dee-dee-monster

[dee-dee-monster]

Then Out of the Aether - (Ch. 9)

Summary: Neither of you want to be at the party in the first place, but it turns out pretty fine. Things are said.

Warning: None.

A/N: Multi-chapter slow burn. Henderson!Reader.

< Click here to find previous chapters >

When Lindsay called you this morning and told you she wanted to go to a party….you had assumed she was joking. 

Who could blame you? The two of you are not regulars at the house parties some of your school mates throw. Oh, you usually hear through the grapevine which house is hosting for a given night, but you don’t actually go. 

Newsflash: she hadn’t been joking. 

You’d shown up at Noah West’s house a few hours ago. Lindsay has already made multiple beers disappear, and she is in the living room mingling and laughing with a small group. 

Good. 

Cool. 

That’s great. 

She’d said she wanted to “get out of the house” and “let loose,” which is probably normal, right? Healthy, even? (Okay, maybe you aren’t suppose to consider chugging a beer healthy, but she’ll be alright.) 

That’s why you are here. 

And by here, that means you are playing wallflower.  You’re tucked away at the edge of the room near a hallway that leads to a bathroom and, ultimately, out to the garage.  It has allowed you to have a glimpse of who is coming and going, and there’s a quick avenue to slip away if you want to. 

(It is possible you’ve over-thought the entire situation and your placement in it, but honestly it’s better to be safe than sorry.)

A fresh flash of sound bounces in down the hallway, signaling the garage door has opened – there’s two beer pong tables in action out there. You glance toward the sound out of habit. 

Then you do a double take when you process the familiar flurry of curls and distinctive leather jacket. 

“Henderson!” Eddie looks as surprised as you do; he even forgets to make your name into any sort of pun. 

“Hey,” you feel relieved to see him. 

“Hey,” he mocks while he looks you up and down. Almost like he’s assuring himself you’re there.  “You didn’t mention you had weekend plans – the hell?!” 

He laughs a little, though it’s a happy thing. Surprised but glad. You can tell.

“Oh, and you did?” you figure fair is only fair. 

Eddie rolls his eyes at this sound logic. 

“I’m here on business,” he stage-whispers. 

“...really?” 

He gives you a skeptical look.

“Come on…” 

Riiiiight. Okay, yeah. That makes perfect sense once you have a second to consider. 

Your classmates might not want to hang out with Eddie, but they’ll buy off of him. Of course they will.  Somehow you just hadn’t pictured that means he’d show up at one of these parties. 

“Oh”

Eddie chuckles. 

“Look…speaking of – I better go find West. He said he’d be out back,” his gaze travels toward one of the sliding doors. There is a bonfire going in the backyard. “You’ll wait right here?” 

“Sure”

You don’t tell him you haven’t moved far since taking up this spot. 

You watch Eddie pick his way easily through the crowded living room.  Along the way he notices Lindsay and pauses briefly. He cocks his head and glances back at you with a subtle point of his finger. 

You nod. 

He nods back like he gets it. You figure he does – he always seems to. 

Then he’s sauntering across the patio to fetch the host. They walk away from the people around the firepit and turn their backs. Their arms move and bump a bit. 

It’s a brief exchange, and you aren’t sure which of them looks more pleased with themselves when it’s over. You hope it’s Eddie. Knowing that these people don’t actually want him here, you hope Eddie overcharged. Or tacked on a delivery fee. Or…just something. 

Logan West and his friends don’t deserve Eddie, that’s for sure. 

“You okay?” Eddie is back soon enough, chin tilted just so. 

“...yeah.” 

You’d gotten caught up in some resentment, and your face must be doing something strange. But Eddie takes your answer at face value and gives it up. He twists and throws himself up against the wall beside you so the pair of you can survey the room together. 

“So…Lindsay’s going through, uh, a whole thing, isn’t she?” he watches her swaying to the music.  

“Yeah,” you cringe. “Afraid so…” 

He’s never asked before. Just accepts it when you mention she’s stressed or that she needed a girls night, etc. Not for lack of caring, you think. He’s just someone who understands that shit happens. He doesn’t need the gossip for proof, which you appreciate because Lindsay is pretty private. 

“...sucks.” 

“Mmhmm…but I’ll keep an eye on her,” you shrug. 

You don’t mind too much. Obviously you’re not excited to be here, but you’re always willing to help Lindsay out. That’s never the question. 

“I get it …and it’s your lucky night. Now you’ve got another friend in here who isn’t a douche,” he juts his thumbs at himself. 

“Seems presumptuous that the guy who invented the Douche Chart gets to rank himself…” 

And, thus, you spend some time engaged in hushed conversation about what guests are or aren’t the absolute worst. 

“You want a smoke? I have a little leftover…” Eddie reveals once the pair of you have lapsed into companionable quiet. 

“Not tonight, thanks …I’ll go outside with you, though,” you doubt Lindsay needs to literally be watched every second. 

She’s currently kneeling by the coffee table where people are starting to play Flip Cup.

“Nah, just offering ….can I get you a refill?” he makes his next offer and gestures at your empty Solo cup. 

You haven’t been drinking from it in quite some time.

“I don’t think so…” 

“Just want the rest of mine?” he wiggles his, which is less than half full at present. 

“Thanks, I’m alright…” 

“No you’re not — this party blows,” Eddie scoffs.”I know you’re not a party girl, but if you want to really test the waters, I’ll take you to a better one some time…” 

You pretend you’re not charmed as hell by the idea of him taking you to a party.

“Oh? You think you know where the good parties are?” 

“Well, obviously,” he holds out his arms to grandly indicate himself. “The secret is to go literally anywhere that’s not full of seventeen year old fucks who only care about sports and teasing their hair and going to the mall or…what the fuck ever,” he waves at the frivolity around you.

Uncharacteristically, he’s keeping his voice down. 

Maybe he’s doing that for you. Or, alternatively, maybe you’re self-centered. 

“...and where would I find such a party?” you egg him on. 

“You head out of town,” he tells you, and you both laugh. “Go where people don’t know you and don’t assume much. It’s like a fresh slate…gotta find the college parties where everyone is trying to get over their shit,” his hand gestures get more exuberant. 

You snatch his elbow to stop the waving around. 

Eddie snickers at you. 

“You’d make out great in a place like that…” he finishes. 

You mull that over, and you’re not sure how you feel. How exactly did he mean that comment?

“...so you’re worried I’m, like, lonely and innocent?” 

Why had you said it like that? Why had you asked at all?!  You’ve only had one measly beer, for Christ’s sake!

Because it shouldn't matter – you know it shouldn’t. It doesn’t matter if he thinks that. And, yet…you find you don’t want him thinking that you are needy. Or out of touch. Or. Just. Niave, or something. 

“No! ….or…um. I don’t know?” he hedges with a side-eyed glance and a shift of his weight. Kind of like he’s not exactly happy with this trajectory, either …which comforts you, honestly. “I’m just saying. You could pull in the right crowd, ya know? Like. If you wanted to, obviously.”

Hmm. That feels …more complementary than patronizing, maybe. 

“I’d pull, huh?” 

Your sly look seems to make his shoulders relax. 

“Yeah. Yeah, a college crowd would be good for you, I think. Better than…” he trails off and nods his chin at the living room. 

You briefly study those assembled, and you have to hope Eddie is correct. 

“A college crowd…” you echo him and are happy to find this doesn’t make you squirm like most college topics do. “Is that what you do?  Find your fresh slate at college parties?” 

“I’ve gone out with Rick, yeah. No one really questions you on campus…” 

You have never met of even seen ‘Reefer Rick’ but you’ve heard about him around town. 

“Hmm…and do you pull while you’re there?” 

You shouldn’t have asked that, either!  You do not want to know. Except for the part of you that sort of definitely does…

Eddie coughs in surprise, and he blushes.  Shifts his weight around. 

“Me?  Um…huh, I…well,” he shrugs. “I get more interest than in Hawkins, I guess.” 

“That’s good” 

“Is it? I mean, yeah,” he chuckles at himself. 

“Yeah…” 

His discomfort has you smiling.

“...I’m going to go grab a refill. You sure you’re good?” Eddie points at your cup again. 

“I’m sure” 

He heads off to the corner where a keg has been set up. Then you see him take a detour to the kitchen. There’s a spread of various snacks there – maybe he’ll bring back some chips or something. Or you could abandon your post and just go join him to grab a plate….

“Hi”

You jerk in surprise when someone stops beside you. 

“Hi…” 

Jake Matanski.  He’s a grade below you, but you know him. A little, at least. Not enough that you would have expected him to bother to come say hello, though. 

“You don’t want to come play?” he uses his beer to point at the game in the livingroom.

“Oh. No, not for me…” 

Your eyes glide to the kitchen and find Eddie watching across the counter. He gives you a little smile, then flashes a thumbs up, followed by a thumbs down. Are you supposed to indicate one or the other to him? And how, exactly? Ugh. 

“Aw! Why not?” Jake laughs despite the lack of a joke. 

“Well, uh…no drink,” you wave your empty cup. 

“Oh!” he nods quickly – maybe too quickly. “We can fix that – come on!” 

Jake heads for the keg, and you automatically take two steps to follow…but you don’t even want to, right?. And he’s not paying attention, anyway; he’s already winding past the couch…

So you have an out!

You hustle to the kitchen instead. 

“Wow – quite the ditch act,” Eddie starts clapping. “Five stars.” 

“Excuse you. What happened to coming right back?” you kick his ankle. 

“How was I supposed to know you weren’t having fun…” 

You echo his words mockingly, to which he only laughs a little more. 

You ignore it and start rustling through a nearby cooler for a Coke. You hadn’t noticed the alternative drinks earlier. 

“So…turns out it’s kind of like a repeat rFriday night in here,” Eddie gestures to the chips and candies all poured out into separate bowls. 

“And I didn’t even have t-–”

“Hey – lost you!” Jake pops into the kitchen, faltering in surprise when he spots Eddie. “Hey…” 

Eddie lifts his cup in salute. 

Jake doesn’t return the gesture. He flickers his gaze back to you. You rase your can in a similar fashion, which he also doesn’t react to. 

“I came to find a drink – I don’t really want more beer...” you explain.

“Sure! Cool. Yeah. There’s whiskey around here somewhere if you want. I’ll–” 

“I’m good” 

He makes a face but ultimately shrugs like ‘cool-man-more-for-me-then!’

“So are you coming?” 

“No. I’m good,” you repeat this part. 

Jake makes a face of ill-comprehension. Sways in his feet.  Then he looks to Eddie. 

“...I think she’s good, dude,” Eddie shrugs like he’s clueless. 

“Lindsay said you’d want to come join...” 

Hah. 

Welp, she’s drunk. 

“That’s nice of her, but I’ll pass…”

“Um…yeah. Alright. Alright…” 

Jake lingers for a few more awkward moments and then shuffles away with a handful of snacks.  A little trail of M&Ms drop behind him. 

“Do you think you broke his heart?” Eddie asks with faux-concern and blinks wide eyes at you. 

“Oh I’m sure”

He shrugs and kicks the dropped M&Ms out of his way. 

“Never know …couldda been true love…”

“You’re hilarious”

You watch in the other room as Jake returns to the group none the worse for wear.  He is a nice guy …drunk and clueless at the moment, but generally nice enough anytime you’d crossed paths.  Maybe you should’ve at least participated in a little more conversation with him ….but he’d been ruining your ultimate plan of going unnoticed at this party. You’re normally so good at it. 

Well. Mostly. 

Your eyes slide to Eddie, who is an exception. 

He’s eyeing the living room, too, while he munches on some BBQ chips.  You make a mental note to get some at Bradley’s next week…is that silly? How you’re keeping tabs on what he likes so you can make him happy?  

That’s pretty normal friends stuff …it just doesn’t feel like friend stuff. Not with Eddie. 

You’re still having very non-friend feelings…which. Yeah. Is ridiculous considering he’d essentially just told you how and where to go to pick up guys. Other guys. Like you needed the advice. Which you probably do, but that’s a whole different thing … …he’s not supposed to have noticed that.

“I’m not, you know,” your defensive thoughts flare to life before you’ve thought it through fully. “You know,” you continue when Eddie turns a confused look at you. “Lonely and…”

Eh. 

Do you want to repeat it? 

Too late.

A slow smirk grows over Eddie’s face. 

“...lonely and innocent?” he finishes with a smile. 

Ughhh. This suddenly feels like a conversation that does require that weed after all …but you’d started this. 

“Mmhmm”

You stare at each other for a minute, and you know you’re blushing. 

“Well? Do tell, She-nderson,” Eddie cocks a hip on the counter and leans in. “Color me fascinated.” 

“There…was a guy…” 

Shit, now your story feels childish. 

“...from Hawkins?” he pulls a scandalized face. 

“No” 

“Ah. Makes sense…” he waves his hand all go-on-go-on. 

“...this feels stupid now.” 

“Bullshit,” Eddie throws up his hand. “Get me hooked just to leave me dangling — spill.” 

You laugh. 

“Alright, yeah – he’s a family friend. Or, you know, the son of a family friend,” you clarify. “We’ve gone on small trips with them for years and would go camping together a couple times every summer…” 

“Summer Love?” Eddie beams, and you worry he’s on the verge of a musical number, so you squash the notion. 

“No. Not in love…just…” 

“Summer lust?” he nods like this is just as good. 

“A little. Also …curiosity?” you laugh. “We…wanted to see what the big deal was?” you try to explain the general infatuation that had come over both of you. 

“That’s …scientific,” Eddie is trying to suppress a snicker, which is gentle of him.

“Sort of, yeah,” you go ahead and laugh. “We figured we were friends and trusted each other. So it was…nice.” 

Well.  Maybe not at first. It had been awkward and mechanical and you’d laughed in each other’s faces. And aso gotten flustered…and a little embarrassed, honestly. 

But then the two of you had figured out how to make it fun.

“...nice is good,” Eddie’s smile feels genuine, not mocking or condescending. 

You’re still blushing, though. 

Because this story is true and, yeah sure, maybe it means you’re not “innocent” …but that still doesn’t mean you know what to do with the boy in front of you. 

If he even wants you to do something with him…

Sometimes you think he does. The way he looks at your sometimes. The way he’s so interested in what you say and what you do. The way he so easily includes you… but that’s just it. It’s so easy for him. Like it’s habit. Like he’s just a nice guy and maybe you’re overthinking the whole thing. Just seeing what you want, that sort of thing. 

“Yeah,” you agree to get back out of your own head. “It was.” 

“So? – what happened with Romeo after?” 

“Romeo,” you scoff.  “He went to college last Fall…” 

“And are there love letters stashed under your pillows?” 

“No. He didn’t even come home over the summer, so no camping trip …he stayed on campus to take a class. And spend time with a girl…” 

“Aw, booo. Horrible ending!” 

“Shhh….it was just an experiment,” you shush him. “Besides…” your cheeks flame afresh. 

“...what?” 

“Nevermind” 

“What?! No. Tell me … … did you not get to have an orgasm?” he asks with some seriousness.

Good! Your cheeks can’t get any hotter now!

“No, I know how to – ugh!” you slap his arm. 

Eddie doesn’t bother to jump out of the way. 

“What? I had to guess! Come on…” 

“...his dad walked in on us the last time.” 

Eddie’s responding laughter is sudden and loud…and entirely expected. You flap a hand at him to make him pipe down. 

“Well, that’ll ruin it, huh?” he continues chortling. 

“Pretty much….” 

Only after Mr. Prince caught you did the pair of you have trouble making eye contact.  It was probably for the best Chris had stayed over at OSU….though admittedly you were a tad disappointed at the time. Kind of.

“What did your mom say? Wait – how does she still trust you so much?” Eddie sputters. 

“...no one told her.” 

Mr Prince had been stern but ultimately flustered and too embarrassed to say anything to your mom or, as far as you now, his own wife. 

Eddie cackles a little more. 

“...always a surprise, HendHerSon…” 

You roll your eyes. 

“No offense,” he adds, smile wide. 

“Whatever…”

But you’re a little pleased, all things considered.  Lindsay knew that story, naturally, but it was kind of fun to share an illicit secret with Eddie. 

“...what about you?” 

Eddie blanches, “what about me?” 

“Your first time ….come on. Are we not sharing?” 

He snorts. 

“I didn’t agree to that” 

“Lame, Munson…” 

He sighs and scratches at his chin. Studies you…and suddenly you feel inadequate.  Like your story is boring and…well, it kinda is. It definitely isn’t rock-and-roll. 

Eddie sighs again. 

“It was fun…but not as sweet as yours…” 

Sweet feels like it should be a diss, except his tone ensures that it’s not. 

“Well…as long as it was fun” 

He barks a short laugh. 

“It was” 

You’re happy to see he’s pink in the cheeks. 

The two of you fall quiet, then. Maybe because there’s not a lot of tame places for the conversation to go at the moment….

You do end up outside with Eddie a while later so he can have a smoke.  The cold of the night and the fact that the bonfire has been ill-tended has sent more people inside, so it’s not very crowded. 

In other words, it’s perfect.  

The music inside is still audible. In fact, Eddie is bopping to it right now and softly singing some of IntoThe Groove. 

“I thought you only liked Corroded Coffin’s version…” 

“Prefer,” he emphasized. “ I prefer ours….but I don’t live under a rock..” 

Eddie bops a little more enthusiastically just, you think, to prove a point. He even jostles your shoulder with his. “Cut it out,” you laugh him off and, involuntarily, your eyes dart toward some of the other people on the patio. They don’t appear to be paying attention. 

“Screw them,” Eddie mumbles, but you hear him just fine. 

“Yeah…” you feel a little foolish he’d spotted you. 

“Their opinions aren’t shit,” he shimmies closer, his chest pressed to your arm. 

“I know that”

“Then who cares what they think? Fuck them,” Eddie is oddly quiet but insistent. “They don’t matter.” 

“I know. I…” you consider how you feel about a majority of your classmates these days. “It’s not that I want them to approve of me or like what I do….I just don’t want them to notice me either way.” 

It’s easier that way. You’re happier; certainly calmer. 

…does it also prove you’re a giant loser? 

And could Eddie even understand? Eddie who lives out loud and shoves people’s banality in their face if offered a chance… 

Hmm. 

Eddie makes a considering face and leans out of your space to take a drag of his cigarette. 

“...there’s a difference,” you tell him. 

“Yeah,” he nods slowly. “I get that… …you should be seen, though.” 

There he goes! There he goes just being himself and saying things so casually like his words don’t hit you straight in the chest. 

You should be seen? 

You should be seen …what a flattering and somehow terrifying sentence he’d managed to string together. 

“Oh yeah?” you realize you have to say something, and that’s all you manage. 

“Mmhmm…” Eddie catches your eye. “You’re endlessly fascinating. I’m always trying to tell you…” 

And what should you even say to that?

 

Luckily you don’t have to figure it out. 

“You know,” Eddie seems to forget the music as he relaxes into the corner of the house where you’re hiding from the breeze. “Sometimes I have this crazy idea… …” 

“Okay,” you lilt your tone like a question so he knows he’ll need to be more specific.

“No, like…it might be legitimately crazy,” he shifts closer at your side and keeps his cigarette dangling down by his leg. “Incredibly wild, even…” 

You snort. 

“Alright. And?” 

“And if it’s crazy…that’s fine. Tell me so. Be brutally honest,” Eddie leans back so he can smack himself in the chest. “I’ll be able to take it…” 

“...getting a little nervous,” you confess even though, over all, you figure this is going to be something silly. 

“No, no – no nerves,” he shakes his head, ruffling his curls. “Just honesty. Promise?” 

“Sure”

“Promise?” he holds out a pinky. 

“Yes,” you laugh and loop your finger into his. 

He squeezes tight and uses the hold to make you lean in ever so slightly. 

“Sometimes …I think that I really want to kiss you…”

Oh.

Your heart swoops in excitement, and you somehow feel frozen…like you’re found out. Seen.

…and apparently this feeling takes too long to process. 

“...you’re freaking out,” Eddie leans back with a little nod. 

He’s still smiling, but there’s a tilt to his eyes that isn’t usually there. For as much as you always feel Eddie can read you so well, you have to admit you’ve gotten good at reading him, too. 

He’s worried. 

“I’m not!” you hurry to assure him. “Or maybe I am” – (you totally are!) – “But in a good way …”

“...yeah?” 

“Yeah”

“Oh thank fuck,” his shoulders loosen. “You had me going,” he sighs and lifts his cigarette for a last little drag before tossing it to the ground. “Not crazy?” he glances up to you. 

“No…not crazy…”

He tries poorly to contain a grin. You smile back. 

And all he does is watch you. 

Which is fine….

But confusing? 

“Do you…” you snort and roll your shoulders. 

“What?” 

“...are you not thinking about it right now?”

Because that swooping feeling hasn’t left your chest, and you are very much thinking about it. 

“Kissing you?” he chortles. “No, I’m thinking about it…I think about it a lot, actually,” he laughs a little more. “But I can’t right now.” 

Oh?

“...you can’t?” 

He chuffs and crosses his arms. 

“Right after I asked permission? No. It was kind of lame, if you didn’t notice. I can’t just go on and kiss you tonight…” 

You laugh to keep yourself from complaining. 

“It’s gotta be better than that. Gotta build the anticipation, ya know?” he grins along. 

Doesn’t he know the anticipation has already been building? For weeks? Months, probably… 

“Besides. Uh. Kissing the school Freak in public isn’t the best way to keep people from noticing you…” he eyes you carefully through his hair once he tells you this. 

And. Yeah.

Maybe he’s not wrong.

But Eddie’s the exception. 

“...you’re not a freak,” you tell him instead. 

His smile curls up higher on his face, but his eyes dart away.  Bashful. He does that more than one would think. You should probably say something more. Something reassuring. Should double-down on your assertion that he’s more than just some outcast in your eyes or –

One of the sliding doors to the patio opens, and someone stumbles out back.  You look over, and of course you recognize Lindsay. Of course it’s her right now. 

“Hey,” she takes a step in your direction, one hand on the glass door for stability. “I don’t think I feel great…” 

Shit. 

. So. Miss Lindsay has the world’s worst timing! Eddie shouldn’t be annoyed. He knows that, okay! It’s good she came and found a friend, blah, blah, blah. 

But shit was getting good with you out on the patio! Hell, the whole night had been a gold mine of quiet laughter, telling stories, and you choosing him…so sue him if he’s salty for it to end so abruptly. Gah!

Annoyance aside, he’d helped you get her out to your car, and now he’s following you home to make sure you can get her inside, too. You’d tried to tell him he didn’t need to, but Eddie knows a thing or two about drunk people and he knows Lindsay isn’t going to be in any better shape in 20 minutes. 

Indeed. She isn’t 

Eddie half-carries her up the front steps and steadies her while you unlock the door. She’s shuffling and mumbling all the way through the livingroom and down the hall despite you ‘shhhh-ing’ her. 

Eddie wonders if Lindsay has ever had a hangover before because woooo-boy, she sounds like she’s going to tomorrow. 

Soon you’re all piling into your room. 

Your room!

It’s a riot of color, and Eddie fucking loves it. 

He helps you deposit Lindsay on the bed and then starts surveying the place.

Not that he’s been picturing your bedroom (lie! He totally has) but he’d expected a soft place where you could be quiet and focus. Not because you’re boring or anything…just because you like calm and ease.

Joke’s on him. 

He should’ve known. The room makes so much fucking sense because it’s filled with your art.  Paintings. Drawings that look like they’re filled with colored pencil – others with markers. Sketches. Some collages. There’s a flimsy easel in the corner with some kind of work-in-progress on it. Your desk houses a clutter of sketches along with your math textbook, and he recognizes some of your “inspiration photos” propped up. 

Including the two he’d taken! 

Which is fucking weird because they aren’t great. He can feel his cheeks getting warm, and he twists a lock of hair and forces his eyes to look elsewhere…

A painting of a vase filled with blood red roses that appear to be melting catches Eddie’s eye, and he’s not even a flower guy. 

‘There’s beauty in the macabre and morbid, too,’ you’d once told him. 

Yeah.

“Eddie can you grab the trash can…” 

Ah shit. 

He’d been mostly ignoring you talking Lindsay into going to sleep, but she’s sitting back up now and you have a hand on her shoulder to keep her from listing sideways. Eddie snags the small garbage by your desk and shoves it in front of her. 

“M’fine…” 

“Take a few deep breaths just in case,” Eddie advises. 

“M’not gonna be sick…” 

Oh she’s going to be at some point. 

No doubts there. 

“Just in case, Linds…” 

“I’m not!” 

Awesome. An argumentative drunk. 

“Shhh….” 

“I jus’ wanted to have fun,” Lindsay throws her hands over her face. 

…or maybe a weepy drunk? 

“You did, Linds…” 

“I did?” 

“Totally” 

You manage to get her to start those deep breaths, then.

“Hey, what’s g—” the door to your room creaks open. “Eddie?” 

Dustin is standing in the doorway in sweatpants and a Gremlins t-shirt looking utterly bewildered to see his friend in his house after midnight. 

His eyes go wider once he surveys the rest of the room. 

“What the hell? Is she… …drunk?” he takes a guess with less than his usual confidence. 

“Shh!” you shush him with an angry wave of your hand. 

Eddie yanks Dustin into the room by the sleeve and  closes the door quietly behind him. 

“Yeah, dude – just be cool,” Eddie leads by talking softly.  

“Sure, yeah,” Dustin schools his face like this is, in fact, old hat. 

Except for the way his eyes keep darting back to Lindsay in surprised interest. Little Henderson is precious like that sometimes. 

“She’s fine”

Which, of course, is the moment Linday finally hurls into the trash can that she was so confident she wouldn’t be needing.. 

“Aw – sick! Ugh, s–”

Eddie clamps a hand over Dustin’s mouth before you have a chance to angry-hush him again. Just to be safe, he hustles him out the door and across the hall to the other room with a light on. 

“What happened to playing it cool?” Eddie chides as he closes the door behind them. 

“Vomit is gross,”Dustin defends himself. “Why do people even drink?”

Woof. That feels like a conversation fraught with landmines. 

“...I dunno, man.” 

Dustin scoffs. 

“Were you drinking?”

“I had a beer” 

Or two. But that’s not Freshmen level business. 

“...were you guys at your place again?” 

Now that Dustin isn’t distracted by drunk Lindsay, his eyes are narrowed and he’s looking a little too shrewd for Eddie’s liking. 

Ugh. 

“Nah, not this time. I just ran into them…” 

“Ran into them where?” 

“Whoa, what’s with the inquisition?” Eddie tries to brush him off and starts getting a good look around. 

Unlike your room, this one is about what he’d have expected.  Lots of nerdy tchotchkes Eddie wouldn’t mind a second look at. Some photos. Some shit that looks like it’s made from Erector Set pieces. 

“Ran. Into. Them. Where?” Dustin insists. 

“Just some party out at Loch Nora,” Eddie sticks with the truth. 

It’s easiest to keep straight. Besides, it’s actually kind of hard to lie to Little Henderson. He’s a stickler for the details. Best to only bend the truth if necessary. 

“Ew – with those kids?!” he goes full judgmental.

Hah!

“Aren’t you still in love with Harrington? He’s, like, King of the Fancy House Brigade,” Eddie reminds him. 

“He’s different,” Dustin jabs a finger into the air. 

Ugh. 

“So I hear…” 

And Eddie still can’t quite make that compute, honestly. You’ve backed up your brother’s claims, but it’s just not right. Not natural.  It doesn’t fit.

“...so what were those two doing at a party anyway?” Dustin gets back on track like he is wont to do.

Little fucker. 

“Nothing. I don’t know. Just hanging out…” 

“...did you invite them?” 

Oh, that’s rich! And is there an accusation in Little Henderson’s tone? Eddie isn’t sure how to feel about that. Not for nothing, but Dustin generally acts like he likes Eddie more than you (it’s a crock, but he goes out of his way to give the impression).  

“Nope. Total coincidence” 

Dustin is looking him over. Scrutinizing. Then he eyes the door like he wants to barge back across the hall and check this against your story. He doesn’t. He’s too busy thinking, apparently. Calculating. 

In lieu of further questions Eddie keeps perusing. 

A large Walkie Talkie by Dustin’s bed catches his interest, an–

Dustin clears his throat. 

“What are your intentions with my sister?” 

Come again!

Eddie spins to find Dustin is wearing a stern face now, and he has both arms crossed over his chest. Ooookay. Mission failure. Definitely left him to his thoughts for way too long. 

“Christ…” 

“I’m not stupid, you know” 

Yeah. 

Yeah, okay. That’s fair. 

He’s not stupid. Maybe Eddie should’ve been expecting this.  Actually. Scratch that.  He sort of had been expecting some sort of fuss after Dustin found out you were hanging at his place with him and the guys. He’d assumed it would be something along the lines of “Ew, man – why?!” 

He hadn’t expected an actual interrogation. Nothing…protective? Is that what’s going on here? Because Eddie could take Dustin – easy. Surely Dustin myst recognized that.

“I know you aren’t, but –”

“Good,” Dustin cuts him off. “Because I see what’s going on. And…well. Y ou know how much I like you and respect you…” 

“C’mon, dude,” Eddie appeals with a sigh. “Don’t say anything that’s going to embarrass us both…” 

Please. Just no. 

Don’t do it. 

Dustin thrusts out a palm before Eddie can protest further. Glares up at him. 

“This is my job…now are you going to shut up?” 

Ugh. 

Fucking fine. 

“Sure” 

“Thank you. Now. As I was saying,” he plows on in a very Dustin-ly and self-important fashion. “I like you…and you are much cooler than her, so frankly I don’t know what you’re even thinking…” 

“We’re–”

“But,” Dustin overrides again. “Family. Ya know?” 

Uh. Sort of. 

“Yeah”

“Good. Because she’s still my sister, and boring or not – I choose her” 

That’s actually pretty cute.

“...over me?” Eddie can’t help but heckle. “Over D&D?  Over Hellfire?” 

Dustin looks pained about it, truth be told. 

“Yes…which is why I’m telling you to be nice. That’s all I ask. It shouldn’t be too fucking hard.” 

“Jesus Henderson…” 

Going hard now. You know…by Freshie standards. 

“Things don’t work out?” Dustin shrugs theatrically. “Fine. Young love. C’est la vie…” 

“Now we’re in French?” 

Maybe Eddie has rubbed off on the little dingus too much. 

“Just be nice about it,” he ignores Eddie entirely. “Because if you disrespect her or hurt her or make her cry … …I will have to make you disappear.” 

Eddie waits, but Dustin seems perfectly serious about this declaration. 

Which is some harsh shit. 

Eddie raises an eyebrow. 

“...you know I could beat the snot out of you, right?” he checks because it feels imperative to have that highground. 

“See, you’d think so…but I’m a scientist,” Dustin smiles innocently. Too innocently. “Which means I could do it – if I wanted to. You wouldn’t ….even…see. It. Coming.” 

Whoa. 

“Damn…” 

And, ya know. It’s not like Eddie is quite buying it, but still. Respect for even going there. 

“Science,” Dustin wiggles his fingers in a tah-dah way. 

One last flourish. 

“...for the record, I do respect her,” Eddie throws that on the table. “I like her a lot, and…well. I don’t know what we’re doing yet, b–”

“Ew, don’t,” pretense falls and Dustin pulls a face. 

Eddie grins. 

“What? Isn’t that what I’m supposed to say after that?” he waves his hand at Dustin. “The Shovel Talk, or whatever?”

“I dunno,” the younger boy shrugs. “My first one…” 

“Yeah? You practice it, big guy?” Eddie ruffles Dustin’s hair. 

He grumbles. 

Eddie takes that as a “yes” and he’s not sure why he feels a little proud. 

“...did I do okay?” 

Ugh! This dork is the best. The absolute actual best. 

“Yeah”

“Yeah?” he smiles wide. 

“Uh-huh…started off a little warm and fuzzy there, but you pulled it together. Got fuckin’ dark…” 

Dustin chortles and Eddie can’t help joining him. 

“Seriously, tough,” Dustin’s proud glee disappears without warning. “Don’t be a dickwad.” 

Eddie wavers, too. 

“I hear you…” 

“Cool,” Dustin’s smiling again. 

“...we good?” 

“Yeah. Totally.” 

“Good. Now. Tell me – is this Little Susie?” Eddie inches toward the photo on Dustin’s desk. 

Dustin doesn’t mind, and they kill a few minutes talking about her and some little radio they’re trying to repair together long distance. 

Eddie excuses himself once the radio talk winds down. It’s late and he should probably just make sure you girls are good and head out. 

He knocks lightly on your door before letting himself in. 

“Hey,” you come to meet him near the door. 

Music is playing quietly, and Lindsay is curled up on the edge of the bed in a hoodie she hadn’t been wearing earlier. 

“She’s alright?” 

“Mmhmm – thanks for distracting Dustin…” 

“Sure, sure” 

Eddie shoves his hands in his coat pockets. He wants to keep inspecting every inch of your room, but it’s definitely time to bail. Besides, e might get an invite back if he keeps playing his cards right.

“It’s weird,” you whisper, and he finds you watching him. “That you’ve never been in here before…” 

“I was just thinking that,” he grins. 

“I’m so comfortable at your place, and this is only your second time over…” 

Something warm seeps through Eddie’s chest when you say this. Nevermind that he could have guessed you like his place since you keep coming over…it feels grounding to hear. Like this evening is natural.

“Well, I’ll be back,” he promises. “...and I like your room.”

Your eyes alright, and you nibble at your lip to try hiding the smile. 

“Thanks...” 

“Is your mom gonna flip about…”  he casts a last glance at Lindsay.

“I don’t think so,” you look over at her, too. “I was safe and drove her home. She might lecture a little, but…she feels for Lindsay. And she’d kind of rather be a soft place to land instead of another adult me and my friends need to hide from. You know?” 

Soft place to land. 

No wonder you have a knack for spotting those. 

“That’s good…” 

Then you’re ushering him out, and Eddie tries not to think it’s a bummer. 

“Thank you for helping,” you speak at a normal volume once you’re both outside on the front stoop. 

“Ah. Yeah…wasn’t anything…” 

He’s met far more annoying drunks. Plus, he’ got a little insight into your world for his trouble. Not much to complain about. 

“Sure it was …I’m glad you happened to be out tonight. 

Fuck but so is he. 

Who knows when the right moment would’ve come up to confess this crush he’s harboring. In a way…he thinks he’d known you would be on the same page. The looks you share. All those conversations. It just felt like there had to be something more. Right? 

He just hadn’t wanted to risk a chance he’d been projecting. Seeing what he wanted just because he’s so into you. Getting caught in his thoughts, of which he has so many

“Me, too,” he smiles. “All the gin joints in all the world, or something, huh?” 

“Look at you – that’s not even a horror flick,” your smile is playful. 

“Ha-ha,” he mock-laughs along. “I’m more sophisticated than I look. 

“Yeah, I guess you are…” 

Ooof. The way you’re looking at him, your eyes crinkled and biting at your lip again… he could frame that. 

Nope! Don’t be weird. 

“Well I guess I’ll get g–” 

 Before Eddie can back off of the front step, you lean in …loop a finger in his wallet chain …and tug him forward.  He looks down to watch you do it and obeys your light pull easily. 

Then his vision is all clouded up in you.

You step forward to meet him in those last inches. You’re craning up. Your face is right there. 

In his space. 

In his air. 

He knows what’s coming. 

Somehow your lips on his still manage to feel like a surprise. 

You bump against him, so Eddie flattens his hand against your back to steady you before his mind even wraps around the facts. 

You are kissing him. 

On the mouth. 

Not the hair or hand, which he had snuck in before. Half-joking moves. Cheap. Fucking bullshit in comparison. 

You are warm and soft and – fuck. 

He’s not even kissing you back?!

Eddie’s circuits come back online, and he presses into you just before you retreat. He follows your warmth when you lean back to stand flat. 

Your eyes look big this close up. They’re dancing. 

“...that was okay?” 

“Was it okay?” his eyes widen. 

What a… what a ridiculous question! Why would you ask? Maybe his stupid face is doing something it shouldn’t. 

“Well…I hoped it wouldn’t be lame as long as I was the one to start it,” you grin. 

Lame. 

Oh! So you’ve got jokes right now. 

Eddie drops his forehead onto yours and heaves a breathy chuckle. 

“Not lame…” 

“No?” you beam. 

“Uh-uh..” 

You tilt your face up to steal another kiss – only it’s not stealing, right? Eddie is ready this time and moves with you to slot his mouth against yours.  When your lips part, he licks in. Eager now. 

(Well. Eager always.) 

You hum in response…a moan, maybe.  Are you moaning? 

Jesus H. 

He tightens his arm around your back to haul you closer and clenches his fist into your sweater. His other hand is cupping your jaw.  Keeping you close. 

So close. 

He knows you can’t get carried away on your front porch of all places, but damn. Damn it, there’s no such thing as close enough. 

“Definitely not lame…” you mumble against his lips, ducking your chin just enough to catch a breath. Two. 

Eddie is sure he has no need for such trivial shit as air. So he only nods mutely and tilts your face back to kiss you more. 

You’re smiling. He can feel it. 

He smiles back despite this most serious business. 

“Eddie…” 

“Hmmm?”

“...you were leaving. Remember?” 

“You stopped me” 

You laugh. Then your hands wind further around his waist, lighting his spine on fire as your fingers crawl up, up, up…

Yes, this is totally your fault.

The porch light flashes on and off several times, and you both jolt. 

“...tell me that’s Dustin and not my mom…” you squeeze your eyes shut.

Sure as shit. 

He can see Dustin’s face pressed up to the window. He points to Eddie, then drags a finger across his neck. 

Eddie smirks because it’s hard to find Dustin’s warnings at all intimidating when he’s busy being so fucking delighted.  Besides, he is being respectful – you’d started this; he’s just reciprocating the gesture. 

“...kiss me again and he’ll go away.” 

You snicker as he pushes his hand up your jaw and into your hair, but you let him tug you in for the kiss. 

Probably a last kiss. 

For now, that is. Eddie has big intentions to pick this up again ASAP. 

If the warm slide of your tongue against his made his nerves funny, it’s nothing to the way you suck a little on his lip when you pull away. That zings straight to his gut …and lower. 

Oh yeah. 

Real big plans. 

“Christ. You’re gonna kill me…” 

“Never,” you whisper. 

Hah. Sure. Tell it to his hardon, babe. 

He has half a mind to shove one of your hands to the crotch of his jeans to prove it.  To make sure you know just what he’s going to die from …but that’s just his dramatic side talking. 

Think of other shit, dirtbag. 

Of Vecna. 

Of Lucas’s basketball team. 

Of Jake Matanski trying to get you a drink…

Yup. That does it

“So you say,” Eddie keeps his disagreement simple as he lets his hands slide from around you. 

You crank your neck to quickly check over your shoulder for Dustin, but he’s already disappeared. 

“I’ll kill him slowly when I get inside,” you promise when you turn back around, all innocent eyes even as you vow retribution. 

You haven’t removed your hands from him yet, and you sadly realize it now. You step back. Some heat leeches off of Eddie when you do. 

 It should be illegal. 

“Nah, don’t – it’ll fuck up my campaign, ya know?” 

“That’s what you’re worried about?” 

Eddie laughs because: fuck no!

Buuuut he doesn’t think he’s supposed to mention Dustin’s little chat – at least, not yet. Not unless it becomes trouble. Dustin’s threats had been at least half funny, but there had been a true sentiment behind it all…and Eddie is pretty sure he respects it.

“Well...you kissed me again, so it’s not like he fucked this up or anything. I think we can let him live.” 

“...this, huh?” you grin. 

Eddie nods and takes that first step off the porch now. 

“This…” 

They can hash out the details of that later.  For now, he’ll just drive home thinking about your mouth. And your other soft parts all pressed up against his front. 

“Goodnight”

“Night” 

If he maybe, possibly does a little hop-skip to his van, well.  That’s entirely his business. 

[dee-dee-monster]

Reblog if you think public libraries are important and should be maintained.

[dee-dee-monster]

Then Out of the Aether - (Ch. 8)

Summary:  You all have a great night. Unexpectedly, you and Eddie owe it to Nancy Wheeler. 

Warning: None

A/N Multi-chapter slow burn. Henderson!Reader. 

< Click here to find previous chapters >

Hellfire Club doesn’t take a break for the holidays. 

You shouldn’t be surprised.

You aren’t, really. You’d just nodded along last week when Dustin asked if you would give him a lift to and from Mike’s house instead. He'd given you the times and demanded you write it down somewhere so you couldn’t possibly forget!

You’d urged him to slow his roll and told him to ask again more politely.

He had.

Eventually.

With an eye-roll.

But, once he did, you had  agreed to do some amended Friday chauffeuring.   Which is why you are now sitting around the kitchen with Nancy Wheeler.

Dustin had waited until your arrival to inform you the game was going long (“Eddie added a surprise for the holiday! And, yes, Mrs Wheeler said it’s fine!) so it’s this or head downstairs and risk being accused of rushing him.

And, anyway, you like Nancy just fine.  You might not be best friends, but she's nice and you've known her a long time. You had started off talking about Jonathan – easy – and drifted to talk of college.

Incidentally, it’s not a topic you love.

It makes you nervous even though it’s a conversation that comes up all the time these days. You just…don’t really know what you want to do or where you'll go to do that mysterious something.

You have applied to a few state colleges because a big part of you would like to get out of Hawkins…but you’ve also applied to community college so you can stick close. Partially because of being lost re: the future, but…you are also reluctant to leave Dustin and your mom.

Maybe that’s lame, but those are the facts.  

You certainly don’t have the detailed plans that Nancy does.

You are happy to listen, though. You can picture her ideas working out just as she says – she’s always had a quiet determination about her that makes what she says seem obvious.

“...I can’t wait,” she concludes her point about moving away.

You understand that – truly. Hawkins has had some bad memories for both of you. And yet…part of you squirms at her steadfast declaration.

Which is fine. You remind yourself Ms Kelley, the guidance counselor, says people cope in their own way and in their own time. She also says it’s normal not to have your whole future mapped out at 19 years old …

But sometimes it sure seems like you’re the only one. When conversation lulls you let Nancy know you can go join the crew downstairs. If she has better things to do, you don’t mind.

“No, don’t worry – I won’t subject you to that,” she laughs.

You don’t tell her you don’t think it’s so bad.

Still, the two of you keep chatting about school and the holidays, and you try not to let yourself think she’s only  doing this because her dad is in the living room and expects her to be a good hostess. Feet eventually come plodding up the stairs; Mike and Lucas buzz through without a word.

“We are going to check out some of Mike’s old figurines!” Dustin blurts at you on the way past.

“...I guess I’ll just sit here,” you gripe.

“Cool!” he ignores your tone entirely.

Awesome.

Jeff and Eddie emerge next with more poise.

“Hey,” Jeff lingers to greet the both of you.

“Hey – sorry to go late,” Eddie beseeches you.

“S’okay – Dustin should’ve said something,” you assume this Holiday Special was forewarned about and it had either slipped his mind or he thought you wouldn't agree to the timetable.

“Yeah. I could’ve given you a heads-up, though,” Eddie insists, and you wonder if it’s for your convenience or if he thinks he should’ve let you know your normal Friday is…maybe forfeit. You glance at the stove clock.

Gareth shoulders past Eddie with a little smirk behind his back.

“Next time,” you assure him and watch Gareth and Jeff shunt each other away toward the stairs.

“For sure…you’re cool waiting a while longer?” he throws a thumb up to gesture to the next floor. “I can give him a ride…”

“Oh, it’s okay. I’m here now."

“Yeah…Wheeler, you good?” he checks with her, too.

“... …very good,” you catch a tone from her.

You hear Mr. Wheeler mutter a “guess I’m good, too” from the next room, but Eddie either doesn’t hear him or Mike had already advised that he could be more or less ignored.

“...’kay. We’ll be back…”

He jogs to the stairs to catch up and sends a last small wave before disappearing past the landing.  

When you straighten around, Nancy is biting her lip to (poorly) smother a smile.

“...what?”

She widens her crinkled eyes and points up the stairs.

Ugh.

“Stop”

Nancy hisses your name in a surprised little gasp.

“Don’t”

“...you two?” she keeps her voice down because she is a sensible girl despite the giddy look growing in her eyes.

“No,” You tell her, though somehow when you say it…it doesn’t feel true. “I don’t now,” you whisper; then, more definitively: “No.”

“Uh-huh. Okay. Out with it”

You scowl at her.

“This isn’t an investigative journalist moment, Nance”

“Duh,” she hunches over the table. “But still. What’s the deal? Because that was…something.”

The deal.

The deal?

You don’t know, which is half your problem, really.

Long gone are the days when you lamented not being “cool” or having a whole gaggle of best friends and a trail of ex-boyfriends. However, you have recently been wishing that Eddie didn’t make you feel so…unsure. That you had more experience with this flirty, are-we-aren’t-we excitement so that you would know what should be done or if it’s just you or…or something.

Lindsay knows your side of things, but she’s declared herself more clueless than you. So. Ya know – not helpful.

Nancy, on the other hand…

Hmm.

“He…seems nice,” she encourages you. “I mean…I don’t really know him outside of Mike and the Club, but…” she shrugs, unable to offer much more substance.

But it’s a nice gesture.

You remind yourself she’s dating Jonathan, who was a total pariah for a while, so…so she doesn’t blindly buy stereotypes and rumors.

“He is nice,” you confirm.

Nancy smiles and leans happily across the table.

You cast a wary glance toward the living room where Mr Wheeler is watching TV, but you can’t imagine he cares about teenage gossip…

So you give Nancy the broad strokes of the situation in a hushed tone.  She eats it up with wide, earnest eyes and approving nods along the way.

“... I’ve got an idea…” Those simple words lead you to The Hideout the following Tuesday with Nancy and your respective brothers. Plus Lucas, of course – still in sweaty practice gear under his sweatshirt.

The boys are stoked.

Nancy seems cool as a cucumber.

You …are wondering if you’re a total idiot.

You shouldn’t worry so much, you know. This is a public space. Even if it wasn’t, Eddie has invited you to see the band before, so…

Maybe you’re feeling squirrely about lying.

The lie being that Nancy is looking into writing a story about Corroded Coffin for the school newspaper (though she has assured you she truly might if something strikes her fancy).  She invited you once she saw that you knew the members of the band better than she did.

Simple as that.

According to Nancy, anyway.

Your brothers had certainly bought it when you invited them along as cover. They didn't question it even a little once they heard where you were going -- yes. Duh! Let's go!

It had made so much sense when Nancy laid it out… “...isn’t he in a band?” she recalled what little she knew about Eddie beyond her brother’s game.

“Yeah”

“That’s pretty cool…so do you go? You know, to cheer him on?”

You pictured groupies in cheerleader skirts and grinned.

“No. I’ve never been”

“Why not!?”

You opened your mouth to answer but realized you didn’t really have a reason. You’ve talked about his band plenty. You just…haven’t taken the next step.

“I don’t know…”

You’d been keeping an eye on the stairs, so you missed the calculating look on Nancy’s face at first… …

“We need to go”

You snapped your gaze back to her. Come again? And who is “we”?

“What?”

“I’ve seen their posters. They play at The Hideout sometimes. I’ve never been there…”

This fact didn’t seem like a deterrent, though. The cogs were definitely turning in Nancy’s mind.

It felt exciting.

But you also wanted to tell her to shut up.

“Yeah,” you confirmed anyway. “On Tuesdays...”

“Every Tuesday?” Nancy lit up.

You couldn't help that your chest hitched liked her sudden anticipation was contagious.

“Pretty sure. But, look, I don’t really think it’s your scene…”

You weren’t sure it was yours, either, and maybe you should’ve said that because Nancy straightened her shoulders in offense.

“...I have to get used to anywhere being my scene,” she declared…then she was suddenly smiling.  “That’s it. I’ll say I’m checking out a possible story for the school paper…”

“...about music?”

“Maybe,” Nancy shrugged. “I’ll come up with a possible angle. You never know, but it’ll be my reason to be there. I saw you knew Eddie and made you come with me!”

“Nancy…”

“Don’t you want to?’

Yes.

Obviously.

Of course.

Your heart was happy with the idea already. Your mind was the problem – your thoughts were already spinning to what you’d wear and what you’d say, and would you stand out like a sore thumb? Will the guys think it’s silly for you to be there? Would Eddie?!

…you didn’t think he would.

Fact remained you could be totally lame, though.

“And Mike and Dustin can come!”

You knew Dustin would love that. And, well, you had definitely thought about going. The idea that Eddie would know you came for him always gave you pause…

But.

That hadn’t stopped him from coming to your house the previous week, had it? No. Probably because he wasn’t as ridiculous as you and your silly worries…

Nancy was handing you a very nicely wrapped solution - if Eddie gave you shit for being there you didn’t have to blush through whatever “Well, I thought it was time I see you in action” answer you could come up with. Now you had a reason, however contrived it may be. Buffers, too…

“I do want to check it out,” you admitted.

Nancy downright wiggled in her seat. More for the sake of a small scheme and something new to do than a deep investment in whoever you may have a crush on, probably.

“Dustin and Mike will definitely be in,” you added.

Nancy’s hair bounced with her nod.

“They’ll be annoying, but I’ll play wingman,” she promised in a soft whisper as something one of the guys said upstairs drifted down to your ears. “Wing-woman…”

“Nancy, it really isn’t like that…”

A “yet” played in your mind, but you never said it aloud.

Her answering smile was too knowing for your taste.

Geeze. Just how obvious were you?

You’re feeling super obvious as your little crew finds a table at the sizable but sparse bar.  The five of you are bringing the median age of the place down by quite a bit, but no one is batting an eye.

You suspect no one bats an eye at much of anything around here.

There is a low stage at one side of the bar. Drums and guitars are set up with a couple mic stands, but there’s no band members in sight. You picture  them out back smoking cigarettes by the trash cans…maybe there are some old folding chairs sitting around, too.

The visual seems…right. And good.

‘We aren’t glamorous, but everybody starts somewhere,’ Eddie has told you. 'I mean – Hetfield and Ulrich found each other in some dinky newspaper, and now we have Metallica!  You just never know…”' 

He wasn’t even cocky when he talked about that…maybe not even optimistic. Just open. Sure that something could happen.

‘Anyway, playing for anyone is a blast,’ he’d also told you.

“Anyone” is currently a partially full bar of half-interested folks. More than the “few drunks” he keeps claiming make up the crowd.

Still. Your little crew has increased the audience…and you reassure yourself Eddie will love that. He will.  He won’t think this is lame.

As sure as you are of that fact, you still feel a nervous type of excitement while you shed your coat.

“I’m not sure they’ll come to the table,” Nancy is taking a more practical eye to the situation. “I’ll go grab drinks…”

“They’ll serve us beer?” Mike asks in awe.  

It earns him a pitying sort of look from his sister.

“No. You can have a Coke,” she explains.

You aren’t convinced they would care about your IDs here, but yeah - you’re not drinking with your brothers.

“I’ll help you,” Lucas offers since you two aren’t his sisters and so he’s compelled to be on top tier behavior.

Nancy smiles and leads him up to the bar with her.

“...are you going to drink?” Dustin eyes you dubiously.

“No,” you keep the party line. “And if you even think about trying to sneak something, then –”

“Oh please,” he shows no interest in your threats.

“I mean it, Dust”

You give Mike the stern look, too, in Nancy’s honor.

“What do I care about alcohol?” Dustin goes on. “Kill my brain cells? Yeah right – they’re my free ride,” he taps his temple.

Freshmen.

“Good,” is all you say.

You sling your coat over the back of a chair to signal finality.

“They’re late going on…” Mike is studying his watch.

“That’s Metal,” Dustin states like it’s obvious, and he has already flopped into his seat ready to wait.

Your chortle as you sit down, too. Nancy and Lucas are back in a couple minutes to slide glasses around the table.

“Hope you didn’t actually want a drink,” Nancy leans in to mutter to you once she sits at your side. “That bartender was already a little leery of the boys…I didn’t want to push it.”

“Really?” you glance at the bar, wondering if you’ll see him watching or heading over.

“Yeah, but I explained we go to school with the band – he thought it was nice we came out,” Nancy smiles.

It’s clear she is pleased to have gotten the proverbial greenlight from the establishment. You are, too, honestly.  It eases some part of you that was tense about bringing Dustin somewhere he might not be allowed. The boys’ muted chatter kicks up with some nudging and hand gesturing.

You look away from Nancy and see the band file in and head to their instruments from somewhere stage left. Eddie jumps the small distance to lope toward his guitar, and you grin.

Then you school yourself because Nancy is near and far too observant. Between exchanging words and getting themselves settled, it takes a minute before they notice they have friends in the crowd.  

It’s something of a waterfall.

Jeff spots them first and does a double-take. Smirking, he waves a hand at Matt and toes at the back of Eddie’s knee to nod at the group.  Matt gives a subdued, but seemingly pleased, grimace-grin to Dustin and Mike waving obnoxiously.

Eddie beams when he takes you all in.

For a second…it feels like the gesture is just for you.

Which. You know. It’s silly. Mike and Dustin are the ones sending the big waves and bouncing happily in their seats. You aren’t the standout here, though you are excited.

….but you enjoy the moment of feeling Eddie is staring right at you. This whole night is an indulgence, really, so you can give yourself this.

None of the guys deign to wave back, but they nod in acknowledgement.  Gareth clocks the others’ attention and raises a drum stick in a vague “hello” before counting them in. Honestly, Dustin’s cheer of “hell yeah!” is pretty spot-on.

They’re good.

Like Eddie had told you, they primarily play covers, most of which you are familiar with. Some of it is a little reigned in, and the idea they’d been told they were too loud (or something similar) makes you grin as you nod along to a song.

Meanwhile, Dustin is thrashing his head a little harder…he’s probably the superior fan. Which is fine. These are pretty good guys to look up to, all things considered.  

Nancy…doesn’t look like she dislikes the music, but she looks more interested in the whole event overall than the music.

Fair enough.

The GoGos are more her vibe. Or ABBA – you know she likes them. “Oh…” she perks up later in the set.

You’d been busy watching the bathroom for Dustin’s return, but you look round and Nancy is eyeing the stage with renewed interest. Everything looks the same up there…but as you listen you realize what you’re hearing.

“Is...this Madonna?” Lucas crinkles his nose just lightly.

It is.

Unrecognizable at first, but this is definitely ‘Into the Groove.’ Or, rather, Corroded Coffin’s take on it.

“That’s cool,” Nancy looks appreciative.

You are smiling, too. Beaming, maybe.

The band had taken music that wasn’t for them and shaped it to their tastes! It feels like a very Eddie thing to do. (You know it must have been a team-effort, but the fact remains…it fits).

You love it.

A couple songs later, they do the same thing with an Elton John song!  Rather than reproduce Black Sabbath or Megadeth again, they speed things up and go harder on the lyrics to make it a whole thing.

All their music is enjoyable, but you can’t help your smile widening as they fit in a guitar solo on ‘I’m Still Standing,’ of all the damn things.

“...they’re good, right?” Nancy’s wearing a fresh grin.

“Yeah,” you laugh.

She waggles her eyebrows at you – only, you think, because the boys are turned away and occupied. Good - because you know you blush.

“Eddie’s good,” she leans closer so she doesn’t have to talk too loudly.

Smiling, you nod again.

“...I hadn’t given a lot of thought to who sang…” she adds.

Eddie. It’s Eddie.  Matt, too, as needed.

“Yeah. It’s…cool…”

It’s hot, is what it is, but you can’t bring yourself to say so aloud.

But it is.

So hot.

Eddie looks good up front. Sturdy. Sure. In control. Happy . Even if he wasn’t so good on the guitar, you think maybe he’d be able to hide it behind his exuberance.

“Very cool...”

Nancy is smirking, and you hate her.

Except for how you don’t – because she’d gotten you here. Who knows how long you would’ve waited otherwise.  For that, Nancy is awesome.

…but her smirk can go to hell.

“Glad we came?” She checks quietly as songs transition.

“Definitely”

She knocks you with her elbow, still grinning.

You don’t recognize the next song, so you let yourself just kind of bask in appreciating simply making it here... “Thank you, Hawkins,” Eddie is half-shouting a couple minutes later.

The loudest applause – and a sharp whistle, courtesy of Mike – come from your table, but there’s a modest smattering of clapping throughout the place.

Eddie says something to the guys and gestures, then hops off the stage and cuts across the room in your direction.

Well.

Not just you. But, once again, it feels like it for a moment…

“Dude!” Dustin greets him.

Eddie is short of breath but wearing a bright smile when he reaches the edge of the table. He is practically floating…and he looks a little sweaty. Should that be gross?

…because it totally isn’t.

“Hey…” he beams around, then lands his eyes on you. “You guys sticking around?”

“Yeah,” Dustin nods.

Eddie laughs.

You glance at Nancy, who nods.

“Yes…”

“Cool, yeah…we have to go clear-up some of our shit, but we’ll be back in a bit…cool,” he adds again, laughs a little, and then leaves in a ruffle of black jeans and t-shirt to hurry back up front to do his share of packing up.

“Should…we help?” Mike asks the table.

“Wanna be a groupie?” Dustin laughs.

“I’m just saying”

“We could…” Lucas shrugs.

“Dude, do you even know how?” Dustin scoffs as if he does.

Thus ensues bickering.

Typical. Knowing it might only jazz them up more, you head up tot he bar for fresh drinks. Its better than sitting and waiting and getting antsy. . Eddie’s more hyped than usual to head back inside after they pack up his van and share a joint.  Walshe – the bartender – will usually let them have a drink or two, and they typically chat with some regulars, but tonight …tonight feels like having actual fans.  People who came just for Corroded Coffin.

They are friends…but still.

It’s a very cool feeling, is the thing.

The thrilled feeling stutters awkwardly in his chest when they go back inside and you are missing from the table.  Eddie's rational mind kicks in soon enough, and he knows you must be around because the other four are still there.  

His eyes skim toward the restroom of their own accord and, on the way, he spots you up at the bar.

Eureka!

His feet reroute him in your direction.

You are wedged between a barstool and one of the regulars who must've wandered over to chat with you. He’s a middle-aged guy Eddie has seen around before. Quite dude.  Maybe you know him.

Eddie can’t help giving you a once over. You look nice. Dark tights under black shorts and some slouchy kind of sweater.  It fits in. Cute but grungier than your normal schoolwear…and you certainly stand out less than Wheeler in her blouse…like you’d thought about where you were coming and why.

He tries not to think too hard on the idea you’d done so for him.

It’s kind of hard when you look this good, though… “Hey Elder Henderson,” he arrives at your side

You start just a little, but your face lightens when you see him, and a smile splits over your face…Eddie’s not ashamed to say this makes him feel nice.

“Hi…”

You hurry to step back, pushing a stool aside to make room for him.

The guy who’d been talking to you huffs when Eddie steps into the space you leave. Eddie glances his way, then back to you… …you continue to smile his welcome.

O-kayyyy…

The other man moves off, and Eddie might normally apologize for interrupting… but that’s not the vibe he’s gettin

“Thanks,” you sigh.

“...yeah?”

You nod and glance past him. Eddie follows your gaze, but the guy is climbing into a stool few seats away now.

“He was kind of weird…”

Shit.

Jesus fucking Chr –ugh!

Eddie turns his body fully toward you to block you from view.  

He should’ve fucking clocked that. He’s been to enough concerts and shifty venues to know better, hasn’t he?  He’s pretended to be someone’s boyfriend a few times until they could find their friends – he knows some people just want to ruin a good thing with selfishness or behavior they think is funny or…well.

People are douchebags, is the thing.

No surprise there.

“I can grab whatever you’re up here for if you want to go back to the table,” he advises.

It’s the least he can do. You’d come here to see him, after all.

Err. Ya know. To see the band, of which he is simply a part…

“Nah,” you brush that off and relax a little with your elbow on the bar. “Can’t miss the chance to be seen with the lead singer…”

Ooof.  Eddie has to stop himself from puffing up his shoulders, but he has to admit to himself that he enjoys the implication.

“You forgot talented guitarist…” he plays it cool and teasing instead.

You fling your head back in a laugh.

“Oh, I didn’t forget…”

He smiles.  

“...I like the headband,” you add, looking him over.

Shitdamn, he is going to melt! Is he melting?

He loves hearing you notice him. If that's wrong then, well...too late.

“Yeah?” he pretends he absolutely isn’t blushing. “Matt thinks it’s a little much…”

The headband is both a vibe he likes and a practical way to keep his hair out of his face when he gets into the music. If you like it, he’ll keep it on his list of shit to remember for gigs.

“Eh, what does he know – he doesn’t have your hair…”

That feels like a compliment. Maybe not explicit, but Eddie will definitely tally it in the complement column. No one can stop him.

He should compliment you, too

…not like it would be hard. You look so nice. He doesn’t want to sound like a weirdo, though - especially in light of the dude behind him. Is commenting on your eyeliner rude? Does complimenting your outfit give away that he’d been looking at your body?

Shit.

He’s totally overthinking, and he’s not necessarily his best when he’s overthinking…

Maybe he’ll just say nothing.

“So,” you fill the silence his contemplation left. “Madonna, huh?”

Eddie laughs and latches onto the topic.

“You liked that?”

“Yeah. Nancy realized what it was before I did,” you allow her the credit. “You never mentioned you cover anything like that…”

It’s something they’ve been working on this year.

“We call it rehabbing a song,” Eddie smirks. “Gotta make improvements before we’ll play it…”

“Improvements?! Wow...” you laugh, but then look away when the bartender makes his way over.

Walshe is a pretty alright dude.  Eddie can’t help but think that if he’d come over to take your order sooner he would’ve discerned the guy down the bar had been bothering you and would’ve gotten him to fuck off.  

Hopefully this isn't just ruining The Hideout for you.

“What can I get you, sweetheart?” Eddie tenses and watches for you to be put-off by the older man’s greeting. “More soda?”

You give him a genuine smile when you confirm the order, apparently unbothered.  Context matters.

Eddie gets that.

“You want something stronger?” Eddie offers quietly. “Walshe usually lets us have a couple drinks…”

“No,” you glance back at the table, then cast Edie a pointed look.

Right.

Brothers.  Kind of lame sometimes, he’s gathered. Besides, Eddie isn’t sure Wheeler even likes to hang. She is here, though, so maybe she does…

“Gottcha …so how come you’re here with Wheeler, of all people?” he has to ask.

“...I thought you liked her?”

Eddie blanches.

Then he realizes you aren't implying he likes her likes her. He remembers discussing Nancy and her Yearbook interview with Hellfire Club; he’d told you about it back when you’d first discussed his Douche Rating System.

Christ, but that feels like such a long time ago.

It was only last semester…

“Sure, I like her fine,” Eddie shrugs. “But I didn’t know she was jonesing for live music … …and I didn’t know you’d come to a gig with her.”

Not that he’s picture what it would be like if you came to a gig or anything…

But he had definitely thought you’d show up with Lindsay. The two of you did all sorts of stuff together. Those concerts with Lindsay’s aunt, sleep overs, running off to Somerset for a showing of Rocky Horror Picture Show (Eddie had been highly offended to be left out of that one, and you’d promised he could join the tradition next Fall).

But Nancy Wheeler? Nah, he hadn’t pictured you showing up with her.

…because he pictured nothing. Obviously.

Christ, he lies to himself too fucking much...

“I know,” you laugh but prove his theory. “She was asking me about your band when we were all at the Wheelers over the weekend…”

“She was?”

You look a little squirrely for a moment, but nod in affirmation.

“Mmhmm, she thought it sounded cool and wanted to come in case it would be a good story for the school’s newsletter…”

Oh.

Knowing it was Nancy Wheeler’s idea to come probably shouldn’t cause an itch in Eddie’s chest – you’re here, and that’s what matters. You’d liked the music. You’re into his headband. You’re over here talking to him.

Those things are a big deal, no matter how it had come about.

In fact, he should probably be geeking on the potential publicity of getting mentioned in the school newspaper. It doesn’t have wide distribution or anything, but any word of mouth could help.

“So she dragged you along, huh?”

No, no, no – stop acting put-out!

Ugh! He can’t just be a whiny bitch about it.

“Yeah, she really twisted my arm. Threatened me and everything,” your sarcasm is some balm to his pride.

Which is stupid.

He’s fine.

Everything is fine. More than fine.

“...I’ve been meaning to come check you guys out,” you hand Eddie just what he’d wanted, and his gut swoops. “I even mentioned it to Linds a while back, but…” you shrug.

“...but what?” he eggs you on.

You shrug again. First one shoulder, and then both in an awkward little wiggle.

“I…wasn’t sure if we’re the kind of fans you wanted. I don’t know…”

Eddie laughs.

He can’t help it.

“When did I give you the impression we’re picky about our crowd?” Eddie gestures to the bar at large with a sweep of his hand.

Fucking ridiculous.

“I don’t know!” you laugh a little, too, and you’re blushing but it's cute and he decides not to mention it. “We’re just friends from high school, not…”

You gesture out at the bar, too, but in a smaller and more unsure way.

Eddie rolls his eyes exaggeratedly. So you see it. So you won’t think something like that again.

Then he makes a show of meeting your eye.  

“I’m glad you came”

Your smile is small, but it crackles in your eyes. It’s the real deal.

“...me too.”

Eddie’s smirking. He knows he is. How could he not? He’s proud, okay? Of course he wants you to like his band and his music and his people. Obviously he does. He wants…

He just wants, alright?

Maybe he shouldn’t. But he does.

And he kind of thinks that you know it. Kind of thinks you want something, too, sometimes. If he was a little less of a fucking freak then maybe he'd have a better inkling of what his next step should be.

“Gonna come again?” He hedges his bets because he’s a little high on hubris.

And a little weed.

This doesn't feel like a horrible step. Especially because you're holding his gaze and still grinning.

“Umm…yeah. Yeah, probably. If–” Then Dustin is suddenly shouldering between the two of you.

“What’re you doing up here? Hey man!”

And, yeah, maybe Eddie enjoys Dustin more than a little bit, but boooo! Bad timing! Isn’t he supposed to be smart? Can’t he read the room?

…then again, maybe he’d read it a little too well and bustled his way up here on purpose. That’s very possible.

Eddie honestly hasn’t given a lot of thought to the fact that he’s crushing on his friend’s sister. Maybe because Dustin is young and doesn’t seem like a threat.

Or maybe because, up until very recently, Eddie’s been trying to pretend it’s just a friend thing.

That friends listen to music together and engage in hobbies together. They definitely play games and watch movies together. It’s probably okay to sort of cuddle-up with a friend when doing some of those things, too.  And it’s totally normal to worry about a friend and drive across town to check on said friend and their little brother…

And, like…it’s normal to be flattered a friend comes to your gig, yeah? And to check out her legs in her shorts. And...ya know, to stare at her lip when she bites at it like you are right now…

Okay, maybe he’s veering off of normal!

Maybe he should stop pretending to pretend it’s a friend thing.

Whatever.

Dustin’s timing is piss – that’s the point here.

And Eddie wants to hear the rest of your answer…

“These for us?” Dustin is pointing at the sodas Walshe has set in front of you.

“Yes,” Eddie shoves a few into his hands. “We’ll be right there.”

“What about–”

“Nancy told me to come help,” Mike arrives, too, and Eddie hates all of them.

He doesn’t.

…but he does.

“Perfect. Here,” you hand Mike two other glasses. “Eddie’s got to grab a drink; we’ll be right back.”

Mike heads back to the table, and Dusitn looks hesitant but follows behind his friend since it’s apparently now the thing to do. Eddie’s eyes dart to the boys’ destination and finds Nancy watching.

Huh.

…okay.

The other senior isn’t smiling, but she still manages to look pleased somehow. Eddie gets the impression Nancy Wheeler will be a very good journalist.

“... …so you were saying?” he swings his attention back to you.

“Uh…oh, I was saying I’ll probably be able to get Lindsay to join me. To come back here, I mean,” you explain like he could’ve possibly forgotten the subject – perish the thought! “Or I guess Nancy…she was into most of it, I think.”

Eddie remembers you saying Nancy had recognized ‘Into the Groove’ quickly and was digging it. Maybe she’s not such a square.

“...although Dustin might be on high alert anytime I leave the house on a Tuesday now.”

He joins you when you laugh but doesn’t doubt you.

He glances back over to the table and finds that Dustin is the one watching, now. Like he can hear he’s part of the conversation…or like he’s getting suspicious.

Eddie sighs.

As much as he’d like to keep you over here and to himself, it’s probably past time to go join the group. He waves Walshe down for a few more sodas – he figures he can forgo booze for tonight, too – and helps you carry them back to the table. He saunters as he does, ready to ham-up the adoring fan angle of having all of his favorite nerds here and in one place.

He makes sure to specifically thank Wheeler for coming out, too – even calls her Nancy when he does so, real polite like. He owes her for being the orchestrator of the evening.

And it’s a good night.

Though it’s only a Coke in his hand, it’s fun to talk and laugh with his friends. Sure he likes the compliments to the band, too, but it’s just nice and easy. All of it. Even humoring the requests the Freshmen have for covers (Dustin’s demand for a “Like a Surgeon” cover is flat-out vetoed, though).

Being knee-to-knee with you at the table certainly doesn’t hurt.

Which, ya know…definitely probably isn’t just a friend thing…

Next Chapter >>>>

[dee-dee-monster]

Woohoo! Thank you!! I’m glad this story found you and you’ve enjoyed it so far! ❤️

Then Out of the Aether - (Ch. 7)

Summary: Eddie steps up when you need some support. You can’t help but feel some feelings about it.

Warnings: None

A/N: Multi-chapter slow burn. Henderson!Reader

< Click here to find previous chapters >

_

It’s fine.

It’s fine, fine, fine.

And yet Eddie feels nervous watching you get out of your car.  He’s out on the front couch, knee bouncing excitedly while he works through a cigarette. It’s silly of him. 

But it’s fine. 

Keep reading

[dee-dee-monster]

Thank you! I saw you <3 through each chapter and it was exciting! So happy to see you’ve enjoy - I’m kicking my feet gleefully over here

And “unsureness” is totally a word (uh, even if it isn’t)

Appreciate you!

Then Out of the Aether - (Ch. 7)

Summary: Eddie steps up when you need some support. You can’t help but feel some feelings about it.

Warnings: None

A/N: Multi-chapter slow burn. Henderson!Reader

< Click here to find previous chapters >

_

It’s fine.

It’s fine, fine, fine.

And yet Eddie feels nervous watching you get out of your car.  He’s out on the front couch, knee bouncing excitedly while he works through a cigarette. It’s silly of him. 

But it’s fine. 

Keep reading

[dee-dee-monster]

you write eddie SO well

Ahhh — THANK YOU!!

That is so nice to hear! Thank you. He is so fun to write; I’m glad you’re enjoying 😁❤️😁

[dee-dee-monster]

Then Out of the Aether - (Ch. 7)

Summary: Eddie steps up when you need some support. You can’t help but feel some feelings about it.

Warnings: None

A/N: Multi-chapter slow burn. Henderson!Reader

< Click here to find previous chapters >

_

It’s fine.

It’s fine, fine, fine.

And yet Eddie feels nervous watching you get out of your car.  He’s out on the front couch, knee bouncing excitedly while he works through a cigarette. It’s silly of him. 

But it’s fine. 

He expects you, after all.  It’s Friday – this is your guys’ whole thing. 

Except for today. Today, Jeff and Gareth had shown shortly after Eddie had gotten home. Which …is good. It’s great! They’re his people, and they are always welcome here.

He just isn’t sure what you will think of the change.  

There hadn’t been a chance to give you a heads-up or anything, and there is no guarantee you’ll want to stay.  

Which. Is. Fine. 

You are perfectly allowed to decide this isn’t the night you’d wanted. Will he be disappointed if you head home? Yeah. But you can, if you want, and he’s just reminding himself it’s fucking fine.  “Hey,” you greet as you drop down next to him. 

“Hey…Gareth and Jeff are inside,” he explains. 

“Thought so…I recognized Jeff’s truck… “

Right. Of course. 

Eddie watches you curl one of your legs up under you because it’s getting a little chilly to spend too much time out here. Also, he thinks, because you might be uncomfortable. 

He watches you closely

“They’re in there bickering about what pizzas to order … …that okay with you?”

“Sure,” you nod. “I like pizza as much as anyone…” 

Eddie chuffs out a small cloud of smoke. Rolls his head over in your direction. 

“C’mon…”

“What?” You just blink at him. 

He should let it go. After all, he wants you to stay. He’s convinced himself your comfort trumps his preference, though… 

Look at him being all evolved and shit.

“I know you’re not always .. …into groups”

He thinks he sounds kind enough, even though you squirm and look down at the cushion. Eddie doesn’t feel bad; he knows by now you sometimes just have to ease into the idea of being seen. 

Which is fair. 

“That’s true, but…it’s no problem — the guys are nice”

Though you’d never given any indication of not liking his friends, Eddie feels a strange warmth to hear you state it outright. To know you acknowledge them and don’t think they’re lame or annoying or — geeze, of course you fucking don’t. 

In some ways, the novelty of you just hasn’t worn off yet. 

Which, honestly, is the kind of thought that makes him want to hoard you to himself. Makes him not want to share the Friday nights the two of you share. 

“I would’ve given you a heads up, though,” he vows, trying to really drive home that being understood thing. “This was pretty spur of the moment…”

“Eddie, I get it …it’s fine,” your smile looks genuine. 

And just in time, too, because Jeff comes banging out of the trailer.  “One ham and sausage, one pepp— oh hey,” he cuts himself off and waves a little greeting to you. 

He looks entirely cool about it. 

In fact, he and Gareth had barely had a spare comment to make when Eddie told them you were coming over. He can only assume this means he’ll be receiving a whole heap of shit from them later. They’re just laying in wait to see how things go…

“Let me guess. The other is pepperoni with extra cheese,” Eddie sighs like he doesn’t have anything annoying waiting for him at Sunday band practice. “Why do you waste your breath debating when it’s always the same? They always do this,” he directs an explanation to you. 

“We don’t always do shit”

“Sure you do.  You think you’ll try something new but you won’t put veggies on pizza –”

“Sacrilegious!” 

“You could always try pineapple” 

Eddie and Jeff both stare at you for this. 

“...what? I heard it’s a thing?” 

A thing?

Ew. 

“Who says?” Eddie raises an eyebrow. 

“I don’t know. Like out in California or something,” you shrug, blushing a little now. 

“... …well I’m going to stay here where we eat sausage and pepperoni.” 

“But you’ll still argue about it next time,” Eddie leaves your suggestion alone in favor of teasing Jeff further. 

“Real welcoming host you are,” Jeff chortles and trudges back inside. 

“Mi casa es su casa!” 

Jeff doesn’t dignify this with a response, and the door shuts behind him. 

“Those pizzas sound okay? I can go hassle them for not asking you…” Eddie is perfectly willing – it probably wouldn’t even take much; you’re kind of a “guest” to the group, and Jeff and Gareth are nice enough guys. 

“No. I’m not a picky eater…”

“M’kay…” Eddie accepts that and takes a slow drag from his cigarette while he drops his gaze to you. Searching once more. 

“...I told you I’m fine with it,” you spot him coming. 

“I’m just saying,” he shrugs.  “It won’t be our usual night. I dunno if we’ll watch a movie or what the fuck we’ll do. I’d get it if you want to take off, that’s all…”

Not that you two always follow an agenda. 

You don’t do the same things all the time. In fact, last week Eddie wanted to make you listen to as much of the Motorhead discography as possible, and the pair of you had sat on the living room floor and played board games. He’d dug them out of a cupboard where they’d been collecting dust for a while. Old, half-forgotten things Uncle Wayne had bought back when Eddie first came to live with him so they’d have something to do while they got used to one another. 

“So much fucking Yahtzee back then…” he’d reminisced aloud. 

So you’d played Yahtzee, Connect Four, and Sorry for hours. (With pauses for musical commentary, of course.) 

Point is, it’s not like you aren’t flexible. Fridays have become written in stone, but not in a prescribed way…not really. 

Eddie just doesn’t want you to feel obligated. Ever.

That’s not so crazy, right?

“...you trying to kick me out, Munson?” 

You’re grinning.

“Yeah,” Eddie smirks along. “I’m super embarrassed of you…” 

You give him a light kick to the shin, and he can admit to himself he loves it.  That he enjoys getting you a little riled up. 

“I…could go. If you want to have, like, a guys night…” 

You put on a deep, grumbly voice when you say guys night. It’s light and goofy, but Eddie figures it’s a genuine offer. 

“Nah …and I don’t sound like that”. 

“To me you do” 

“...you said I have a nice voice,” he adds, all smirky and smarmy. 

You blush a little and he knows he’s got you there. You have, in fact, said that. More than once, actually. 

“I was lying back then,” you tilt your chin up with faux-piety.

Eddie laughs.  The two of you head inside when Eddie finishes his smoke. 

Turns out Garreth had spotted the board games still stacked in the corner of the living room, so you all play Yahtzee while you wait for the pizza delivery. 

It’s a fairly subdued affair.

Until after dinner. That’s when a rousing game of Sorry gets underway, complete with yelling, cursing, and accusations of purposeful miscounting!  

By the second round of the game, everyone just straight throws pieces across the room if they land on an occupied space and get to bump another player.  Rowdiness amps up even more by the third go-around because you and Gareth have both won a game, and therefore if either of you win you will be The Sorry Champion. 

This title has become an honor more coveted than it has any actual right to be. 

It’s fucking fun, is the thing. 

And you’re having fun, which thrills Eddie to no end.

This is how games and debates often get when the guys get together. They have a knack for making low-stakes things a little more adrenaline-fueled just for the sake of being shits. Eddie is delighted you’re not only keeping up but enjoying yourself. Even better, you egg the others on in your own quiet ways.  “Pause!” Eddie screeches when the phone rings. “Pause everything – I mean it! Hands up!” 

He doesn’t want to miss a moment of the game in case there is someone he can accuse of cheating. He’s two games away from taking The Championship, but anything could happen.  Jeff has put cards up his sleeve in the past when playing Rummy, and Eddie won’t trust anyone until the Sorry board is packed up and put away. 

Dramatic? Maybe. 

But delightful, all in all. 

Once everyone holds their palms up in a solemn vow to stop playing, Eddie gets off the floor and lopes over to the phone.  It’s late, which means it might be Uncle Wayne. 

Or maybe a customer, but that would be pretty rare… …

“Hello!” 

‘Eddie? …it’s Dustin…’

Wow. Even rarer. And Dustin sounds…weird…

“Yeah? …you alright?” 

‘I’m fine – do you know where my sister is?’ he rushes despite his declaration of fine-ness. ‘I know she was talking to you. Did she say where she was going? She’s not at Lindsey’s. But her mom would say fuck-all.  She’s a damn mess, man, but –’

“...dude, slow down Henderson…” Eddie has to talk loudly over him, and he glances over his shoulder to see if this catches your attention. 

It has. 

You sit up straighter to get a good look at him, Doritos bag forgotten in your fingers. He stares back at you and nods to tell you ‘yup, you heard that right.’ 

You frown, and Eddie can swear he hears the wheels turning in your head before your face tilts in worry and you scramble up off the carpet. 

He covers the receiver when you scurry to his side. 

“He’s trying to figure out where you are,” he whispers. 

You frown again, head tilted like this fact is exasperating. Thing is…Eddie doesn’t think Dustin’s sounds like he’s just being a nosey shit of a brother. He thinks you’ll agree …

“Why?” you whisper back. 

‘Eddie? ….Eddie?!’ You can both hear Dustin through the speaker. 

He uncovers the mouthpiece. 

“Yeah, man – sorry. What’s up?” 

‘Okay. Good. Jesus,’ Dustin’s tone is still pleading and thin, and Eddie can feel you stiffen up next to him. He stares at you. ‘I was asking if she mentioned what she was doing tonight? I don’t want to call our mo–’

“Dustin?” you cut off his worrying like you can’t help yourself. 

You probably can’t. 

Your name trickles back across the line in a relieved sigh, and your eyes pinch in concern once more when Dustin sas it.  You snatch the phone from Eddie’s hand and, despite his curiosity, he lets you do it. 

“What’s wrong?” you demand and turn away to focus on your brother. “...what happened?” 

Eddie whispers your name. Questioning. He wants to catch a look at your face to gauge what’s going on, but he also feels like it would be rude to do so. 

“Dustin,” you urge him, and Eddie’s gut twists somehow hearing you like that.

He’s not sure why, really. If Dustin can call multiple people on the phone then he’s fine. At least, ya know, relatively speaking. Like physically. Right?

Fuck. 

“...oh. Okay, yeah… …yes. Obviously… yeah, I’m on my way … … …go find Tews. Hang tight…” 

Twos?

“See you in a few...” you mutter before lowering the phone. 

Eddie stands by the phone cradle, head tilted and waiting on you when you return to hang-up. 

“...hey,” you greet, darty-eyed and unsure. 

“Everything good?” he asks softly. 

“Yeah,” your answer sounds like a lie, and you seem to know it. “Or…I just need to head home,” you shrug. 

He nods. 

Jeff and Garreth are watching, too, when Eddie glances over.  You stiffen a little when you turn back to face them, but you muster a small smile. 

“Little twerp okay?” Garreth checks. 

Eddie makes a face and waves a hand behind your back as a threat to the other boy – they don’t know how protective you get. Jeff takes the initiative to smack Gareth in the arm. 

“What?!”

“He’s good. I’ll go…wrangle him,” you attempt to brush the whole thing off, too, and Eddie thinks it’s well done and big of you. 

He refrains from saying so.  He hangs back while you shove your feet into your sneakers and retrieve your keys. You don’t offer much more of a farewell to any of them, distracted as you are. 

When you step out, he follows close behind. 

“Hey…hey,” he taps at your shoulder, then skitters around in front of you. “You sure things are okay?” 

It seems more appropriate to ask away from the eyes of others, even if it’s only Jeff and Gare. 

You nod. 

“You need a ride?” he offers anyway. “You’re upset, yeah?” 

That was fucking stupid to ask. Obviously you are.

He just wants to help.  

“No – or, yeah, I am,” you backtrack and shake your head. “But I’m okay to drive. I promise…” 

Your tone isn’t the most convincing sell, so Eddie looks you over. Clocks how hard you’re clenching at your key ring and the way your other hand trembles and fidgets. Your eyes are clear, though. 

“...okay.” 

“Thanks. For…checking” 

Of course he’s going to check. 

He just nods and steps out of the way. You seem to zero back in on getting home, but you pause again with a hand on the door. Something draws you up short.

“Hey, um. Look, I think,” you twist back toward him. “I think Dustin will be embarrassed about this by next week…” 

You tilt your head at him in a pointed, wide-eyed look. 

Jeeze. 

“Ah, c’mon – gimme some credit,” he rolls his eyes, but in a more subdued way than his usual. “I see it’s off limits…” 

Sure he gives everyone shit even when it’s a little dicey to do so, but there’s a line. He doesn’t find it often, but he knows it when he sees it. And for all he likes to act like he doesn’t care, he does care. 

Like a lot, honestly. 

“....yeah?” your eyes flicker over to the trailer door. 

Ah. 

“I’ll make sure they do, too,” he follows. 

“...m’kay. It’s just,” you shift your weight like you’re unsure of your next words, and Eddie frowns. “You know all the …stuff at StarCourt last year?” 

Okay. Not what he’d expected. 

“Course,” he confirms, eyes widening. 

“Right. Well, Dustin was there, and –”

“Fuck”

“Exactly…he doesn’t talk about it much,” you add. “Sometimes…he just has trouble sleeping...” 

No fucking kidding. Eddie is sure there’s more to that statement, but he can read between the lines. And there’s no room for mockery this time. Honest. Cross his heart and all that shit. 

That was all a huge mess – and Dustin had been there? Fuck. 

“For sure…for sure,” Eddie holds up both hands. “He’s good.” 

You look like you believe him. 

And you looked relieved, which Eddie elects not to take personally. Figures he can chalk it up more to your concern for Dustin than actual doubts in him. 

“Thanks…and,” you pause again. “I’ll take care of explaining…this,” you point from yourself to his trailer. 

Right. 

He hadn’t even thought of that. 

“Ah, doesn’t matter,” he shrugs and hopes you won’t put that high on your list of priorities. 

“...m’kay.Good night.” 

“Night. Drive careful.”

Any mother-hen related jokes you might’ve lobbed at him on another night are forfeited, and you get in your car quietly. 

Eddie hangs around until you’ve gone off down the drive. He feels he hasn’t done enough, though he can’t quite bring to mind what he ought to have said or done. 

You just looked so distraught. Sad. He’d wanted to fix it. 

Wants to. 

He can’t. He gets that. Dustin had been through something serious, something real. It couldn’t be teased away or dismissed; of course you needed to go be with him. 

But. Well. Maybe he can do something…

Jeff and Garreth won’t mind. 

He’s, like, 90% sure.  . You and Dustin don’t really have a relationship full of big, mushy moments. Smiling, teasing, and small gestures are more common. Quiet conversations, sarcasm, or casual nights spent watching movies are how you enjoy each other. 

Still. 

You’re flexible. 

When you get home, you bound through the door and physically haul Dustin into a hug.  And he allows it.  Cool relief floods through you once you lay eyes on him. Nevermind that you’d known, logistically, that he was safe – a nightmare didn’t put him in physical peril. He was upset, but you’d known he’d be in one piece. 

That didn’t matter. 

You’d come too close to losing him. You haven’t forgotten that. In fact, you panic about it, too, sometimes.  “I’m fine,” Dustin tells you when he breaks the hug and looks up from where he’d pressed the top of his head into your shoulder. 

“...are you?” you palm his cheeks between your hands. 

Mostly to try to get a smile out of him. Also a little because you hope to see straight into his brain if you try hard enough. 

He flicks your wrist away with a characteristic grumble but no smile. Halfway there. 

“I’m in one piece”

“...I see that.” 

“I just…didn’t want to be alone,” he scuffs a foot. 

“...that’s okay.” 

“And now I can’t sleep…”

He is staring somewhere around your elbow. 

“...you wanna talk about it?” 

He shrugs. 

“Not much to talk about … …just makes me worry…” 

The usual, then. 

Guilt stabs your gut. 

You should’ve stayed home when Dustin’s scheme for a sleepover fell through. Your mom is out of town, so you’d known Dustin was going to be alone…but he usually loves having the house to himself. He can putter around or call Susie or snoop. 

So you hadn’t even thought twice. 

But you could have canceled your plans with Eddie. If you’d been here maybe he would’ve freaked out a little less.

“Did you check on everyone?” you ask, setting aside your own feelings. 

“Yeah” 

Good. Those walkie-talkies are more handy than annoying anymore, you swear. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here”

Dustin shrugs again, then thinks about it for a while and declares he doesn’t need a babysitter! 

You smile. 

There’s Dustin. 

“I know …I just wish I would’ve been here sooner…” 

“Guess so,” he answers as if the thought hadn’t occurred to him – dirty little liar that he is. 

‘Can you come back?’ 

His plea will haunt you for a little while, you think. 

But you need to focus on now. 

“...wanna do a movie night?” 

“Yes,” he pops his head up and smiles back. 

“Pick a movie. I’ll go change…” 

Dustin is in the middle of rewinding Superman when you reemerge in leggings and a large old sweater. You’re not surprised by his choice; in fact, you could have predicted it. 

Not that you mind…there is comfort in the well-known. 

“So…why were you at Eddie’s?” Dustin addresses you from the floor. 

Ugh!

You’d assumed this might be a Saturday or Sunday conversation. He sounds less accusatory than you’d expected, though. Sheepish and a little leery, maybe. 

“...him and the guys got together for beer and games,” you stick with the truth. 

“...have you been drinking?” he cocks his head. 

He looks so innocent in his bafflement. The Star Wars pajama pants help complete that picture, you think. 

“No” 

A little. Barely. 

“Okay…” 

“They just invited me to join – it’s not a big deal…” 

“Okay…” 

Okay? O-kay? That’s not right. Can’t be. 

Dustin shifts around where he’s kneeling at the VCR. Fidgets like he’s thinking pretty hard. 

“You could have told me – I almost didn’t call there,” he chastises you. “I just thought you might’ve mentioned your plans to him…” 

“That’s smart”

“I know”

You chuckle. 

“I guess I thought you’d say I was encroaching on your friends,” you tease lightly. 

This makes Dustin roll his eyes. Which is wild. It’s not as though you had been the one to make up those words. 

“I’m past that. Mike made some good points…” 

Oh. You see. Mike had made good points. Not you, though? 

Geeze. 

“Good to know,” you let your indignant thoughts go; it’s nice that he’s not flustered with this. 

“And I know they do…band stuff,” he says this like he isn’t quite clear on what that entails. Like maybe that’s just something they say to summarize their shenanigans. 

“...true.” 

“...should I say something to them?” Dustin cocks his head again, then jumps and gets distracted by the tape finishing its rewind. 

“Say something about what?” you frown. 

“...you’re my sister,” Dustin fusses with the player before looking up again. “...and they’re guys.” 

Oh Lord. 

“No,” you laugh. “No, Dustin. It’s not like that, and…” you think of Eddie and your stomach does a flippy little thing, but…no.  “Just don’t. It’s not that kind of thing.” 

Dustin tilts his chin in consideration. 

“Plus I can take care of myself,” you add.

“Ew. Whatever…” he drops it and climbs to his feet. 

“Ew,” you mock him. “Should I make popcorn?” 

“Always”  When you return to the living room with the snack you crowd Dustin on the couch where he’d plopped himself down in the middle.  He’d done it on purpose, you think. Seeking comfort by proximity.  The fact he doesn’t move away or “ew!” you again is confirmation enough in your book. 

The movie is hardly thirty minutes in when headlights flash over the window and bump as they turn into the driveway. 

“You called mom!?” Dustin whines loudly, betrayal clear in every syllable. 

“No…” 

You’d thought about it, but she deserves the weekend away with your Aunt.  Neither of you like to worry her. Besides, you’ve got this. 

Dustin’s eyes go even wider at this news, and he dives onto the floor to army crawl across the carpet and peek out of the bay window.  Which might’ve been funny if it weren’t a little sad…

Nevermind that a guest so late at night has you a bit uneasy too. Who would b—

“...it’s Eddie!” 

“What?” your heart starts racing for a whole new reason. 

You approach the window with more dignity and lift a rung of the blinds. 

“That’s his van…” 

Sure enough.

After a few moments of you and Dustin quietly watching, the headlights die, the door swings open, and a tall, lean silhouette springs out with something in hand.

Jesus. 

Jesus. 

“Huh…” Dustin mutters, still on the floor. 

Ah, shit – you drop your gaze to him. 

“Do you want him here?” 

“What?” Dustin looks up at you, puzzled. 

“...I can ask him to leave,” you promise. “You know if you’re…” Dustin is frowning now, and you falter. “If…you’re embarrassed of your silly pants.” 

He rolls his eyes. 

“As if I would be” 

He rolls to his feet and yanks the front door open before Eddie even has to knock.

“Hi,” he greets, right as rain – you’re glad to hear the pep in his voice even if you’re surprised. 

“Hey, man,” you hear Eddie answer. 

“...pizza?” 

Eddie laughs in airy amusement. Of course Dustin would have found some distraction in that. 

“Yeah – gonna have to warm it up, though…” 

“I like cold pizza” 

You watch a box appear in Dustin’s hands. He’s chuckling at his own luck, then glances up at you when he steps back.  It doesn’t look like any gratitude is immediately forthcoming, so you cross to the door and pull it back further. 

“Thanks,” you lead by example once you spot Eddie out on the stoop. 

“Oh. Right. I mean, yeah – thanks,” Dustin agrees. 

“S’nothing,” Eddie seems nervous about the appreciation and shoves his hands into his back pockets, watching you. “I …you had to leave quick. Thought I’d come make sure everything was alright over here…” 

Wow. Gosh. He c– 

“I lost the remote,” Dustin blurts, surprising you – you and Eddie both look at him. “She knew I’d pester her until we found it …would’ve just called over and over and over…” 

You meet Eddie’s eye for the briefest moment. You tick him the tiniest shrug. Dustin seems to miss the exchange. 

“Well, joke wouldda been on you, man,” Eddie rolls along with the fibbing and grins. “I would’ve unplugged the phone…” 

“I’d find a way,” Dustin’s is so nonchalant and sure that you almost believe him.

Kind of. 

Probably. 

“...so did you find that remote?” 

Eddie doesn’t seem bothered by the thin, improvised lie – not offended or even annoyed. There’s something indulgent about the way he asks further. Something fond pinched into the corners of his smiling eyes. 

“Course. We’re watching Superman,” Dustin explains as he wiggles a slice of pizza free.

“Nice choice,” Eddie smiles. 

“Wanna join?” 

You’re taken aback by Dustin’s offer, and Eddie looks like he is, too. He checks the invite by you with a glance, and you shrug. 

“Sure, I’ll watch…” 

“You don’t have to get back to the guys?” you’re surprised. 

“Nah. They took off once the Championship had to be postponed,” he chortles. 

You see Dustin’s confusion, but he’s busy chewing. 

“And they gave up the pizza?” 

“Tell ‘em thanksh,” Dustin mumbles around a full mouth. 

“Them?! What?! Nah, man – thank me,” Eddie declares wildly as he steps inside. “I had to trade them the rest of the PBR.” 

Dustin pulls a face, and you’re pretty sure it’s because he doesn’t know about Milwaulkee’s finest. Probably for the best.  You don’t need him asking more questions about alcohol consumption tonight. 

“Nice place…” Eddie goes on as he enters. 

“I guess,” Dustin shrugs. “C’mon in…”  While he makes his way back to the couch, Eddie sways closer to you. 

“It’s cool if I stick around?” he murmurs.

You look up from the door’s lock and nod.  He raises his eyebrows and dips his chin like a second question – you sure? You elbow him gently and nod again. 

He believes you this time and moves further into the room. Lights are on in the kitchen, livingroom, and hallway – no dark corners. Not on a night like tonight. This isn’t normally how you watch a movie, and you wonder if Eddie notices how lit-up the place is. 

 “Want some or are you full?” Dustin checks, nodding at the pizza box he’s laid on the coffee table. 

“Always have room for more,” Eddie laughs and drops onto the couch next to him. 

You sort of…hover on the opposite side of the table for a moment. Watching. 

Processing, you suppose. 

Because …because Eddie is here.  You had left his place upset, and he’d seemed worried, and now he is here. He’d sent his friends home to bring snacks and make sure everything was alright. He’s…

He’s here. 

You won’t let your mind go much further than that at the moment. 

He’s here – you don’t even really care if it’s more for you or for Dustin. 

He gives a shit. 

And…it just means something, is all. 

“You make a better wall than a window,” Dustin lodges a complaint, pulling you from your thoughts.

“...I think it’s door, dude,” Eddie chimes in. 

“It works either way,” Dustin waves the would-be amendment off. 

Eddie then shrugs like that’s true. 

Right.

Fine. 

You eye the empty armchair but ultimately reclaim your place on the other end of the couch. Dustin sends a smile in your direction as you arrange a blanket on your lap, and you think maybe he’s pleased to be sandwiched safely there on the couch. 

Which has you glancing past him at Eddie. He’s chewing and slouched back, apparently content with his choice to drive over. Not bothered in the least. 

It’s… You try to stop thinking about what it is and get back into the movie. 

Dustin graciously offers you a slice of pizza, but you decline. You’d already had some and, anyway, your stomach doesn’t feel quite right. 

For all you’d relaxed upon getting home to Dustin, guilt and concern still churn around in your gut. It’s easing, but it’s there – probably will be all night. Maybe tomorrow, too.

You do your best to ignore the feeling and lapse into easy commentary with the other two.  After ‘Superman’ comes ‘Young Frankenstein,’ another of Dustin’s favorites.  He starts showing signs of fatigue even while he’s switching tapes, and then he’s zonked out before the movie hits its halfway point. His chin’s resting on his chest and he’s snuffling little almost-snores now and then. You pretend you don’t notice until Eddie snorts. 

You exchange a smile over the top of his head. 

“Want me to go?” Eddie whispers. 

You shake your head. You really, really don’t. Which might be selfish? This isn’t how he had planned to spend his night: quiet and cornered on the edge of the couch next to Dustin. 

Only…he’d come. He’d chosen to do that. Which means he wanted to. He wanted to know you’re both okay. He wanted to help. And, yeah, maybe you shouldn’t be feeling what you’re feeling about these facts, but…..for tonight you can. 

You can straighten yourself out tomorrow. Tomorrow. When you’re feeling more normal and rested – you’ll get back to reality then. 

Tonight you can feel warm about it.  In any case, Eddie doesn’t seem upset about your answer. He just gives you a little smile. 

“Thanks,” you add in a similar whisper. 

Eddie nods. Then reaches across the back of the couch to squeeze your shoulder. 

Oh boy. 

You look away and back to Gene Wilder’s on screen antics. Eddie leaves his arm where it is, snaked up behind Dustin and his fingers brushing your shoulder. You can just barely feel their pressure through your sweater, yet you’re hyper aware of it. 

Here in your own house, with Dustin closeby, it feels … …even more thrilling than other small contacts.  More forbidden. More…

Well. Just more.  You let Dustin keep snoozing until he starts to list toward Eddie. Weight drooping to the side. 

“Dusty,” you pat his arm. “Dustin, hey – come on…” 

You shake her elbow and he stirs enough to squint and frown at you. He can be grumpy all he wants, but you’re sure he’d never forgive you if you let him sleepily drool on his Dungeon Master. 

“What?” 

“You should head to bed,” you tell him quietly. 

“Nuh-uh”

“Yeah, man – you’ve been snoring and shit,” Eddie heckled. “Can’t even hear Igor.”  

Dustin scowled.

“I do no–!” he casts a questioning look at you before he finishes, and you shake your head – Eddie tutts in annoyance. “I do not! Jeeze!” Dustin gripes with confidence. 

“Spoilsport,” Eddie chuffs at you. 

“Whatever,” Dustin pouts and turns towards the TV, but after a moment he seems to realize he’d missed a chunk of the film. 

“Guess I did fall asleep…” 

“Head to bed. I’ll clean up all of our crap,” you gesture to the snacks and cups. 

“M’kahy…night,” he rubs at one eye. “Later Eddie …s’cool having you over…” 

“Next time you supply the pizza” 

Dustin smiles and shoves off of the couch. He drags his feet along the carpet, moving in a slow shuffle toward his room. It could be pure sleepiness, but also … …

“Be right back,” you mumble.

“Yeah,” Eddie nods and watches you go. 

“Dust,” you follow him into the hallway. “Hey, you okay?” 

He’s sort of just lingering in his doorway, which is maybe an answer in itself. 

“Yeah”

“...yeah?” 

He shrugs this time. 

“...want me to ask Eddie to leave. I ca–”

“No,” he hisses in alarm. “Don’t make it a whole thing.” 

Fair enough. 

“...wanna crash in my room? There’s an air mattress in the hall closet and –”

“I’m not a baby,” Dustin scowled afresh. 

“I never said that…” 

You don’t even think that. Honest. You just know it might be comforting. 

“Then I’m fine” 

“Okay…”

He sighs and looks up and down the hall. 

“...you and Eddie will be out there for a while?” 

Oh boy…

“Yeah. I think we’ll probably finish the movie…” 

Rather than scrunch up his face in suspicion, Dustin’s eyes sort of seem to relax. 

Oh. 

Maybe he likes the idea of knowing someone’s around and awake. Better yet – more than one someone. 

“I’ll be awake for a while even if he takes off,” you promise. 

You have plenty on your mind to keep you up. 

“Okay…” 

You move closer for a hug, but Dustin ducks his shoulder and slinks backward. He throws a pointed look down the hall and then shuffles into his room. He doesn’t close his door all the way, so a few seconds later you hear his bed thump and squeak. 

You stand there mutely for a bit longer, feeling a little cheated.  Then you realize the hug you’d aimed for had been for you, not him. 

Ugh. 

Okay. Great. Eddie is right where you left him out on the couch. He pulls his eyes from the TV when you reenter. 

“He all good?” he has the good sense to keep his voice low.

“I think so,” you confirm just as softly. 

You sink onto the cushion Dustin had abandoned. You don’t sit as cozy to Eddie’s side as you have taken to doing when you’re at his place, but there isn’t a gaping distance between you. No polar ends of the couch. 

“You…don’t have to stay if you want to head home,” it’s only fair to tell him. 

“Nah,” Eddie hardly hesitates to consider. “I’ll stay and finish movie night…” 

You feel relieved by that. 

There’s more to say, you think. Appreciation that he’d come all this way. Apologizes if it’s inconvenient. Excuses to make on Dustin’s behalf for his flimsy lie about the TV remote. Or…

“How about you?” Eddie brushes hair from your temple so nothing obscures his view of your face. “You alright?” 

“Mmhmm..” 

He tilts his head in disbelief. 

“I mean… …I worry is all. I…” you pause, but he’d asked. “I feel kind of guilty I wasn’t here…” 

It’s silly. You know that. You can’t stop nightmares. But if you’d been here Dustin wouldn’t have had to track you down. That had obviously frazzled him, and –

“Oh, come on…” 

“I know”

Because you do. It’s just...he must have been scared. You could have helped with that part. 

“Hey,” Eddie scratches at the shoulder of your sweater for your attention. Kind of like a cat, you think. “Would you have left him home alone if you’d known he’d…have a bad night?” 

“No,” this answer is easy. 

“Then that’s what matters” 

Yeah. 

Makes sense. 

Very logical. 

So you nod because it’s what you are supposed to do. 

“...still feels shitty.” 

Eddie pulls a rueful face. He can’t counter that one, and it’s okay. There’s nothing to fix at the moment. It’s helpful enough just that he’s here. Which…you should tell him. 

You should say you appreciate him. Only…it feels easier – safer – to let it pass. Let it be assumed, and let all of this just be about Dustin anyway. 

When you turn back to the movie, Eddie does, too. You can feel some warmth off his arm, and you let yourself imagine his heat seeps into the cushions and over to you. 

It’s soothing even if it’s just an idea.  You find yourself disappointed when the movie draws to a close.  

Eddie shifts, straightening from his cozy slouch, and your stomach clenches up. But it’s late… Without invitation, Eddie helps you clean.. He grabs cups and bowls and takes them into the kitchen with you. You quietly squabble over who should keep the pizza leftovers – he stoutly refuses and whisper-insists that he will throw them out the window of his van and “won’t that be a waste, She-Henderson, huh?”

You find it comforting that he’s being very much himself even when you’re feeling… off. 

“Well, thanks then” 

He scoffs and waves you off like you’re gross, but he winks, too.  Then you’re stepping outside with him. He doesn’t need an escort, of course, but he often walks you out the door so it feels like the thing to do. At least until Eddie starts walking backwards about halfway to his car. He flashes a smile that seems to say you’re being silly and needn’t continue. 

Obviously you ignore it. 

“Sooooooooo, you good? Feeling alright?” he checks, head tilted. Searching. 

“Yeah,” you promise. “Just…it’s been a long night.” 

It’s the truest thing at this point. You’re safe. Dustin’s safe. Everyone is fine, but…it’s a lot. 

“I hear you. You’ll be alright, though,” he grades you by his own rubric. “...c’mere.” 

Before you register Eddie is reaching for you, he’s hooked his hand around your shoulder to pull you in for a hug. 

A hug. 

…that’s new. 

It’s nice, though, and you curl your arms around his waist instinctively.  He’s warm, and the pressure around your chest and shoulders is welcome. Steadying. A brief balm against the lingering roil of guilt and worry in your gut. 

You sigh into the embrace. 

“Thanks…” 

“Mmhmm” 

Eddie loosens his arms and lets you step back, but you don’t go far.

“No I mean it…thanks,” you repeat, deciding the thing you were going to leave assumed now needs to be said. “For coming over tonight. It was…it was really nice of you.” 

It’s a lot of things, really. 

“Yeah,” he nods. “Course.”

Of course? Like this is just another thing you guys do? 

Maybe it is. Maybe it should be. 

But it’s not nothing.

“It means a lot,” you insist even though you should probably shut up. “I was really frazzled, so…just. Thanks.”

“Yeah,” Eddie runs a hand through his long hair. “I could tell. I just…thought I could help. Or hoped I could…or something...” 

He looks a little iffy about his own declaration even as he makes it. 

“You did,” you reassure him.

“...yeah?” 

“Yeah…yeah, you’re a really good friend…” 

And. 

Well. Huh. As true as the sentiment is, the word friend sort of stings on your tongue. Makes you want to backtrack and say something else. Makes you squirm a little. 

“Aw, don’t get all soft on me, Henderson…” Eddie jabs your shoulder lightly, tumbling you from your thoughts. 

You start to tell him to shut up, but he steps in and pulls you back into another hug. You relax into it quicker this time. Ready. Familiar. You squeeze his waist and tuck yourself against his shoulder. 

“...glad I could be helpful,” he murmurs against your hair and (you think? Maybe?) kisses the top of your head. Or it could just be that your big head is in the way and he has nowhere to turn. 

But…you think he had done it…

You nod against him and let yourself bask in the knowledge he’d come here for you. Sure it was a little for Dustin…but also for you. It’s nice knowing someone had your back, that when your job for the night had been to comfort Dustin someone could comfort you, too. 

“...you smell nice,” you tell him so you have some kind of excuse for lingering in the hug longer. 

The statement is true, though. 

“Like smoke?” Eddie laughs. 

Yeah, the faint smell of smoke is woven into his jacket, but you can smell the leather, too. And something warm and musky. It’s…something kind of cozy. 

“You’re ruining it,” you pinch his back. 

He pitches forward in surprise but laughs. 

“...says the woman who’s abusing me.” 

You chuckle and step back from his arms. 

“...thanks, Eddie.” 

“I’m filing a complaint…” he rubs dramatically at his back. 

The normalcy makes you smile wider. 

“Oh yeah? With who?” 

“The Neighborhood Watch, probably….crime on the streets!” he whisper-yells. “Suburbia isn’t safe with you out after dark…”

“Christ,” you roll your eyes. 

Eddie gasps. 

“And blasphemy!” 

Which is rich coming from him. 

“Get out of here, Munson…” 

He winks at you, standing in the halo of the garage light. 

“Night…” he tugs his van door open.

“Good night,” you smile. 

The smile lingers as he starts up and backs out of the driveway.  You feel a little alone once he pulls away, but you also definitely feel lighter than you had. 

_____

Next Chapter >>>

[dee-dee-monster]

“Sometimes,” Gareth drawls. He’s sitting behind his kit, twirling a drumstick in his fingers, thoughtful. “Sometimes I think this town really is cursed.” “Dude.” Jeff warns. “Let me finish. I think this town is cursed, and Eddie’s a part of it—” “Dude!” “Let me finish! Town’s cursed, Eddie’s involved, but he’s not the source. He’s a victim.”

Jeff and Francis exchange a look. ”And the true source.” He rises, getting on a roll. “The true source is hiding in plain sight, something—”

He cuts his eyes at them. “—or someone no one would expect. The true source…” He whirls his drumstick with a dramatic flourish then snaps his arm to its full extension and points outward, into the wild blue yonder that is the world beyond his parents’ garage. “…is Him.”

Him, being: Steve Harrington, parked at the end of the driveway. Steve Harrington, opening the passenger side door of his rich boy Beemer. Steve Harrington, who drove Eddie to band practice. Who’s shouldering Eddie’s gig bag. Who’s helping Eddie out of the car. 

Jeff and Francis watch for a moment in silence, then turn back to Gareth in sync.

”An interesting theory.” ”Elaborate.”

Keep reading

[dee-dee-monster]

YOU THERE! YES YOU! FIC READER!

I just read a fic from 2013 and left a comment on the end. The author responded within 3 hours.

Please leave comments on fics. It doesn't matter if you don't know what to say I literally made a joke about a space worm. Please comment on fics it'll make the authors day even if its from 9 years ago.

[dee-dee-monster]

you know that expression, "dance like no one is watching you?"

try writing like no one is going to read it

it's easier to let yourself go and just enjoy the process of creation when you aren't also playing 6 dimensional chess with your insecurities and anxieties

write because you have fun writing and if you never post it anywhere that's totally fine because you enjoyed your time with the process

[dee-dee-monster]

[dee-dee-monster]

Me reading a really good book: god this makes me wanna write

Me reading a really bad book: ugh this makes me wanna write

Me having coffee: i wanna write

Me going on a drive: i wanna write

Me doing the dishes: i wanna write

Me waking up: i wanna write

Me writing:

[dee-dee-monster]

probably the most underrated moment of the whole season…

[dee-dee-monster]

Then Out of the Aether - (Ch. 6)

Summary: You and Eddie hang out on Friday’s now. It’s becoming a whole thing. 

Warnings: Mention of deceased parent, but in a “happy memory” way. 

A/N: multi-chapter slow burn. Henderson!Reader

< Click here to find previous chapters >

__ So. There is a “next time.” 

And then another time.

And then there’s suddenly just this whole second half of your Pick-Dustin-Up-From-Club routine.  On Fridays you drop off Mike, you bring Dustin home, you go to Bradley’s grocery store, and then you drive over to Eddie’s trailer. 

Keep reading

[dee-dee-monster]

new bts photos

[dee-dee-monster]

🫢 anyways-

[dee-dee-monster]

Then Out of the Aether - (Ch. 6)

Summary: You and Eddie hang out on Friday’s now. It’s becoming a whole thing. 

Warnings: Mention of deceased parent, but in a “happy memory” way. 

A/N: multi-chapter slow burn. Henderson!Reader

< Click here to find previous chapters >

__ So. There is a “next time.” 

And then another time.

And then there’s suddenly just this whole second half of your Pick-Dustin-Up-From-Club routine.  On Fridays you drop off Mike, you bring Dustin home, you go to Bradley’s grocery store, and then you drive over to Eddie’s trailer. 

Eddie had initially upheld his solemn vow to let you pick the movie the second time you came over; he’d even been suitably pleased with your selection of Tron. Had complimented you on it, in fact. 

“I 61% take back my slight on your cinematic tastes” 

Which isn’t nothing, you suppose.  Better than zero.  

You’d laughed at his answer. 

Since then, you’ve expanded your entertainment options beyond movies. You start bringing over music after Eddie mentions it again. Once more true to his word, he is totally fine playing a variety of music — if you’ll listen to his, he’ll listen to yours.

“So long as you don’t bully me into playing only The Monkees all night or something”

You don’t think anyone could manage bullying him into such a thing, and you told him so.  He had seemed proud of your acknowledgement.  Which is how you’re here.

Sitting on his kitchen counter trying to carefully rip into a Chips Ahoy bag while Eddie pulls out the tapes you’ve brought. 

“Beach Boys?” he scoffs as he thumbs through the stack. 

“Yup… …I have a couple albums because my dad used to have like all of their vinyls…”

You hear Eddie’s quiet “ah fuck,” and he slides the cassette back into the pile after having tossed it aside. 

“Yeah?” he asks more evenly. 

“Mmhmm... I remember listening to Surfin’ USA when I was little, and we’d act like the couches were surfboards…” you smile at the memory, and Eddie mirrors it back to you. 

You sit in the happy memory while you nibble on a cookie. It’s a few moments before you see Eddie shifting his weight like he’s not sure whether or not to be uncomfortable. 

“...was that weird of me to bring up?” 

“No? …I don’t fucking know,” he falls back on honesty. “Am I…allowed to ask a question?” he checks, voice slow. 

Which is fine. You’d brought him up; it feels okay. 

“Okay,” he nods when you make your decision, and he’s more formal about it than you’ve ever seen him. “Did he…was it recent?” 

You know what he means. 

“No. Back in grade school…Dustin was just a little guy. He doesn’t really remember him. Just pictures and stories…” 

And that fact has always twisted your gut in a weird way that you can only describe as guilt. Even though it’s not your fault – it’s no one’s fault. 

“Sounds…sounds like that’s too bad,”  Eddie clears his throat, and you note his thumb tapping rapidly against the stack of tapes still in his hand. “Like Dustin missed out on something good, I mean. Someone. Someone, obviously…” 

Another hissed “fuck” under his breath that you’re not meant to hear. 

“...you’re doing good,” you assure him with a small smile. 

“Yeah?” Eddie glances at you from under his bangs. 

“Really good. That was sweet of you to say – and true,” you promise.

He nods and flips open the Beach Boys tape in his hands.

“You don’t have to play it just because we talked about it,” you slide off the counter to take it from him, feeling oddly watched now. 

Eddie holds it out of your reach and palms your forehead to push you back. 

“I –hey! Seriously?” You brush his fingers off of your face. 

“Then backoff and respect the ruler of the radio,” he orders you, nonchalant as you please. 

“Ruler? Wow…” 

He cackles on his way over to said stereo waiting on the table.  

“In the presence of royalty, baby…” he assures you as he switches out tapes. “I may never voluntarily choose to play this again,” he admits as he snaps the cassette door shut, “but I’m sure it’ll go good with a smoke…” 

He raises his eyebrows in invitation. Checking. 

“Nah, I’m good,” you shake your head. “…but I’ll sit with you…” 

Eddie fishes his pack of Camels off the counter instead before he ushers you out the door.  You don’t mind the smell of the nicotine. You curl up on the couch out front and scoot close to his side because it’s a breezy night. 

“No cushion surfing?” Eddie checks before sliding a cigarette between his lips. 

You roll your head over to look at him with narrowed eyes, but a smile is on your lips. You find the look on Eddie’s face is soft. Fond. 

“...no. I retired the surfing lifestyle,” you decide. 

He chuffs and inhales his cigarette to life. 

“Good thing in Indiana,” he judges and leans back so he can fling an arm up over the couch behind you. 

He just…rests it there. Hovering behind your shoulders and offering a little warmth by proximity, but not touching you. He does things like that sometimes.

Well, to be fair, you both do. 

You get close, just not too close. Something comfortable but nothing more than that. Cozy. Friendly. Those are all positive things. So what if it confuses you a little? So what if said befuddlement also makes you a little nervous…in a nice way.

Eddie doesn’t seem nervous. He always appears perfectly at ease. Confident in however you’re interacting, whether it’s here at his place or off at school. Maybe you’re embarrassingly unvaried in your friendships, but he seems comfortable. Like he knows what he’s doing. It’s heartening.  The two of you are quiet for a while as a few tracks play through.  You hum along here and there, but Eddie doesn’t have much to say. 

“...how much do you hate it?” you grin over. 

“Hate is a strong word… …but it all sounds the same…”

You laugh because plenty of people would probably say similar about his brand of music, too. At the same time, you get it. It’s mostly just a nostalgia listen for you. You’re not even sure why you’d brought this tape except that Eddie seems to genuinely appreciate that you like to dip your toe in many waters. 

“You can change it…” 

“Oh, I’m going to as soon as we go inside,” Eddie promises, though he’s lighting a second cigarette just now. He slides his eyes over to you. “I’m sure I can get with other things your old man liked…” 

The consolation is nice, if unnecessary. 

“He’s how I got into Janis Joplin” 

“There ya go,” Eddie nods around his fresh smoke. 

“And Jimi Hendrix”

He hums approval of this, too. 

“But you brought the Boys, huh?” 

“To broaden your horizons, Munson,” you nod.

“Christ almighty…” 

You lapse into fresh silence, which is cut short by yelling nearby. 

You jerk and twist your head around expecting to find someone on the lawn, but there’s nothing to see. Just yelling that jars over the quiet music.

“...at it again…” Eddie grumbles and slouches back. 

“Hmm?” 

“Two doors over. They have a, uh, quaint little on-again-off-again situation going…”

Huh. 

“Quaint...not sure that means what you think it means...” you tease automatically in light of your discomfort. 

“Hey, s’okay,” Eddie drags his hand back to tickle his fingertips over your shoulder, making you pull your gaze around to him instead. “They usually pop off hot and fizzle out quick…”

You nod. 

“Guess people do that behind thicker walls in the suburbs…”

You’re startled for a moment but then find yourself nodding. Lindsay’s stories about parents come to mind, though they’ve never gone at it in front of company.

“Guess so…”

You don’t know why it makes you squirm. You don’t know them and no one is yelling at you. Still, you feel like you’re intruding…

“Alright?” Eddie’s fingers brush through the hair at your temple to push it back from your face. He’s watching you. 

And if you were feeling edgy before, then the faux-intimate brush of his touch has you reeling straight into bizarre territory. That swoop in your chest? Best to ignore it... 

God. You are the lamest. 

“...yeah. I’m. Ugh, I don’t know why it’s uncomfortable…” you laugh it off. 

Eddie obviously isn’t bothered. Maybe this is foreign to you, but you should just trust him and take his cue. 

“You can go inside,” he shrugs. 

Sure, you could. 

“It’s fine” 

He sighs some smoke out his nose and reaches for the ashtray on his other side. 

“No, no – it’s fine. Go ahead and finish,” you grab at the shoulder of his shirt to yank on it. 

When he acquiesces, you shift in just a little closer and lean on that arm he’d been offering. You’ve never done that before, but it’s...cozy.

Eddie simply accepts your move. 

More than. 

His arm shifts, and he raises his hand to just kind of …cup the crown of your head. He doesn’t really play with your hair but sort of pets a thumb back and forth over it. Which doesn’t even feel like much, but it’s kind of nice all the same. Grounding. 

Shortly, a nearby door bangs open. 

“Go then!” someone shrieks. 

“I am!” a deeper voice roars back. 

A tall silhouette marches outside, and seconds later a car peels out over the gravel drive. 

“See?” Eddie nods as he stubs out the last of his smoke. 

He isn’t saying it in a gloating way, all Look-At-Me-I-Was-Right.  Mostly like he’s just stating reality. Like this is the rhythm of the neighborhood and he’s got it tracked. 

“C’mon…” 

He shoves up off the couch and offers you a hand to tug you along with. He ushers you ahead of him to get back inside and immediately sets upon the stereo.  He chooses some Black Sabbath – “to cleanse the air,” he says, but he throws in a wink. 

He tells you about how Black Sabbath was one of his first concerts – like actual concert. Something big. Something he saved for.  Tells you about how his Uncle always encouraged his interest in music but couldn’t usually swing concerts; getting them both tickets and the cost and time of travel to take him was just a little too much. So Eddie saved money from odd jobs around the neighborhood so that once he got his license he could just take himself. Wayne let him do it, trusted him enough for that. 

“Worth it!” he cheers.

You think it’s a nice story. 

“Nice? No – it’s awesome. Rocking across state lines? On my own?  Probably a little too young? Fuck yeah…” 

You laugh. 

“Oh. Sorry. I meant: how very metal of you…” 

Eddie beams for a moment.

“Better. But you’re on thin ice, honestly…” 

Then he throws his head back into Supernaut, air guitar and all. You lose his attention until after the solo, but you’re not offended. Rather, you kind of like it. He either doesn’t mind the attention or fails to notice while he enjoys the build of a song he likes and purges some of his energy into it. 

It’s …kind of inspiring. 

“Alright, alright,” he focuses up when the song winds down, and he slams his hands onto the table between you. “I know you’re not much of a concert girl - whatever that even means – but have you actually been to any concerts? You know I can’t just let you have that opinion if it’s not tested…” 

For a second – okay, maybe two – the idea of a concert with Eddie sounds fun. 

“I have been. Lindsey’s Aunt used to be some kind of groupie, I guess? She takes Lindsey to a lot of different shows – says she needs to see real cities,” you smile because Lydia is honestly the best. “I’ve gone a few times…”

“M’kay, m’kay,” he waves you on, pleased.

“I liked The Cramps,” you note Eddie’s scrunched nose. “And we saw Heart last year in Chicago…” 

“Okay, that answer could’ve been a lot worse …” 

“Kindda full of yourself, Munson…” 

His nod is enthusiastic, not at all put off, and you laugh.  

“You bring any Heart?” he reaches back for the pile of your music. 

“No, but I can”

“...I’d allow it.” 

You stage-whisper something about him being “so stuck up” and he smirks as he pushes a few of his own cassettes in your direction to pick through. 

You enjoy this. The easy back-and-forth. Swapping stories. New music, which gives as much insight as the stories sometimes. You both like different things about music but are open to each other’s perspectives.

And to think people probably believe Eddie likes what he likes just because it’s loud and dark and shocking. 

Which…ya know, is probably all true. 

But it’s not the end of things.  So the music gets turned up and down as you talk or just sit back and enjoy a track. 

Until shouting picks up down the way again. Then Eddie interrupts conversation to tick the dial up a few notches and try drowning it out. 

That would be fine if you hadn’t been in the middle of defending a little Joan Baez:  “We’re staring down 1986, Henderson!”  versus “I like what she’s about – and her voice is nice!” 

The two of you stare at each other across the table a while until Eddie rolls his eyes and yanks the stereo’s cord from the wall. 

“Grab snacks. Come on…” 

He heads down the hall, toward his bedroom. 

You’ve been in the living room, kitchen, and bathroom, but never Eddie’s room. 

That’s…

It seems…

Well, hell, you don’t know what it seems.  You grab the pretzels and M&Ms and follow after him. He’s already brushed through the door, but you tread along the worn carpet with caution. Step into the mouth of the room with slow, careful feet. 

“Hope you weren’t expecting anything too posh…” 

Eddie is watching you while he wiggles the stereo plug into a new outlet. His tone may sound bland, but his eyes have something searching about them. Cautious. 

“Perish the thought…”

His room is about what you’d expected. Not that you’d thought about his bedroom!

Just. 

It seems fitting, is all. Haphazardly decorated in a smattering of very Eddie-like things: music posters, worn out band t-shirts, some sheet music, a few skull posters. Lots of red, black, and greens. 

It’s cluttered and there’s a lingering scent of weed clinging in the air, but it’s not dirty. His bed, where you definitely do not let your eyes linger, is in unmade disarray, but you rarely make yours either so zero judgment to be found on that front. 

You spot a record player on top of a thin dresser next to you. 

“And we’re shuffling tapes?” you tap the top of it. 

“Easier,” Eddie shrugs but takes the hint and lopes over to start fingering through his milkcrate of records. 

You move a smidge further into the room now that you’re over the surprise and Eddie appears to have decided you’re not judging the state of the place. Your foot knocks into something that crinkles, and you have a joke in mind about textbooks…only you look down to find a comic. 

Heavy Metal. You’ve never heard of it, but the cover is …eye-catching? Some sort of dragon and a woman who is scandalously clad. You think maybe it’s not about music, and you reach down to take a better look -- but a foot beats your fingers and kicks it over under the corner of the bed. 

Oho! 

That certainly confirms something. 

“...well, well…” you grin up at Eddie.

“Leave a guy some secrets, huh?” 

“...are you blushing?” 

He scoffs, face twitching in offense. Then he glances for the ceiling and just shrugs. 

He is. 

Is there part of you that wants to dive for the floor and flip that comic open? Yes, absolutely. But ultimately you’d rather keep this evening going.  Soon, Hendrix is playing through the room. Eddie adjusts it to a decent decibel and then kicks the door shut to cancel out whatever is left of the neighbors’ argument. 

He’s still avoiding your eyes – he’d definitely been blushing

“He played at Woodstock..”

Eddie frowns and cocks his head over at you, now. He doesn’t have to say “Yeah, obviously” because it’s written on his face.

He says it anyway. 

“...you know who else played at Woodstock?” you suck in your lips in an obvious attempt to hide a grin. 

Eddie looks thoughtful for a moment, but then your face probably gives you away. Smug.

His look falls into something deadpan and unamused. 

“Don’t you dare…” 

“I’m just saying – Joan had a whole set, too…” 

“Get out of my home!” He complains. 

“...c’mon. She even plays the guitar. Gotta respect that…” 

His eyes tighten, and a couple of his long steps eat up the space between the two of you. He towers over you and leans in close. 

“...are you going to mount an argument comparing her to Hendrix?” his breath fans over your nose. “Is that what you want to do right now?” 

You just know he’s already crafting a whole dissertation against you, but you’re momentarily distracted by his proximity. By sharing his breath. 

Luckily his challenge is crackling in the air so you can’t be too lulled. 

You laugh in his face. 

“No” 

He straightens up and relaxes. 

“Thank Christ…” he exhales slow. “But remember that thin ice?” 

You flick the center of his chest right over the demon head on his Club shirt. A grin twitches one corner of his mouth and he backs off to flop onto his bed.   You take over his previous spot at his milkcrate, then, and browse through his records. The air seems to have thinned back out, and it’s all quiet save for the music while you kneel down on the carpet and inspect the collection. You slide several out just to look them over, though you don’t feel inclined to change music. 

Most of the sleeves are worn, slightly tattered in the corners. Not in a careless way, but used. Well-loved, like music should be.

“...you’re quiet,” you realize and glance over your shoulder. 

Eddie’s sitting on his bed watching you. When you meet his eyes, he shrugs. 

“...just enjoying the music.” 

“Would…you rather we not hang out in here?” you scratch your thumbnail over the edge of the box in front of you. 

Bedrooms are personal, and you’ve already snooped. Well, not really snooping because he’d left the comic sitting out, but that only serves as evidence he hadn’t intended to come in here with you in the first place. 

“S’fine…” 

You feel torn between your general belief Eddie is a truthful guy and feeling like something is off about him. He never seems like this, and the only new turn is coming in here. 

You try to think of a way to distract him. Commentary on one of his tour posters would probably do it – there’s got to be a few stories wrapped up in each one. Or–

Oh.  To the left of his cluttered desk, you spot a familiar drawing. Your drawing from that first time sitting out by the tree.

“You hung it up…” you call this out before you can decide if you actually want to. 

“Uh,” he follows your sight. “Yeah…” 

You get up to cross the room, but Eddie hops to his feet and beats you there. Smacks a hand over the sketch. 

“You’re not stealing it back, are you?” He’s suspicious. 

“...no.” 

You've only gotten up because … …because it’s surreal to see it here.  

Your art fills your own room and is scattered around your house, but nowhere else. Well. That’s a lie. Your work is in the art classroom, obviously. And Lindsey has a couple doodles stuck to her mirror and those rocks you two had painted are out on her back porch …but you’ve known her since you were, what? Seven? 

Seeing this thing here…it feels like a lot.  

Maybe because Eddie doesn’t owe you anything – wouldn't have hung this just to be nice because you hadn’t been close. That means when he put it up he probably assumed you’d never know. 

He just…likes it. Apparently. 

You clear your throat and shake off the idea. 

“You know…” you try to cover the fact that you’re just standing there next to him like a dope. “You never did make a guess about it.” 

He’d wanted to know what song inspired it, but he hasn’t brought it up in quite a while. 

“Oh. Yeah,” he grins. “I kind of don’t want to know...” 

Talk about a change. 

“Really?” 

“Well…I do. Like, if you told me I wouldn’t want to punch you in the face,” he scoffs and you laugh. “But I don’t really care. I sort of like just wondering about it sometimes...” 

What the ever living–

What?

You just stare at him. Blink. You’re flabbergasted, and for a second you don’t know what you feel. Something light is in your chest. Flutters to life.

You’re…

Flattered? 

“Was…that rude?” Eddie cringes, unsure, when you glance back to his face. 

“What?” 

You’re just gaping like a fish. You’re the rude one. 

“Well, I said I don’t care, and I don’t mean it like that…” he assures you. 

You laugh. A funny, relieved little sound. 

“...you hung up something I made and told me that it’s still interesting to you. And you’re worried that’s rude?” 

Absolutely not. 

The direct opposite. 

“Well. When you put it that way…” he smiles at you but then glances away, maybe blushing again. “So…uh. So how would you draw this song?” 

“Huh? Oh…” you give a thought to what is playing – The Killing Floor -- and shrug. “I dunno.” 

Eddie rifles around his desk and pulls out a legal pad and a pencil, both of which he tosses to you. 

“There. Do your creative little thing…” 

If anyone besides Eddie said that, you might be offended. But you know by now that he digs it -- that he does his own “creative little things” too. 

“My little thing,” you roll your eyes anyway. 

“Yeah…it’s all right up there,” he rubs at your temple. 

He’s good at that. 

Better than you, anyway. 

The touching. He’s a toucher. Whether it’s shoulders and knees pressing together because of proximity or because he just reaches out and does it, he’s a toucher. Just for casual reasons.

You’re mostly past being surprised by it. 

In fact, you’re trying to find more reasons to reciprocate. If he’s a tactile person, you want to meet him there. Plus…it’s satisfying. 

Warm. 

Personal.  

You feel you’re quicker and flightier about it than him, but you’re getting there. 

“Fine…then you have to, too,” you rip a piece of paper off for him. 

“Ugh, no fair,” he drops back down onto the edge of his bed.  But Eddie digs up another pen and plays along. He flops onto his bed, you sit on the floor, and you both doodle.

He pulls the stereo back over so you can use that and jump music more quickly. After the first couple songs, he gets more into it.  Closes his eyes to feel the music and then requests a replay so he can get to making something. 

“...maybe it would be easier with paint or markers,” you decide after he scratches something out, balls it up, and holds out a petulant hand for a fresh piece of paper. “You wouldn’t feel like you have to, like, actually make something literal to represent the song. Color and texture counts…” 

“Hah! So you bullied me into doing things the hard way!” he gripes and throws his pen across the room in a grandiose display of frustration. He’s left huffing when it bounces off the wall, rolls across his dresser, and falls down behind it. 

“Yup,” you laugh at the ill-fated projectile.  “Threatened your life and everything to make you come into my world…” 

“Meh,” Eddie shrugs. “I like your world…” 

You catch his eye and hold it, your breath clogged up in your chest. Geeze, he’s just saying…things tonight.

Shit. 

You swallow. 

“...how about your world?” 

Eddie guffaws. 

“What about it?” 

You roll your eyes and swing your head toward his dresser. An electric guitar is propped up there. You gesture to it, then to the acoustic one in the corner. 

“Play something?” 

“I mean, you don’t have to tell me twice!” Eddie abandons the fresh paper you’d given him and practically soars off the bed. 

You keep your seat on the floor and watch him retrieve his guitar, then fiddle with the amp shoved in the corner. He flicks a couple dials and strums a cord before making a couple more adjustments to scale it down. 

“Alright,” he seats himself back on the bed again. “Any requests from the crowd?” 

You decline the chance to give him any direction, and he tutts at you.

 A moment later he’s doing his own thing.

He doesn’t play anything you immediately recognize, which doesn’t necessarily mean it’s original music, but it could be – you’ve never heard Corroded Coffin play. Watching Eddie here and now, you assume you’re missing out. Even unaccompanied and relatively quiet, he’s into his music. Moving his body rhythmically. Letting his eyes fall shut now and then. Fingers dancing.  

You become hyper aware of the pencil between your own fingers. You start paying more attention to Eddie than what he’s playing, strictly speaking. But, like…drawing him right in front of his face would be weird, right? 

…right. 

Most definitely.  You straighten up the pencil and start drawing anyway. Nothing crazy. Only…it’s comfortable. 

A genial little bubble, both of you doing your thing. 

Time just kind of floats for a while. 

The tune and tempo of music changes easily. Some snippets you recognize and could pick out a name for if you tried, others you don’t. Eddie’s obviously not sticking to one whole song, but it all flows. Gradual. Connected. Like he’s done this a million times and it fits for him. 

Just like the moment is easy for you, too. 

You love this. Love when time slips away and you can get lost in something. A moment. A piece of work. When the journey from your mind to your fingers goes easy. Sometimes you can’t quite get there. Other times you’ve spent hours in that headspace.  You’ve…

You’ve never felt that way with someone else around, honestly.  On that thought, you stop working. You chew on your lip and bring a critical eye to what you’ve got so far.

The moment had been lovely, but your drawing itself is…fine. 

“...what’s that face for?” 

You snap your eyes off the paper to meet Eddie’s. His fingers are still moving, but his gaze is on you. How long has he been looking? At what point had he clocked what you were up to?

Is it…okay? Did it make him uncomfortable? 

“No face…” 

“You’re making a face,” he assures you, nodding. 

“Just…not my best,” you glance back down. 

Hands aren’t really your sweet spot. Proportions and angles always get you. Plus he’d been moving…which is a sorry excuse, but one you’re personally willing to live with. 

“Let’s see,” he cranes his chin to try seeing over your knees.

Shiiit. 

“....can I decline?” 

His smile is charming and dimply even as he shakes his head in the negative. 

“Yeah… I figured,” you sigh your resignation. 

“We’re both sharing. C’mon, c’mon,” he encourages.

Right. Very true.  But giving Eddie an audience is clearly a lot more fruitful than giving you one, so it’s another few seconds before you get up and step up to the bed. 

Eddie scoots over to indicate there’s plenty of room for you, so you perch next to him on the mattress and twist the paper his way. 

“It is me!” he cracks, like he hadn’t quite been sure if you would. 

He stops playing so he can snatch it from you. 

It’s not much, really. 

A section of the neck of his guitar with some frets dashed in, and his hand wrapped around it to press at the strings. Something isn’t quite right about it – either the real movements of his hand had hindered you getting a good position or your rendering isn’t portraying a proper illusion of potential movement. Something. 

Not that Eddie seems to care. 

“Not what I was expecting, but I like it – me and my baby,” he lovingly strokes the body of the instrument in his lap. 

It makes you chuckle. 

“...why don’t you like it?” He checks

“I don’t dislike it. There’s just things I would touch up if it was a real drawing…”

You’d fuss with his fingers – especially the tips. You’d finish filling out the faces of his rings. 

“Looks pretty real to me,” he decides and rips the top page off to set it on his nightstand. 

“Oh –” you blink. “If you like it I can make you a nicer one. On better paper or something.” 

“Shh,” he throws two fingers over your lips. “I like it.” 

He only moves his hand away when you smile and hold up your hands to indicate you’re backing down. He nods, and his arms fall back around his guitar like it’s natural. 

“So what were you expecting?” you ask since it’s clear he’d watched you watching him. To some extent, at least. 

“No clue… …drawing the music — oh!” he lifts a hand to snap his fingers. “I’ve got it – yup, great idea. New game…” 

His eyes dance. 

“...why am I scared?” you laugh because you’re not. 

Mostly. 

“Nah, don’t be scared. New guessing game,” he clarifies with a glance over to where your old sketch is taped up by his desk. “I play instrumentals.  You guess the song.” 

He starts in before you even agree, picking away. 

“Smoke on the Water. Come on…” you nudge his knee with yours. 

He may find some of your tastes questionable, but you do know things. 

“Just easing you in… …” 

He continues for a little while and then filters the song into something else.

“...Crazy Train. We were just listening to that...” 

He nods but continues the song just, it seems, for the joy of it. 

When he switches it up again, nothing comes immediately to mind. You close your eyes and think on the melody… Eddie peppers in several songs that are easy, but a few take time. You think he takes satisfaction in stumping you and telling you to get a proper education… plus then he gets to play the songs he likes longer.

“Ugh,” you groan in frustration and drop back against the rumpled bed. “I don’t knowww…oh!” you startle yourself when you consider your current position. “Crap. Does this bother you?” 

Sitting on his bed is one thing when invited, but laying on it might be another. 

Eddie glances over his shoulder without stopping his playing. His eyes dip down to you before he shakes his head in answer. 

You don’t notice the strong line of his jaw from this angle.

You absolutely do not.  …except for how you do.  You really, really do. 

You kind of clench up thinking about it, and you continue to stare at him even when he looks away.  You forget to pay attention to the music until he starts singing along to it. Softly first, then more obnoxiously. 

“...can’t you see? Can’t you see? …No, no, nooo!...” 

“--you got the best of meee!” you laugh and nudge at Eddie with your shin when recognition comes. 

“Don’t disrupt me– give me my moment, woman,” Eddie gripes as his fingers slide. 

“I knew that I knew it!” you more or less ignore him. 

“But it’s cheating! Doesn’t count!” his hair flicks as he shakes his head. 

“Boo – you didn’t make rules,” you laugh, recalling this conversation in reverse. 

“I’m making them now,” Eddie smiles over his shoulder in a way that suggests he remembers it too. “You gotta guess it before I start singing.” 

“...see, by your tone you seem to think that’s a threat. But you have a nice voice…” 

“Yeah?” 

You nod. 

He’s still peering over his shoulder, and you feel caught in the personal mess of this compliment. As if it isn’t personal enough that you’re sprawled out on his bed. Or that you both know you were staring at his hands earlier. Or that you’re sharing pieces of your passions with each other in the first place. 

And then there’s that damn jawline. 

You squirm uncomfortably 

…or maybe you’re a little too comfortable? 

“Thanks,” he grins when he decides to take the praise for what it is. 

And that smile? 

You’ve seen it countless times now, but suddenly you can’t stand it. 

You shove yourself back up to sitting. 

“So…do you and the band do covers then? I’m an asshole for never asking …”

Yes. Yes, put yourself down and move along. Classic.

“You’re not an asshole,” Eddie chortles as he continues to pick across the strings. “And, yeah, a bit…we add in some of our own stuff to test out. Covers get us invited back, though…” 

“Guess that makes sense” 

“I like to pick up riffs and licks of shit I hear and dig,” he shrugs. “I don’t always know a whole song…” 

“Oh. Well. Then I’m no longer impressed” 

He catches your eyes again like he’s checking, but he laughs when you smile. 

“...I impress you, huh?” 

You don’t often hear him double-back for validation – that’s more your game. But he’s staring at you, grinning…so maybe he’s teasing? Or both. 

You can feel the heat in your cheeks under his gaze, and finally, in that moment …you fully accept you might have an Eddie-sized problem. 

It’s occurred to you before, of course. In those moments that his touch feels extra warm or when he says things that feel so strangely personal. 

You always shove it away. 

Now it’s kind of …weedling deep into your brain. 

Your inclination is to deny his question. To lean into the joke and insist he is a complete and utter bore. 

“...yeah. I guess you do,” you say instead. 

Because he does, honestly. 

“Ah,” he shakes his hair out and puts on a show of preening under this praise. “I told you – flattery will get you everywhere.” 

Damn. 

In your mind, you imagine taking that and running with it. Of smirking and saying something like “Oh yeah? Like where?” just to see what happens. To gauge his reaction. 

But…then what? You can’t quite picture the other side of that conversation. 

“Jeeze…you’re going to be impossible now, aren’t you?” 

“Nah,” he glances back again. “Not for you…”  . Whaaaaaaat the fuck is he doing? 

No. Seriously. 

Eddie hasn’t known what he’s doing ever since the two of you had stepped into his room together – he’s just flying by the seat of his pants. Or…he hadn’t known what he was doing before that, either, if he’s honest (and he doesn’t want to be).  

He has no idea what he’s doing any time you come over, really. 

At this point, he can pretty well admit to himself that he is into you, but to hell if he knows what to do about that. 

Well. He knows what to do…like, ya know, if it came to fucking around.  He’s done that. A bit. With some old classmates – college Freshmen who’ve come back to Hawkins on spring break, who’ve opened their minds just a little and now Eddie maybe seems more fun than freaky. The rebellion becomes more intriguing than scary for once. Okay, maybe twice.

Fine. Cool. 

Only he’s pretty sure this isn’t that. Is it going there? Maybe.  But it probably isn't. No one is saying it is!

He’s definitely not saying it is. 

Fuck. 

You just. You have a good time together, and it’s so easy. So easy, and shit like this is never easy. Not for him. 

And you’re nice and you’re smart and you’re funny... 

Which is why he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing. Or saying. 

He’s a mess. 

See, he doesn’t date. He’s never dated…at least, not at any age where it would count. Being the Hawkins Freak doesn’t really lend itself to having an easy time in the friend department, so fucking forget about the romance department.  

That’s what he wants, though. Sometimes, when he squints …he thinks you do, too. 

He could always be conflating things, though. That sounds like something he might do. 

He should cut it the fuck out, is the thing. 

He should stop saying things. Things that are suggestive from certain angles. Telling you stories. Inviting you to share your shit. Telling you he’s possible, whatever the fuck that meant. Sitting there and jamming while you draw him.  Jesus H, that had been fucking hot.  Even before he knew what you were drawing, it didn’t even matter. You could’ve been doodling Yoda, and he would’ve still gotten wrapped up in watching you, how you glanced up toward him now and then but otherwise just relaxed and listened to him play and got all up in your own world, just for a while…

“...s’matter?” 

Your voice tugs him from his thoughts, and he realizes he’s just sitting there. He’s lost the thread of whatever he’d been saying and playing. The room is quiet, save for a passing car. 

“...just thinking…” 

“...want to share with the crowd?” you tease and kick his ankle lightly. 

“Nothing interesting…”

You tilt your head in consideration and then prop your elbows on your knees. 

“Let the masses be the judge of that…”

Hah. Masses. Someday, maybe, he’ll play for the masses. For now it’s just Gareth’s neighbors, the regulars at The Hideout…and you. 

“I’m hungry,” he announces. 

And that’s the truth, if not all of it.  

Eddie unplugs his guitar, sets it gently against his pillow, and gets up to fetch the snacks you’d set down by the record player and haven’t touched since. 

He recalls you kneeling there beside his records, thumbing through them like it was a comfortable place for you to be. How he’d watched and realized that, besides the guys, people generally aren’t comfortable here. It’s small and old and not on the right end of town… there’s a fucking demilich tacked up on the wall. 

He’s pretty sure you don’t give a fuck. 

You can’t be pretending, right? 

“...sounds like Phiefer has quieted down,” he points out once he’s scooped up the food. “Movie?” 

He watches your eyes dart around and realizes you’re looking for a clock. Yeeeeah, he’s not the greatest with alarm clocks. 

He twists up his arm to check his watch. 

“...what time you gotta be home?” he asks though he knows you don’t really have a curfew.  

You’re one of those teenagers who gets a lot of leeway at home because you’re not a trouble starter.

“Not too late,” you answer the same as you always do. 

“Then you’re good,” he makes the promise he always makes. 

“...no slashers?” 

He rolls his eyes at you and strolls down the hall. 

“No slashers?!” you repeat, following swiftly. 

“...next time,” Eddie vows. 

“Then I’m sorry to inform you, this will be the last time I ever come over…”

He laughs because you jest. Or…he’s pretty sure you’re joking. He’s gotten in a few horror flicks and you have yet to bail in the middle of one. 

“You pick,” he waves you off to the Munson Movie Collection and veers into the kitchen to grab a beer.

Salty, sweet, and beer? Sign him up, thanks. 

Since it’s his movie shelf, he’s not worried about what he’ll have to end up watching. Though he has to admit he hasn’t been disappointed by Tron or Caddyshack when you’d brought those, you’ve been threatening him with Flashdance so you’re on notice. 

As it is, you narrow the movies down to Dark Crystal or This is Spinal Tap, then make him pick. Spinal Tap, it is!

Eddie lets you set it up and situates himself on the couch. He sits close to the middle with his arm up over the back…his regular invitation these days. You’ll usually sit close but not really touching, not leaning in. He’s perpetually disappointed by this, though it does leave an easy road open for casual touches while you chat or share food and drinks. 

Sure enough, when you sink down on the couch you leave the slimmest gap between you. 

“...it’s been a nice night,” you face him once you’re sitting, and Eddie perks up because that’s usually the kind of thing you say on your way out the door. “Thanks…” 

“...thanks?” Eddie twists his mouth up so his confusion will come off friendly rather than dismissive. 

“...yeah. It’s been a cool night. You playing for me, doing some art together…” 

Oh. 

“Well, I’m not sure if I was really doing art, per say…” he chortles.

Your fingers cover his mouth, and his lips are on fire. 

“...looked pretty really to me.” 

You’re quoting him at him, and he smiles against your hand. You do that sometimes, and he loves it – thrills on knowing someone was actually listening. So many people don’t. 

“You’re right,” he keeps smiling when you slide your hand away. “It was art. Fine art, even.” 

“Ugh. Ego!” 

“Facts are facts, Princess…” 

You chuckle but straighten yourself up.

“Anyway…what I’m saying is, it’s nice. I don’t really do that kind of stuff with anyone else…” 

Your confession seizes something up high in Eddie’s chest, and he is going to kiss you. 

He knows it, just for a split second. 

He’s going to do it. 

He is.

He’s so fucking sure of it that he drops his hand to your shoulder. Squeezes. He’s going to draw you in, and it’s going to be so fucking soft and warm and… Then he clocks your smile. How it’s one of those small, tentative things you use sometimes. You’re unsure, and he knows it.  You get that way occasionally. 

He’s not always sure why. 

…but he knows you’re saying something here. 

Really. 

You are. 

You’re testing some waters, and the brakes in his head slam on when he realizes he doesn’t want to cheapen it by doing something he’s only half sure you’re going to reciprocate. That would be fucked. And selfish. 

And just…fucked. 

You don’t do this with other people. 

At least he has the guys to jam with and nerd-out with over D&D. He doesn’t think you have that. You have Lindsey, but you share friendship not, as far as he’s seen, passions. 

It doesn’t seem like you have people in Hawkins. 

Maybe…maybe Eddie can be your people. 

“Yeah…” he squeezes your shoulder again but stops short of pulling you closer; he doesn’t lean in. “I enjoy it, too. You don’t have to thank me, though.” 

It’s not like he’s doing you some favor. Maybe he should be more exuberant, say more than “I enjoy it.” That’s kindda fucking lame... 

But what’s he supposed to say? 

That he buzzes on spending time with you? That he wants to know more of the things you like even if he doesn’t like them, that he wants to crawl inside your head and see how you see shit? 

(How you see him, but that’s a whole other matter…)

Eddie’s always been proud that he is himself all the time no matter what anyone says or does. But you? …you’re yourself when you feel safe, so the fact that he gets to see you…well. That makes him a little proud, too. 

But, like, he doesn’t know how to fucking say that. 

“Too late – I already thanked you,” you tell him cheekily. 

Eddie huffs. 

“Yeah, because you’re weird” 

“...says the freak.” 

That surprises a laugh out of him because you never say that. Given the givens, he’s not offended since it’s you. 

Your responding smile is something wider, more fitting to your face. And your eyes dance instead of search. You’re relieved. 

…should he say something? 

Before he can, you lean forward and pick up the pretzels and pour the M&Ms in. Then you shake the bag up. 

“Fucking genius,” Eddie groans. 

“Yeah, huh?” 

Pleased little smirk in place, you sit back and close the gap so your side is pressed up to his. 

…maybe that’s not a lot. 

But it’s not nothing either.  ______

Next Chapter >>>