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skyfallslayer · 7 days ago

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10 Things I Hate About you - Chapter 2

Eddie Munson x Harrington! reader

Synopsis - A new rule strikes the Harrington household: if Steve wishes to date ever again, his sister needs to find a boyfriend first. As Steve becomes desperate and thinks of everything in his power to set her up, only one guy comes to mind that will take up a challenge such as that: Eddie Munson.

warnings - Season 1 Steve 👎 , ft. Eddie the mechanics, underage drinking, and free cookie if you spot the Titanic reference.

word count - 12.5k

proof read by the amazing @inknopewetrust

series masterlist 🌻

the playlist

"He tried again over lunch today," Steve slumped his shoulders, looking up to the sky. This was supposed to be a new day, a new opportunity for Eddie to try and seduce you, but instead, Eddie almost ended up having your yogurt in his hair. And even if the plan was failing, Tommy, who would have paid good money to see The Freak with yogurt stuck in his brown curls, was disappointed you hadn't gone through with it.

"I'm starting to think this is a bad idea."

"You gave him a fifty bucks a date deal, I'm sure he'll try again," Carol said through a mouthful of Steve's Kudos bar - the extra one he had packed for himself, but her sneaky hands had found it anyway.

"He told me he would," Steve climbed down from the hood of his car when he spotted you leaving the school building. "I'll see you guys tomorrow," He sighed, taking a seat behind the wheel.

"Hey, loser." Tommy snickered at you, taking a new puff of his cigarette and almost blowing it in your face.

"Oh my god, Tommy." You squinted your eyes, pretending like the smoke didn't bother you. "Are you losing your hair? You look balder than the last time I saw you up close?" You watched as his face twisted, placing a hand in his hair as if to protect it from your comment.

"Stop bullying my friends!" Steve yelled from the open window.

"Stop bullying my friends" You mimicked his voice as you settled yourself in the passenger side. "I'm Steve and I think that my dumb friends are actually really smart and good company."

"I don't talk like that."

"Yeah, you do. Oh my hair, my precious hair!" You mimicked again, putting a hand in your own hair as you did. "Wait until people find out it's because you use girl's hairspray.”

"And they never will, because you'll never tell them," he sang the words. "Talking about hairspray, I'm running out. I'm going to have to go to the supermarket before I can drop you off."

"Seriously? Can't you go later?"

"Nope. Don't have the time."

"I hate you."

"Look on the bright side, you can go to the comic book store in the meantime." He spoke to you like a toddler, you hated that.

"Right. Because I'm so excited to get the new Iron Man comic."

"Aren't you?"

You were.

But he didn't need to know that.

"You have to stop being so aggressive." Steve noticed as he watched you remove a few coins out of your wallet and hand them to the seller behind the counter.

"I'm not aggressive!" You argued back, side-eying your brother before thanking the elderly man as he neatly placed your comics in a plastic bag and handed them to you over the counter.

"You just fought a 9 year old over Lord of the Rings." Steve eyed the road through the shop's window, the little boy in question had a big frown on his face as he climbed into the back of his mother's car.

"But he was wrong! I don't know what he read, but that's not how the end of the Two Towers played out! And Saruman does die at the end of Return of the King."

"Why do I even bother with you?" He pinched his nose, his other hand on his hip in annoyance. You watched as the white plastic bag with the Farrah Fawcet hair spray bumped with his hip as he moved. He shook his head before putting his sunglasses back on. "Do you know that people around school are starting to call you a ‘heinous bitch’ more and more often?"

"You forget I don't care what people think." You pushed the shop door open, the little bell ringing with it.

"Yes, you do."

"No, I don't," you chuckled, looking at him through his sunglasses. "You don't always have to be who they want you to be, you know?" The words came out of your mouth before you could even think them over.

"I happen to like being the king of Hawkins High, thank you," He gave you a chuckle as if you had just said something stupid. The pang in your chest started stinging even more at seeing the careless, stupid, and even sometimes mean facade your brother had created himself just for popularity becoming clearer and stronger. You knew deep inside he wasn't this way.

"Right." Your word came out stiffer than you wished as you opened the passenger door, Steve following you in from the other side. "You know you're paying for my car repair, right?" You asked as you watched him start the engine.

"Uh, no, I'm not."

"Steve, you're the one who put the wrong fuel in."

"Yeah, but it's your car."

"Mom said you were going to pay!"

"Yeah, and?"

"And, so I'm not going to pay for your mistakes. What is this? Asshole day?"

"Why are you like this? You're making a fuss about everything lately."

"Right yeah, because I'm the one with terrible grades and who bugs his sister like it's her problem. You broke my car, Steve."

"I did, but I don't see how I should pay for it."

"Agh!" You wanted to rip your hair out, a groan of frustration slipping out of you. "Please just drive. I have a car to pick up and the less time I have in here with you, the better. I don't want to argue with you anymore."

The air was so thick for the rest of the ride you could cut it with a knife. The only noise that could be heard was the engine mixed in with Steve's frequent huffs, and the chatter of the streets that would come and go at every red light.

When the bright blue banner of the garage came into view, Steve didn't even bother with parking and stopped right in front of the shop.

"I'll see you at home." He gave you a tight smile you ignored, stepping out and closing the door as loudly as you could.

You mumbled something about how annoying and unfair he was being, the ringing from the little bell at the door making a minimum of your frustration dissipate. John, the owner of the place, sat behind the counter; head stuffed in the day’s newspaper, cigarette dangling from his lips. He barely looked up from his paper as he heard you walk in.

"Afternoon," you greeted, walking towards the counter, sighing your feelings away as your hands rested on the cold surface. "You said my car would be ready by today?"

"Oh yeah," He didn't remove the cigarette from his lips as he spoke, his small eyes still fixed on the paper and smoke coming out between words. "We're a bit late on schedule," He turned a page, "Realized the fuel fucked up the engine more than we thought. Munson's still taking care of it in the back."

"Munson?" The name felt familiar.

"Yeah, Eddie Munson." The lightbulb lit up in your mind. You knew exactly who he was talking about.

"I didn't know he worked here."

"Mostly on weekends. But he's filling in for Rob today. You know him or something?" He lifted his eyes up to gaze at you through his blue square glasses.

"We go to school together."

"Alright. Well if you want to go see your car I'm sure he won't mind." You nodded and took this as your cue. Walking toward the doorway, the actual door was missing and was replaced by strings of blue and red clay beads. Now that you were closer, you could hear Metallica's The Four Horsemen faintly playing in the background.

The beads made a soft sound as you passed through them. The smell of fuel, rubber, and the metallic pungency of tools invaded your senses the second you walked in. The garage looked messy to an outsider–yet it was no different than other shops of the kind. A staple of car repairs in Hawkins, this little shop had seen business from every family and knew them all by name. The garage door was opened, giving out to a parking lot and letting the fresh air merge with the unnatural amount of toxins that emitted from each car, tire, and tank served. A range of different colored cars neatly parked outside, each either waiting for their turn to get repaired or for their owners to return.

Your car was parked in the middle of the room, and indeed–the boy you knew as Eddie Munson, the school's proclaimed freak and trouble maker who had decided to suddenly ask you out, was working on it.

His hair was tied back in a ponytail, head bowed into the hood. His black shirt was tight and hugged his torso perfectly, his jean jacket resting on a chair in the back of the room. The electric blue denim jumpsuit he called a work uniform was tied at his waist by the sleeves. The pants of it were decorated with car grease in large uneven patches on the sides as if he deliberately wiped his hands on them multiple times.

He blew a strand of hair away from his forehead as he leaned back to look at his work from a higher angle. His fingers were stained with black as they toyed with the wrench in his hand. He looked so focused. The crease between his eyebrows was evident as he figured out if his work was good enough.

"Thought you didn't want that date?" His voice brought you back from your staring, shoving away the odd feeling in your chest you hadn't noticed was there. You blinked, your expression changing.

"And I still don't. I came to see my car."

"This is your car?" He asked, eyebrows raised as he pointed to it with the tool in his hand.

"Yep." You patted the roof with pride.

"I didn't take you for a girl to confuse which fuel to put in her car." He smiled to himself, looking up from the car's engine to you.

Now he couldn't deny you looked nice–nicer than in that ugly Hawkins high sports uniform you had been wearing yesterday and at lunch again today. Something about volleyball tryouts.

Eddie had never really taken the time to see you. You had always been just a face in the crowd, but a cute one. His thoughts quickly processed and he remembered his mission. He knew loud and clear that he was just in this for the money, however, it didn't hurt that he found you pretty, and it definitely didn't hurt that you were wearing an Ozzy Osbourne t-shirt.

"Actually, that's my brother's fault."

"Ah, now I understand."

"Probably never going to let him use my car ever again."

"Yeah, he fucked it up pretty bad," he noticed. "It seriously poisoned the engine."

"How much longer do I have to wait?"

"Oh, I just finished!" He gave you his most charming grin before wiping his hands on the bottom half of his already disgusting jumpsuit. You could see the white patch with his name on it poking out from the folded top around his waist as he walked to where you were standing. "I just need to try it, see how it starts."

You took a step back to let him open the door and sit in the driver's seat, you could faintly hear the song fade away and the radio host taking over. Eddie left the door open as he turned the key and started the engine. The sound of the buzzing motor came and fully drowned the radio as it came loud and clear.

"It works!” He said as though it were a miracle. “And no smoke this time!" He seemed so happy it made you smile. "All set, princess." He turned the key and slipped out of the car, making his way back to the front and reaching up to close the hood.

"Thank you. I thought I was going to commit murder after a week of Steve driving me."

"No problem," he chuckled.

"How much do I owe you?"

"Nothing," he shook his head with big movements, making his ponytail sway from side to side. "On the house."

"You know that won't make me say yes to that date?" You put a hand on your hip, making him chuckle.

"I know."

"Don't think that getting me gifts is the way to my heart."

"What is the way to your heart?"

"That, I won't tell you."

"Just thought you shouldn't have to pay for what's your brother's fault."

"That's what I told him!" You pointed out. "No, but seriously how much do I owe you?"

"Nothing, I promise. Just get in the car and go do whatever pretty girls do on Wednesdays after school."

"Will John be happy you're giving away free service?"

"I'm sure good old John won't mind. C'mon! Get in! Get away from this smelly garage!" He waved towards the car when you didn't move.

You shook your head in disbelief before getting in and opening your window. "100% sure I can just leave?"

"Yes! Now go, before I change my mind." He watched with a smile on his face as you turned the car back on, smiling when everything worked perfectly.

"Thank you!" You cheered, waving as you made your way out, Eddie watching you disappeared down the road.

He breathed in heavily, walking to the half-broken sink in the back of the workshop. Once his hands were clean and dry he turned the radio off and reached for his coat which was still laying on the chair next to it. He reached in the pocket to remove his pack of cigarettes and lighter before fumbling with the jean, turning the jacket around to get access to the second pocket, pulling out some of the cash Steve handed him yesterday.

The blue and red beads made the familiar sound as he passed by the front desk.

"Did you let another girl leave without paying?" John looked up from his newspaper. "And I won't take a 'but she was pretty' as an answer this time."

"No," Eddie chuckled. "She gave me the money directly." Eddie put forty of Steve’s cash on the desk.

"Good."

"I'm taking my break." He nodded before stepping outside, cigarette already between his lips.

"Harrington! My new best friend!" Eddie cheered, a skip in his step as he made his way to Steve's locker the next day. Sleep still in Steve's eyes while Eddie's were bright and awake.

"What do you want?" Steve wondered as he stuffed his copy of Romeo and Juliet in his locker, only so he could forget it there and never see it again.

"I need your help."

"I thought you were the one helping me? And,” Steve paused his movements, “why is my sister still single?"

"I'm working on it… It's only been two days. And talking about your sister, if you want this to work, I need you to tell me what she likes."

"Well, she likes that same crappy music you listen to."

"I already knew that, not very helpful. Can't you tell me her interests? Her hobbies? What does she read? What does she do on weekends?"

"Well, I think she might read the same nerd stuff you do, but I don't know."

"You don't know? She's your sister," Eddie crossed his arms as he leaned on the neighboring locker.

"Can't you ask her out without all this information?"

"Nope. You saw what happened, I need to be smart about this," Eddie tapped the side of his head with his finger.

"Fine," Steve sighed, closing his locker. "I'll make a list and give it to you tomorrow."

"Works for me!" Eddie smiled and knocked a fist on the locker behind him before turning around to walk the other way.

"What was that about?" Tommy appeared out of thin air. His eyes fixed on Eddie who was already halfway down the hallway.

"He wants to know more about her. I have to make a list of stuff she likes." He took the hook of his backpack in his hand before he started to walk away.

"And you don't know all of that?"

"No, why would I?"

"Because she's your sister?"

"And?" He shrugged. "Shouldn't be my problem."

"What are you going to tell him?"

"I'll search through her room. See what I can find."

"Doesn't she hang out with that Barb girl? You could probably ask her for some stuff."

"Maybe."

"Plus isn't she like Nancy's best friend? Could make you gain some Nancy points."

"Yeah, that's not a bad idea," Steve nodded along.

As if on cue, you appeared in the hallway with headphones over your ears. Steve looked at you with narrow eyes as you made a stop at your locker. You were wearing a Star Wars t-shirt; that could be useful information.

The lunch bell broke his thoughts and he suddenly remembered it was pasta Thursday. Steve watched the students who were still stuck in class start filing out of classrooms, he would have to leave quickly to get in line before the additional cheese would have to be wrestled for and leave the students last in line with only butter for a minimum of flavor to the over-cooked dish.

Like every Thursday, the cafeteria was crowded. The chatter of students echoed loud and clear through the large room. Food had already been spilled and laughter could be heard. Everyone seemed to be exactly where they were supposed to be.

Steve with his friends, cheese proudly sprinkled on top of the macaroni that cooled just enough to be edible.

Eddie was at his table. The Hellfire club was a full house; each member munching at their food, anticipation and excitement coursing through their veins as they waited for tomorrow to come to continue Eddie's campaign.

"I'm telling you, this is a terrible idea!" Jeff nodded along Oliver's words.

"Why? It's good money," Eddie leaned back from his seat at the table, his eyes landing on you. You were at the table you normally sat at, talking with Eddie's physics partner: Barb.

Were you two friends? He wondered as he watched the interaction. You had a reputation for being a loner, yet you seemed to be smiling. A pretty smile that radiated over your features. Eddie noticed your Star Wars shirt, grinning to himself at the thought of a pretty girl like you being a fan of something he enjoyed too.

He hadn't noticed, but the entire hellfire table was staring at him, throwing looks at each other at the sight of their fearless leader cheesing it over some girl.

"This is bad," Eddie's right-hand man, Olvier, whispered into Jeff's ear. "Really, really bad."

"It might be good money, but don't you think it's, like, a little unethical?" Another boy from the table wondered.

"Unethical?" Eddie blinked at the words. "Since when have we had any ethics to begin with?"

"I don't know," the boy shrugged. "Just, imagine if she actually falls for you, and she finds out it was all a scam just so that her brother could get some?"

"She won't find out," Eddie cracked open his Mountain Dew, taking a sip from the tin can before continuing to speak. "And she's tough. You all saw what she did to Jeff's nose," the boy in question looked away in embarrassment. "I'm sure it would take her more than a few dates to fall for me."

"Right… Because leading someone on is totally the right thing to do to gain some extra cash," Gareth spoke up. "I still don't know why you've agreed to this. I don't want to be there when she finds out. Don't count on me to buy you flowers and dumb 'get well soon' cards for when she puts you in a coma."

"Don't think he'd even pass by the hospital," Another boy snorted. "He'd directly be put to his death." That made the entire table laugh, apart from Oliver.

The blonde had a serious shine to his eyes, a frown on the verge of forming. That wasn't what he was worried about, but he couldn't voice his worries, not right now.

That evening, Steve knew he had to work fast. He knew he only had an hour to get home from school, sneak into your room, and make a list of everything that could be useful before you'd be back from your hour of babysitting.

The second he swung the door open he was met with a sea of records and posters. Your bed wasn't made and your desk was a mess. Steve started his search with the desk. His eyes first landed on a big poster with four guys which, at second glance, he swore one looked like Eddie. He looked to the side to find another smaller poster of the same guy, smiling with his guitar. His name was written in bold on the side, but Steve didn't bother to fully read it. He shook the thought from his head before opening the main drawer. A collection of chapsticks rolled to the front, while random notes and spare coins sat at the back. He pushed some of the things around only to find concert tickets of events from eons past.

When he wasn't satisfied with the search, he moved to the smaller ones at the foot of the desk. Opening and inspecting each one with meticulous precision. When he opened the third one, his eyes went wide.

"Oh my God!" Steve reached for the blue game boy. His blue game boy he thought he had lost the year prior. He could see your pink one in the back of the drawer, the screen broken. He grabbed his, moving his hand through the different games to take his pick.

He put the console and games on the floor by the desk to reclaim them as his but continued his search. The fourth drawer had a magazine opened to a page showing multiple different electric guitars. You had circled one, Steve marked it down on his little piece of paper.

You liked guitar.

And you wanted an electric one, a specific model in particular.

Steve walked towards your shelf and scanned through your books. He made a face when he saw your small collection of Shakespeare. He wrote that down too. After that, he saw a few books by the same author. He recognized The Lord of the Rings, writing it down on his list. But then when his eyes scanned over the other works by the J.R.R Tolkein guy, he had to squint and reread the word at least 3 times to register it and to check if he had written ‘Silmirillion’ right. You had stacks of Rolling Stone magazines next to it except Steve barely bothered to skim through them.

His eyes landed on the big Star Wars poster next to him and on the spaceship on your shelf. He wrote that down as well.

Once he was satisfied, he grabbed his Gameboy and the selected games from the floor and left as though he had never been inside of it at all.

Steve's socked feet dropping from step to step down the stairs caught your attention. Like every Friday morning, he was wearing his blue shirt - his favorite one Tommy had gotten him for his birthday. His bag hung on one shoulder as settled for breakfast.

However, he wasn't looking at where he was going or making a cheeky comment to piss you off so early in the day.

His eyes were focused on the blue brick in his hand. The noise of the game rang before the realization hit. The familiar opening of a chest echoed through your ears and your eyes went wild.

The goddamn Gameboy.

"Are you playing Zelda?" He didn't own a Zelda game–you did.

"Yes. On my Gameboy that I found in your room! Also, I don't know how you can play this. It's too complicated."

"What were you doing in my room!?" Your hand collided with the table, making your breakfast jump.

"I was searching for it!" He bit back.

"Dad-"

"You shouldn't have taken his in the first place. You have one of your own. Steve, you shouldn't go into your sister's room, that's private. It's settled. End of argument. Can we eat in peace now?"

You grumbled something, melting in your seat before poking at a blueberry.

You were glad your car was repaired because you couldn't take another drive of Steve's whining and him complaining about how Zelda was too hard.

Fridays were the best. Not only because it was the day when you didn't have any classes with Steve, but also because it was a chain of your favorite classes that led right to the weekend.

But, Friday’s also went by faster than lighting because of it.

"Barb! You're sort of friends with my sister, right?" Steve appeared next to her like a child high on sugar.

"Yeah?" She looked up from her textbook and papers.

"I need you to tell me what she likes."

"What she likes? Why?" She placed the stray papers inside the textbook before putting them inside her bag, her gaze going to the classroom door where students were starting to leave. It was Friday. She wanted to run out of there and not spend any more time than she needed to in these horrible halls.

"Is that so bad that I just want to know my sister better?" He poorly defended himself, placing a hand on his hip to try and sound more convincing.

"That’s weird coming from you," she zipped her bag closed.

"Okay,” he brushed it off, “first, what does she like to do on weekends?"

"Steve-"

"Please just answer the question." He pressed on.

"Well, um… She really likes to go to The Hideout."

"That weird bar on the edge of town?" Steve made a disgusted face.

"Yes, she says she loves seeing new bands play and makes fun of them when they're terrible."

"Okay," Steve started writing it on his hand like notes for an upcoming exam.

"Are you really writing this down? Steve-" Barb lamented.

"I want to remember! Can't you just accept the fact that I want to be a better brother?"

"Right."

"Ok, what else?"

"She likes Hard Rock and Metal… She would die for Kirk Hammett and Axl Rose."

"Wh-who?"

Barb rolled her eyes. "Kirk is that guy from Metallica?” It sounded more like a question than an actual statement. “I think he's their guitarist."

"Oh! Is that the guy from the posters in her room? The one that has the same hair as Munson?"

"They all have the same hair as Munson," she pointed out. "But yeah, Kirk kind of looks like him, I guess." Barb blinked as she remembered your room from the little times she'd been there "Axl is the main for Guns ‘n Roses; blonde, blue eyed guy with long hair. Always wears a bandana and eye-liner."

"Mm-hm" He nodded for her to continue, writing keywords on the back of his hand.

"She also really likes the arcade and roller skating. Um, she likes fantasy stuff like those Star Wars movies and those big books…” Barb trailed off to think of the name.

“Lord of the Rings?” Steve filled in for her and she snapped her fingers in recognition.

“Yes! Lord of the Rings. And I think her favorite character is Darth Vader?"

"Is he from Lord of the Rings?” Steve asked and Barb furrowed her eyebrows at him like she couldn’t believe that is what came out of his mouth.

“Are you serious?”

“It’s… not?” Steve faltered and she shook her head.

“Star Wars… Bad guy…?”

"The guy with the helmet?”

“Mhm,” Barb hummed in reply.

"Okay, thank you! I think I'm all set."

"Are you sure you need this information just to be a better brother?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "Thanks!" He beamed before running out of the room. Steve charged down the halls until he recognized the door with the theatre posters all over it.

"Here!" Steve burst into the drama room, earning a questioning gaze from Eddie.

He was alone. Feet on the table that was even messier than the last time he was there. A book in his hand and he was practically one-hundred percent sure he had seen that same cover sitting on the shelves of your room.

"I have ‘the info.’" Steve slammed the note onto the table, in between the figurines and dice, before taking a seat in one of the rickety side chairs.

Eddie looked up from his book with a raised eyebrow and removed his feet from the table before scanning what was written.

"You missed the a," He pointed out and Steve looked at him strangely. "Silmarillion, not Silmirillion," Eddie showed him the cover of the book he was still holding.

"Whatever," Steve dropped his hand on the table. "That's the information I gathered."

"That's not a lot to work from," Eddie pointed to the paper with Steve’s scribbles on it.

"Look it should be enough," Steve huffed as Eddie read through the information. "But I've got more."

"She likes guitar, that's cool. She wants the same model I have."

"Oh yeah! She has a crush on that guy from Metallica, the one with the guitar."

"Which one?"

"I don't man, the one that looks like you."

"You mean Kirk?"

"Yeah! That's his name."

"Alright, good. I can work with that," A smirk rose on Eddie's lips. A sudden burst of confidence rose to his chest. He was your type. "Anything else?"

"I think her other crush's name has something with roses" he looked down at his hand, the writing so sloppy he could barely make it out.

"Axl?"

"Yep, that's the one!" Eddie could work with that. He basically owned half of the same wardrobe.

"She likes to go to The Hideout–you know that dodgy bar? She likes to go and judge the bands that play apparently."

"I'm in a band that plays at The Hideout."

Steve's mouth hung open into an 'O' shape before he spoke again. "Well, that's actually kind of perfect." He noticed, a bit more to himself than to Eddie. "She also likes the arcade and roller skating."

"Okay,” Eddie nodded, “What's her favorite arcade game?"

"I don't know? She stole my Donkey Kong game so she might like that?" It came out as more of a question than anything.

"Steve, what do you know?"

"Are you being sarcastic?" He narrowed his eyes.

"Maybe."

"Also her favorite Star Wars character is the villain."

"Palpatine?" Eddie scrunched up his nose, tilting his head.

"Pala-who? No, no, the other one, the guy with the helmet."

"Darth Vader?"

"Yeah."

"Well, it's arguable that's he's the villain-"

"Please keep that nerd bullshit for my sister," Steve cut him off and Eddie closed his mouth, crossing his arms against his chest, "that's all I have."

"Alright. I'll see what I can do." Eddie nodded before looking back to the table. "You should go," he tapped his watch, "Campaign's about to start."

"I'm home!" Steve yelled as the door closed behind him.

"Steve, can you come help me with the laundry?" Your mom called out from the laundry room. A large basket of folded laundry in her hands.

Steve rolled his eyes before slipping his shoes off and dropping his bag by the entrance. As he did, he noticed a pair of shoes and a bag he didn't recognize sitting by the doorway.

"Why can't Y/n do it?"

"Because she's babysitting. Here," she handed him the basket. "This side is your clothes, and this one your sister's. Just put yours in your room and put the basket with the rest in hers. Is that so hard to do?"

"Babysitting? But her shoes and bag are here?"

"Yeah, they're in the kitchen, baking."

"Ah," he grumbled something else before doing as told.

"So, got any plans for the weekend?" You asked Dustin as you placed the cupcake wrappers in the little molds.

"I'm going to Mike's. We're going to continue his campaign!" The curly-headed boy had a big smile on his face as he mixed the batter with all his might.

"That's nice," you smiled before you dipped your finger into the batter and stole a taste. "Our cupcakes are going to be amazing," you nodded, "high five."

One of his hands removed its grip from the bowl to collide with yours while the other stayed on the whisk.

"Do you need someone to drop you off or pick you up from Mike's?" You questioned as you started washing your hands, speaking a bit louder over the running water.

"No,” Dustin shook his head and his curls went bouncing, “mom said I could go all alone this time!"

"Oh my god," you put a hand to your heart. "Is my ‘lil Dusty growing up?" You faked a sniff, "are you going to fire me?" you wiped a fake tear.

"No!" He giggled at your dramatic sighs. "I still need you. I'm bored when you're not there and I have to spend entire afternoons home alone."

"I hope so," you pointed a finger at him, a small smile playing on your face as you turned back to the cupcake batter. "You still have to teach me how to play D&D, by the way. My half-written character sheet is still somewhere in my room."

"Yes! I promise. Once Mike's campaign is finished, we will do it."

"Deal," you grabbed the bowl and started to pour the mixture in each of the cupcake molds while Dustin washed up.

"What are you doing this weekend?" He wondered as he came back around, watching with big eyes as you skillfully poured just the right amount of dough into each section.

"Homework, probably."

"That's it?" His eyes went wider. Sometimes he thought you never had fun outside of babysitting him.

"No," you giggled. "Might go judge whoever is playing at The Hideout."

"I wish I could come with you," he sighed. "It sounds so much fun."

"Promise when you're a little older. I'll bring you and we can even make a bingo sheet out of it."

"What would we put on the bingo!?" His eyes lit up like a Christmas tree.

"Well, stuff like, ‘did the singer's voice crack’, or ‘did he sing a wrong note’, or ‘did the guitarist mess up his chord?’ Oh! I forgot to tell you, last time I went, a band that came from Arizona was playing and the drummer threw up on his snare."

"Ew!"

"Yeah, it was disgusting. The whole band had to stop playing and the show was canceled."

"I'm surprised that you haven't met anyone there," Dustin sighed as he watched you put the cupcakes in the oven.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you always said that the boys in high school are unwashed miscreants," you giggled at the fact that he remembered your words. "You must have met someone cool at this bar."

"How many times must I tell you that I'm not interested in dating?" You laughed.

"But everyone is! Dating can be fun!"

"Not everyone, Henderson." Steve's voice came from the doorway. "Y/n is a peculiar breed of mean girl. No boy would even be interested in her, they're all terrified of her or either think she's a loser." Steve made an ‘L’ with his index and thumb, bringing it to his forehead as he poked his tongue out to you.

Steve thought you'd be in a better mood after he saw you laugh with Dustin, that you'd joke back like you always did, but when your eyes met his, your gaze became cold again. You were glaring daggers at him when he reached for the orange juice in the fridge.

"That's not true! She's like the coolest person on earth!" Dustin argued and a mocking chuckle came from your brother. Dustin's eyes were wide and angry as he looked at Steve pouring himself a glass and placing the bottle back in the fridge. The younger boy burned a hole in the back of Steve’s head before he disappeared into the living room.

"Don't listen to him," Dustin grumbled. "I would definitely ask you out if I was older!" That made you laugh; the hurt that started forming in your chest dissipated with his words.

"Well, thank you. But I do get asked out." ‘Especially recently,’ you thought. "I'm just not interested," You could see in his eyes he still didn’t take that as an answer. "Alright, my young padawan," you changed the subject and ruffled his hair. "Enough boy talk. Let's finish up your homework while these cupcakes bake."

"Why are you acting like this?" Steve's head poked from over your shoulder.

"Why am I acting like what?"

"You've been in a bad mood ever since Tuesday morning," Steve sat beside you by the kitchen counter. He quickly eyed what you were doing and saw your neatly written paper with all the answers to the history questions Mr. Click had assigned. Steve grabbed it but you quickly snatched it away.

"You're really asking me why I'm acting like this? Steve, you've been bugging me all week because you think I'm the answer to all your problems!" You dropped your pen in frustration. "It's not my fault you didn't do your English homework and it's not my fault you got shitty grades so now you're not allowed to get a girlfriend. And you're certainly not going to copy my history homework. You didn't even want to pay for my car and you were basically bullying me in front of the boy I babysit."

"But I always bully you," he pointed it out as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. Saying it like his words were meaningless sibling banter and not him reinforcing ideas everyone thought. "And you said it yourself, the guy didn't even make you pay for the repair!"

"That's not the point! You have to stop acting like the things you do are my problem; stop asking me to get a fucking boyfriend and to read a book for you! And stop snooping around my work!" You almost screamed.

Steve was glad your parents were away at Enzo's for dinner because he would have gotten a really long lecture about bribing you to get a boyfriend and he didn't need that right now.

"But you won't get a boyfriend so now I'm stuck home on a Friday night."

"Wow, is that so bad?" You mocked before aggressively grabbing all of your pens and shoving them in your pencil case, stacking your papers before taking everything in your arms and walking up to your room.

"No! Don't leave!"

"Then stop annoying me!" You screamed from the top of the staircase. He heard your loud steps stomping the ground before your door closed with a loud thud and the small clicking of your lock.

You dropped your books and homework on your desk, sighing when you turned the lights on. Frustration burning in your veins, you turned your radio on and brought the volume as high as you could.

The start of Rainbow in the Dark started playing.

It was therapy. It was a cool cloth on the back of your neck on a hot day. Most of all, it was the remedy to tune Steve out and the world around you went silent sans the music that raced the airwaves of your room.

Steve could faintly hear it from the living room but chose to ignore it. This time, he will not give you the satisfaction of being annoyed.

You hummed the lyrics to yourself as you went through your bag, cleaning the empty wrappers and menial scraps that had accumulated through the week. You opened your planner and scanned around the homework for Monday.

Math

English

History

Spanish

You made the list as you went through the stack of textbooks on your desk and neatly placed the ones you needed on the side. You were about to turn around and decide which tape you wanted to listen to after this one when a knock came to your window.

You thought that you heard wrong. Maybe it was a chord in the song you hadn't noticed before. But when the sound of a rock hitting the glass struck again, this time you had the visual. It was a surprise you could still hear the soft clink over the loud music, and as you stepped to get closer, another one clashed with the glass.

You pushed the window up, Dio now playing loud and clear in the cool night air. You looked down to be faced with the last person you expected to see.

"Munson?" You raised an eyebrow. "I thought I told you to stop bothering me?"

"You haven't actually said those words," He echoed from down below.

He had a large smile on his face. His hair was loose and going wild while he was wearing a dark blue shirt that was ripped on the side–you knew you had seen the same shirt somewhere. Skinny jeans of matching color with chains dangling everywhere and purple reeboks complete the look.

It was a look. A completely chaotic, mismatched look that he made work because it was uniquely him.

The light from your window spread a glow over his features as he played with an additional pebble in his hand. For a second, you caught yourself thinking he was handsome. You found yourself shoving away the same weird feeling that had popped up after seeing him at the garage beside your car.

"What are you doing here?"

"I want to take you out," he beamed, dropping the pebble and taking a step closer to your window when the chorus of the song echoed louder through the air.

"I have homework to do."

"C'mon, it's Friday night, please?" He pouted, big brown eyes looking at you like a lost puppy. "I'm playing at The Hideout in 30 minutes, please just come. My van is parked a street away. Doesn't have to be a date."

"You never give up don't you?"

"No," he smirked.

You thought for a second. Dustin's words echoed from earlier: ‘dating can be fun.’ Maybe you could allow yourself just one night at the seedy bar where you would lose your shell. Maybe you could give Eddie Munson the chance to show you who he was behind all the rumors and 'scary' facade.

"I'll come with you on one condition," you levied at him and there was a spark of surprise that washed over his eyes.

"That is…?" He could feel the plan working. He could feel you giving in to him.

"Free drinks."

"Alright, yeah," he thought about the rest of Steve's cash stashed in the door of his van. "Deal."

"Give me a second to change, I'll be right back." You closed the window, then curtains before scurrying off to your closet.

Eddie was in it for the cash. That's what he told himself going into the deal, and that's what he had to remind himself when he watched you climb out of your window as Holy Diver played from your stereo and your feet hit the grass. You were wearing white pants. They were ripped almost everywhere and a chain was hooked to the one side, almost matching the way Eddie's wore his own. Black boots and a loose Metallica shirt brought the look together in some fever dream he was immersing himself in.

Eddie bit back a smile, nodding towards your shirt, "you have a great taste in music."

"I know." You looked at him up and down. "Is that Kirk Hammett's shirt from that cover of Rolling Stone they did two months ago?" You had noticed it when you came to your room and your eyes landed on said magazine.

"Maybe," he smirked. "Might have made it myself when the cover came out."

"Well, it's very nice. Suits you." For a second, you almost thought he looked like him. The same hair, eyes, and cheeky grin. Your heart doing a loop in your chest when you were starting to compare them; the guitar, being in a band. You shook the thought away quicker than it came and walked past him, turning back around when he didn't follow. "C'mon, what are you waiting for?"

"Nothing," Eddie smiled, dipping his chin into his chest before shaking his head and catching up to you.

"Are your parents not going to notice you're gone?"

"They're at dinner. They'll probably assume I'm sleeping by the time they're back."

"And your brother?"

"Nah. I turned the lights off, and the music will stop eventually. He'll have just about an hour left of Dio before he can have his peace."

"Sneaky."

You had never really noticed Eddie's van before. White with blue stripes and the smell of weed permanently stuck to its seats. It was oddly clean on the inside–with no stray papers or candy wrappers laying around like in yours. A guitar pick was dangling from the rear mirror and a bobblehead dragon stood on top of a dash like those Hula girls.

"I like the dragon," you noticed, tapping the top of his head with your fingers to see it move.

"Thanks. I won it at the arcade."

"You go to the arcade?"

"Yeah! Like all the time."

"Me too," you smiled to yourself, watching as he fixed his shirt when he settled in his seat.

"What proves to me that you weren't sent by my brother, the devil spawn?" You narrowed your eyes at him as he closed the door. Eddie's heart squeezing in his chest at the question, his hands began to sweat. You were smart. Really, really smart.

"Sweetheart,” the nickname fell from his tongue as if it were second nature, “you really think your brother would even think of talking to me?" That made you laugh. "I'm sure the idea in itself makes him shit his pants."

It did. But that was before Steve realized Eddie wasn't doing ritual sacrifices on the floor of the drama room.

"Yeah, you're right, sorry to assume," you laughed. "Just thought that maybe he would get really desperate and send the only guy in Hawkins who wouldn't be scared of me." Dammit you were smart. And if Eddie hadn't had as much acting practice from playing Dungeons and fucking Dragons he probably would have been busted the second the question left your lips.

"You don't have that much self-confidence do you?" Eddie narrowed his eyes and looked right at you, trying too hard to change the subject. "Look at you! You really think guys don't want to ask you out, just… because?"

You shrugged and played with the dragon's head again, watching it go up and down every time you touched it. "It's not that I don't, it's just… I'm not very approachable. People are usually scared of me and call me a heinous bitch. Steve gracefully reminds me of it every single day. Either that or they want to date me to be friends with 'Mr. King of Hawkins High',”

"Well, I definitely don't want to be friends with him," Eddie shook his head, making a weird face at the thought. "And I'm no picnic myself," his soft laugh echoed across the little space.

"Yeah, we both have a reputation, don't we?" You scrunched up your nose.

"Definitely," he grinned like it was the best badge a person could wear. "And for the record, I don't think you are a heinous bitch," He smiled, a real genuine smile that definitely wasn't an act. "I think you're very cool, Harrington. I don't know how I hadn't noticed you earlier," he meant it.

"You think I'm cool despite the fact that Steve ‘The Hair’ is my brother?" You raised an eyebrow.

"Despite that."

"Well, I think you're pretty cool too," a stare lingered a little bit too long between the two of you, causing Eddie to clear his throat and put his focus on starting the van.

"You know, never in the world did I think that ‘The Hair's’ sister would listen to Black Sabbath and Dio and like Star Wars."

"Why would you think that?" You smiled because to you, the assumption that you didn’t like any of those things was ridiculous. You wore shirts, listened to the music at near full volume through the hallways, and made it no secret that you weren’t afraid of liking the things you did just because some people found them ‘odd.’

"Because you're Steve Harrington's little sister?"

"So, you think I'm like my brother?"

"Oh, Christ, no. But, I thought you might be. Imagined you to be like a cheerleader of something until I realized that the second Harrington was the girl terrorizing everyone she crosses paths with."

"Jesus," You chuckled. "Imagine me dancing with pom poms."

"Now that's a sight I'd love to see."

"No,” you shook your head amused, “I would look ridiculous."

"I'm sure you'd look amazing."

"I would be a laughing stock! Then people wouldn't be scared of me anymore and where's the fun in that?"

"Yeah," Eddie chuckled with you. That was a fair assessment on your behalf. You weren’t the cheerleading type.

When he parked on the familiar grounds of The Hideout, he reached up for the switch, the small ceiling light making your eyes blink as they adjusted to it.

Eddie leaned toward you to open the glove box. Hand over your knees, he popped open the compartment and his hand barely grazed them as he reached into it. As he rummaged through it, he found a spare ring in the process. Eddie didn't hesitate to wear it on his one ring free finger the second his eyes landed on it.

"Ah-ha!" He smiled when he found what he was searching for. A long thin black tube was between his fingers that made your eyebrows raise high.

"Eyeliner?"

"What? Every rock star wears it." You laughed at the idea of Eddie putting on eyeliner, but it died on your lips when you realized he was being serious and started applying it around his eyes. "Don't look at me like that! Axl Rose wears eyeliner all the time!"

"Yeah, you're right. Axl Rose does wear eyeliner," you smiled at Eddie's comparison to him. Watching his movements as he looked at his eyes through the rear mirror. He definitely wasn't an eye-liner expert; the start of his lines were messy and he was making everything uneven.

For a long minute, he looked like a panda and had to rub some off the black with his fingers. It was far from perfect, but he seemed happy with it.

"How do I look?" He gave an award winning, teeth baring grin when he fully turned to face you.

Now, if you from Monday asked yourself what you thought you would be doing on Friday night, the last thing that would have crossed your mind would have been sitting in the parking of The Hideout with Eddie Munson, gaping at him like a fish as he turned to you with the most adorable grin you had ever seen, wearing eyeliner and comparing himself to your two favorite musicians, and every word dying in the back of your throat as the same unknown feeling that had now crossed you twice upon gazing at him came back.

"Good," you attempted but your words came out in a mumble, blinking the shock away. "You look good. A real rock star." In all truths, he looked really really good. So good you wondered how you had never noticed it before, especially from all your past trips to The Hideout.

Surely you would have noticed someone you went to school with or someone who looked like that.

"Great," he smiled even wider, grabbing the pick necklace from his rearview mirror. "Can't forget the lucky charm,” he winked before opening the door of his van and jumping out.

The Hideout was familiar.

Always the same people flocking to the little joint apart from a few new faces that changed every weekend. The same dark ambiance and washed-out lighting, the same pool table with the same five drunks playing every weekend and sometimes on Thursdays after the monster truck race outside of town.

It wasn't crowded. It never was. But on Fridays, there were always enough people to consider it a crowd, causing a cheerful spirit to hang in the air. Even Madame Bijoux seemed happier on Friday nights. Maybe it was the only day of the week she and the people of Hawkins forgot she was a French woman that came to the bar every day at six, drinking whiskey while wearing all of the jewels she owned and claiming she was waiting for her long-lost love to come back.

It was some Shakespearean tale playing out before your eyes each week.

She was a treasure, practically a ghost from another world but she sat drinking her whiskey with a mystical whimsy about her. Those jewels, the long-lost love… it was all too good to be true most days.

The same stage stood in the back, a banner with Corroded Coffin written in black doubled with red, hung on the side. One of the boys you knew to be in advanced English was still working on setting up his drum set.

But you didn't know why this time everything felt different.

Maybe it was because this time you hadn't gone alone. This time you were accompanied by the leader of its band who played there three times a month. Or that you had suddenly found him handsome and your mind became a mess of thoughts and your body was vibrating with unknown feelings. It certainly didn't help that his eyes wouldn't leave you as you made your way through the small crowd to reach the stage.

"That's Gareth," Eddie pointed at his friend once you were close enough to see. "He's a Freshman and a smartass."

"Is that why he's the only Freshman in advanced English?"

"Exactly why,” He nodded. "Joined Corroded Coffin last year when our drummer graduated."

"Question, why are you in advanced English?"

"They said that it would gain me more points. That I'd have a better chance of graduating if I took it."

"How’s that working out for you?"

"Horribly," Eddie chuckled, waving hello to someone behind your shoulder before continuing. "Definitely quitting at the end of the year. They can shove their extra points up their asses."

"Awww, and I won't get to stare at your empty seat for hours every week? What. A. Shame." Your words brought a fighting smile to Eddie's lips.

"Yeah, sadly. My sincerest apologies," he smirked, "but the year isn't over. Maybe I can think of showing up so you can stare at something more interesting than an empty chair."

"You would do that for me?" You gasped. "I'm impressed."

"You should be."

"This is bad," Oliver leaned his chin in the palm of his hand, his fingers covering his mouth as he sighed.

"You realize you say this every time you see them talk or we mention her?" Jeff side-eyed his friend before looking back to the two of you from their spot. They were standing in the back of the room, right near the stage–a place perfect for spying the crowd.

"Yeah," Oliver nodded, "but I'm saying it because it's true."

"You know the worst that can come out of this is Eddie having to take a trip to the emergency room?"

"No," he shook his head, blonde hair moving with him. "It's his heart I'm worried about."

"His heart?"

"Think about it. Y/n has always been described the same way people have always described Eddie. It's a mystery they weren't friends before this," Oliver crossed his arms. "Eddie asked Steve to gather up some info on her–I read it and Eddie doesn't see it, but they're practically soulmates."

"Oh."

"And her celebrity crush is Kirk Hammett"

"Oh."

"Yeah!"

"This is bad."

"It's very, very bad. I know Eddie. He wears his heart on his sleeve and cares too much. He's going to end up falling for her, I can already see it happening! Her too, and then when she finds out her brother paid him it's going to be like an atomic bomb going off. She's never going to forgive him and we’re all going to burn along with him."

Jeff didn't have the words to reply. He continued watching the two of you from a distance; Eddie had just made a joke, his face sparkling with joy. You were laughing loudly, the sound barely audible in between the chatter, and Eddie was definitely blushing.

Oliver watched, almost angry at the situation when Eddie placed the hand that wasn't holding the guitar strapped on his back in place on your back to escort you through a cluster of people.

Both your laughters became audible when you were just a step away.

"Hey guys!" Eddie turned his head to face his friends. His features lit with something more than usual–Oliver didn't like one bit of it.

"Hey," you greeted them with a shy wave.

"Guys, this is Y/n," Eddie pointed to you, both of them giving small waves in return. "This is Oliver, he's on second guitar," Oliver stiffly nodded. You could feel the cold in his eyes upon eye contact, as if he didn't want you here. It made you awkwardly look away towards Jeff, but that didn't help the awkwardness you were feeling.

"Um, that's Jeff," Eddie's voice became low as he said it, knowing your past interaction with the boy. You gave another awkward wave but he just glared at you. Great, you definitely did not feel welcomed by his friends.

"I'll have to leave you here," Eddie turned back to you, gloriously saving the moment from turning into an awkward silence. "Need to get ready with the band."

"That's alright. I'll go find a seat and get something to drink," you smiled, a warm smile that warmed Eddie's heart. His gaze followed you until you were lost in the sea of people.

"You should flirt less," Oliver said before looking back to his guitar, fixing the strap before placing it around his shoulders.

"Huh?" His words took Eddie by surprise.

"You should: Flirt. Less." He repeated, accentuating the words with each syllable. "Can’t have her really think this is going to lead to a real relationship," Eddie blinked at his friend's words.

"Have you seen the way she is around me?" Eddie pointed to the crowd as if pointing to you. "I don't think she's even close to thinking about actually dating," Eddie scoffed and brushed the words off his shoulder.

"Are you blind?" Oliver’s eyes went wide. Did he not just see the way he was laughing with you? Or acting around you? The way he touched you and blushed and made your own person radiate an energy Oliver only associated with the magical powers of flirtation and charm.

"What?"

"Nevermind," Oliver had enough. If Eddie wanted to put himself in this situation, then he would let him.

"What’s that supposed to mean?" Eddie raised his voice as Oliver walked towards the stage and away from him.

"Nothing. You should set up your guitar and mic. We play in five."

You had seen Corroded Coffin play a hundred times. And each and everyone of these times you knew they were getting better. Each new song they wrote dripped of a new skill, stronger lyrics, and more passionate skillful music. As the band got older, the songs got better. They were all goddamn talented and from the hundreds of other bands you had seen play in this shitty bar, you knew that they had a better chance than anyone else who stepped on the bumpy wooden planks of this stage to become big.

But when the lights went out and everyone started cheering, it felt like you had never seen them before.

The first chords of Eddie's guitar rang through the darkness like a ship finding its port in your soul. You recognized their most recent title: 'Walking in the Dark' . The song started with a guitar solo, almost slow, melancholic, until the whole song was flipped upside down and it became worthy to be featured in a Metallica album.

When the second chord started after a beat, the spotlight set on Eddie. And maybe it was the sip of beer you had just taken, but chills climbed up your shoulders as he started to play. He looked so focused, more than he could ever look while fixing cars just for extra cash. Your eyes lit up as you watched him play the most difficult part of the riff. His hair was going crazy, crazier than ten minutes earlier when you were still by his side and a small smile crossed your cheeks when he shook his head in a poor attempt to move strands of hair away from his face.

People cheered when the rest of the band started to play, and the lights came back in on rhythm with the music. When Eddie started singing, a few drunks joined in like they were singing along to their favorite song. Corroded Coffin having become a staple of the joint, the most fidel clientele had started to know most of the lyrics by heart–you included.

And you hadn’t even realized that this Eddie had been one you admired from afar every time they played, three times a month.

The whole place lit up like fire. The crowd was chaotic–as chaotic as a crowd of drunk Hawkins residents and travelers who had stopped at a motel for the weekend could be. People were raising their drinks with the music, and you felt yourself enjoying the show more than you had in a very long time.You never wanted it to stop.

But everything good had to come to an end. As your beer decreased in its glass, Corroded Coffin’s setlist came to an end. The crowd of singers became smaller, and the alcohol in their veins augmented with time. A fight that had broken out over a spilt drink was taken outside, and the wood on Gareth's drumsticks was periodically chipping away, threatening to split in half with every hard beat.

The last notes rang through the bar and the seven lonely drunks left on the makeshift dance floor attempted to clap, accompanied by the few tables that were finishing up their drinks or food that was left over from their dinner's, the waiters and of course; you.

The entire band was catching their breath, smiling at each other and sharing 'we did well' looks. You watched from your spot at the bar as Eddie shook his head and wiped the sweat of his forehead with the back of his hand. He had the brightest smile and you couldn't help but mimic the sight when his eyes met yours from across the room.

Five minutes later, he was standing right next to you, ordering beers for the entire band and another for you.

"So, you like it?"

"Better than other times. You guys are getting better," you smiled, your hand fiddling with your empty glass.

"That's because this time I knew you were in the crowd," he winked, his smile burning even brighter than before. He dropped a ten dollar bill on the cold surface as the women behind the counter handed him the five glasses.

"On the house," she smiled and Eddie was glad you hadn't noticed the way he flinched when he had to repocket the bill he was trying to get rid off.

"Thanks," he nodded, trying his best for his smile not to look fake before turning to you. "Will you help me? The rest are sitting at that booth over there," he pointed with his head, already grabbing two beers and holding the third one by the tip of his fingers in between the two others.

You grabbed the last two before following him.

"You sure you don't want to be alone for your date?" Oliver stated a bit too dryly when you carefully placed the beers on the table.

"Oh this isn't a date" you smiled, your tone directly opposite from his.

"It isn't?"

"No, I refuse to date in high school," you sat down, Eddie sliding into the booth next to you.

"Then what are you doing here?" He narrowed his eyes.

"First of all, I'm not new to The Hideout. I come here all the time. I was there when you fainted on stage two months ago," you pointed to Oliver with your drink before taking a sip.

"Holy shit! I remember that! It was so embarrassing," Gareth chuckled in between beer sips.

"Secondly, I came here with him so he would stop bugging me," you nudged Eddie's shoulder.

"Is that so? Is it not because you find me incredibly handsome?" He put on a fake offended look, placing a hand to his heart.

"No," you giggled. "Sorry to bruise your ego"

"My ego is very bruised"

"You'll recover"

"I don't think I can."

Oliver looked away, his look just getting colder. Eddie seemed to notice, looking at him inexplicably before glancing back at Gareth. Oliver and Jeff might have been giving you the cold shoulder, but conversation flowed naturally with the youngest member of the band.

Around an hour into the conversation, Jeff left. ‘Curfew at 1 am’ were his words before he walked out without even giving you a proper goodbye. But Oliver stuck around, despite the bad feeling that rested at the pit of his stomach when seeing how much you and Eddie got along.

"Wait! So you actually kicked Kevin in the balls?" Gareth held his stomach to try and stop from laughing.

"YEAH!" You laughed with him. "He was being rude to Barb and I think that he hasn’t removed his jock strap since."

"You’re a menace!"

"Kids, as much as I love hearing your laughter and enjoy seeing people have a good time, we're closing up,” the waitress you knew as Clara pointed to the clock on the wall. 3:30 am.

Your eyes went wide, you had never spent that long at The Hideout before. You all looked at each other, Gareth's eyes went to his drum set with a desperate sigh.

"I'll help you put it in your trunk," Oliver said as he finished off the rest of his glass.

"We can help too!" You proposed but Gareth shook his head no.

"No, go home. Don’t worry about it."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

"It would go faster if we helped."

“Don’t worry about it,” Oliver’s stiff words snatched the smile right off of your lips and Eddie placed a hand on your shoulder.

“They’ll be fine,” he turned to you with a tired smile. "C’mon, “I’ll go grab my guitar and I'll bring you home."

"You better because you're the one who drove me here," you joked, making him smile a bit wider.

It was so easy to keep smiling without remembering every second was based on a bet.

Eddie kept the grin on his face as he walked towards the stage, removing his instrument from its stand before shouldering it.

Your gaze fell back to Oliver and Gareth who were still planted in front of you. Oliver was still glaring icy daggers at you while Gareth just smiled. A sweet smile that made Oliver’s gaze less terrifying.

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow?” Eddie asked as he came back towards you.

“Yep, bye!” Oliver waved you both off before running off towards the stage.

“What’s up with him?” Eddie asked Gareth who gave him his best shrug of the shoulders.

“I don’t know.” That was a lie, and he was glad Eddie was preoccupied with you or else he would have seen right through it.

“Weird,” he looked at his friend who was battling with a screw from the drum set. “Shall we?” He turned back to you.

“Yep.”

“Bye!”

“Bye Y/n!” Gareth’s smile warmed the cold of Oliver’s goodbye.

Eddie’s hand didn’t leave the small of your back until he had to push the big two doors open. A breeze came rushing in, making you instantly shiver.

"Fuck, I should have taken a sweater," you had somehow forgotten you were barely at the start of spring and that the air was still cold and called for layers.

"I think I have one in the van," Eddie said as he watched you rub your shoulders with both your palms.

"No, it's alright-"

Before you could protest, he opened the back and carefully strapped his guitar to the side before rummaging through a big green bag he always kept there. Eddie fished a balled up sweatshirt from it.

"Here," there was a sincerity in his words that you couldn’t protest. As the cool spring air passed you by once more, a new shiver was sent tumbling down your spine.

"Thanks," you took the black washed out fabric in your hands before placing one arm in each and hooking it over your head. The end of the sleeves were ripped, and small holes were at the edges of the neck, but you didn't mind. It smelt so much like him it almost made you swoon. And you weren’t a swooner. Weed and cigarettes mixed in with his cologne that smelt like wood and cinnamon. You even put the cuff of the sleeve up to your nose when he wasn't looking. But you weren't going to admit that.

The ride was peacefully quiet. Eddie hummed something you didn’t recognize. You thought it may have been a new song he was working on. The dragon’s head on the dashboard was going up and down almost in rhythm to his music as the van made its way in the direction of your house. Everything felt so perfect you had to do your best to stop from dozing off from pure contentment that washed over you as the dark, early morning streetlights fluttering in and out every second his van sped down the road.

Everything was peaceful, relaxing, and absolute against your better judgment. You weren’t used to feeling this way, let alone willing yourself to reflect on the emotions that surged through your veins every moment spent in his presence.

“I’m sure he’ll come around,” You blinked the sleep away as the words fell out of his mouth. You looked at him, questions as to who was written all over your features. “Oliver. I don’t know why he was so cold.”

“It’s alright,” You looked at the trees passing by. “You know I’m used to people being that way around me.”

“Hmm,” He didn’t sound convinced. Something in his eyes telling you he wasn’t happy with how his friend treated you so poorly. Jeff had a reason, but Oliver didn’t. Even Jeff had acted more civil than Oliver.

The ride came to a stop faster than Eddie wished; parking himself in the same spot he had hours before when he picked you up.

“Thank you for the ride,” You gave him a small smile as you reached to open the door.

“You don’t think I’m going to let you walk back alone at this hour?” He raised an eyebrow and every reply was stolen from your lips. He chuckled when he saw your dumbfounded expression. “C’mon! Let’s go!”

You stepped out of the van, the air getting colder again. Eddie’s sweatshirt suddenly felt like your best friend when another rush of wind blew.

The forest road felt so quiet. High trees surrounding a crumbling strip of pavement Hawkins liked to call a road. A cat stood up on the gates of your neighbor’s home, glaring at you with his big eyes. Halloween was still months away. You started walking through the little gravel road that separated your parents' property with the others, Eddie ducked when some branches almost collided with his face.

"What are you doing?" You stopped as you watched him crouch next to the big rose bushes of your neighbor's home. Quickly, he stood back up, a brightness washing over him in the night as he waddled back towards you, a pink rose in his hand. Not wilted, perfectly formed.

"I just wanted to show this rose how incredibly beautiful you are," he pointed it to you with a wide grin. He was pulling from a playbook you never heard from.

For a golden second, you let the feeling invade you. That vulnerability of being loved, feeling appreciated. But it never lasted long with you. The years of people calling you mean and unapproachable, those words and this identity that you wore as a shield always came back. The bricks of a wall willing to crumble given the chance were fortified again, building higher and higher until you couldn’t see who was on the other side. Before the heat could be felt in your face, where it couldn’t stay for too long, you grabbed the rose and rolled your eyes.

If you couldn’t enjoy the romance of it, you could jest the humorous aspect of it.

"Holy hell, that's the cheesiest thing someone has ever said to me."

"Well, you're welcome. I guess?" Eddie chuckled, pocketing his hands as he walked beside you. He wasn’t embarrassed. Eddie took that statement with pride because now he had a one up on the rest of the guys who tried to hit on you with textbook lines that made no impact at all. He would gladly take ‘cheesy.’

"This is my stop," You smiled. "I should probably give this back," You made a move to remove the sweatshirt from your body but Eddie shook his head.

"No, no. Keep it," You were glad it was dark because you felt the blowback of his words strike you with surprise. It was all over your face, and it was all at the thought of keeping his sweater.

"Thanks," a light wind blew once more and you brought it a bit closer to your body. Boldness coursing through your veins, you leaned in and kissed his cheek as you prepared to depart. "I'll see you on Monday." You gave him a soft smile that brought butterflies to his stomach. He watched as you skillfully jumped over the barely three-foot high fence.

"Does that mean I can finally take you out on a real date?"

"Maybe!" You turned around to answer him. Winking before disappearing in between the trees of the mini forest surrounding your house.

Eddie could still spot you by the bright white of your pants, a dopey smile on his face as butterflies fluttered inside his stomach.

And maybe he wasn’t in this just for the money.

But the aspect that he was… well, that turned everything upside down.

745 notes · View notes

skyfallslayer · 7 days ago

Text

10 Things I Hate about you - Chapter 1

Eddie Munson x Harrington!reader

warnings - Season 1 Steve 👎 , and frog dissecting

word count - 8.2k

proof read by the amazing @inknopewetrust

series masterlist 🌻

the playlist

Author's note - this takes place before the events of season 1, and instead of it happening in November 1983, I changed it to be around April 1984 :)

"Steve, what is this?" Your father slammed a piece of paper on the empty space next to Steve's breakfast. You leaned over to snoop at what was printed on the page. As if second nature to the black ink, you flinched when the line of D's and C's on his report card became clear. Your father’s hand splayed on the paper, your eyes followed the hand only to see his angry face.

"Dad, I swear I can explain! This new teacher has been giving us hell!"

"In every class?"

"No, but–" You watched him fumble with his words as you continued sipping on your orange juice. A loose strand of Steve's hair had fallen onto his forehead as he made frantic movements with his hands in a poor attempt to save himself.

"You're telling me that all of your teachers are being extra mean lately?” His face challenged Steve with narrow eyes. Like a magician pulling a rabbit out of a top hat, he pulled out another paper— your report card.

“Explain this then.”

A neat line of A's mixed in with two stray B's had been stuffed in Steve's face.

He looked in between the paper and you, and then gazed back up to your father. The overbearing, middle-aged man cleared his throat before reading a teacher’s note on Steve’s card.

"Mrs. Jinkles says: Steve is a peculiar student. Although his grades were acceptable last semester, I can see his attention slipping away. Chats too often in class, homework is handed in late…” He peeked up from the sheet back at Steve whose face was sullen. “Shall I continue?"

"No." Steve closed his eyes with a huff, opening them again to meet yours. "She's been distracting me with her loud music and protests and things!"

"That's a lie! Dad, you know that's a lie! He's always with his girlfriends! Bella is what? Your third girlfriend this month!?" You defended yourself in a valiant effort. Steve couldn’t just throw you under some bus to be run over because his personal life was impacting his academic one.

"I just broke up with her,” he replied with the hope it still saved his ass from ruin.

"Then why are you putting the blame on me for your bad grades!?"

"Because you are distracting me!" Steve maintained.

"We both know that's not true!" You protested as you looked at your father whose mouth was opened to speak, but was quickly cut off by Steve's own defense. Your father fixed his glasses at the bridge of his nose and sighed as he watched the two of you bicker, waiting patiently for his turn.

"What are you jealous of me or something? Because you can't get a boyfriend?"

"Have you seen the unwashed miscreants that go to our school?" You snorted. "Plus, high school relationships are… weird. I don't know how you can date someone and know it's never going to last."

"You're just jealous because you're mean to everyone and can't keep any friends."

"Steve!" Your mother interrupted him from the other side of the table. She had been watching the morning unravel like a thread from a wool sweater. Each defense, each lie, building the spool left to wither on the floor.

At her interjection, you watched your father's eyes light up with an idea, his eyes quickly fixing themselves back on Steve’s as the report card stayed glued between his fingertips.

"Ok!” He nearly shouted from the noise. “Stop it, you two, now! New rule: Steve isn't allowed to date until you do." He pointed to you and a loud laugh escaped your lips.

‘This was his punishment?’ You thought to yourself. How pathetic.

"BUT SHE'S NEVER GOING TO FIND A BOYFRIEND BEFORE THE END OF HIGH SCHOOL!" Steve wailed as his hand met the table and shook the glasses–its contents swooshing like the sea.

"Oh,” your father chuckled, “I really like this." He nodded in self-approval. "We can sleep in peace knowing you'll both pass Junior year and then graduate with no distractions." His angry face had turned into a content one. He dropped the two report cards on the sideboard behind the dining table before sitting and pouring himself a cup of coffee.

"But that's not fair!" Steve started whining which made you grin and stick your tongue out to him as you grabbed the maple syrup bottle and poured some on your pancakes.

"When your sister dates, I'll trust you to date again."

"But-"

"No buts! It will teach you a lesson," he said pointedly.

"I hate it here" Steve groaned, throwing his head back, and sighing in desperation. "Mom,” he tried one last path, “you can't let this happen!"

"I'm sure you'll survive without girls for a year and a half." She didn't look up from the apple she was cutting. "I'm sure it will do you some good."

The clock struck 8:30 slower than Steve would have liked, and he found his head hurting earlier in the day than he wished. As he waited for you, he turned up the volume, his car radio already playing Africa by Toto. He closed his eyes, trying to get the distant chatter and morals about how that was a 'good lesson' for him to learn and girls were 'not the only thing he should care about' away from his thoughts. About a minute later, you stuffed yourself and your bag in Steve's passenger seat with a sigh as the peaceful music started to dance across your mind.

"Could you at least change?" Of course Steve had to start speaking again. As if his whining over breakfast hadn't been enough.

"Why? You don't support women's rights?" You looked down at your shirt. You were wearing a tight white shirt that showed off your shapes with red hand prints painted over your boobs, and one hand print on the side of your ribs. It was controversial, it was risky. However, it was completely and utterly you. "You don't think women should speak up?"

"I do, but It's weird enough I'm driving you to school. I don't need you to be dressed like… this," He looked at you up and down. "At least close your sweater until we get there?"

"Deal with it."

"God!” He griped. “I can't wait for your car to get repaired."

"Can you shut up, please?" You closed your eyes. "I'm trying to enjoy this music. I don't own this tape."

"Yeah, that's because you spend all your money on that devil worshiping crap that makes my ears bleed."

"Don't you insult my music taste," you hit him with the sleeve of your sweater, which caused Steve to instantly hit you back with the back of his hand.

"Hey!" You slapped his shoulder.

"You hey!" He slapped your shoulder back.

You slapped his arm as a reply and he did the same, an endless slap fight like the multiple ones you had as kids starting. You continued bickering, in an attempt to win you tried to kick him but your leg was stuck in between the side of the car and your bag. So instead, you slithered a hand into his perfect hair and shook it all up.

"NO! Y/N NOT THE HAIR! Please!" He yelled. Hands flying to stop the way your arms and shoulders came down. When he was satisfied that he was safe, he reached up for the rear mirror. "You really had to?"

"Yeah, you deserved it. Now start the car or we're going to be late for school."

"Oh, and I wonder who's fault that is?"

"Please tell mom and dad you've got a boyfriend or something."

"No." You slammed your locker in front of his face and shouldered your bag.

"Please?" He begged again, following as you started walking towards class.

"Why do you want another girlfriend so badly?" You wondered aloud as you removed the tape of Kill ‘Em All from your walkman; pocketting it to replace it with Master of Reality.

"Because this time I really really like her! I want to make a move but you didn’t help me at all, and now they’re just being assholes about the grades!”

"They're not being mean," you shook your head, laughing to yourself. "Have you seen your grades? I get where they come from."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. You don't know how hard it is to be paired with her and not being able to actually ask her out, or just hold her hand and kiss her. First period was hell. I absolutely need you to get a boyfriend."

"Mm-mm, nope." You shook your head no. "I told you, dating in high school is stupid." You pressed the on button and Steve could faintly hear the start of Children of the Grave playing. He watched as you placed your headphones over your ears, clearly wanting out of the conversation.

He made a frantic move to step in front of you. Blocking your path forward, you stopped because his puppy-dog eyes hounded you. "Please?" His hands came together as if he was praying. You barely heard the word, but you could clearly read his lips.

"No!" You said it a bit too loud over your music. Steve's face changed to a look of defeat, and then, he gave you the finger.

"I hate you." You barely heard the words but could clearly make them out again.

"Love you too!" You pouted and made a heart with your hands, grinning as you watched him roll his eyes and drop his hands in defeat. "Bye," you almost screamed before disappearing into another hallway but held it back in a small victory.

You tossed your bag over your chair and melted in your seat the second you walked into the classroom. You felt a hand reaching up next to you and before you could even register the intruder, your headphones fell from your head and onto your shoulders.

You turned your head to meet Barb’s figure in the seat beside yours. She had a concerned look in her eyes–which she always had but that early in the morning? Something had come up before the bell had even rung. "What's the fuss? I've been seeing you bicker with Steve all morning,” she asked you honestly.

Barb was a good person, a good soul. Sharing with her the quarrel between Steve and yourself wasn’t going to spread a million rumors of some stupid family fued or that you were ‘morally or ethically against high school romance.’

You took a second to breathe, the faint intro of Sweet Leaf coming from the headphones now resting on your shoulders. Had your music really been that loud before? The music came to an abrupt end when you flipped the switch, placing the walkman into a firm grip, and setting it into your bag.

"Steve's mad because our dad made a ‘new rule.’ He's not allowed to date until I do," you wiggled your eyebrows and watched as Barb gave you a silent laugh. The crinkles around her eyes proved that amusement had reached her.

"Oh my god,” Barb drawled, “no way," she whispered as she watched Mrs. Jinkles put her glasses back on to stand up to close the classroom door.

"Yeah, Steve is bribing me to get a boyfriend." You chuckled and she snorted at the thought.

"I don't think I've ever seen him single ever since he walked into Hawkins High."

"Me neither. Apparently he really likes this one girl and wants to date her. That's why he's trying to convince me to get someone." You tucked a strand of hair away from your face as you fished for your book and slammed it a bit too harshly on the table. "Tough luck."

"Please?"

"No."

"I'll do the dishes for two months."

"No."

"Three?"

"Still no."

"Ok, seven!"

"Steve,” you sighed heavily, “what is going to make that little head of yours understand that I don't want a boyfriend."

"You don't actually need one, just to tell mom and dad you have one!"

"I won't do that,” the idea of it just sounded… wrong.

"Why?"

"Because I don't like lying."

"That's bullshit,” he laughed in disbelief.

"I'm not going to help you. So stop asking me." You moved your hands around as you tried to mimic your frustration. "Who’s the girl you want to ask out anyway?"

"Nancy Wheeler."

"What?" You chuckled in your own incredulity. "Is this some kind of joke? You want to date my friends now?” If you could underscore the importance of my, you would have a million times over.

"Friends?"

"Alright, well more like a… good acquaintance; a school friend! But you get my point." You crossed your arms.

"I actually think I really like her! She's super nice. We have physics together."

"Right," you rolled your eyes at him. "Look, I won't help you on this one. Maybe, just maybe, you can think about getting better grades and dad will change his mind. And Nancy Wheeler is far from your type just so you know." You noticed but Steve's face softened at your words. If she saw Steve’s grades, she’d go running for the hills.

"That's what I like about her, though. She's different from the other girls I've dated before."

"Yeah, yeah, spare me the speech Romeo. It won't work on me." You scoffed and oddly enough, lifted your head to spot what was written in bold letters on the chalkboard.

Romeo and Juliet

"See, we even get to study forbidden love. How cute," you patted his shoulder, and he grumbled something you couldn't make out before complaining for the thousandth time today.

"I knew advanced English was a mistake." He melted in his seat as if the subject had defeated him already.

"Morning, class," Mr. Arnold cleared his throat, “now that we are fully finished with World War two poetry, I thought it was the perfect time to start on our beloved Shakespeare." He clapped his hands and asked a girl named Lisa Hemingway if she could hand out the multiple copies of Romeo and Juliet that created a tower on his desk.

The senior girl stood up and grabbed as many copies as she could. When Mr. Arnold saw she couldn't carry them all, he assigned a red-headed Junior named Connor who sat in the front row to hand out the rest.

"I already hate this," Steve mumbled as the second the copy of the pile hit his desk. He took it, groaning as he flipped through the pages. They smelled of must and mildew; ten years of dormancy only to be opened when love was at its most shallow point.

"It's not that bad,” you told him as the next copy hit yours, “I've read it before. The story is pretty gripping."

"You've read this for fun?" He questioned as if it repulsed him.

"Yeah," and you shook it off like a piece of lint on your shoulder.

"I think I'm going to be sick."

"Consider yourselves lucky, we won't do any reading today!" Mr. Arnold stated when Lisa and Connor went back to their seats and only two books remained in the pile he had stacked earlier that morning. Two missing students.

"Connor, I believe you're good friends with Mark?" He questioned the redhead who nodded. "Could you hand him his copy when you see him?" Mr. Arnold handed him the book, leaving only one stray to rest lonely on his desk. "Right, back to work," He sighed.

"Today, we are mainly going to focus on learning about the man behind the book," he smiled and sat atop his desk. "Can anyone tell me what they know about Shakespeare?"

You raised your hand.

"Please lower your hand," Steve begged. "You're embarrassing me enough as it is and I don't need you rubbing it in my face that you skipped a grade."

"I skipped a grade in elementary school, Steve" You whispered back.

"Miss Harrington?"

"I've noticed that he's always written strong female characters,” you began, against Steve’s wishes. “In Romeo and Juliet, Juliet is strong-witted and smart. She might look and be helplessly in love, but she's still intelligent and understands a lot of things women are told not to. It feels like Shakespeare understood the struggle of women, especially in works like…” You pondered, “Twelfth Night. Viola must be the strongest female character in history."

Mr. Arnold nodded along as you continued on. "Viola is shipwrecked, and left an orphan so she disguises herself as a man to get by. It's a brilliant feminist writing for its time."

"I do agree that Shakspeare tends to write strong female characters, but you do forget that mature women tend to miss in most of his work. And when he does, he makes them mad or somehow evil."

"Yeah, you're totally right,” You agreed.“But still, he doesn't rule them out or make them faded background characters like other writers from that century–"

The door swung open in the middle of your words. All the heads turned away from Mr. Arnold, you, or their books, and revealed the owner of the lonely book: Eddie Munson.

The hair on his head was wild, a patch on his jean jacket was two stitches from falling out. One of his shoes was completely covered in dirt and a crumpled paper sat in his ringed hand.

"What have I missed?" He grinned with perfectly white teeth; barring it for Mr. Arnold as the older man sighed at the intrusion but had learned to expect nothing less from Eddie Munson.

"Strong female characters in Shakespeare," you spoke up before Mr. Arnold could get a word out. He had, after all, interrupted your train of thought.

"Great!” He said at first as though it were intriguing enough for him to stay. But as he continued, his words became shells of sarcasm. “Sounds amazing, keep up the good work," he nodded before opening the classroom door and walking straight back out of it–not a minute had passed since he entered it.

"Mr. Munson!" Mr. Arnold attempted to call out, but quickly realized it was useless and crossed his arms in aggravation. "Is he even trying?" He sighed to himself, shaking his head in despair before grabbing the stray copy of Romeo and Juliet and opening it to the last page where a small description of who Shakespeare was, was written.

"Shakespeare!"

You never got to pick up where you left off.

"I need Y/n to get a boyfriend," Steve declared as he dropped his tray on the table and looked at you expectantly from across the room.

You were standing on the other side of the cafeteria behind a table. Nancy, Barbara, and another girl he didn’t know stood beside you. Your sweater was long gone and the shirt you had made was exposed. Nancy and the stranger Steve didn't recognize wore the same one while Barb was holding pamphlets next to you. A white banner in front of the table spelling 'WOMEN'S RIGHTS, WE HAVE A VOICE!’ BAKE SALE stood proudly in black and red lettering.

"Good day to you too," Carol looked around his tray before snatching his granola bar. "Ew, who even eats the nutty fudge flavor?" She scrunched her nose before throwing it back on his tray. She shouldn’t have ever tried to take it from him today.

"They were out of butter almond, sorry," he replied dryly before taking a seat and starting to pick at his food. "Anyway, my dad started this new stupid rule where I can't date another girl until Y/n finds a boyfriend," Steve looked back at you again and back at his food.

"Oh my god."

"I know!"

"You're fucked."

"You mean unfucked, for the rest of high school." Tommy snickered with a sly grin.

"Haha,” Steve’s face flattened, “very funny." He poked at a french fry before dropping his fork completely. "It doesn’t have to be this way! I can try to help her get a boyfriend! It’s not that hard to find a date!"

"Good luck with that. I heard the last guy who tried to ask her out got a broken nose… bled all over the gym floor."

"God, I don't even know how we're related," Steve sighed helplessly. "My point is–” he clarified, “if I want to ask Nancy out, I need her to find someone, and quickly. My chance with Nance will go right out the window otherwise."

"You in a rush or something?"

"Do you know how hard it is to be paired up with her and not get to ask her out!? It's pure torture!"

"Calm down Casanova," Tommy ripped the top of his milk carton. "The only way you're going to get a guy to go out with her is if you pay him," he took a sip of his drink before speaking again, "and even then, you'd have to pay him good money."

"I could do that," Steve mumbled as if the idea wasn’t screaming ‘that is a horrible idea, don’t do it!’

"Wait, that's actually a brilliant idea!” He settled on instead. “We just have to figure out who we're going to pay."

"Hmm," Tommy looked around the cafeteria and for once, every male student was a fresh pick. It could be a squirly freshman or a hulking senior and either would want the money and laughs for kicks. "Sam?"

"The A.V club nerd? Do you want him to get even more bullied? She made him cry once, remember?"

Tommy scrunched up his nose at the memory. But, the guy would admit he had an itching to see it happen again.

"Cameron?" Carol suggested as she perked her head up at the game.

"A Jock?" Steve laughed in amusement. "She would kick him in the balls before he even could get a word out."

"Byers!"

"No, no,” Steve objected, “he's too… soft. She'll eat him alive."

"Yeah, but don't they listen to the same music or something?"

"No, he listens to The Clash."

"And? Isn't that what she likes?"

"No, she's more into that hard rock stuff" Steve threw his fry back into his plate. "We're never going to find anyone."

"SHIT!" The big double doors of the cafeteria flew wide open, Eddie's voice boomed inside. He was holding what looked like one of those beakers from science class filled to the brim with a neon blue liquid. He skidded to a stop as the doors flew open, looking in the direction best suited for his escape as the bubbles began to form at the beaker's top. Steve had no idea what it was, but by the look on the face of the teacher who was running after him… it didn't look safe.

“MR. MUNSON!” An angry, elderly voice called after him as the doors teetered on open and closed, open and closed.

“This is my beaker, Davis!” He shouted at the teacher coming closer with every second. Eddie moved quickly, trying not to spill the liquid as his exit was drawing closer with every step. “You can’t take it away when it’s not finished!”

“MR. MUNSON THAT IS A DANGEROUS EXPERIMENT!”

“COME AND TAKE IT FROM ME THEN!” Eddie shouted back as the cafeteria watched in hilarity and ridiculousness. Eddie Munson could always cause a scene, bring a little bit of joy, and go back to being an outcast the same day.

"Oh God,” Carol rolled her eyes, “what is he up to now?" She brought her stare back to Steve and her boyfriend. "Did you hear, they're saying he won't graduate this year?"

"Rumor has it it's because he went to jail for a month. Remember when everyone was wondering where he was?"

"I thought it was because he went off and tried to join a cult or something?"

"Didn't people say it's because he was posing for a porn magazine?"

"I heard he ate a live duck once"

"Everything but beak and feet."

Steve narrowed his eyes as he watched Eddie grab a cookie from your table as he passed by, muttering a thank you as he put it in his mouth and continued his run. You shouted something at him about being an asshole. Steve's gaze fixed back on Eddie as he left through the doors, the opposite side of the one he came from, beakers still in hand and the cookie already half chewed.

Mr. Davis who was following him had his glasses crooked over his nose and the little hair he had left was flying around as he tried to catch up with the mad teen. He kept his eyes on the door as it closed behind them.

"Jesus! That guy is deranged!”

Biology wasn't Steve's favorite subject, especially when he had just eaten a full meal and they had to dissect frogs. Mina Trevor had already thrown up and was sent to the nurse, and a Junior named James fainted the second the frog was put on his table. That left the quiet Lisa, whom he had been paired with, to work alone on the repulsive task.

Even with gloves, everything was slimy and disgusting. Tommy wasn't being helpful as he did everything on purpose to mess it up, and would wiggle his dirty fingers in front of Steve's face just to get a go at him. For a second he envied you. He knew this was the type of thing you'd do with a smile on your lips, and he knew you would enjoy every second of it when it was your turn next period.

"You're being disgusting," Carol noticed, scrunching her face as she watched her boyfriend clown around with a piece of the frog. The smell made her want to gag. Her gaze traveled to behind his shoulder, spotting Eddie Munson paired up with one of his friends at the back of the class.

He pulled a knife out from his pocket and stabbed it in the middle of the frog, his friend chuckling as he did.

"Hey,” she called out to the two boys as the thought popped into her head, “maybe we should set Munson up with your sister." Carol smirked as she watched him poke around the dead animal for a brief second before stopping.

Both Steve and Tommy turned around to follow her gaze. All of their eyes were on Eddie as he pulled a packet of cigarettes from his pocket, using the gas tap in the middle of the table to light it up. His friend scrunched up his nose and grabbed the cigarette from his lips, putting it out on the frog.

An unintentional branding of a dead frog.

"Yeah…" Steve's eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. "How did we not think of this at lunch!?"

"Because he's a mad man!? Steve, you're not serious?" Tommy turned back around to face his girlfriend and best friend.

"He's the only guy on the list she won't scare off! Have you seen him? He's the perfect candidate."

"Plus!” He added. “He definitely listens to the same music as her, and reads the same nerd shit.”

"I wouldn't do it,” Tommy tried to argue, “she's still your sister, Steve. Eddie's just… trouble." The expression on his face quickly changed with his thoughts. "Although, I would love to see the freak try to seduce your sister," he smirked.

"How funny would that be?" Carol slapped her hand on the table. "And he's totally broke. He will gladly take your money."

Steve's eyes sparkled with mischief as he turned back around to take another look at Eddie Munson pulling another cigarette out of the carton.

"I think we found our guy."

The next morning, Steve opened his sock drawer to find as much of his leftover cash as he could to invest in his little plan. With the box of stray coins and the savings he kept hidden behind a pair of blue striped socks, he found about a hundred dollars. It was a bonus that Tommy and Carol had promised to chime in when they chose Eddie as the candidate–or victim… he wasn’t sure if you’d eviscerate the metalhead or not.

Steve grabbed his wallet and pulled a twenty from it. In addition to the ten bucks he already had in his pockets, that would be enough to convince Eddie, pay him, and still have spare money for lunch.

"Why are you smiling?" You wondered as you watched your brother make his way down the stairs; a pair of white high top Nikes in his hand and his blue sports bag hanging on his left shoulder.

"Nothing,” he grinned like a madman, “I just realized my time as a ‘Handsome Bachelor’ might actually be nice." He kept smiling before sitting down on the last step and lacing up his shoes.

"That's the spirit" Your dad mumbled from behind his morning paper.

"You're acting suspicious. Mom, don't you think he's being suspicious?" You turned your head to her to get the reassurance that his demeanor was off and you weren’t losing it.

"Let your brother be," she fixed a strand of hair. "Honey, can you pass me the coffee pot, please?"

"Of course," your father passed the pot towards her while you eyed Steve, an apprehensive eyebrow raised.

When Steve gave you an innocent shrug back, you placed two fingers in a peace sign to your eyes and then switched to pointing to him before taking your seat at the breakfast table. The words of ‘I’m watching you’ silently said.

The only benefit to this breakfast was that it was more peaceful than the previous one.

"Thank you for being dressed appropriately today," Steve mumbled as you buckled your seat belt a half hour later. Breakfast settling in your stomachs, school was the only thing that could distract you from the curiosity-biting enigma that was Steve Harrington, your dutiful, stupid brother.

"Right… because sports class is more important than women's rights."

"Yeah, it totally is, and it’s gym, not sports class," He mumbled as he started the car. "Also you've read the book right? Romeo and Julie" Steve narrowed his eyes as he watched the road.

"Juliet."

"Right, yeah, what happens in the chapters we were supposed to read?"

"You haven't read it? Steve, have you seen your grades?" You gawked at him with baffled eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he brushed it off, “just tell me what happened?"

"Firstly, they’re not chapters, they’re acts and scenes,” you lamented, “and if you would have even taken the time to open the book, you would have seen that we only had two scenes to read which equals to barely ten pages."

"Good for you,” he replied blandly. “So, what happened?"

"Street fight between the Montagues and Capulets,” he would just badger you with questions the entire way anyway, so you faulted and told him what happened.

"The what- what?" He stopped the car at a stop sign.

"Oh fuck off."

"What do you mean ‘fuck off!?’ I'm asking for your help!"

"And I'm telling you: read. the. book. I'm not your tutor."

"But you've already read it! So, I don't need to! We can just unite our Harrington brains."

"I'm not helping you,” you shook your head.

"You're being really mean lately, you know that?" He argued because he didn’t get his way.

"I thought I was always mean,” you tipped your head to the side, “that's why I can't get any friends, remember?"

"Yeah, but you're being even more mean. You won't help me!" The ride to school gladly came to an end as he finished his sentence. You opened the door, your bag already over your shoulder.

"I'll see you later," you slammed the door of his car shut and started to walk away.

"Hey! What did I do!?" He shouted out of his car's open window, but you flipped him the finger instead. Steve looked at you as you disappeared into the crowd with a confused look on his face.

"Crazy," he muttered as he thought back to the way your face fell and your words became dry before you slammed the door in his face. He grabbed his bag, confusion riddled over his features as he made his way to the football field.

He eyed the crowd of students that sat on the bleachers. The entire junior class sat in the middle and a few seniors who had a free period were scattered at the opposite ends, chatting away and finishing up the last touches of their homework.

You sat in a middle row, eyes glued as you listened to the teacher. Steve knew you had seen him, he also knew that you knew he was watching you. You had that determined look in your eyes every time the two of you got into arguments. That look where you had to win. That you wouldn't let him talk to you again until he made a move.

But of course, Steve knew he had done nothing wrong.

His eyes landed on Carol and Tommy who were sitting at the end of the front row. Carol was sipping on a cup of coffee she had gotten from the machine in the school hallway next to the teacher's lounge. The disgusting watered-down taste made a shiver run through Steve just thinking about it.

"Alright class," the teacher blew his whistle, indicating to Steve and the other stray students who were still standing to take their seats on the bleachers.

"I want you to split into your groups,” everyone knew where they were assigned. “We're starting soccer with group two. So group one and three, do whatever you want as long as you're back by 10:30." He blew his whistle again and the whole mass of students started moving around the bleachers.

"So, how much did you manage to collect for ‘mission boyfriend?’"

"A few bills," Steve nodded. "I think it should be enough."

"We collected a 20 for you if that's any help," Carol fished through her bag before handing it to Steve. "Here."

"Thank you very much," he looked at it proudly before adding it to the 30 he already had.

"When are you going to talk to him?"

"Not today. She's in a very bad mood. She went all crazy on me this morning," Steve looked at you from his spot in the bleachers. He watched as you redid your shoe laces and grabbed the soccer ball Tina threw your way.

"I thought you were in a rush to ask Nancy out?"

"I am,” he nodded, “but I also don't want the plan to fail"

"Well, she looks fine now," Tommy looked at you. You had just kicked the football in James’ face–your poor classmate was rubbing his head and the teacher had called to you both. Your voice faintly climbed their way, hearing you say something about it being an ‘accident.’ They watched as James walked away from the field because the teacher sent him to the nurse's office.

Steve contemplated his options. You did look a bit calmer, but he recalled the way you flipped on him. "Yeah,” he breathed out. "I'll do it today."

"You could do it now."

"Now?"

"Mhm,” Carol hummed, crossing her leg over the other and leaning on the level behind her. “He's in Ms. O'Donnell's class, right? She's called in sick today which means they have nothing to do all morning." Carol looked up to a group of seniors beside them on the bleachers. Their math notebooks scattered across the step they were using and they were arguing over an answer. "Hey!" She called, their heads turned to face her. "Is Eddie Munson in your class?"

"Yeah," one of them chuckled at the mention of his name.

"Perfect," she turned back to Steve. "He must be on school grounds then!"

"Fantastic!" Steve stood up, wiping the back of his jeans with his hands before grabbing his gray sweater and slipping it on.

"Try the drama room first. I'm sure he's setting up his next sacrifice," Tommy laughed.

"Don't let him scare you," Carol giggled.

"Very funny."

It would be a lie to say that Steve's heart didn't race at the idea of finding Eddie sacrificing a rabbit in the middle of the drama classroom. His hand toying with the end of his sleeve as he walked across the empty hallways.

He passed by the coffee machine in front of the teacher's lounge, hearing chatter from behind the wooden door. The sudden reminder that he was in school and not in the horror film he was creating in his mind brought him back to reality. He shook his head, reminding himself it was just silly high school jokes. Eddie wasn't a cult leader; he probably hadn't even gone to jail for 2 months or had never even done a quarter of what people gave him credit for.

So, he took a deep breath and arrived in front of the drama room. Peaking through the window, bright, colorful banners were hung on the walls. Papers and posters of plays taped everywhere and he could see a glimpse of the big CATS poster that terrified him: yellow eyes with silhouettes dancing staring into the room. Steve's hand found the courage to rest itself on the handle, he took another breath. 'This was school. Teachers are around. They would notice if something weird was happening in there.' With that thought, he swung the door open.

To his surprise he didn't find the room lit only by candles with Eddie dancing around in a circle and chanting words in a language he didn’t know. There wasn't a rabbit in the middle of the wooden floor, or circles drawn using the poor animal's blood. No dusty books of spells resting beside the non-existent circle or placed in Eddie's hands.

The reality was that a table had been pulled from the back corner where all the props were stuffed in the theatre’s off season. Eddie presided at the head of the table on a large black throne; ornate and gaudy. He recognised it being used in the latest school production of Camelot. Steve had no idea what the play had been about, but he remembered seeing it on stage.

Sitting to his left was a boy he recognized from biology. On the table was a large board that looked exactly like a board game–but Steve couldn't tell what it was. ‘Definitely not Monopoly,’ he thought to himself.

Figurines in different sizes and various shaped dice were scattered in the middle. Steve never had seen a game with that many dice and definitely hadn't seen that many different shapes–only the average four sided one. The ones like you and Steve would lose as children which resulted in you now only using the same pair for every game.

The two boys were looking at papers that were scattered between them with pencils in their hands. At the center of the table, a big glass jar that looked right out of a fantasy film was filled with the blue liquid Eddie had stolen from the chemistry classroom a day prior; a big dragon figurine of matching color sitting on the lid.

Steve might have stayed frozen a bit too long because he could start feeling their stares.

"Can we help you?" The boy next to Eddie wondered as Steve’s frozen figure interrupted their work.

"I um-" Steve blinked the shock out of his eyes. "I wanted to talk to Munson, actually"

Both boys blinked in a similar fashion and a short laugh escaped Eddie's lips.

"How do you even know my name, Harrington?"

"Everyone knows your name," he replied like it was obvious. Like Eddie couldn't do everything he did, or have all of these rumors dancing around him like flies and that people wouldn't know who he was. "I want to ask you something."

"Shoot," Steve had gained Eddie's curiosity.

"I want you to ask my sister out."

"Excuse me?" Eddie blinked in disbelief. Of all the things Steve Harrington could have said, that was not something Eddie had ever thought to think.

"I will pay you."

"Jesus, Harrington, what kind of fucked up household do you live in?" He turned to his friend whose eyes were wide open upon hearing the request.

"No, please just listen to me," Steve took a step closer. "Our parents made up this new stupid rule where I can't date until she does. And trust me, no one would be brave enough to date her, unless they're getting paid or-" He paused mid-sentence.

"Or they're me?" Eddie took the words out of his mouth, punctuating his sentence with a smile.

"Yes! Exactly! So, what do you say?"

"Is she pretty?"

"What?" Steve surely had seen Eddie steal a cookie from your table not a day before.

"Your sister,” Eddie reiterated, “you can't just expect me to have low standards."

"Yeah, she's pretty?” Steve felt awkward saying that. “I don't know, man! That's my sister."

"Wait, what's her first name?" Eddie's friend asked.

"Y/n."

"Oooh yeah, yeah she's really pretty" he nodded and turned his attention back to Eddie. "Y/n? You know, sits next to him in English, protested for women's rights at lunch yesterday? Broke Jeff's nose? You said she was hot once?"

"That's her?" Eddie's face lit up, a large smirk rising on his lips. "How much?" he crossed his arm over his chest. "And I hope it's good money Harrington because it better be worth a broken nose."

"Ten bucks a date." Eddie looked at him blankly.

"Doesn't cover the stitches if she punches my nose and has those pretty rings of hers on."

"Fine. Fifteen. Take it or leave it, trailer park."

"Well, let's think about this,” Eddie leaned back on his throne, “we go to the movies, that's what? Ten bucks? We get popcorn that's um, fifteen. She's going to want coke too right? I assume. So, that's twenty." He looked to his friend for confirmation, "and then well, I would have to drive her, and filling up the tank costs money. So… we're looking at a good fifty bucks a date."

"That much?" Steve winced. He could already see himself only having the Kudos bar that was probably already half smashed by the weight of his books for lunch, or that Carol had most probably already stolen.

"Yeah," Eddie had a fake sorry look on his face. "You must understand… I'm putting my life on the line for you here."

"Would you do it for less?" Steve turned to Eddie's friend who's eyes widened even more.

"Nah, man. I wouldn't even do it for a hundred." That made Steve's shoulder slump a little more than they already were. He took a second to look at Eddie who was giving him a ‘fifty or nothing' look.

Steve quickly weighed his odds at finding another guy. No one would bite the bait he was dangling, but Eddie Munson had.

"Alright," Steve got his wallet from his back pocket and started fumbling with the bills, handing everything he had over to Eddie.

"Damn Harrington, you must be really desperate," he chuckled as he counted the money. "When do you want me to ask her out?"

"Today."

"Desperate and in a rush? Fabulous combination."

"She finishes soccer at 10:30. You think you could meet her at the bleachers?" Eddie thought for a second, pretending like he was going through all the important things he had to do this morning before answering.

"Yeah, I think I can make it."

10:20 - Steve was head deep into the first page of Romeo and Juliet. His butt started hurting from sitting so long on the hard wood of the bleachers, and his stomach was already growling from knowing it won't have much for lunch. And as if his day couldn't get worse, Carol had found the Kudos bar in the bottom of his bag and claimed it as her own; wrapper already in the trash and bar in her stomach.

"Do you know what Maidenheads mean?" Steve pointed to a word on the page, leaning in towards Tommy. "I'm sure I've seen that word somewhere," he mumbled. "Maybe on one of Y/n's tapes"

Tommy squinted his eyes as he read through the sentence, "are you sure this is even English?"

"Hey, Steve," Carol interrupted, Steve's gaze lifted from the book to meet hers. "Look," she nodded her head up towards the top corner of the bleachers with a smirk on her lips. Steve turned around to look at what was so interesting, and he wasn't disappointed.

Eddie was smoking in the back corner. His back leaning against the corner wall and his legs laid out on the step. His jacket was balled up next to his black lunch box on the step just below. He was looking at the field, probably trying to spot you.

"You should be happy. He's taking this seriously."

"Yeah," Steve looked at his watch before closing his book and putting it in his bag.

"Still can't believe he took fifty bucks from you just for the first date," Tommy snickered as he tossed his cigarette between the openings of the steps. "You're going to be so broke by the end of the month."

"Shut up," Steve whined. The money talk reminded him of the page he kept in his school assigned daily planner. He grabbed it with his pencil case and opened it to the page in question. "How much did I spend on that movie yesterday?"

"Three dollars"

April 11 - Lunch $7, family video $3.

April 12 - Eddie $50.

He closed his book and neatly placed the little blue elastic around it and stuffed it back in his bag.

The teacher's whistle made Steve's heart race and his palms started to sweat. Anxiety munching at his stomach as he wondered if Eddie would make him spending fifty dollars worth it, or if the poor guy would have to spend the evening in the emergency room. At least he would have the money to cover it.

He looked at his watch and then back at the field. You were walking towards your bag; hair moving up and down as you climbed up the steps of the bleachers. From behind your shoulder, he could see Eddie putting out a cigarette and grabbing his jacket.

You were already making your way down and your feet were back on the grass when Eddie caught up to you.

"Hey, sweetheart, how you doin’?"

"Sweating like a pig actually and you?" You turned your head to meet Eddie's surprised eyes. Wiping the sweat off your forehead with your forearm as you gave him a tight-lipped smile.

"Now that's a way to get a guy's attention," he cheered back.

"My mission in life," you sighed, taking a sip from your water bottle. "You're that guy from The Hideout aren't you?" You narrowed your eyes as you scanned his face. "The one who stole a cookie from us at lunch yesterday.” You knew he was a senior. You hadn't seen him much around school, but you knew you recognized the crazy hair and big brown eyes from somewhere.

"Ah, now I'm very sorry about that. Here wait," he raised his finger, "I'm sure I can compensate for the loss" You watched with a raised eyebrow as he fished for something in his back pocket, his hand coming back up with the cash Steve had handed him. "Ah-ha! Here–take, um, how about twenty?"

You eyed the twenty in his hand and then back up to his eyes. You raised an eyebrow, but he seemed dead serious and determined to give it to you.

"I don't want your money," you shook your head and pushed his hand away.

"Alright then,” he shrugged and pocketed the money. "If I heard you correctly, you go to The Hideout?" He seemed surprised because he never noticed you there before. And if he could admit it, he surely would have recalled seeing you there.

"I very much do, yes."

That was the first time you surprised Eddie.

"You're from that band–um Corroded Coffin? Lead, right? Electric guitar?"

Second time you surprised Eddie.

"What do you want?" You continued before he could neither confirm nor deny, taking the burgundy sweater from your bag as you waited for him to continue.

"Do you want to go out? On a date?"

"I’m busy."

"Great then! Pick you up at five on Thursday?"

"Oh right, yeah. Totally," you shouldered your bag again and started walking towards the school building.

"Well, you never know. The night might take you places you've never been before," he had that smug smirk you wanted to punch off every boy's face.

"Yeah, right, like the seven-eleven by Mirkwood?"

"Mirkwood?" the question barely left his lips that you started speaking again.

"Do you even know my name, screw boy?"

"I know a lot more than you think."

"Doubtful. Very, very, doubtful," you gave him a tight smile before speeding up your walk and leaving him again.

Eddie's gaze flew up to Steve and Tommy who were watching the scene, half hidden and perched up on the bleachers.

"You're so screwed man!" Tommy giggled as he watched the look of defeat on Steve's face and Eddie's apologetic eyes. "So, so screwed."

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