the question could’ve been interpreted in a more vulgar way, he knew what he meant. Meant that he was actually taking care of you as an alpha should, not just to get laid.

“She is and yeah. Feeling better now, didn’t get help till two days after. She asked for me.” He trails his words with pink cheeks, kicking himself for saying too much, but Wayne gives a small chuckle. Not at what he said, but at how much Eddie’s demeanor reminded him of when he was young.

“Alright, alright. Standin’ here looking like a prisoner, go.” He laughed, not really needing any other information as Eddie left within a blink. 

The drive back to your house was tortuous, practically smelling you on his clothes in a way that became addicting. With little shame, he inhaled in his shirt deeply while at a red light, the car behind him eventually honking to send him forward.

It was crazy to him that yesterday morning felt so long ago now, that the conversation with Nancy and Robin wasn’t even 24 hours ago. He knows news is never expected fully, but this took him by surprise and made him feel less guilty about getting off to the thought of you during his rut. 

He wondered if that’s why you popped in his head no matter how many times he tried to distract himself, your pretty face dewy as he fucked into you at a, seemingly, unforgiving pace. His hands all over your body and you reacted instinctively to them before he filled you to the brim with his knot.

The thoughts ran through his brain until he pulled in your driveway, grabbing his bag and the spare set of keys that used to reside behind the large flower pot. The muffled sounds of music could be heard from your boombox as he stepped inside, kicking off his shoes. Jumping over steps until slipping on the edge, he caught himself by the rail, puffing with annoyance.

A whine rang through his ear like church bells, adding to the ache between his legs that he hadn’t noticed before. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you immediately lit up at his presence, holding open your arms. Plopping down the bag, he dramatically raced towards you while crouching and swooped you into his arms with a laugh.

Litters of kisses were left on both sets of skin, feeling an overcast of warmth as you returned to each other. He only pulled away to drag his bag closer, rummaging through it before lifting up an old Hawkins crewneck sweater, slipping it on you over your large shirt. You practically melted at the way his scent took you, shrinking your head, arms and legs until you were in a tight ball within it. 

“Glad you like it, baby.” He chuckled, kissing the patch of your hair that peeked through as he unloaded some of his clothes. It was almost comical how little articles he brought, knowing that most of their days would not involve clothing at all or would only be on long enough to be taken off. 

Putting it in a neat pile by your dresser, he dug in his bag to see the condoms made specifically for alpha’s, dreading the fact he would need to wear them soon. He decided to keep it hidden, not wanting to upset you when you weren’t using them yet. He could hear the soft snoring from the tucked away ball on its side, biting back a large grin.

Shimmying off his clothing besides his royal blue briefs, he molded himself around your frame and lifted the blankets over top. He felt your arms wiggling before a practically inaudible whimper as it dawned on him that you couldn’t feel the arm holes in your slumber.

“Goofball.” He mutters to himself, unable to help the smile and pink cheeks as he uncurls you to bring to his chest. Your lips puckered briefly against his peck, the subconscious kiss making him want to squeeze you in joy. He liked existing inside these four walls with you.

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[artiststarme]

Steve’s parents kicked him out one afternoon. After being gone for months and ignoring their son, they came home one random day with anger on their mind and words of vitriol on their lips. They spewed hateful slurs and rants of disappointment before warning him to be out before dinner. His pleas and promises fell on deaf ears as they immediately went back to ignoring the son they never wanted in the first place.

But Steve didn’t have anywhere to go. He could have gone to Robin’s but her parents wouldn’t want him there and it would probably be awkward for her. He could’ve hidden in the Wheeler’s basement like El had way back when but he didn’t really want to cohabitate with his ex and her parents. No, it was better to spare everyone the grief of having him around.

It wasn’t a surprise when he found himself at the edge of the quarry. His feet were dangling on the edge and the knuckles on his hands were bruised from fights. With a cigarette between his lips and a beer in his hand, he thought to himself, ‘would it even matter if I jumped?’

It really wouldn’t, would it? He was just a side character in everyone else’s story anyhow. The kids would be fine without him, Robin would move on, and his parents probably wouldn’t even notice. Hopper was gone, the Byers had moved away, and not many people liked him beside them. He wasn’t a friend or a mentor, he was only a bother kept around to protect the kids when the world fell apart. No one needed him around anymore. After that revelation, it wasn’t a will to live that kept him seated on the edge but only a desire to finish his last cigarette.

When the cig was burned down to the filter and his beer was drained dry, Steve stood to his feet and looked into the distance. This was it for him, the end of his story. He lifted his foot and…

He might’ve jumped had it not been for Eddie Munson’s freak antics. The man appeared seemingly out of nowhere with haphazard pulls and tackles. He bodily hurled Steve away from the edge and frantically rambled in a way that would only rival Robin’s word vomit. The comparison confused Steve enough in his forlorn state to be thrown into a smelly van filled with marijuana and screamy rock music.

And when Steve finally caught a glimpse of the man’s long curly hair, ringed hands, and long throat, his mind stopped working.

Did he get kidnapped? Yes.

Did it cause him to have a sexuality crisis amidst everything else? Yes.

Did he eventually get an unexpected boyfriend out of the deal? Also yes.

Perhaps his parents kicking him out was the best thing that could’ve happened to Steve. He moved in with Eddie “the kidnapper” Munson and his parental Uncle Wayne that took Steve under his wing immediately. He evolved from his darkest thoughts and started thinking of the future. And when the Upside Down came around again, he was approaching it from the best headspace he could. Through it all, he had Eddie by his side and he’d appreciate that for as long as he had him.

[plistommy]

Eddie Munson’s house (With some details!)

[jaebeomsbitch]

Best Friend's Kisses (E.M.)

Summary: After seventeen long years of friendship Eddie decides to fulfill a ten year old promise. Something whispered in the middle of the night. He gives you the best gift of all.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem! reader, really only mentioned like two or three times

Mid-twenties Eddie and reader. Mechanic! Eddie

Warning: Slight smut at the end, talks of insecurity, making out, flirting, swearing, and melancholy reader. MINORS DNI!

AN: This is only my third fic on here. I'm still trying to understand the formatting.

Eddie Munson had been your friend since you met him on the playground in third grade. He had defended you against some asshole kid who tried to take away your toy. Pushed him to the ground and yelled at him, you’d been inseparable since then. You saw each other through the awkward phases of becoming teenagers, watched him struggle through high school, and then eventually graduate.

Now you were both in your mid twenties, still having movie nights at the Munson’s every Friday after your shift at the record shop. You had a chance to leave, to go to college in New York but you turned it down. Not that you told Eddie, you didn’t want him to feel guilty. Truthfully you did stay for him, afraid that he might break without you but, did he really need you?

Eddie was an incredible sweetheart, making friends left and right with whoever would listen to him. It seemed like anyone that had a chance to really talk to him could see beyond the rumor around him. He was surrounded by people who loved him. Sometimes you regret staying, maybe you could’ve become something. Maybe you could’ve gotten a good degree, move your parents out of this shitty town but you were afraid.

The truth being you use Eddie as a crutch, you always had. Hiding behind him, gripping onto the back of his shirt as he yelled at another person for you, cleaning him up after he fought with a guy for groping you, Eddie was your protector in a sense. So you stay, stay in the shitty down you despise, wallow in self pity for being a fucking coward like you always are, and spending your days drinking or getting high with Eddie and his friends.

Today was a special day, Eddie had gotten a job at a mechanic shop. He always said that when he got his first paycheck he’d buy you something really special. He’d jump around from job to job until he found Earl. Earl was the only person who truly gave Eddie a chance.

“Honey, I’m home,” He jokes, walking into the trailer. Already expecting you to be lying on his bed when he comes home like you always are. He walks in shoulders hunched, face covered in grease stains, and hair knotted. “Gonna take a shower, then’ll be back. Got something exciting for you sweetheart,” He smiles, grabbing the pile of clothes you left on the foot of his bed ready for him. “Toodaloo,” he wags his fingers behind him as he exits the room.

Oh god what did he get you? Eddie had a reputation for going overboard, always saying he had to spoil his ‘princess’ because you were his longest friend. Always rambling about how you deserved the world for sticking by his side. Steve and Robin like to tease him, poking fun at your friendship. Always whispering, “you’ve never thought ‘bout it?” with their questioning gazes. It didn’t matter what either of you said, they never believed you. They could see the way the tips of your ears turned red or the way Eddie silently threatened Steve.

“I feel so much better,” He sighs, throwing himself next to you. He cuddles into the pillow, throwing the sheets over himself. “You forgetting something?” You laugh.

“Oh shit, sorry. M’tired,” He mumbles, eyes open wide. “Just go to sleep, Eds. You can give me whatever it is tomorrow,” You whisper. Trying to lull him back to sleep as you massage his scalp. “No, been waiting forever,” He murmurs, eyes blinking slowly. He must’ve been really tired for him to forget dinner. Eddie was never one to skip meals, always saying they were his favorite part of his day. You watch him sleep, he looks so peaceful with his eyes closed, his lips slightly parted. It isn’t until you hear the phone ring that you move your hand from his curls.

“Hello?” You whisper trying not to wake him up. “Oh hey! I was expecting Eddie,” Steve says on the line. “He got home and fell asleep immediately, I was just about to make dinner. What’s up?” You ask.

“You sound so domestic, like a housewife,” Steve chuckles.

“Yeah, yeah. Hardy har har.” You roll your eyes leaning against the wall.

“H-has he given you the present yet?” He asks out of nowhere.

“No, he just said he had something for me then fell asleep two seconds later. I don’t know what he did today but he skipped lunch. You know how unusual that is for him,” you say slightly concerned.

“It’s just… he loves you a lot you know?” Steve says, his voice sounding a little weird.

“Yeah and I love him too,” You reply quickly, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Just… keep that in mind, I’ll see you tomorrow,” He says.

“What wh-” He hangs up. What the fuck was that about? Of course you’d see Steve and the gang tomorrow, it was your weekly get together with the adults of the group but this felt weird. It almost felt like something monumental was supposed to happen today.

You try to shake away the feeling, looking through the fridge to see what they have. Cheese and tortillas, the ones you brought from home because you ‘accidentally’ bought two packs. You make quesadillas like you’ve made all your childhood, they were quick to make and easy for Eddie to eat while he’s half asleep. He had this miraculous way of waking up, eating, and forgetting that he even ate when he woke up.

“Eds… Teddie,” you whisper, gently shaking his shoulder until he groans. He gained the nickname after a long night of calling each other annoying nicknames, you saw your childhood teddy bear and instantly thought of Eddie. Just like it, he brought you comfort and he was also the person to give it to you. Claimed he won it in a claw machine for twenty five cents but you knew he had saved his money for weeks to buy it for you. You'd seen it at the store when your mom dragged you shopping for your sister's new clothes.

“I know, I know, baby. Just eat and you can go back to sleep okay,” You whisper, sitting on the ledge of the bed next to him. He slowly blinks, turning toward you as he scratches his neck languidly.

“Come on, eat,” You show him the plate but he still blinks at you not understanding. So you feed him like a sick child, watching as he takes little bites and tilting his head forward when he needs a drink. “Go back to sleep,” You whisper, kissing him on the forehead as his eyes close again.

Steve was right, it all felt entirely domestic. You’d never treat him, Robin, or any of your other friends like this but Eddie, he was special. Your heart clenches at the idea, always longing for Eddie in a way you know is not possible. Always afraid you’d ruin your seventeen years of friendship, afraid you’d lose the one person who made you feel comfortable. You’d always cuddled with him, he was overly touchy with you to the point that everyone thought you were together. You were always off limits to the other guys in Hawkins, only ever catching the eye of passersby. You fall asleep, thinking about all the should haves and could haves.

The sun filters through the small crack in the curtains hitting you straight in the face. You look around the room, remembering you fell asleep next to Eddie. His arm is around your waist, head buried in your neck, hair tickling your nose. You try to stretch as much as you can while being basically pinned down by Eddie.

“Ten more minutes,” he mumbles, pulling you closer.

“You slept for sixteen hours already,” you snort.

“Not enough,” He nuzzles into your neck.

“You gotta stop that or I’m gonna piss myself,” You say, trying to pry his arm off of you.

“Do it, you wouldn’t dare,” He challenges.

“No I wouldn’t but seriously, I gotta go!” you say more urgently.

“Fine, but you jump right back in bed the minute you finish,” He bargains.

“It’s almost one o’clock, I am not staying in bed,” You protest, still pulling at his arm.

“Either way you still owe me a present,” You say.

“Oh shit, I forgot,” He says, finally letting you go. You run to the bathroom to take care of yourself, peeing and brushing your teeth. You’d had a toothbrush right next to Eddie’s since your first sleepover, he always took charge of changing it out every couple of months.

“So what’s the plan for today?” You ask, rummaging through his closet.

“Eat, present, meet Robin and Nance and 'em,” He says, standing up from the bed to join you. He picks up a pair of black jeans, his favorite because “they fit him the best and they make his ass look good,” according to Eddie. It was warm out, you could already tell by the heat in the trailer so he picks out a cutoff tee that shows off the sides of his ribs if he moves a certain way. He didn’t know this was your favorite shirt of his. He always looked so fucking hot with it on, his tattoos peaking through the side, his midriff exposed at the corner of your eye. Well if he was going to play that game you needed a better outfit, no band tee for you.

You search through your overnight bag for the black lacy cami top that usually leaves him speechless and a pair of shorts. He looks at the outfit in your hand and gulps.

“Great, I’m starving,” You wink at him as you walk by. What the fuck were you doing? What has gotten into you? He might’ve just been thirsty or something. There was no guarantee he even noticed what you grabbed or even cared. When you come out dressed you hear Wayne’s voice to the right of you talking to Eddie about his job.

“Good…afternoon!” You greet them.

“Finally decided to wake up I see,” Wayne says, eyebrow raised. He wasn’t judging you, he liked to tease but he knew how hard Eddie and you worked. He always treated you like a dad, more than your own father. He was protective and caring in his own way.

“Blame Teddie,” You nudge Eds in the ribs.

“You know I need my beauty rest,” He says, flicking his hair.

“Maybe you need to sleep longer,” Wayne’s eyes light up, teasing Eddie.

“Some sleep would do you good,” Eddie says, tone more serious. Wayne had been picking up more shifts lately, you had hardly seen him the last three weeks.

“I’m already as pretty as I’ll get,” Wayne grumbles, not liking Eddie’s concern.

“Weren’t y’all ‘bout to get food, c’mon get,” Wayne pushes you both out, slamming the door behind you two.

“He really is overworking himself,” You sigh as you climb into Eddie’s van.

“I know, that’s why I’ve been taking longer hours at the shop. Just want to take some burden off the old man,” He says, eyes focused on the road. You both sit in silence on the drive to Benny’s, thinking about how stuck you felt.

You wanted to help Wayne in any way you could but you still weren’t making enough money. You rented out a room from your parents because according to them the second you turn eighteen they weren’t supposed to help you anymore. Even if you wanted to leave you couldn’t afford the lease. You remember all those nights with Eddie, dreaming of the day you finally became adults so you could become independent.

“We’re here,” Eddie says, snapping his finger in front of your face.

“Fuck, you scared the shit out of me,” You jump, hand clutching your chest.

“What’s got you so spaced out?” Eddie asks, during the short walk into the diner and into your “designated” booth.

“Nothin’” you say, playing with the salt and pepper shakers.

“C’mon tell me what’s on your mind,” He pushes.

“I just wish I could do something to help Wayne out,” You sigh, not looking up at him.

“Me too,” He says, taking the pepper from your hand and playing with it. You didn’t expect the heavy atmosphere but thankfully it's broken when Doris comes over with your drinks. You always ordered the same thing, every week.

“Here’s your cola’s, just put in your order,” She smiles.

“Thank you!” you beam at the sugary beverage.

“There’s something magical in these sodas I swear,” You moan, as you gulp it down.

Eddie’s looking at you through his eyelashes, tongue swiping at his bottom lip.

“Yeah tastes pretty good,” He observes, voice deeper than normal and pupil’s slightly blown out. You make conversation over your pancake breakfasts, talking about shitty customers and bonding over telling them to fuck off. The tension from earlier is gone as Eddie promises he can scarf down his food in less than ten minutes.

“I never said you couldn’t do it, I just said it wasn’t worth the upset stomach I know you’re gonna have,” You say, walking toward his van.

“Well it was worth it,” He gives you a toothy smile.

“Now for the big event,” He says, as you both get in the van.

“Big event?” You question.

“Got you a surprise, something I promised you a long time ago,” He says, staring into your eyes. There’s something there you don’t recognize, his gaze looking different. You wrack your brain trying to decipher his riddle. What did he promise you? He had made so many promises over the years, pinkies intertwining each other as Gareth made fun of your childish ways.

“Okay…” You look at him suspiciously.

“But, I’m gonna need to blindfold you,” He says, eyes full of mischief.

“Ooh kinky,” you wag your eyebrows at him. His eyes slightly widen before he snaps out of it and grabs a scrap of fabric from his door.

“Turn around for me sweetheart,” He mumbles. You can’t help but slightly shake as he places the opaque fabric over your eyes, his hand brushing the back of your head as he knots it in place. The entire act felt all too intimate, your heavy breaths in the silent van weren’t helping either.

“Can you see anything?” He asks, presumably waving a hand in your face as you turn to sit straight.

“Nothing, scouts honor,” You say, raising two fingers.

“You weren’t even in the scouts,” He laughs, turning the key in the ignition. You don’t know what direction you’re heading in.

“Oh my god are you gonna murder me? Been playing the long con? Get me comfortable so I go without protest,” You tease.

“Oh yeah, gonna chop you up in the forest in the name of satan,” He says dramatically.

“Sounds ‘bout right,” You laugh, as he pulls to a stop.

“We’re here, just give me a second” He says, opening the door and rounding the car to open yours less than a second later.

“Wrap your arms around my neck princess,” He says, carrying you out of the van and placing you on your feet.

“Woah,” You grab onto his arm as the dizziness sets in.

“You alright?” He asks, concerned laced in his voice.

“Yeah just give me a second. M’dizzy” You say, gripping harder onto his bicep.

“Take your time,” He says.

“I’m ready,” You say after a minute. “Okay, just follow my voice. It’s a trust exercise,” you can hear the smile in his voice as he leads you. “There’s like three steps, just take ‘em slow. Here’s the first one,” He says, stopping so you can get your footing. He leads you up the last two, “Before you take your blindfold off… just, I don’t know. J-just I don’t even know how to explain it,” He says, voice full of nervousness.

“Eds, I feel like I've been blindfolded for an hour. If this is another prank I will fucking kill you,” You threaten.

“Not a joke, promise,” He says, “Ready?”

“Been ready,” You answer. He takes your hand putting something cold in it and leaning over your shoulder to see the knot. You blink at the sudden light, trying to grab your bearings.

“W-what?” You asked confused. He’d placed a key in your hand, you were standing in front of a house.

“We always promised we’d move out together, it was time for me to bank it in,” He smiles.

“Wait, what?” You still couldn’t believe it. It had to be some sort of joke, he probably found this key on the floor.

“C’mon open the door,” He nods his head in the direction of the lock.

“You’re serious?” You ask, eyes wide in shock.

“As a heart attack. C’mon! I’ve been waiting for months to show you it,” He says, pressing you to open the lock. Your hands shake as you approach the door, the key surprisingly sliding in and turning. Oh no he wasn’t lying, this wasn’t an epic prank. You open the door to an empty living room, his hand guiding you inside.

“I haven’t picked out the furniture yet, thought you’d want to do it together,” He stammers, as you silently scan over the room. It was nice, the entrance opened to the living room, to the left was an open floor plan kitchen, and to the right a bedroom.

“T-together?” You stutter. You were speechless.

“I know how much you hate living at your folks home and you know we made that promise that we’d move out together when we had the money,” He says scratching the back of his neck. He was nervous at your lack of response, did you hate the house? Maybe he should have consulted you first.

“So you and me, living together?” You question, taking in every single detail.

“Yes, just you and me. Maybe Wayne but I doubt he’ll leave the trailer. He’ll finally have a bedroom again though,” He trails off.

“Holy shit, this is for real?” You ask again, walking around the living room toward the kitchen.

“Oh my god how many times do I have to say yes. Did I tie that blindfold too tight? Not enough oxygen in your brain” he chuckles at his joke. You jump into his arms, legs straddling his waist. You hold onto him like a monkey as he grabs your thighs.

“This is the best present ever! Holy shit, Eddie,” You say hugging him close.

“Least I can do for your long years of serving me loyally,” He laughs, walking deeper into the house. You slide down his body as he pulls you through, giving you the grand tour. The house had three bedrooms total, apparently he got an insane deal on the property. Someone from the shop got a huge opportunity in Indianapolis and was trying to get rid of it. They passed down the title to Eddie instead of going through a broker.

“Now this, I think may be your favorite part,” He says, pulling you toward the back door. Your hands entwined, which was not unusual for you both. He opens the door to a beautiful garden, the previous owners must’ve loved this place. It was full of flowers and fruit trees.

“There’s a perfect shady spot to read your books, we could put a table out there and have breakfast together,” He says.

“Holy shit Eddie, it’s perfect,” You say, pulling him in for another hug. He’s bent at an awkward angle to meet your height. Without thinking you peck him on the lips before letting him go and walking down the steps to the garden. You look back at him still frozen in that weird position.

“What’s wrong?” You ask oblivious to what you had just done.

“D-did you just kiss me?” He asks, running down the stairs to meet you halfway down the yard.

“T-that was-” You stutter, realizing what happened. He towers over you, hand tilting your face upward as he kisses you again.

“This okay?” he mumbles into your lips. You move your hands to his shoulders, nails digging into the skin. “Mhm,” You agree, trying to pull him closer. His tongue swipes against your bottom lip with a groan, his kisses becoming more desperate. You open your mouth inviting him in, his tongue mapping out your mouth as you moan. “F-fuck,” You breathe out as he pulls away, kissing down your neck. You’d never been touched like this by Eddie, his hands running all over you anguished for a piece of skin to grab onto. He leans his forehead against yours, as you both catch your breath, his hands under your shirt on your hips.

“W-what was that,” You stammer.

“Been wanting to do that since middle school,” His breath ghosts over your face as he leans back to look at you, skin flushed and chest rising rapidly.

“Since fourth grade,” You laugh, throwing your arms around his neck to pull him down to your level.

“That long?” He says incredulously.

“You were my first crush,” You admit, face flushing at the confession.

“You were mine!” He says, voice raising in astonishment.

“So we could’ve been doing that for fuckin’ years?” He says more to himself than you.

“Guess so,” You shrug your shoulders.

“No wonder everyone thought we were dating. You made the goo goo eyes at me I made the goo goo eyes at you,” He laughs.

“That was your fault! You always had an arm around my shoulder or were holding my hand. Anyone would’ve thought we were together!” You reply.

“As if you didn’t love it. Don’t think I didn’t see the way you look at me when I wear this shirt,” He teases.

“So you admit you did it on purpose?” You ask, smacking his chest.

“Course gotta make you all nervous,” He pecks you on the lips.

“Well don’t think I don’t notice all the times you stare at my boobs especially when I wear this,” You motion to your outfit.

“I fucking knew it! You’re a temptress y’know that?” He growls, pulling you in for another kiss.

“Anyway, I was always touching you because I didn’t want anyone hanging around my girl,” He mumbles at his admission, neck and cheeks flushed.

“Your girl?” You question, eyebrow raised.

“Always have been, always will be,” He reveals.

“You don’t know how many girls I had to fight off,” You chuckle.

“No way! I had to fight off half the town. You don’t even know how many fist fights I got into because of you,” he says.

“Girls are a lot more vicious. You know there was always a rumor going around about you,” You divulge.

“Oh yeah?” He motions for you to go on. “Always heard you had a big dick,” You reveal before hiding in his chest. You feel his chest vibrate as he laughs, “Wouldn’t you like to know?” He teases.

“Yes I would,” You say, gaining confidence. You look up at him, the way his chocolate brown eyes are swallowed by his pupils. He pulls you in for another kiss, this one faster and more aggressive, it almost felt primal.

“Finally!” Robin cheers from the door, Eddie groans at the sound. He forgot he called them while you were changing. Steve, Robin, and Nancy scramble down the stairs giving you both congratulations. Gareth, Jeff, and, Grant arriving a few minutes later. Eddie’s annoyance dies down when he sees your face loving the way you laugh around your friends. You spend the rest of the afternoon drinking and eating take out with them. Nancy had brought a board game, this felt like home. Having them all here, Eddie's arm wrapped around you as he kisses your temple. You were finally home.

Eddie was finally yours and you were finally his. All your internal struggles and insecurities paid off. You had won the big prize at the fair! You spend the night on a blow up mattress with Eddie, eventually popping it because he has no control. After years of waiting you both felt more than desperate, clawing at each other's clothes.

“Shit- shit shit! M’close,” You moan.

“Fuck me too!” his eyes roll to the back of his head, thrusting in and out at a brutal pace.

“Say you’re mine, wanna hear it,” He begs.

“M’yours, always yours,” You claw at his back. “Yes yes yes yes,” He rambles until you’re both seeing stars. He pulls out of you, pulling you to his sweaty chest.

“This has to be a dream,” He exhales, staring at the ceiling. You kiss his chest in response. It was all too real. Your dreams had become reality. You finally had Eddie in your arms. You were his and he was yours just like you both promised when you were children.

[call-me-eds]

Lecture

Masterlist

Eddie x Reader

Wayne walks in on something..unbecoming. He has a special relationship with you, but now all of that is out the window.

“You live under my roof, Boy, don’t you forget that! Your mother is probably rolling over in her grave right now, she taught you better than to disrespect a home like this. Jesus, Ed, that is where we prepare food!”

You were in the bathroom looking at your cheeks grow redder by the second in the mirror while your boyfriend got chewed out, deservedly so. Eddie told you that Uncle Wayne wouldn’t be home for hours. “I barely see him nowadays now that he got himself a girlfriend,” were the exact words out of his mouth.

It wasn’t the first time you ventured out of his bedroom for a quick romp, but it was the first time you got interrupted. Sure, Uncle Wayne would flick the outside lights on and off a couple of times when you and Eddie were taking your time saying goodbye, or he would make a comment about keeping hands above the blanket when you three were watching one of his nature documentaries, but that was different, all innocent.

Now, everything has changed. Eye contact was out of the question for at least a decade, if you even worked up the courage to go back to the trailer before then.

Uncle Wayne made you feel like their home was yours, too, and you took advantage of that. Sleepovers were allowed, as long as your parents knew where you were. You had a standing dinner invitation, and he even picked up a bottle of hot sauce for you after you asked if there was any in the cabinets just one time. It had become such a place of comfort that you felt free enough to undress and let Eddie defile you right there on the counter. And the worst part about it was that it wasn’t even the first time.

Your body almost folded in on itself when you heard Eddie fighting back with him.

“I told you I will clean it-”

“Oh, I’ve seen your version of clean, and that’s not going to cut it. Bring Y/N home, and when you come back, I don’t want a peep from you for the rest of the night.” Eddie was 19, almost 20, but he was being spoken to like a child. God, Uncle Wayne raised him from childhood and now he saw him hunched over you, hips moving against yours faster than his uncontrollable mouth.

Silent most of the time, it was the loudest expression you had ever heard come from Uncle Wayne when he walked inside. You had almost been too overtaken by pleasure that you didn’t even hear him. Almost. That shout would haunt you for the rest of your life.

Eddie grabbed on to you even tighter, moving you behind him swiftly. This wasn’t happening. There was no way. It had to be some sort of twisted nightmare you got from eating too late again.

“Come on, man,” Eddie groaned, hands cupping his now exposed self.

“Oh my God,” you whimpered, crouching behind him, hoping that if you shut your eyes tight enough you might just disappear.

““I just want to come home after work and relax and this is what I get greeted with! In my own house!” Uncle Wayne yelled through eyes squeezed shut. “I am going to go outside, count to ten, and everyone better be fully clothed.” The door didn’t even have time to click shut before you were sprinting to the bathroom. Eddie started to try and talk you down, but Uncle Wayne kept true to his word and was back inside, yelling for Eddie to get out of his room.

“Take a shower and get changed, okay? I’ll handle it,” he said, rubbing your arm reassuringly before pulling on boxers and a t-shirt to do damage control in.

Getting in the shower, even if you didn’t use any of their limited hot water, was out of the question. You wouldn’t use a single amenity the Munson’s offered, and in fact were trying to think of ways to escape so you wouldn’t even need to use the front door. While you spun around, hoping a window had been added in the 30 minutes since you were last in the bathroom, a knock made you jump out of your skin.

“Sweetheart? Want me to take you home?” Eddie’s low voice came through the door, offering a way out as if you hadn’t heard Uncle Wayne demand it from him. You opened the door and Eddie smiled to try and console you, but a whimper came from your mouth still. He just nodded in commissary and put his hand on your back, leading you to the scene of the crime. Not seeing the witness was almost worse than facing him.

“Where did he go?” you whispered like he might jump out at any moment.

“Smoking,” Eddie said. Only when you became a more regular fixture did the boys take their habit outside. There was still an ashtray on the coffee table, but if they just had to indulge they did it where the smell wouldn’t sink into your clothes or their furniture.

The deep breath you took did nothing to calm your nerves as you stepped outside. For just a second you thought it would be better to see him not in direct lighting, but it just made his aura more ominous.

“I’m sorry, Mr.-”

“Oh, I haven’t even thought about what I’m going to say to you, yet. Get on home.” You nodded and put your head down, rushing toward the car.

“That was totally unnecessary,” Eddie huffed.

“I was going to tell you to be back in 30 minutes, but make it 15,” Uncle Wayne bit. Eddie must have felt your pleading energy coming from you, because he didn’t answer back for once and just climbed in the van, where you were curled up as small as you could get in the passenger’s seat.

Normally, you would wave until you were out of sight, and Wayne would wave right back. Having each other’s presence around was comforting, and you both knew how much it meant to Eddie. It was unexpected, but you developed a special relationship.

“I can never step foot in there again,” you said, shoving your face in your hands, skin still hot. Eddie put his hand on your knee, and it’s usual comfort just made you feel even more shame. “Did you see the way he was looking at me? He hates me,” you swiped under your eyes and Eddie clocked your movement instantly.

“He does not hate you,” Eddie assured. “Me, maybe. But he’ll be over it by the morning, I swear.” You grumbled your disagreement and grabbed his hand, holding it firmly for the rest of the drive.

“Come on, Doll,” he separated from you to climb out of the car once he pulled up to your house, but you pushed him back into his seat gently.

“No, you have to get home,” you sighed, looking at your watch.

“He wasn’t serious about that,” Eddie rolled his eyes. “I can spare a minute to walk you to your door.”

“Please, it’s fine. I don’t want you to get into any more trouble,” you begged. He went to fight, but saw how your glassy eyes were filling with tears and your lip wobbled.

“Okay,” he sighed. “I love you, please don’t worry about this. It’s kind of funny,” he smiled.

“It’s not,” you sniffled, although you appreciated his sentiment. “I love you, too,” you kissed him quickly and scampered up to your house, itching to shower off the humiliation.

“It has been two weeks, I promise you he isn’t going to be weird.”

“I am going to be weird! I can’t face him!” Eddie drove right to the trailer after your dinner date, and you were threatening to yell out kidnapping claims.

Eddie had been to your house almost every day in the last two weeks, and you had your intimate moments in your locked bedroom or his car under the sheath of night. Going to the trailer wasn’t an option, and you made that clear; you didn’t even call for fear of Uncle Wayne picking up the phone.

“The longer you avoid him the worse it’ll get. I have to live with the guy, and you’re much braver than I am,” he said, basically pulling you out of the car.

“He used to change your diapers, it’s different,” you locked your legs but he grabbed your biceps, lifting you up and carrying you to the front door. “Eddie, please, please, I am begging you. I’ll watch any movies you want for a month, two months!” you bargained desperately, but he wouldn’t hear it.

At first, he thought it was weird how much you liked to be around his uncle, and vice versa. Initially he was convinced that you were both just being nice to each other to appease him. But then he realized just how similar you were; it was gross. The situation was more messed up than one of those guys that dated someone like their mom, he was dating his uncle.

Having you separated was even worse. Uncle Wayne had been forcing Eddie to listen to his rants about work and you had been so upset and anxious it was making him feel horrible.

“You’re going to be fine,” he said, opening the door with one hand and keeping a supportive grip on you with the other.

“No, no, no,” you grunted, trying to grab onto the doorframe to stay outside. Eddie nudged your foot with his, not unlike he had the two fateful weeks ago.

You were in the small kitchen, heating some water for tea. Warm hands slithered around your bare waist and dipped under the band of your shorts.

“Hi,” Eddie breathed in your ear. There was a smile on your face in half of a heartbeat. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” you giggled. He rubbed his nose against your neck and snaked his ankle around yours, tugging slightly so you were in a wider stance.

“Turning me on,” he mumbled, lips sinking into your skin.

20 minutes later, you were crouched behind Eddie, wishing you could sink into the floor.

“So you didn’t forget where we lived, huh?” The gruff voice you would have made a deal with the devil to avoid greeted you as Eddie forced you inside.

“Hi Mr. Munson,” you mumbled, fingers twisting your bracelet so rapidly Eddie thought it might break.

“‘Mr. Munson,’” he scoffed. “I don’t remember telling you you couldn’t call me Uncle Wayne anymore.” He had always been soft spoken, but you never recalled a time where you struggled to hear what came out of his mouth. Finally, you looked up and found that his cheeks were aflame as well, and the label on his beer bottle was picked clean off.

“We’re going to hang out in my room,” Eddie said, making you jump. You almost forgot he was there, you were so focused on his uncle.

“Hell no, you’re not,” Wayne laughed boisterously, animation coming back to his body. “You’re going to go to the store and get the batteries for the smoke detector that I gave you money for a week ago.” It was no question that if you had been at the trailer in that time the errand would have already been done, the beeping of the low battery already bothering you.

“Why didn’t you remind me before I went to get Y/N,” Eddie whined.

“Because she’s going to keep me company here.” Your heart fell into your stomach, and you thought you might pass out. This was your worst nightmare.

“I can just go and get them,” you quickly offered. “What kind? I’ll just get a bunch of different ones. Give me your keys,” you demanded of Eddie.

“No, no, my nephew can go. This is as painful for you as it is for me, Honey, let’s just get it over with,” he grunted, sitting up a bit in his chair.

“I’ll be back in ten minutes,” Eddie promised. If today was the day he decided to start following traffic laws, you were going to break up with him.

Once the door shut, there was nowhere to divert your attention to. You took as many small steps as possible to the couch, hoping to delay the inevitable awkward conversation. Maybe if you apologized and promised to never come back, Wayne would take it easy on you.

Before you could give that plan a try, though, he started to talk.

“You know how much I love ya,” he said, kicking things off in a much different direction than you thought it would go. “You’re good to Ed, you help out around here no matter how much we tell you to stop, and you’re respectful.” That last word stung.

While you knew your home life was privileged and your childhood was infinitely more peaceful than Eddie’s, that didn’t mean you and your parents were immune to arguments. You were a young adult, after all. The Munson’s trailer provided a safe space for you to escape. The small home was packed with love and comfort, it quickly became your favorite place to spend time.

“But you are a young lady, and I don’t want to see you get in any trouble. Eddie’s mother was too young when she had him, and I won’t have him be stuck in the same cycle.” You wouldn’t believe it if you weren’t seeing it, but he was getting choked up. “He’s a good boy, and he would give everything up if you got into a situation, but I do not want that to happen. And it would be even worse for you, the way people talk. You both deserve to have the freedom to do whatever you want in this life, and I don’t like that you’re doing all of that but I know I won’t stop you, so just, be safe. And for God’s sake, keep it out of the kitchen,” he finished his speech, sitting back in his recliner and taking a long drink from his beer.

Uncle Wayne wasn’t going to ban you from the residence, or shame you, or even judge you. He was looking out for you both.

“I am still, so so sorry. I never meant to take advantage of your kindness.” He had to have heard the sincerity in your voice, it was almost shaking.

“How I treat you isn’t conditional. That boy is my son, and you are like a daughter. I wish you would both get that through your heads,” he sighed.

“Oh,” you breathed out. Never had you seen him be so straightforward with his emotions. That was where he and Eddie differed. You knew instantly if Eddie stubbed his toe or felt dissed by someone in the band, but Wayne played his cards extremely close to his chest. He had laid it all on the table now, though, nothing left to say.

You had to clear your throat so your next words wouldn’t get stuck as you tried to force them out. “And we are always safe, for the record.” He waved his hand and focused his eyes on the TV flickering.

“Well I know you have a good head on your shoulders. I wonder about that boy, though,” he grinned, making the tension from your shoulders release all at once..

“Oh, he means well,” you smiled. A few minutes of silence, not as terrible as you thought it would be, went by before you spoke up again.

“Uncle Wayne?” He turned to you and quirked up the side of his mouth, encouraging you to go on. Eddie made the same face, and you were happy to imagine him at Wayne’s age. “You didn’t, uh, see anything did you?”

“Oh, Jesus,” he shuddered slightly and the color returned to his cheeks. “I would have let a tool slip at work and rip my eyes out. At least then I would have gotten some workman’s comp,” he joked.

“I guess I would have had to come take care of you then, huh? Eddie can barely remember to pick up batteries.” Speaking of the devil, he walked back inside with a pack of batteries and a soda.

“If that ain’t the truth,” Uncle Wayne smiled.

“What?” Eddie asked, handing you the cup and flopping on the couch next to you. He raised his eyebrows, asking if everything had gone alright. You weren’t outside crying like he half expected you to be, so he guessed it went well. Once you leaned forward and kissed him briefly and gently, his worries melted away.

“Nothing. You have to change that battery, though, it’s driving me nuts,” you said, pushing him off of you.

“I don’t know how to do that shit,” he shrugged right as another piercing beep came from the machine.

“Come on, I’ll teach you,” Uncle Wayne said to you, grunting as he stood up. You nodded, grabbing the step-stool and climbing up, getting ready to listen to Wayne’s instructions. He reached down to pull Eddie up by the shirt. “It won’t kill you to learn this, too.”

“That’s what I have you two for,” he grinned, allowing himself to be dragged along.

“I have to put up with him, legally. Why do you do it, girl?” he asked you. Before you could give a sweet, cheesy answer, Eddie got the brilliant idea to offer his opinion.

“Well, I think you saw why.” Your gasp was right in time with Wayne’s palm meeting the back of Eddie’s head.

“You’re sick,” you scowled, ripping the batteries from his hand.

“Shameless,” Uncle Wayne shook his head.

“Kick him out, I’ll take over his room and even keep it clean,” you teased, sliding the battery into place and snapping the cover back on.

“When can you move in?” he asked, offering his hand to help you down.

“I think I liked it better when you two weren’t speaking,” Eddie said, almost regretting bringing you back together. He’d never admit it, but your relationship meant a lot to him, too. His two favorite people.

[finntheehumaneater]

I owe you a black eye and two kisses (part four)

(Part one) (part five)

playlist | pinboard

Steve pulled Robin’s Madonna shirt back over his head, running a hand sideways through his hair, but it just flopped back over. His sneakers were still bloody, the laces stained. He hadn’t slept anymore after what happened outside with Eddie. His lungs still burned. His lips still ached. 

He tied the laces of his sneakers, sitting down next to the door to the trailer, ignoring the way his hands shook. Wayne was sitting on the picnic table, watching Eddie struggle to drag the mattress out of the back of his van. Steve would have helped him, but when he had asked Eddie had snapped at him, saying that Steve didn’t need to show off and make him look bad.

Steve sat down next to Wayne, watching as Eddie fell flat on his ass in the grass, pressing his face into his hands. Wayne smiled slightly, a look of sympathy on his face, and Steve looked back to Eddie.

“Kid’s too proud for his own good,” Wayne muttered, nothing but fondness in his voice as he grabbed a cigarette from his pocket. Steve hated the way his cheeks flushed when he saw it. Wayne must have caught him staring, because he held it out to Steve, an eyebrow raised in question, and Steve shook his head quickly, trying to give him a polite smile. It came out more strained than he would have hoped.

After watching Eddie trip again, the mattress barely moving, Steve got up, his sneakers crunching on the rocks in the dirt beneath him. He ignored Eddie’s quiet noise of protest as he stepped next to him, grabbing the end of the mattress and turning it sideways up on himself. His arms hurt. He pulled it out and then leaned it against himself, loving the way that Eddie’s cheeks turned bright red, his eyebrows furrowed. “Where are we putting this?”

“Fuck you, Harrington,” Eddie bit out, pushing into Steve’s shoulder as he passed, the door of the trailer slamming shut. Steve’s shoulders dropped slightly, and he flinched slightly when he felt Wayne’s hand on his shoulder.

“S’okay, son,” Wayne said quietly, the cigarette pinched between his teeth, sticking out the side of his mouth. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Steve still felt like he had. Normally people didn’t get mad at him when he helped out—they thanked him and then moved on. And honestly? Steve wasn’t expecting a ‘thank you’ for Eddie. He would’ve been fine without them. He didn’t help just to be thanked anymore, that’s not who he was. “I was just trying to help,” Steve whispered, eyes glued to the screen door of the trailer. Eddie had closed the wooden one, too. 

“He was trying to impress you, I think,” Wayne said thoughtfully, squeezing Steve’s shoulder lightly before letting go. “Say—you wanna run an errand with me? You seem good at lifting things.”

Steve froze slightly, perking up a bit. He would do anything if it meant having to go over to Dustin’s right about now. Because all Dustin would do was scold him for being reckless and going somewhere without telling him. “Yeah. Yeah, sure.”

“Great,” Wayne muttered, giving Steve a small smile before motioning for him to follow him inside. Steve did, and it felt good to be in the cooler trailer, even if it was only cooler by a small amount. The air conditioning didn’t really work there, he had learned, which is why the wooden door behind the screen one was usually kept open. 

Wayne led Steve to the closet near the small kitchen area and opened it, pointing to a couple boxes on the top shelf. They were all labeled Antoinette. Steve wanted to ask who that was, but Wayne had a sad look in his eyes as he stared at the boxes. So Steve kept quiet and grabbed the boxes down, stacking them gently on top of each other.

“Takin’ these to the Antique store ‘couple miles from here,” Wayne explained, tearing his eyes away from the boxes. He scrubbed at his face for a moment and sighed, taking a drag of his cigarette and shaking his head when he breathed out. “You can load ‘em into my trunk.”

Steve picked the top box up. It wasn’t really heavy. Wayne could have easily carried it. But Steve got why he was being invited—this was too much of a personal thing for Wayne to do alone. And if this was making Wayne emotional, then Steve didn’t think Eddie would want any part in this. Still, he felt weird as he took the boxes to Wayne’s car. He didn’t even know this woman—and he was assuming this was her stuff that they were selling—and yet he was being trusted with her belongings. 

When Wayne went back inside, probably to grab the last box, Steve opened the box he had just set in the trunk. There was a dress in there—white and pretty and expensive looking. Old, too. It was fraying at the hems and there were a few light stains on it, but other than that it was beautiful. And to Steve, the disrepair made it even more beautiful. He lifted it up, and pressed between that and an old looking bible was a small porcelain bird—yellow-ish orange, green designs that looked like leaves wrapping around the wings, two little black dots for eyes. It was only an inch or two big, Steve thought.

He picked it up, turning it over in his hands. It was pretty, too. Kind of shining in the sun.

“Like that?” Wayne asked quietly, and Steve startled, his grip tightening on the dove statue. His cheeks went pink and he felt horrible. He stuffed it back into the box, placing the dress down and closing the cardboard flaps back down.

“I—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude—“ He stuttered out, but Wayne silenced him with a slight shake of his head.

“S’alright. M’not mad. You like it?”

Steve nodded, wringing his hands together. His palms were warm. “It’s pretty.”

“It’s from Georgia,” Wayne said, his voice oddly soft to be talking about a small porcelain bird. “It was her’s. Antoinette.”

He patted his hand against Steve’s thigh once and Steve stepped aside, letting Wayne reopen the box, a slight tremor to his hands as he picked up the dress and handed it to Steve, lifting up the dove. 

Wayne’s hands were shaking so much, now, that Steve thought he might drop the bird, so Steve gently took a hold of Wayne’s wrist, steadying his hand. “Who was she? Antoinette?”

“Someone special,” Was all Wayne answered as he pressed the dove into Steve’s hand, wiping his eyes. “Keep it.”

“I can’t—“

“Please, son. I couldn’t bear the thought of this goin’ to someone I don’t trust.” Wayne begged quietly, and Steve nodded, gently stuffing the bird into his pocket. His eyes were watering, and he didn’t even know why.

“I’ll keep it safe,” he promised, letting go of Wayne’s wrist. 

Wayne nodded. “You’re a good kid.”

The ride to the antique shop was short, but it made the world feel even hotter when they stepped outside. Steve helped Wayne unload the boxes, and then was told to wait, while Wayne went to go find “Sunny”. 

So Steve sat in the back of Wayne’s open trunk, his feet dangling off the edge, toeing at the dirt with his bloody sneakers. Until there was another pair of shoes in front of him. Yellow converse. Steve startled slightly when he looked up, seeing a girl around his age right in front of him. She had dark brown skin with some pale patches spotting over her hands and arms—one over the bridge of her nose— freckles dotted over her face, and long brown hair that fell in braids down her back. Her eyes were fixed on Steve’s lips, and his tongue darted out to run across them nervously.

“Hi,” he said quietly, gripping the edge of the trunk as he leaned into it slightly, trying to put some distance between the two of them.

“Hi,” she said back, and Steve noticed that her voice sounded a bit off. It wasn’t really noticeable, but there was a slight strain to it, and it took her a moment to respond, almost like she had to remember how to say it.

She had a skirt that fell to her knees, and it was orange—almost the same color as the bird in Steve’s pocket. Her tank top was yellow, to match her sneakers, which had dirt scuffs on the sides.

She waved slight to get Steve’s attention, and then pointed to the boxes, before making a fist—her thumb sticking up—and placing it on top of the palm of her other hand. She moved her flat hand up, giving him a pointed look.

Steve frowned, tiling his head slightly. “I’m sorry?”

“Help,” she explained, pointing to the boxes again. “With the boxes, I mean.”

Steve nodded, giving her a moment to grab one of the boxes, before picking one up himself. The girl had three stacked on top of each other, carrying them inside—which left Steve to carry the last three. He took two trips, because he didn’t want to drop any.

The outside of the building was small and wooden—kind of in the middle of nowhere, with mostly patchy grass and dirt surrounding it—but it looked bigger on the outside. It was full of shelves covered in other people’s things, some of them looking ancient. There was a box of rings on the counter, and a small gold one caught his attention, but the girl kicked at his ankle lightly, like she wanted him to keep walking. 

Wayne was leaning on the counter, giving Cleo a smile and a nod, before glinting back to talking with the woman behind it. She had frizzy gray hair that Steve thought used to be red, and deep tan skin, a few piercings in her ears and tattoos up her arms. 

“Marge,” she said, holding out her hand, and Steve shifted the box in his arms to shake it.

“Steve.”

He looked back at Wayne, who was watching the girl rifle through one of the boxes. She pulled out the white dress, and then looked over at Wayne, who smiled slightly at her. “You can have that. I’d rather it goes to someone who’ll use it.”

The girl made some more hand gestures at him, frowning slightly, and Wayne sighed, speaking a bit slower. “I know, kid, but I’m old. I’m learning. Give me some time.”

The girl paused for a moment again, and then nodded, before running back off between some shelves with the dress in her arms. Marge turned to Wayne, her hair bounding slightly as she reached around the old-looking cash register, pulling out a stack of bills. “For her things.”

Wayne sighed, but it sounded more sad than apologetic this time. “Marge, that’s more than this is worth.”

“I know,” she said softly. “But you need it more than I do. Sunny and I’ll be okay.” Then Marge paused, smiling wider. “And she said she wanted you to know that by the next time you see her, you should be able to spell her name, yeah?”

Wayne laughed quietly, and Steve went over to the ring box, gently moving them around to get a good look at all of them.

“I’m trying, I swear,” he heard Wayne say as he turned a silver one with a big green gem on it over in his fingers. “But learning this kind of stuff out of a book is hard. It all looks funny.”

Steve quickly grabbed the golden one he had seen before, so that it wouldn’t disappear back into the piles. He looked closer, and on the inside it read, “I’ll be your star.”

Steve looked up and saw Marge eyeing the ring in his hands. “Posy ring,” she muttered. 

“What?”

“You give it to someone you like, I guess. Term of endearment. Keep it, hun, no one else wants it.”

Steve frowned, slipping the ring onto his middle finger and then taking it off again. “Why not? It’s pretty.”

“Too much history, I think,” Marge said thoughtfully, eyeing Wayne with a small smile, before turning her attention back to Steve. “No one wants a piece of someone else’s love story.”

“Oh,” Steve whispered, looking back down at the Posy Ring. “I think…I think if it were mine I would like someone else to have it. I mean—this seems like it would be something important, right? I wouldn’t want it to just…sit there.”

“I said you can have it, honey,” Marge said, laughing softly again before shooing the two of them away. “Now go, go. Sunny and’ll unpack the boxes. Tell Eddie that Sunny said hi. She misses having him around, you know.”

Wayne nodded, and Steve picketed the ring. It felt good this time, to have someone else’s history with him. Antoinette’s bird was pretty, but its history was sad, and maybe even tragic. Steve didn’t know this ring’s history yet, but he’d like to find out.

I LOVE ADDING ORIGINAL CHARACTERS FKJNVIJVBAIJVB

also I know there’s a shit ton of unexplained things, like with Antoinette, but they will be explained!! Don’t worry!!!

as always, reblogs and comments make my day ♥️⭐️

(And, as always, if you see any mistakes, lmao, I never read these over lmao)

taglist (WHICH IS ALWAYS OPEN) under the cut!!

@estrellami-1

@randombibitch

@insteviewetrust

@anne-bennett-cosplayer

@hack-saw2004

@lolawonsstuff

@goodolefashionedloverboi

@slowandsteddie

@ellietheasexylibrarian

@mugloversonly

@littlebluejane

@zombiethingy

@steddie-island

@rozzieroos

@ohimamarigold

@origamiplushie

@mamafaithful

@stillfullofshit

@gleek4twd

@swimmingbirdrunningrock

@anaibis

@xxfiction-is-my-realityxx

@honhonbaguettegofuckyourself

@kickpuncher2punchkicker

@dissociatingdemon

@itsall-taken

@pluto-pepsi

[hbyrde36]

STWG Daily Prompt 3/9/24

Written for the @strangerthingswritersguild

Prompt: Bite

Rating: G | WC: 867

Emotional hurt/comfort, Steve Harrington's parents being the worst, the best uncle Wayne Munson, supportive boyfriend Eddie Munson, the party loves Steve Harrington

Steve had given up on his dad long ago, he was never going to be the kind of man Richard Harrington had always wanted his sons to grow up and be, but he’d held out hope for his mom—hope that someday she would learn to love him the way she loved his brother.

More than ten years between them, and the fact that the Harrington’s had moved to Hawkins only after Christopher had graduated high school and gone off to college, meant no one really knew Steve had a sibling. 

The party, Robin, Eddie—especially Eddie because how could they have been dating for over a year now and him somehow still not know about this—were all stunned to learn of the existence of another young Harrington.

He hadn’t meant to tell them at all, but then Christopher and their parents made a surprise visit home so that his brother could take possession of their grandmother’s ring and pop the question to his girlfriend of a whopping 9 months. Less time than he and Eddie had been seeing each other and didn’t that get under Steve's skin to know he’d never get to propose to his boyfriend with a family heirloom, not only because gay marriage wasn’t legal, but because his parents would never dream of handing down a piece of jewelry to their least favorite son.  

Steve wound up having to make the rounds, letting everyone know movie night was canceled because his brother was in town. Naturally they all wanted explanations for why this was the first they were learning of this mysterious person, and by the time he got to Eddie’s place, Steve was a mess. 

Years of mistreatment and neglect bubbled to the surface, and not just the big things but the little sniping comments, the small injustices—inequities between the way Mr. and Mrs. Harrington spoke of their older son vs their younger—hurt feelings that he’d pushed all the way down in order to function, in order to put a fucking smile on his face and hide the fact that he was damaged goods who not even a mother could love. 

It all came spilling out of him on Eddie’s bedroom floor as his boyfriend held him, rocked him, was his rock, tethering him to the earth.

When it was all over and Steve was calm, Eddie asked him why he still spoke to them, why he still lived in their house when he and Wayne had both–on separate occasions–invited him to live with them instead.

“They’re my family.” Steve said, shrugging. “I don’t have a choice.” 

“Of course you do, Stevie. You always have a choice. If you were to decide right here and now that you never wanted to see or speak to them again, you are allowed to do that. You hold all the power here. I’ll support you in whatever you decide, but I have to say in my humble opinion, they never deserved you.”

Steve took the night to think about it, though in the instant Eddie had said the words, given Steve the power to take control of his own life, he’d known what he was going to do. It was his life, he could do with it as he wished. He was already doing that with almost every other part of it, so why was he still letting his mom and dad hold any power over him? Why did he subject himself to their passive aggressive comments and disappointed glares?

In the end he never went back, not even to get his stuff. Wayne and Eddie did it for him, leaving behind his keys and his beloved car. 

A small price to pay for freedom. 

He called the next day and left a final message on the answering machine. 

“Please leave your message after the beep.”

“Hey mom. You’re the hardest one to say goodbye to, the last member of this family I held out hope for so you’ll have to forgive me for not doing this in person. My car keys are on the table by the front door. I know the BMW is in dad’s name and I know he wouldn’t want me keeping it under the circumstances.”

“I am no longer a Harrington. I’m sure you won’t mind because you barely thought of me as one to begin with but it’s official now. I’m moving on, and moving in with my boyfriend. Yes, boyfriend, because I am nothing if not a consistent disappointment.”

“It took me longer to see it with you because I've witnessed the way you care for the people around you, most of them anyway, and what you’ve done for this community.”

“You are a good person, except when you’re not. And you were a great mom, just not to me.”

There was no bite in his words, just a sad truth finally spoken aloud.

Steve hung up the phone feeling lighter than he ever had in his whole life, and sat down to dinner with the people who really loved him. His found family, who’d all dropped whatever they were doing at a moments notice to throw him an impromptu moving-in party at his new home with Eddie and Wayne. 

Thanks to my beloved @penny00dreadful for having a look over this 🥰

[thefreakandthehair]

(don't bother) calling me when you're sober | rating: m | wc: 1.5k

content warnings: future fic, parental alcoholism ("falling off the wagon"), past parental neglect, minor character death (i've committed wayne crimes i'm so sorry but it's not shown, just mentioned), emotional hurt/comfort, ends on a happy, hopeful note despite the tags

“My dad called.” 

Eddie walks into the room, pinched eyebrows and flared nostrils lit up by the multicolored Christmas lights they string on the tree every year, one hand balled into a fist. The reaction  wouldn’t surprise Steve so much if this happened years ago, when Al Munson was still living in the bottom of a bottle of Jack, but now? 

It’s been eighteen years since he’d gotten sober, nineteen years since his last stint at Hawkins County, and fifteen years since making a genuine attempt to right the wrongs of Eddie’s childhood and build a relationship with his son. 

Fifteen years after Eddie let him in, let him try, let him earn Eddie’s trust. 

Fifteen years is a long time and to see Eddie so vitriolic in the doorway of their apartment’s living room— hands shaking, body shaking— Steve knows something must’ve gone wrong. 

“What happened?” Steve asks, standing from the couch and meeting Eddie where he stands, holding the hand not curled tightly around itself. 

“He’s drunk. He called, and he was drunk.” 

Steve’s chest pulls tight, his heart racing. What does someone say to that? What can someone say to assuage that kind of deep anger, pain, and betrayal? His thoughts are scattered as they try to make sense of what Eddie just said, and he’s even more grateful now that Ronnie wanted a sleepover with Aunt Robin tonight. 

“Eddie, fuck. I’m so— ” Before he can finish his thought, Eddie leans back against the doorframe, ripping his hand out of Steve’s and tangling his fingers in his hair, tugging. 

“How could he? How fucking could he?!” Eddie bellows, eyes squeezed shut. “He knew! He knew that if he ever did this again, I’d be done. For good. For forever. And he did it anyways! After eighteen fucking years!” 

His eyes fly open and Steve stands still and nods him on. There are just no words to fix this, and trying for the sake of filling the silence has never served him well.

“He did it anyway! Two days before fucking Christmas, a week before the anniversary of—” He chokes and cuts himself off. 

He knows what Eddie was going to say. A week before the anniversary of Wayne’s death. It’s been on his mind, too, of course. On his mind and in their conversations over breakfast with eccentric mugs of coffee, over the tangled lights that Wayne could always figure out. The year hasn’t been the kindest to them, particularly Eddie, and Steve wants to protect Eddie as much as he can from whatever he can. 

But he can’t shield him from this. Al Munson skips to the top of his shitlist.

“That son of a bitch!” Eddie rams his fist sideways against the door jam, leaving a sharp, red mark along his pinky. “He promised, and I believed him. Why the fuck did I believe him, Steve?”

Steve takes a step closer and grabs both of Eddie’s hands, carefully soothing the angry mark. “It’s been almost twenty years, babe. Trusting him with so much time invested makes sense. Hell, I did, too.” 

“I’m— I’m in my 30s, hurt and angry about the same shit I was hurt and angry about as a fucking kid. All the nights I slept in the backseat of the car because he blew his money at the bar, all the car accidents and court appearances and jail time, all the mornings I missed school because he didn’t know what fucking day it was,” Eddie rants, stopping to take a breath before picking back up, Steve’s own heart cracking and raging the more he speaks. 

“And every time he’d get sober, he’d always promise. He’d promise it would be the last time, and it never was. Not once could he choose his fucking son and I didn’t understand it then, but now that we have Ronnie, I understand it even less. If I was sick enough to walk away from her, I’d walk my happy ass to the nearest fucking rehab. I get that it’s a disease, I get it, I get it, I get it. But I can’t— I can’t do it again. Not this time. Eighteen years just down the fucking drain because of his company’s holiday party? How can I ever believe him again? Or trust him again?” 

Eddie’s voice grows raspier, breath shallow and quick, eyes watery. “Every time this happened when I was a kid, I always had Wayne. He’s the only person who really got it, y’know? The only one who lived it with me and now, I don’t even have him. My dad’s drunk, slurring his way through who fucking knows what on the phone, and no one else can fully understand the magnitude of what that feels like for me.” 

He squeezes his eyes shut again and drops forward toward Steve, forehead on his shoulder and arms loosely hung around Steve’s waist. Steve still doesn’t have words that bandage this up, but he knows how to show his husband love in other ways. Ways that, over the years, have become a language all their own. Steve pulls him in tight, one hand near his waist, the other cradling the back of his head. Fingers slide carefully beneath the hem of Eddie’s tee-shirt and rub little, repetitive circles into the small of Eddie’s back while he cards his other hand through Eddie’s hair, scratching his scalp and holding him to his chest to feel the rhythm of Steve’s own heartbeat until his breath returns to a steady pace. 

It’s only then that Steve speaks. 

“I don’t know what to say, Ed. It’s fucked up, and if you want to me like, hit him with my car, you know I’m game.” Steve feels Eddie laugh— just a few puffs of air through his nose but it’s a laugh all the same. “But I’m here, and we’re gonna figure it out, okay? Whatever you decide to do, we’ll do it together.”

Eddie nods and lets himself be led to the couch, Steve tucking Eddie into his side and pulling the afghan up over them. 

“I never want to be what Al was to me to our daughter,” Eddie whispers, not looking away from the tree. 

“Well, you’re ahead of the game, because she’s already older than you were when he started hitting the bottle hard. And I know there’s the genetic piece to it that everyone talks about, but nurture counts for a lot of who we become, too. Shit, I owe Joyce Byers a huge thank you for being more of a parent to me than my own were because she’s probably the reason I didn’t turn out like Dick Harrington. Ronnie’s never going to have an Al Munson in her life, because you weren’t raised by Al Munson. That’s not whose legacy you’re passing down. You’re passing down love, not pain.” Steve presses a soft kiss to Eddie’s temple and feels his whole body sag into him. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Eddie’s voice is quiet now, a far cry from his earlier venomous edge. 

Silence nestles onto the couch with them, a comfortable addition, as they watch the basketball game Steve had on before Eddie told him about the phone call. Watch is a loose description, actually. They're more just looking at a moving, flashing screen. 

“My hand really hurts, by the way,” Eddie announces, holding up the hand he’d used to punch the doorjam. “That was fucking dumb.”

“Maybe a little bit, but I get it,” Steve untucks a hand from beneath the blanket and outstretches his palm. “Lemme see?”

Eddie plops his hand into Steve’s and Steve takes a look, mentally working down the check list he’s memorized from his decade plus of EMT work. No obvious breaks, nothing looks crooked, Eddie’s able to move each finger and flex his hand without severe pain. 

“If anything, it’s just gonna be bruised tomorrow. But I’ll fix it,” Steve grins and lifts Eddie’s fist to his lips, carefully kissing each knuckle and paying a little extra attention to the pinky that delivered most of the blow. 

“I’m so in love with you, Steve.” Eddie rests his temple on Steve’s shoulder. “You know that, right?” 

“I know,” Steve agrees, chest fluttering despite the circumstances. “And I’m in love with you, too. You know that, right?”

Eddie snuggles in and wraps Steve up, full koala, as though he’s trying to get as close as possible without actually cracking Steve open and climbing inside of him. 

“Definitely.”

The next morning, Aunt Robin brings Ronnie home and together, they decorate the gingerbread cookies that only vaguely look like people but are good enough to pass for a seven year old. Halfway through, Eddie’s cell phone rings and the caller I.D. reads Al. Steve watches, worried that Eddie’s going to answer in the middle of their decorating. That he’ll forget Ronnie’s having the time of her life, and that in his righteous indignation, Eddie will leave the table to go fight and argue.

There’s so much to be said, and Steve wouldn’t blame him, but he breathes a sigh of relief when Eddie simply declines the call and sets about pouring more edible glitter onto his design with a smile down at their daughter. 

[unclewaynemunson]

'What's your favorite holiday?' Steve asked while they were looking at the fireworks, pressed against each other in the dark of the night. They had been dancing around each other for months, ever since Eddie woke up in the hospital with Steve already at his bedside. They had taken their time to get to know each other better, to let that something between them grow and to figure out what it all meant exactly. But around the time Eddie graduated, it had finally culminated into what it had been destined to be from the start.

Eddie could barely believe they had only been official for about a month and a half, that Steve had only been part of his life for a little over three months. But he knew, with a certainty that he couldn't really explain, that he and Steve belonged to be like this. No matter how scary it had been to fall for him, it had been the only available option.

'Sukkot,' Eddie answered his question with no hesitation.

Steve leaned away a little bit to be able to look at Eddie.

'Was that the one that was, like, three weeks ago?'

'No, that was Shavu'ot,' Eddie answered patiently. He knew that Steve was trying very hard to keep up, and that the Hebrew words didn't exactly make it easier on him. 'The boring one that Wayne's obsessed with.'

Steve chuckled. 'So what is Sukkot?'

'I thought you'd never ask, big boy,' said Eddie, a wide grin creeping over his face. 'It's the best fucking week of the year. We build those huts in our yards where we're supposed to live all week. It's really awesome, we get to be outside all the time and Wayne tells all the best stories about how our ancestors escaped from Egypt and wandered through the desert for years. Back in Virginia, on the farm, it also used to be this celebration that the harvest was done. The best moment of the year, man, like when the summer holiday starts, y'know.'

'Sounds pretty cool.'

'Pretty cool?' Eddie repeated in a mock-offended tone. 'Pretty cool?! Stevie, how dare you, it's fucking magical! It's the awesomest of holidays! You know what? You're gonna have to join us this October and get the whole experience!'

'Are you sure?' Steve looked weirdly hesitant about Eddie's proposal and Eddie felt the excitement in his chest deflate like a popped balloon.

'Yeah, I mean... If you want to,' he said, reigning himself in a little bit. Maybe Steve thought it was weird, maybe he would never quite understand it, maybe –

'Of course I want to,' Steve cut off his spiraling thoughts, like the mere suggestion was completely ridiculous. 'But would it be okay? You wouldn't mind? And your uncle?'

'Why the hell would we mind, Stevie?'

'Well, I'm not Jewish...'

Eddie chortled. 'Yeah, we know that, dude. But you're always welcome in our humble little home.'

And Steve's face lit up in a way that the fireworks in the sky above them could never compete with. 'Alright,' he said. 'Then I'd love to celebrate this awesomest of holidays with you.'

******

And so it happens that a little over three months later, Eddie runs out of the trailer with even more excitement than usual when Steve's way too fancy car shows up. He basically jumps into his boyfriend's arms as soon as Steve gets out of his car – and of course Steve catches him, stumbling only a little bit while huffing out an “oomph” as Eddie wraps all four of his limbs around his body.

'Hello to you, too,' he murmurs with a soft smile on his face. He can't exactly kiss Eddie here, in broad daylight with all of Eddie's neighbors to see, but he lets his hands linger around Eddie's shoulders when he gently puts him down on the ground.

'You're excited.'

'We're building the hut today!'

'The sukkot, right?'

And the proud smile around Steve's lips makes it almost impossible for Eddie to correct him.

'The sukkah, babe. It's one sukkah, multiple sukkot.'

'Sukkah,' Steve repeats, his voice still as unsure as ever when he tries the Hebrew words that are so familiar to Eddie and Wayne and still so foreign to him.

'C'mon, Wayne's already waiting for us.'

Eddie starts tugging Steve along with him towards the trailer. He wishes he could do that by taking his hand instead of the sleeve of his jacket, but he's too aware of how careful they have to be here, out in the open in the trailer park.

They go around the trailer, where Wayne is already surrounded by a bunch of corrugated sheets and some big pine branches.

'We're building it here?' Steve sounds surprised. 'Why not on the porch?'

Eddie sees his uncle's face fall, and his own excited smile fades away as well.

'It's too eye-catching, on the other side,' Wayne explains to Steve. 'Too many folks lookin' to trash stuff 'round here, ya know.'

Almost every year, they find some graffiti on the walls of their sukkah at some point of the week. It has become better since they moved the hut to the backside of their trailer, hidden away from Forest Hills' main roads. Before, when they still built it in front of their home, they'd regularly find the roof or the walls demolished. Nothing ever happened when one of them was home: both Wayne and Eddie were protected from any serious danger by their own scary looks. But unfortunately, the sukkah did not enjoy the same protection when the Munson men weren't present to keep an eye on it.

Wayne doesn't outright say it with that many words – that's not his style – but Eddie can see in the arch of Steve's eyebrows that he gets it. That he understands that Forest Hills is not the kind of place where Hebrew should be spoken loudly and that anything more than a menorah in front of a window can be considered offensive real quick. He sees that Steve understands it, because Steve knows what it feels like to not be able to take his boyfriend's hand when they're outside. It's not the same, but it's similar, in a way.

When Eddie came out to Wayne, his uncle told him that he was sorry Eddie got dealt the wrong cards twice. But that's not how Eddie sees it. Standing here, in the quiet world behind the trailer, with his uncle, his boyfriend and a pile of junk that will soon turn into a refuge, he gets the confirmation of what he already knew back then: that he wouldn't have it any other way. Even if it means having to hide away from prejudiced eyes, he'd choose this right here over anything easier in a heartbeat.

Wayne takes off his trucker hat to reveal the kippah he often wears hidden underneath it, then turns Eddie around by his shoulders so he can attach a kippah to his curls with some hairpins. Eddie usually never wears one: he doesn't like being told what to do in any way, and he proudly wears the pentagram of the Church of Satan on his denim vest. But for events like this, Wayne insists the kippah is important, and Eddie has long since he moved in with his uncle learned that there's no use digging his heels in the sand about it. If it's that important for Uncle Wayne, he'll doesn't mind complying.

'And one for you,' Wayne states after Eddie's kippah is properly secured to his head, turning towards Steve with a third one in his outstretched hand.

Steve's eyes widen in an almost cartoon-like way.

'For me?' he repeats, as if he's unsure if he understands Wayne correctly.

'U-huh,' Wayne confirms with a nod of his head.

Steve's eyes flash back and forth between Eddie and Wayne, still clearly confused, like he's trying to catch some lie or a prank between the two of them.

'That's – would that be okay?' he stammers.

'Neshama sheli,' Eddie says, his voice soft. 'Of course that'd be okay. It's the polite thing to do, actually, when you're in shul – or in other Jewish places – whether you're a Jew or not.'

'Okay, cool,' Steve says with a little shrug of his shoulders. He's slightly too obviously trying to play it cool, and that makes Eddie realize something he hadn't really considered before: that Steve is nervous about this. For Eddie, sukkot is nothing but a holiday of fun. But Steve doesn't know any of those traditions, he doesn't know any of the unwritten rules. For all he knows, what they're doing today is something sacred and solemn – it makes sense that he's afraid to do the wrong thing or mess it up somehow. It's written all over his face: he's afraid to be disrespectful, to be an intruder, to somehow offend Wayne and Eddie without meaning to...

Steve takes the kippah from Wayne and places it on his hair, where it lies dangerously close to sliding off.

'Here, lemme help you.' Eddie digs around in his own pockets to find some long forgotten hairpins and slides up behind Steve, attaching the kippah to some strands of his soft, shiny hair. When he's done, he slides his arms around Steve's waist and tugs him close to his chest.

'Hey,' he whispers in his ear, nuzzling his nose against the soft hair right above it because he simply can't resist the temptation of touching Steve's locks in any way, ever. 'You don't need to worry 'bout anything. We're just gonna build a hut, that's all. And we're trailer park Jews anyway, we don't care about etiquette and shit. Or, well, maybe Wayne does, a little bit, but he's used to me, so... You're good.'

Steve chuckles, then turns himself around in Eddie's arms until they're face-to-face.

'Thank you,' he whispers in the space between them.

Wayne emphatically clears his throat, no doubt worried that the boys are about to forget he's still with them.

'You lovebirds ready to get to work?'

Slightly unwilling, Eddie lets go of Steve and flashes Wayne an excited grin. 'Alright, my dearest uncle, tell us what to do.'

The next hour or so is spent hauling corrugated sheets around and assembling them into a decent-sized hut. While Eddie is drilling their metal walls together, Wayne tells Steve all about the meaning behind what they're doing. He gets like that with every holiday: he loves the big stories, and Eddie has always loved listening to Wayne telling them.

'All of this,' Wayne explains with a gesture towards the half-finished sukkah, 'Is to remind us of what happened to our people a long time ago. They were enslaved in Egypt, far away from their homes. When they got out, they wandered through the desert for forty years, tryin' to find their way back. They suffered drought, storms, heat, famine... But G-d's protection was with them every step of their way, until He safely delivered them back to their homeland. For forty years, they didn't have no place to call home. They slept in huts beneath the stars. That's why, for one week a year, we still live in huts. We don't sleep here, 's too cold for that in Indiana –'

'I do sometimes,' Eddie cuts in.

'Your boy is crazy,' Wayne dryly states. 'But we live here as much as possible. The most important thing is to have all our meals in here, as long as it ain't raining too hard. We're not supposed to make a solid roof, y'know, 'cause it's supposed to be a reminder of how our people used to sleep under the open sky. It's a symbol for how we should submit ourselves to G-d's protection.'

Steve listens attentively and keeps asking Wayne all kinds of questions while they continue working on the roof, which they assemble out of pine branches that Eddie and Wayne took from the woods around the trailer park earlier that day.

'This day's extra special,' Wayne tells Steve when they're almost done, 'Cause it's a Friday evening. Means our first meal in the sukkah is a Shabbat meal.'

Usually, Wayne isn't exactly world's most diligent cook, but for days like this, he always tries to go a little bit bigger than usual. Not that their kitchen is suited for fabricating any kind of fancy meals – let alone that they can afford anything like that – but that doesn't really matter. Not to Eddie, at least, and he's pretty sure the same thing applies to Steve. The most important thing is that Wayne tries his very best to make days like those feel special. So while Steve and Eddie get tasked with setting up the interior of the sukkah, Wayne heads back to the trailer to make sure the food will be all done before sunset.

Steve and Eddie haul a bunch of plastic lawn chairs and a trestle table inside. After the furniture, they add some pillows, a truly hideous tablecloth, and a bunch of random clutter from the trailer to make it feel more homely. Eddie always likes to put this one Jesus sculpture they once got from the old Mrs. Brooks from number 70 in one of the corners, for no other purpose than to get on Wayne's nerves. Steve, on the other hand, actually cares about making the sukkah look good, and he comes up with the idea to walk around the trailer park and go into the woods to find some flowers as a finishing touch. Most of the vegetation around Forest Hills is withered all year round, but Steve manages to find some branches with beautiful autumn colors and a bunch of shiny chestnuts among the decaying junk.

'You manage to make anything pretty, huh,' Eddie notes when they're all done, with leaves of dark orange and golden yellow miraculously brightening up every single corner of the hut.

Steve smiles and pulls Eddie in his arms. Now, shielded by the walls of their dwelling, they can do that without worrying about the watchful eyes of nosy neighbors.

'Nah,' he murmurs, his lips ghosting over Eddie's cheek. 'I don't make things pretty, I attract pretty things.' And the way in which Steve's lips find his, soft and full of promise, tells Eddie that he wasn't merely talking about pretty things. It makes his heartbeat stutter and his cheeks heat up.

Steve pulls back before the kiss can become anything more than a promise, with a sparkle in his eyes and a soft smile still tugging at his lips.

'C'mon, let's go help your uncle with the food.'

By the time they're ready to welcome Shabbat, the autumn sun has long disappeared behind the trees and it's rapidly cooling off outside. Wayne puts on his thick plaid jacket and Steve borrows one of Eddie's favorite black hoodies. During this time of the year – when it's not yet cold enough to waste money on heating – the trailer doesn't really stay much warmer than the sukkah, so they're used to the cold anyway. Steve, however, is shamelessly exploiting the chill of the evening as an excuse to cuddle up close to Eddie at the table – not that Eddie minds that at all.

But when Wayne lights the candle and recites the blessing at sundown, it feels like the sukkah is actually much warmer than any other place in the world. It's because what's happening in this place is special, Eddie thinks. For a week, this hut is their home. It's designed to house two people – just Wayne and him – but Steve fits in this cramped space with them like he was always supposed to be here. And when Steve turns to Eddie to wish him a good shabbos with a smile on his face, Eddie knows that he will never want to celebrate another holiday – Jewish or not – without him.

Some fun facts for those who are interested: Sukkot 1986 indeed started on a Friday (October 17th) The use of corrugated sheets for a sukkah is actually quite common, and I took the liberty to interpret the skillful way in which we see Eddie drilling them down in the Upside Down, as him having plenty experience with creating a refuge with those things. For those who don't speak Hebrew: when Eddie calls Steve neshama sheli, he uses a common Hebrew pet name which literally translates to "my soul." I imagine Eddie loves calling Steve all kinds of Hebrew pet names and this is a truly beautiful one imo. I hope I did right to this really cool holiday with my lil story!

[sp0o0kylights]

6 PM and Eddie was in full story mode, gesturing wildly as he made himself a bowl of soup.

It was nothing fancy, just some canned chicken noodle that Steve had stuck his nose up at.

Then sniffed dramatically when Eddie had popped it in the microwave.

(Considering It was an after work snack, Eddie didn't take offense to his boyfriend's rich-boy sensitivities.)

"Then Brandon, the asshole, pulls in this ancient Jeep. Swears he checked it out before he bought it." He's still in his shop clothes, too busy going through his day to change.

"Did he actually though? Noooo." Eddie drawled out, fetching a spoon and setting the warmed bowl on the counter.

"Wasn't he the guy who just bought that truck?" Steve asked from his spot on the couch. He had beaten Eddie home, a rare accomplishment for him on a Wednesday.

Eddie spun, spoon in hand. "The one with the bad engine? Yes!"

"At least the color wasn't bad."

"It was banana yellow." With a scoff, Eddie put the can in the sink, picked up his bowl, and threw it in the trash.

He made it two entire steps forward before he froze, eyes growing wide.

“Stevie.” Eddie whispered, his entire body slumping dramatically. “Stevie, I threw away my soup.”

Trying (and utterly failing) not to laugh, Steve said, “I know. I watched you do it."

Entire face falling into a heart wrenching pout, Eddie looked between Steve and the sink.

"I wanted that." He said pathetically.

"Do you want me to make you soup?" Steve asked, voice teasing.

"Please?" Eddie's eyes worked over time, as he slunk his way over to his boyfriend. He dropped to his knees, putting his chin on one of Steve's thighs. "Pretty please?"

Steve flushed scarlet, eyes darting to Wayne and back. He was working on accepting Eddie's more theatrical displays of affection in front of others, but didn't shove Eddie away.

Told him he would never.

Not even when it was in front of Eddie's bandmates, who still eyed Steve with distrust.

"Would you like some too Wayne?"

Pretending not to smile from his ancient armchair, Wayne hummed. "Long as it's no trouble."

"Not at all." Steve pushed at Eddie's head, prompting the other boy to back away as Steve got to his feet.

Quickly, Eddie stole his boyfriend's spot on the couch, basking in the vacated warmth.

"I'm adding veggies along with everything else. No complaining!" Steve called as he began pulling open cabinets.

"I'd never dream of it." Eddie called back, batting his eyelashes even though Steve couldn't see it.

"If he does, I'll just eat his portion. Boy can go to bed hungry if he doesn't appreciate that cookin of yours." Wayne added, in his own teasing twang.

"Suck up." Eddie fired back, sticking out his tongue.

From the kitchen, Steve turned to hide his grin.