#Chrissy Cunningham gets her man

[longclawislightbringer]

Chapter Two: The Princess and the Jester

Rating: T

Relationships: Chrissy Cunningham/Eddie Munson

Summary: It's fifteen minutes to showtime and Eddie's a nervous wreck when he sees a familiar face in the crowd.

I’ve been absolutely blown away by the response to the first chapter of this little fic. Thank you to all my fellow Hellcheer shippers for being so welcoming. I think I originally started writing this chapter in Chrissy’s POV before deciding that it would be more fun to see it from Eddie’s perspective. After all, there’s a reason this is tagged “Idiots in Love” *wiggles eyebrows*. Thanks once again to my beta, Ry, for taking a look at this chapter. You can find her at ryleighjosephinne on AO3 and at @dustinswill on Tumblr. I hope you all enjoy part 2! I think I've read through it about five times in the last two days, so I'm ready for it to be out there.

Chapter One. Chapter Two.

Read on AO3

As Eddie waited backstage with Jeff and Grant, he fiddled with the skull ring on his pinky finger. The din of the crowd, waiting for the concert to begin, rose behind the curtain. His heart raced in time with the clock above the stage manager’s station on the black cinderblock walls.

“I can’t do this,” Eddie blanched, butterflies dancing in his stomach. “This is the biggest crowd we’ve ever played for.” He crouched on the floor while the backline and lighting crew scurried past him as if nothing was wrong.

“Hey, snap out of it,” Jeff snapped a finger in front of his face.

“But what if I mess everything up?” Eddie wondered, eyes downcast.

“You won’t,” Jeff hauled Eddie to his feet. “You electrify a crowd when you play that guitar. You’ll be fine.”

“I don’t feel fine,” Eddie scoffed, straightening his leather jacket.

“Here,” Grant walked past the sound monitors and tossed him a water bottle. “You’ll feel better.”

“I sure hope so,” Eddie muttered, twisting off the cap to take a sip. The ice-cold water glided down his throat with each gulp.

“Hey,” Gareth mused, “is that Chrissy Cunningham?”

Eddie spewed water all over the floor.

He whipped around toward Gareth, who peeked past the curtain onto the pit.

“I thought she was only coming to the Indianapolis shows?” Jeff interjected.

“She didn’t tell me she was coming!” Eddie set down his half-drunk water and marched to the curtain, peering over Gareth’s shoulder into the crowd.

Chrissy stood at the edge of the stage, looking like a fish out of water in her matching pastel blue miniskirt, sweater, and white Keds. After she checked her watch, she ran a hand through her teased strawberry-blonde hair and fidgeted with one of her many necklaces.

His stomach flipped. Chrissy wore his ring on her hand.

“That’s definitely her,” Eddie mumbled.

“You don’t think she read the interview, do you?” Gareth asked.

Eddie’s heart plummeted.

“When was that supposed to come out?” Eddie questioned through tight lips. “I was supposed to tell her not to read it until she saw me at the Indianapolis show.”

“Last Tuesday,” Jeff replied as he and Grant joined Eddie and Gareth at the curtain. “Maybe she doesn’t read Rolling Stone.”

Chrissy took a poster from the dark-skinned girl in fishnets and combat boots beside her. Eddie waited with bated breath for her to flip it over.

His heart sank once more when he read, “EDDIE MUNSON WE NEED TO TALK” in Chrissy’s perfect handwriting.

“Ouch,” Grant patted him on the back. “Sorry, dude.”

Eddie glanced at the clock above the manager’s podium—still fifteen minutes to curtain.

He could fix this.

_________

He could not fix this.

While he waited for the security guards to bring Chrissy and her friend to their small green room, every tick of the clock reverberated against the white-washed walls. His heartbeat slowed to match; butterflies danced in his chest.

Eddie paced up and down the room, shaking his hands as he dodged the cherry coffee table in front of the couch.

“Dude, sit down,” Gareth called from the couch. “You’re gonna give yourself a headache.”

Eddie bit his lip. “Alright.”

He perched on the brown couch between Jeff and Grant, tapping his fingers on his bouncing leg.

He froze as the green room door creaked open.

Without ceremony, a security guard ushered Chrissy and her friend inside and closed the door behind them.

Chrissy glowed, her strawberry-blonde hair framing her face like a cover girl on a magazine.

The silence hung thick between them, so thick you could cut it with a knife.

Eddie sprang to his feet.

“Chrissy.” Eddie choked out. “Hi.”

“Hi,” she squeaked back.

Jeff broke the tension. “Chrissy, are you going to introduce us to your friend?”

“Right,” Chrissy shook her head as if in a daze. “Guys, this is my roommate, Stacey.”

Stacey waved behind her, her enthusiasm jingling the upwards of ten bracelets she wore on each arm. “Stacey, this is Eddie, Gareth, Jeff, and Grant.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Stacey gushed, twirling one of her braids. “I’m a huge fan.“

“Any friend of Chrissy’s is a friend of ours,” Grant said as he shook her hand.

The room settled back into silence. Eddie studied Chrissy like a starving man at a feast, drinking in every last drop of her before she inevitably told him to go to hell.

Gareth slapped his knees and rose from the couch. “Stacey, how would you like to see the stage?”

“I would be honored,” Stacey tipped her head in a mock bow.

“Fantastic!” Gareth grinned. “Jeff and Grant, let’s give Stacey the full tour.”

Grant put down his water as he got up to leave.

“Shouldn’t you guys stay here so the crew can find us?” Eddie asked, fiddling with the edge of his flannel.

“It’ll be fine,” Jeff said through gritted teeth. “We’ll just let Rodney know what we’re doing.” He mouthed, “Talk to her!” while he filed out of the room, leading Gareth, Grant, and Stacey toward the stage.

As she left, Stacey turned back, gave him two thumbs up and winked.

“Have fun!” Chrissy called out to her without looking away, the foreboding poster still dangling from her fingers. Eddie gulped.

When the door clicked closed and they were alone, Eddie rubbed the back of his head, “Chrissy, I—“

“I read the interview—“ Chrissy interrupted him softly, “—in Rolling Stone.”

“Oh,” the color drained from Eddie’s cheeks. “You saw that. You weren’t supposed to see it until I could tell you myself.”

He crossed the room and grabbed her shoulders.

“Look, pretend I never said anything,” Eddie pleaded as her bright eyes filled with tears. “We can go back to the way it was.”

Chrissy shook her head. “Eddie, I don’t think I can.” Her voice wavered.

“No, no,” Eddie stepped back. “Please don’t, Chrissy. I can’t lose—“

The door to the Green Room slammed open.

“Five minutes to your set, Mr. Munson,” the PA said, not even bothering to glance up from his clipboard.

“Coming,” Eddie called as the PA walked away. He turned back to Chrissy but avoided her tearful gaze. “I’ve got to go.” He shouldered past her, continuing, “If you want, you can watch us from the wings. I’m sure the guys already dropped Stacey off. It’s a really great view and—“

“Edward Munson, would you stop talking for once!” Chrisy seethed.

Eddie whirled around in the cinderblock hallway, already halfway toward the stage. Chrissy stood in the green room door, tightly clenching her poster. An angry flush bloomed across her cheeks and bled down her neck into her blue sweater.

Eddie put his hands in his pockets. “I don’t understand.”

“I can’t forget,” Chrissy’s voice quivered, “because . . . because . . . Oh, gosh darn it!”

Eddie reeled back as Chrissy hurled her poster aside and flung herself into his arms. On instinct, he reached his arms around her waist to steady her as she cradled his head, pulling him closer. She jammed their lips together, and in an instant, every anxiety about the upcoming concert vanished.

The world slowed to a standstill around them.

She tasted like strawberries.

Chrissy pulled back with a lazy grin, holding onto the collar of Eddie’s jacket. “I would have said yes if you asked.” Her skin was warm where his hands crept under her sweater. “So now I’m asking you: will you go out with me?”

“What?” Eddie blinked.

“Mr. Munson, you’re needed on stage,” the PA tapped his shoulder, pulling him out of the daze.

“Right,” he grabbed Chrissy by the wrist and dragged her to where Stacey and the rest of the band waited in the wings just out of sight of the crowd.

Depositing her next to her roommate, Eddie fiddled with the hem of her sweater.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Chrissy bristled. “Absolutely.”

“Just had to be sure,” Eddie smirked as he leaned in to give her a quick peck on the lips.

Stacey squealed as the rest of the band gasped. Eddied gave them the finger as he pulled back.

“Yes, Chrissy, I will go out with you,” he answered as the lights dimmed over the crowd and their intro music blared through the speaker system. The crowd roared in applause, chanting “Corroded Coffin” in time to the beat.

Chrissy melted, stars in her eyes as she watched him go.

“I’ll even be your man forever if you like,” Eddie shouted back to her as he backed away.

Giddy, Eddie jogged onto the stage behind his bandmates and assumed his position in front of his microphone downstage left as Jeff approached the mike center stage.

Grabbing his beloved red guitar off the stand, Eddie slung it over his back.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Chrissy in the wings, who blew him a kiss. Beside her, Stacey looked like she was about to faint.

Eddie tinkered with the frets on his guitar.

The backing music cut out. Gareth counted them in on drums as the spot came up on Grant. With precise fingers, he picked out the opening to “Unworthy”.

Eddie tapped his foot, waiting for his turn. In eight bars, he would come in with his signature riff.

He took one last look at Chrissy. She clasped her hands tight.

Eddie winked at her before ripping into his opening chord. The sound reverberated through the stadium as the spotlight above him blasted on, a blindingly hot beam of white light. Eddie closed his eyes. He glided across the strings, plucking out a melodious cacophony.

When he finished his riff, he opened his eyes and glanced at the crowd. They watched the band with rapt attention. Eddie settled into his element.

Jeff stepped up to the mike as the last spotlight blared on. The crowd was putty in his hands.

“We’re Corroded Coffin!” Jeff shouted. “Let’s get ready to rock!”

_____

“Thanks for being such a great crowd, Pittsburgh!” Jeff yelled into the mike. “We’ve got a couple more songs for you all, but I’m going to pass the mike over to Eddie to introduce this next song.”

Eddie glanced between Jeff and the audience without missing a beat.

Jeff nodded toward Chrissy, waiting for him in the wings.

She gave him two thumbs up and mouthed, “You got this!”

Eddie smiled and turned back to the booming crowd. The stage lights beat down on him—he could barely make out any faces beyond the first row.

“Hey, everyone,” he waved. “ I’m Eddie.”

The crowd roared.

“I love you, Eddie!” one guy screamed.

“Thank you,” Eddie joked, placing a hand over his heart. “I’m touched.” He leaned his bare arm on the neck of his guitar. He’d lost the jacket and the flannel somewhere halfway through their set, when he was singing lead on their cover of "11th Street Kids". “So funny story about this next song . . . And every love song that I’ve ever written. They’re all about my best friend—“ A cheer rose from the crowd as Eddie vamped the opening of the next song. “If you read our interview in Rolling Stone, I admitted I’ve been in love with her for years, and I never told her, even though she’s gotten demos of every song I’ve ever written.” He paused for dramatic effect—the crowd waited with bated breath. A rivulet of sweat darted between his shoulders. “She hasn’t heard this song before.” He winked; the crowd screamed. He plucked the strings with a gentle touch. “Whenever I’m in her presence, I am but a humble court jester devoted to a beautiful, unattainable princess, unworthy of her attention, only desiring to hear that melodious laugh for one more time.” Eddie sighed pathetically. “That’s all I thought I would ever be, her court jester.”

He waited again, the crowd eating out of the palm of his hand. He smirked.

“But apparently, I was wrong. She’s here tonight, and she just asked me out!”

Cheers and whoops rose from the crowd.

“I said yes, of course.” Eddie winked. “Guess I’ll have to come up with some new material for the next album.”

The crowd laughed.

Eddie picked up the tempo, queuing Grant on bass and Gareth on drums. The rhythm coursed through him like lightning as the lights flashed and smoke rose from the floor. It was a good thing they had been practicing to start playing this song after the Indianapolis show next year.

“This song is called ‘The Princess and the Jester’.” He glanced at the wings. Half in shadow and flushed with excitement, Chrissy bounced along to the song.

They locked eyes as time seemed to slow down. Eddie kept the rhythm but couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“Chrissy, this one’s for you.”

[heartfe1t]

@antihcroes

❛ i kinda thought the night was gonna last forever. ❜

   ❝    believe me, i wish it could.   ❞    but even as much as she's enjoyed sitting out here with robin, talking about everything she's missed, she sees very little point in wishing. chrissy cunningham's never quite known hope like this to be fruitful. after all, she'd had that awful injury senior year, preventing the promise of a cheerleading scholarship from taking her away from hawkins, then jason decided to stay close to home for college himself, so she couldn't even take her relationship with him as an opportunity to leave.   ❝    the sun rise is really pretty though, even if it means i ought to be going home soon...   ❞    jason would likely be waiting for her to make his breakfast. he's kind enough she thinks, he at least got her out of her parents' house. got her out from under her mother's thumb to a certain extent. but the cheerleader has little reason to be cheery at home even still.

[every-aj-needs-an-angel]

Okay this one's been stuck in my head all day but I have absolutely time to write it so please share this vision with me

Try as they might, Steve and Robin couldn't get tickets to Chrissy Cunningham's arena tour, but they could get tickets to a festival she was playing.

The last thing Steve ever wanted to do was go and stand in a muddy field for sixteen hours while they waited for the headline act. But he was pretty sure Robin was in love with her favourite musician, and he wasn't about to deny his best friend a chance at love.

So he helped her make personalised t-shirts because honestly all the other bands in the line-up kinda sounded like they sucked.

His read, "Only Here for Chrissy" on the front and "I'm Steve" on the back and Robin's read "Chrissy, Will You Be My Girlfriend?" on the front and "If Lost, Please Return To Steve" on the back.

And it turned out, as they stood against the barrier in a not so muddy field, on a lovely, warm, but overcast, May day, that even bands that sucked could be fun. Even if it was only because they spent their day with earplugs in, so their eardrums wouldn't combust, bitching about each artist's lack of ability to put notes or an outfit together.

During the lunchtime intermission, the pair made friends with the lesbian couple next to them, Kayla and Jess, who were also eagerly awaiting Chrissy's set and similarly liked to mock those who committed crimes against sound and fashion. Steve was glad to have met them, they were really nice, and he felt better about leaving her to use the bathroom or to fetch food, knowing Robin was in safe hands.

He also felt better about letting her wander off, not that it stopped him from stressing out when she and Kayla had been missing for over fifteen minutes. He spread himself out to keep their places against the railing with his back to the stage, watching the crowd intently. Jess wasn't quite as chatty once they were alone, but she seemed content enough, bobbing along to the band that'd appeared on the stage.

Steve didn't turn back around to face the stage until he spotted the girls heading back towards them, he gave them a wave and turned around to look at the guys who hadn't been attempting to destroy anyone's hearing and was met with the face of the most gorgeous man he'd ever seen. Pretty face, long curly hair tied up in a bun, muscle tee showing off his many tattoos, piercings and chains and glittery Docs; Steve felt himself owl blink and blush.

God's gift to mankind was kneeling centre stage, guitar in hand making the most beautiful sounds Steve had ever heard as his fingers flew over the strings, and it was only when the rest of the band kicked back in that the man looked up, winked directly at Steve, and then jumped back to his feet, spending the rest of the song bouncing around the stage.

Steve only realised his mouth was agape when Robin finally arrived next to him and elbowed him hard in the ribs, giving him the same look she did whenever he was embarrassing in the club. He watched the rest of the Corroded Coffin, according to the backdrop, set in awe. Screaming and clapping along when they wished everyone a great day, throwing picks and drumsticks into the crowd and taking a bow; patting each other on the back as they wandered offstage.

As soon as it was quiet again, Robin wanted to know what the hell was wrong with his face and honestly, he couldn't answer her. He didn't even believe in love, not for himself at least, and he certainly didn't believe in love at first sight. It didn't stop him from spending the next couple of hours watching the faces at the sides of the stage, hoping to catch a glimpse of his new favourite guitarist, though.

As soon as Chrissy hit the stage, Steve got lost, between filming the set and watching Robin trying not to hyperventilate when Chrissy spotted her t-shirt, pointed to her, and giving her a coy little wink, blew her a kiss.

"An old school friend is here with me tonight, and I'd like him to help me out with this next track. Especially for the beauty in the front row, this is Girlfriend!"

The crowd went wild as the beat kicked in, but Steve was still watching Robin because it looked like she'd stopped breathing altogether. That was until she gasped loudly and started smacking Steve in the way she always did whenever she got overly excited; pointing wildly at the stage, and it was only when he looked over he saw Corroded Coffins guitarist bouncing up and down next to Chrissy.

Instead of the black muscle vest and skinny jeans he'd been sporting earlier in the day, he had changed into pale blue board shorts and a baggy white t-shirt that read "Hey Steve!" written in black sharpie with a giant winking smiley face underneath that could only really be seen when he swung his guitar around his back to copy Chrissy's dance moves.

The song ended, and the friends hugged, Chrissy waving him off the stage and calling out, "Eddie Munson everybody!" letting the crowd go wild for her friend before launching into the rest of her set.

By the time Chrissy had actually left the stage, Robin looked exhausted, having screamed and sung and danced herself out. They hung around a bit, said goodbye to Kayla and Jess, wishing them a safe journey home, and they were just taking one last look at the now empty stage when he heard someone yell his name...

[kjsfandoms]

Lust and Love

Eddie Munson x Reader

Description: Eddie is dating the girl he's been pinning over for years- Chrissy Cunningham. What happens when a new girl enters his life?

Word Count: 3k

--------

Chrissy and Eddie have been dating for a good few months now and they both truly are happy. Eddie had been crushing on her since their middle school talent show and was insanely surprised when she came to him to buy drugs. The Chrissy Cunningham High buying drugs from him? He couldn’t believe it. 

Not long after their first deal, Chrissy started to realize that she really enjoyed Eddie’s company. One thing led to another and soon enough the freak of Hawkins High was dating the queen of Hawkins High.

Though they were dating and loved spending time together they still always made sure to have time for their friends. Hence why Eddie still sits at the hellfire table for lunch (also totally not because the majority of the popular kids hate him). 

One day during lunch as Eddie is sitting at the front of the table, munching on his pretzels, Dustin, Lucas, and Mike join him. “Hey, fellas.” Eddie says as the boys start eating their unpleasantly looking school lunch. They talk about DND for a good minute until Dustin turns around mid-conversation when he notices Y/N sit down at the table next to theirs.

“Hey, Y/N!”

“Hey there, Dustin.” Y/N replies as she takes off her headphones and gives him a friendly smile. Mike and Lucas then notice her as well and say their hellos. Eddie looks back and forth between the boys and this girl, Y/N. He takes in her appearance and notices the eyeliner, dark denim jeans, and the loosely hung Black Sabbath t-shirt. How the hell did these boys know this girl and why has he never seen her around?

She turns back to her own table and puts her headphones back on. He can briefly hear Judas Priest coming through them before being interrupted by Gareth sharing some more DND ideas.

— 

After school he walks Chrissy to her cheer practice before heading over to the drama room to set up for the upcoming hellfire session tonight. In there he spots Dustin who is also usually there sometimes to help Eddie set up. “Hey, man.” Eddie greets. “Hey, Eddie. I already set up everyone’s character sheets.” “Thanks, Henderson.”

As Eddie and Dustin continue to set up, the question from earlier still lingers on Eddie’s mind. Who was that girl? ‘Might as well ask’, he thinks to himself.

“Henderson, who was that girl you guys were saying hi to at lunch?”

“Oh, Y/N? We’ve known her for a few years now. She’s friends with Jonathan Byers so we met her by association. She’s really cool though. I’m surprised you guys have never met considering you have a lot in common. But why do you ask?” Dustin says as he pulls out some dice.

“Was just curious. Never seen her around.”

“Yeah, she can be more on the quiet and loner side, but she’s great when you get to know her.”

—

Hellfire went pretty good as Eddie had been playing that campaign for weeks now. The boys and Erica have already left by now, but he stayed back to clean up. As he’s putting away their chairs he hears the drama room doors open. In walks her. Y/N.

“Oh, hi! Sorry, didn’t know you guys were doing hellfire today. I’m just setting some things up for the talent show this weekend.” She says. That’s when Eddie notices her carrying two guitars and an amp. “Don’t worry, you’re all good. Just cleaning up. You want some help with that?” “Please,” she says with a breathy laugh, “carrying these all at once is not easy.” “Oh, trust me I know. I play in a band.” He says as he walks over to take the amp out of her arm.

They walk to the stage and as Eddie plugs in the amp Y/N sets up the guitars. Wanting to break the silence, Y/N asks, “So, you’re in a band. What do you play?” “Guitar. I also help write some of our songs.” Y/N looks up at him with a smile and says, “No way! I also play guitar and write songs. Though, it’s just for fun. I’m not in a band or anything.” Eddie looks shocked at this. He’s never met a girl that’s been into music like this, not to mention music that he likes. “That’s sick! Think I could hear one of your songs one day?” “Only if I get to hear one of yours.”

Continuing their conversation, they’re eventually interrupted when the drama doors open once again, this time revealing Chrissy. “Hey, babe!” Chrissy cheers and she walks over to give Eddie a hug. “Hey, Chris. How was practice?” Y/N watches as the obvious couple interact, slightly disappointed in the fact that he has a girlfriend. But Y/N isn’t the one to overstep boundaries and disrespect someone’s relationship, so she pushes those thoughts to the back of her mind. 

“Bye, Eddie, it was nice meeting you.” Y/N says with a smile as she starts to leave. 

“You too, Y/N.”

—

It's been a few weeks since the first interaction, but over those few weeks the two have created a friendship. They hang out every now and then, Eddie sharing his time between Y/N, Chrissy, and his hellfire friends.

This day in particular, Y/N and Eddie finally decided to act upon the deal they made when they first met, which was to hear each other's music. Eddie invited her over, but Y/N declined. She thought it’d be rude to hang out one on one with a man who is in a relationship inside his own home. Eddie understood where she was coming from, but assured her Chrissy knew. Still, she stuck to her word and the two agreed to meet up in the drama room after school instead.

“So, you wanna go first?” Y/N asks as the both of them sit criss cross on the stage floor, both holding guitars in their lap. “Why not.” Eddie replies as he takes his guitar pick off his neck and starts strumming. He opted to playing a more simple rock song of his rather than metal as he thought it’d be way too extra. When it came down to Y/N’s turn, she stuck to more of one of her indie-rock songs. 

“You’re better than I thought you’d be.” Eddie says with a playful grin.

 “Same for you, Munson.” 

“I’d like to state for the record, that was an easy song I played. I’m usually ten times more metal.” He says with a slight smirk, “You should really come watch me and my band play some time. We perform at the Hideout on Tuesdays. Maybe you could even perform one of your songs.”

“I’d love to watch you guys play, but as for me performing, hard pass. I’d rather stick to putting on a show for my stuffed animals rather than real people.” Y/N replies with a smile and small laugh.

“Oh, come on! I’ll be there to cheer you on. I bet your stuffed animals can’t do that.”

Y/N let out a dramatic playful gasp and jokingly says, “What?! Peter the pig always makes sure to give me a round-of-applause.” The two share a laugh and Eddie replies, “Fine. You can stick to your stuffed animal crowd. As for me, I can pick you up around seven after I pick up Chrissy, if that’s fine with you?”

“Sounds perfect.”

—

Tuesday comes around and Y/N is patiently waiting on her couch for Eddie. She eventually hears loud heavy rock music coming from outside and takes that as her cue to grab her things, not forgetting her guitar. Even though she said she didn't want to perform, she decided she wanted to surprise Eddie tonight by performing a new song of hers.

She runs outside and slides open the van door and greets Eddie and Chrissy as she goes to sit in the back. Soon enough they’re there and Eddie is parking the van. “I’m just gonna go help the boys set up. Are you guys good with waiting inside for a few minutes?” Eddie asks as they all start getting out of the van. “Yeah, that’s fine, Eds.” Chrissy replies back with a smile. Y/N had a few interactions with Chrissy since becoming friends with Eddie and from what she can tell, she’s the sweetest girl Y/N ever met. Eddie is a real lucky man, she must say.

As Y/N and Chrissy start walking inside, Chrissy notices the guitar case. “Oh, you’re playing too?!” Chrissy cheerfully asks. “Yeah, but don’t tell Eddie. Was gonna surprise him.” Y/N happily replies back, hoping that that didn’t upset Chrissy. Thankfully, Chrissy saw no problem with it and the two headed inside.

Chrissy takes a seat at one of the tables while Y/N places her guitar case next to the stage. They patiently wait and talk for a little bit as they wait for Eddie’s band. Soon enough, they hear the name ‘Corroded Coffin’ being announced on stage.

You watch as Eddie pours his heart and soul into his performance as his passion for guitar shines through. Chrissy wishes she could watch as deeply as you are, but she can’t help but pay attention to how whenever Eddie looks down at their table, his eyes travel to Y/N. 

—

The band finished up their last song and then walked off stage. As Eddie is putting his guitar back in his case, he hears the bar owner announce, “We have one more performance tonight! Please welcome, Y/N!”. Eddie perks up at this and immediately his attention is on the stage. Chrissy sees this. She nervously plays with the ribbon in her hair and looks at how Eddie’s eyes never left you as you walk onto the stage with your guitar.

Chrissy knows Eddie loves her, no doubt about it, but seeing the way Y/N and Eddie have bonded over the past few weeks, she knew his love for her was slowly decaying. They had so much in common, she should have seen it coming sooner. And Chrissy being the sweet girl that she is, couldn’t bring herself to be mad at it. She’s had her fair experiences with love and is well aware that you can’t choose who you fall for. 

She brings her focus back to the stage as Y/N starts playing guitar and eventually singing her most recent lyrics. ‘They even have similar writing styles’, Chrissy thinks to herself. She sighs and looks down at her hands. She loves Eddie, but this isn’t right. Chrissy isn’t the girl he wants anymore. Those years he spent pinning over her have gone to waste, which hurts Chrissy to admit.

She looked over at Eddie and that’s all it took for her to accept what was going to have to happen. His eyes were so full of admiration, lust, and love. The same way he used to look at her. 

Y/N walks off stage and Eddie immediately runs to her and gives her a hug so big he’s picking her off the ground. Y/N is first to break it as she knows Chrissy is right behind them. Chrissy notices this and sadly smiles to herself. She can’t even blame Y/N. She could tell how Y/N always made sure to respect their relationship and set boundaries. Y/N always made sure Eddie was spending more time with Chrissy than he was with her, she always made sure Eddie still walked Chrissy to practice after school even when he would offer to walk Y/N to her car, and she always made sure Eddie never stopped showing his love to Chrissy. 

Chrissy feels a tear slide down her face but quickly wipes it when the two of them start making their way over. 

“You guys were great!”, Chrissy cheers. 

“Thank you.” Both Eddie and Y/N say, almost in sync.

They finish up their night at the hideout with some fries and drinks then eventually head back out to Eddie’s van. Y/N is first to be dropped off which leaves the couple alone.

 “Eddie?”, Chrissy says sadly. 

“Yeah, Chris?” Eddie replies as he head bops to the music playing on the car radio.

“We need to talk.”

—

Eddie pulls up to Chrissy's house and stops the van in her driveway. “So, what did you want to talk about?” He asks.

 “I think we should break up.” 

Eddie sits in shock for a few moments before turning to face Chrissy and asks why. “Eddie, you know I love you and I know you have love for me. But you’re no longer in love with me.”, Chrissy says with watery eyes.

“Woah, woah, woah. What makes you think that, Chris?” Eddie says as he reaches for Chrissy’s hand, only for her to pull it away. “Don’t pretend like you don’t know, Eds. You like her, don’t you?”

At her words, Eddie looks down, refusing to make eye contact. His silence confirms Chrissy’s question. 

“It’s okay, Eddie.” “No, it’s not. It wasn’t supposed to go this way.” Eddie’s eyes start to gather tears as he still has yet to look up at Chrissy. “What do you mean?” Chrissy asks with furrowed eyebrows. “I mean,” he sighs before continuing, “I’ve had a crush on you for as long as I can remember. Never once have I ever felt that way towards another girl, so when me and you got together, I was the happiest man in the world. I truly started to believe that opposites do attract,” He finally looks up at Chrissy as he says, “but I think that’s only because I thought there was no other girl out there that was like me. But then I met Y/N.” Chrissy looks at him with sad eyes, but a soft smile. Eddie returns a sad smile back. “I really am sorry, Chris. This isn’t how I meant for things to go. But I do want you to know I truly was happy with you and I enjoyed our time together.” “It’s okay, Eddie. And me too. I don’t want to trap you in a relationship that you don’t want to be in.”

They sit in awkward, yet somewhat comforting silence for a moment before Chrissy asks one last question, “When did you know you fell for her?” “Today, actually. At the hideout.” This somewhat shocked Chrissy as she would've thought it’d be way earlier, though she lets Eddie continue, “Sure, these past few weeks my crush for her did start to develop, but it felt wrong considering I’m with- or well, I was with you, so I pushed the thought of being with her to the back of my mind. But seeing her today on that stage, I couldn’t hide it from myself anymore.” Eddie says, looking at his lap, somewhat disappointed at himself. He had been chasing Chrissy for years, and once he finally got the girl his heart decides to do a whole u-turn on him.

“Again, Chrissy, I really am sorry.” 

“It’s okay, Eddie. It’s okay. Go get her.” Chrissy says with a happier smile this time. Even though the smile was definitely forced, Eddie smiled back and gave Chrissy one last hug as a goodbye.

Eddie pulls out of Chrissy’s driveway and heads straight for Y/N’s house.

—

He climbs to her bedroom window and knocks. Y/N opens her curtains, not surprised to see Eddie as he surprised her with a similar visit a week ago for a quick smoke sesh. She opens the window and welcomes him in. 

“Hey, Y/N.” He pants out, slightly out of breath from climbing through your window.

“What’s up, Eddie?” Y/N asks. She notices Eddie is fidgeting with the rings on his fingers, a habit of his she recently noticed. 

“I wanted to talk to you about something. About us.” He says, head down as he can’t bring himself to make eye contact. He notices the shift in Y/N’s stance, sensing that she probably has an idea of what he’s about to say. 

“I like you.”

 She sighs before saying, “Eddie-” 

“I know,” Eddie cuts her off, “I know, I know, me and Chrissy. But we broke up.” Y/N looks up at him with shocked eyes and says, “What?! Why would you dump her for me?” Eddie grabs both of Y/N’s hands into his and looks her in the eye as he says, “She dumped me, Y/N.” Y/N takes her hands from his and puts them in her hair, slightly panicking. “No, no, no, no, I feel like a homewrecker, Eddie. This is wrong.” “I know it is, but I can’t control my feelings, Y/N.” 

He sits on the edge of her bed. She takes a seat next to him and deeply sighs. “I don’t even know what to say, Eddie.” He looks down at her and puts her hand in his once again. “Just say how you feel. If you don’t feel the same way, it’s fine. I can get up and leave and pretend this conversation didn’t even happen.” Y/N sighs once again as she responds, “Eddie, I like you too. But this feels so wrong.”

Eddie’s heart lightens at her confession. He smiles to himself before saying, “It’s all up to you, love. If it makes you feel any better, this was all Chrissy’s idea. I don’t want you to think she hates you for taking me away from her. None of this is your fault, okay?” He places a finger under her chin and lifts her face up to meet him eye to eye. He can tell how her eyes are full of so many different emotions right now, but he gives her a reassuring look.

“As much as I hate to admit it, I want to be with you, Eddie.”

“That’s all you had to say, sweetheart.” He replies with a smile, slowly bringing her face to his and letting their lips connect.

Y/N feels the guilt seep into her gut as she kisses Eddie, but can’t bring herself to stop. She had been crushing on this boy the moment she laid eyes on him. Sitting at the table next to his was totally not on purpose. She of course feels for Chrissy, but when Eddie and Y/N walked into school the next day hand in hand, she saw Chrissy give her a genuine smile and a thumbs up, and all of a sudden the guilt slowly started to disappear. 

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 9

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6 || PART 7 || PART 8

Jeff calls her. It’s the first time they’ve spoken on the phone, and something flutters in her chest.

“How did you get this number?” she asks, finger twirling the coiled wire of the phone as she smiles down at her socked feet.

“There’s only one Cunningham in the phone book, Chrissy,” he replies, all dry wit—she can almost see the smirk on his face. “It’s not exactly rocket science.”

She laughs, shuffling around her kitchen, suddenly desperate to move, but she’s leashed to the wall by her phone’s cord, so it’s only about four steps each way until she’s bungee-corded back to the starting point.

“Smartass.”

Jeff laughs this time, quiet the way he always is, but her chest feels like a supernova’s exploding in it. “But that’s not why I called.”

Chrissy’s smile fixes to her face before drooping down into her shoes with her gut. “What’s wrong?” she asks, now standing statuesque in her kitchen, cold tiles leaching all the warmth from her feet even through her thick socks.

“Nothing,” Jeff sighs, and there’s a crackling sound, like he’s rubbing his face in exhaustion. “Just—Steve drove me home.”

“Is he okay?” she asks, clenching the phone hard enough in her hand that the cheap plastic creaks.

“I think so?” Jeff replies, sounding unsure. “He just seems sad, man.”

Steve and Jeff don’t spend a lot of time together, but he’s been around enough that she trusts his judgment.

Steve is sad.

Chrissy wants to sink down to the cold tile beneath her and never get up. Instead, she shuffles back over to the phone and swings herself up onto the countertop—what her mother doesn’t know won’t hurt her. Her heels clack against the cupboards noisily, broadcasting her restlessness even as the worry sinks straight through her.

“What about?” she asks, already knowing the answer.

“He thinks Eddie hates him.”

Chrissy sucks in a breath and lets it shudder out before biting her lip against the next logical question. “Does he?”

“He thinks he does,” Jeff replies promptly. “But he definitely doesn’t.”

Chrissy hums, too lost in her own head to think of a reply. It doesn’t matter what Eddie feels if the effect is the same: a sad Steve Harrington.

“I don’t think you guys should do this anymore,” Jeff says, snapping her out of her spiral.

“I know,” she groans, shoulders slumping. “But Steve’s hellbent on keeping it up.”

He sighs again, muttering, “boys,” with such a defeated air that she can’t help but laugh again.

“You just keep an eye on yours, and I’ll do the same for mine,” she says, smile audible in her voice. “Deal?”

“I feel like yours is a bit easier to wrangle than mine,” Jeff scoffs, a twinge of bitterness leaking into his tone.

And he’s right; Eddie still hasn’t even told Jeff about the letters he’s been getting, much less asked his opinion on them. Steve, at least, keeps her appraised of his next moves, shares his feelings, and asks for her help even if he won’t always take her advice.

So, when Steve’s acting weird when she sees him the next morning—all shifty-eyed and nervous—she doesn’t ask. He’ll tell her when he’s ready. Besides, the hallway’s too crowded, and she’s got a sneaking suspicion that it has something to do with her and Jeff’s conversation last night.

She’s proved right when they hit the library at lunch instead of the cafeteria, and Steve barely waits until they’re settled in their usual table, feet interlaced.

“He hates me,” Steve whispers.

“He doesn’t hate you.”

Steve pouts across at her, bottom lip stuck out like a puppy dog as he accuses, “you’ve been talking to Jeff.”

Chrissy bites her lip. “I always talk to Jeff.”

He rolls his eyes, but it seems to lift his spirits. “Did you ask him out yet?”

“Shut up.” She kicks him beneath the table until he laughs.

Without further preamble, he pulls a piece of paper from his bag and pushes it across to her. She expects the latest note from Eddie, having yet to read the last one, but it’s not—it’s a letter from Steve, clearly responding to something she’s yet to see.

“Did you pick up the letter yourself?” she asks, panic sinking through her. He could get caught, and then all their subterfuge will be for nothing. She might lose her best friend. 

“Yeah,” Steve mutters, so shyly that she can’t bear to chastise him further. “What do you think?”

She reads it again, trying to look past the panic to the words in front of her. “It’s good,” she says, and it is. “Do you want to send it like this?”

His handwriting is barely legible, even to her with her weeks of practice, and there’s a few misspellings, but she’ll do whatever he wants, forever and always. But he shakes his head, and asks, “Will you edit it?”

“Can I see the one you’re responding to?” she asks.

He pulls it out of his bag and pushes it across the table without a complaint. She picks it up and begins to read.

         Secret Admirer,

         There was a little hiccup with my guitar and plugging her in, but otherwise it went great! All four of the drunks at the Hideout clapped politely when we were done, and not even one of them booed us off stage!

         The riff is still getting on my last nerve, darling, you have no idea. I wish I could hear you play, I bet you’d inspire me so much, a stroke of genius would strike me and I’d know exactly what I’m missing.

         (I don’t know how to ride a bike. My dad was never around to teach me, and by the time I moved in with Uncle Wayne, I was too old to learn.)

         Darling, did you dream of me? Was it a naughty dream?

         Yours,

         Eddie

P.S. The Lord of the Rings is the name of the whole trilogy, so I hope you find it in The Fellowship. Can’t believe you don’t even know Tolkein. It’s okay, baby, I like you anyway. 

She smiles when she’s done, kicking him beneath the table as she asks, “Does this sound like someone who hates you?”

If anything, Steve just gets droopier. “It’s for you,” he mumbles, and she doesn’t have anything to say.

Chrissy squeezes his foot tighter between her own in a pantomime of a hug.

Even with his newfound pessimism, he carefully rereads her edited words once she’s done. He smiles down at it, clearly cheered by the act of writing to Eddie.

“It looks great, Chris,” he says genuinely, as if she’d done more than correct his spelling and rewrite his letter word for word.

“Thanks,” she replies, smiling across at him, relieved his spirits have risen. “Now, let’s drop this in his locker so he doesn’t have to wait too long to read your lovely letter.”

Steve’s ears turn red with embarrassment, but he dutifully wraps his arm around her waist and leads her out of the library.

Jason’s loitering outside of it, leaning against the wall like it’s a coincidence he’s here at all, but the way his eyes glare at the point where they’re in contact makes a liar out of him.

Steve seems to agree because he pulls her closer and asks, “problem, Carver?” in his snootiest King Steve voice.

Jason holds his hands up, smiling like this is all a coincidence, but he seems to have forgotten that Chrissy knows him, maybe better than anyone. She sees the way his arms are flexing, the way he’s baring his canines more than smiling, and it makes her feel on edge.

“No problem, man,” he replies, untold violence behind every word.

“Let’s just go,” she whispers to Steve.

She’s relieved when he nods, not sparing Jason another look as they take the most direct route to Eddie’s locker. He doesn’t respond until they’re well out of Jason’s hearing range. “That guy’s starting to really freak me out,” he says, talking quietly still, even after putting all this distance between them.

Chrissy sighs. The thing is, she still misses Jason, but the Jason she misses is at least a year dead and gone. Now, all that’s left of him is someone who wants to own her.

“Me, too.”

*** 

There’s something different about the letter he finds in his locker this time.

  Eddie —

  You were the best damn thing those drunks have ever seen, hands down. No, before you ask, I wasn’t there. But when I had that letter under my pillow, I dreamed a little dream (not naughty, I know you’re disappointed, sorry). I don’t remember the songs, but I remember the way you looked for me in the crowd and smiled. All the dream people gave you a standing ovation, me loudest of all.

  You’re never too old to learn to ride a bike. My dad didn’t teach me either, but a friend did. Maybe someday, I could be that friend for you, and when I tell you I won’t let go, you can rest easy knowing I’m not lying.

  Sincerely,

  Your Secret Admirer

  P.S. I know it’s still winter, but I’ll meet you in A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

The handwriting is just the same, and it’s as sweet as always, but still. There’s—something Eddie can’t quite put his finger on no matter how many times he rereads the letter. Maybe he should have paid more attention in English class instead of always working on his next campaign.

He watches Chrissy when she’s not paying attention, trying to figure out what’s changed, but Harrington always catches him and stares him down like a dog marking his territory.

It leaves him flushed, desperately trying to focus on whatever he’s supposed to be doing. By the time he looks up, Harrington’s always moved onto something else.

Maybe it’s just because they know each other now, spend time with each other, are even becoming friends? Eddie doesn’t mind, as long as the letters keep coming. He might even like this letter best of all. It feels more honest, real somehow, like he’s peeling back the layers of bullshit obfuscation to get to the truth of who she is.

He hopes it lasts.

It’s hard to write his own letter back, to meet that same level of transparency to someone who, despite now having a name and face, still feels like a nebulous being. A nebulous being whose favorite color he knows, who’s insecurities feel like they’re his own, whose words he’s stroked on the page late at night while unable to sleep.

He tries to pour that same energy back into his letter.

  Secret Admirer,

  I wish I could dream about you, too. I want to know your face well enough to hold it in my mind, even unconscious. I want to lay my head on my pillow tonight and know that you’ll be waiting for me in dreamland, ready to be the best groupie a guy could ask for.

  The truth is, no one’s loved me before. No one’s liked me, or kissed me, or held my hand during a scary movie. And, that’s scarier than any movie could ever be. Because, you’re it, baby. The one and only, and all that shit.

  I’ve got friends, and that’s enough for me! It really is! But a part of me just wants to hold someone’s hand—your hand. Maybe we can someday. Maybe we can do all the things we’ve talked about: go to a drive-in, play music together, learn to ride a bike. But even if we never do, I’m grateful for every one of these letters. Being wanted is new to me, and I’m not ready to give it up.

  Yours, always,

  Eddie

He steps into the Shakespeare section once more and slips the note into A Midsummer Night’s Dream and promptly tries his best to forget about it. It doesn’t work.

He wants a response immediately, dreads waiting the typical days it takes for a letter to appear in his locker, so no one can blame him for panicking.

“Do you want to come to a Corroded Coffin practice?” Eddie blurts after the latest Hellfire session.

Chrissy’s brow’s all furrowed up as she asks, “Corroded Coffin?”

Eddie’s surprised she doesn’t already know. He’s mentioned it at least once in one of his letters; does she not spend her nights pouring over the words like he does? Does she not have every dotted i and crossed t seared into her retinas?

His intestines wriggle around in his body, fingers itching to tear his letter into tiny little pieces before she reads his desperate, yearning words.

“My band,” Eddie replies, his response overlapping eerily with Harrington’s, “his band.”

Chrissy smirks between them but Eddie barely notices, too caught up in staring at Harrington. “How do you know that?” he demands.

Harrington’s shoulders curl, like Eddie’s the threat here as he mutters his response barely loud enough to hear over the sounds of the other Hellfire members packing up, “uh, the middle school talent show?”

Eddie’s lip quirks up as Harrington looks up from his own shoes and meets Eddie’s eyes. “You remember that?”

Harrington snorts. “Hard to forget, dude.”

Harrington’s smiling—he’s never noticed before but it’s a little off center, just enough to be endearing. Eddie smiles back helplessly, taking a step forward as he asks, “the king remembers little old me?”

He gets a laugh this time, Harrington’s eyes almost crinkling shut with his amusement. He’s got a nice laugh. Eddie’s never noticed before, hasn’t heard anything from him that wasn’t at least a little snide.

Eddie opens his mouth, desperate to elicit that noise again, when Chrissy pointedly clears her throat and reality comes rushing back in—what was that? He snaps his gaze back to her, shuffling his feet, feeling absurdly guilty. For what? Being nice to her boyfriend?

“When is it?” she asks.

It takes him a minute to remember what they were talking about. “Oh!” he exclaims, taking a step back when he realizes how close he’s gotten. “Uh, tomorrow night in Gareth’s garage.”

Chrissy’s smiling, but there’s something sly about it, Eddie knows, watching the flashing of her eyes, that Chrissy Cunningham knows what evil is and has the capacity to perform it. So much for his pet theory that she’s actually a golden retriever stuffed into a human girl’s body.

“Can Steve come?” When Eddie frowns, shifting his eyes to a red-eared Harrington standing stock-still beside her, she continues, “it’s just, Jason’s been a little intense lately?”

Carver’s name seems to bring Harrington back to life. He damn-near growls as he wraps his arm around Chrissy’s waist. “The word you’re looking for is stalkery.”

She snorts, “not a word, but yeah.”

Now that they mention it, Carver has seemed to be within arm’s reach of Chrissy for a while now, loitering on her fringes with his arms crossed like he’s staking his claim, even all these months after they broke up.

“Sure,” Eddie replies, and he means it. Harrington can come if it keeps Eddie from ending up on the wrong side of Carver’s fists. “Harrington can come.”

Harrington’s ears flush again, and he mutters an awkward, “thank you,” before leading Chrissy out of the drama room.

Once they’ve cleared out, Gareth sighs, long and loud as he says, “band practice is going to be so awkward.”

Eddie glares at him, having forgotten entirely about his audience while talking to Harrington and Chrissy. “Oh, it won’t be so bad.”

“Yeah, right,” Doug snorts, shouldering his bag and heading toward the door.

“Oh, ye of little faith!” he replies as all three of them head out the door, Jeff having inexplicably already left despite Eddie being his usual ride home on Hellfire days. “It’ll be fine!”

Before he drives the guys home, he doubles back to the library to try and steal back his note, but it’s too late: the doors are locked and by the morning, the note’s sure to be gone.

They’re right; band practice is awkward, and it’s not even Eddie’s fault. It’s not even Harrington’s fault. It’s Jeff’s.

“You look nice today,” Jeff says, looking directly at Chrissy, who blushes.

He’s right, she does look nice in a cute pink cardigan and some light-wash jeans that fit her well. It’s not Eddie’s style, but it suits her. But Jeff doesn’t have to say it while her boyfriend is standing right there.

“Thanks,” she says, smiling at Jeff.

Harrington just keeps standing there while Jeff does what can only be described as flirting, with his girlfriend. Everyone else carries on like this is normal, but Gareth’s sending him crazy-eyed looks proving that Eddie’s not the only sane one.

Doug’s too busy practicing his riffs, sure, and Jeff’s clearly gone off the deep end, but Harrington? What’s his excuse?

When he’d been dating Wheeler, he’d been all over her at all times, monopolizing her time whenever possible. And sure, Chrissy and Harrington are always together, but there’s never more than an arm around her waist or sitting close together. He’s never even seen them kiss.

And now here he is, letting Jeff flirt with his girlfriend right in front of him.

Eddie just doesn’t get it.

Corroded Coffin’s a fucking mess, Gareth keeping a beat only he can hear, Eddie missing every other note, and Jeff too busy looking at Chrissy to keep tempo. Only Doug is on his game, clearly getting more and more fed up with each new fuck-up.

Chrissy stays by Jeff’s side, whispering with him between songs while Harrington flops down on the couch and watches them play like it’s his own, personal concert.

Eddie can’t take his eyes off Steve. He wants to peel the guy like an onion, figure out what makes him tick, what makes him smile, why the hell he’s here in Gareth’s smelly garage watching his girlfriend make eyes at Jeff while she writes love letters to Eddie in her free time.

He wants to know.

He just—

Wants.

*** 

Steve’s words have been echoing around her brain for days—have you asked him out yet? It’s ridiculous, but before he’d said those words, she’d never even considered it as an option. Boys ask girls out, that’s how it works. But if Steve can like a boy, she can ask out Jeff.

That doesn’t make it any less scary though. She sits on the revelation for a few days more, watching Jeff out of the corner of her eye, flirting back after he instigates. But that’s the problem, isn’t it? It’s still him instigating.

“I’m going to ask him out,” she tells Steve, not looking at him as they walk into the school together, too afraid of what she’ll see.

“Yeah?” he asks, bumping their shoulders together. “When?”

When she glances his way, he’s grinning ear to ear. She huffs, “I don’t know, soon?” Looking away so she doesn’t have to see that sly look on his face. “It’s just so scary.”

“I know, Chris,” he says, bumping into her again and again just to annoy her. “But you’re the strongest person I know.”

She doesn’t feel strong—she feels like a breeze might swipe her feet out from under her, but Steve believes in her. Steve thinks she’s strong, and she told him she’d ask Jeff out, so she will.

So, when Jeff next slides into her passenger seat, she starts the car and drives away without saying a word.

This has become something of a habit lately—if there’s no Hellfire, she drives Jeff home. Usually they talk, or turn on music they both like and sing along. The quiet has his feet tapping and fingers picking at the seam of his jeans. He grows more restless with each minute that passes.

“Chrissy?” he asks finally, a shyness to his voice that she’s not used to hearing. From the first time they’d spoken, he’s been confident—quiet, yeah, but assured. “Are you okay?”

Unable to take the waver of his voice sitting down, Chrissy veers off the side of the road, holding her arm out to keep Jeff from smacking into the dash at the abrupt change in momentum. She puts the thing in park, takes off her seatbelt, and turns in her seat to face Jeff head-on.

His eyes are wide, clearly freaked out by her erratic behavior, but he still unlatches his own seatbelt and mimics her position, awkwardly pulling his feet beneath him when it becomes clear his legs are too long to fit.

She’s helplessly charmed; it may just be Steve and Eddie’s letters rubbing off on her, but she wants to reach out and take his hand. So she does.

His fingers jerk in hers, pulling back a little like it’s instinct before he drops his hand on the console separating them and lets her link their fingers together. Even with the heater on, the interior of her car’s cold enough that his skin scalds against hers, sending a shudder through her.

“Is this the part where you murder me?” he asks, squeezing her hand. “Because if so, let me know.”

“So you can run away?” she asks, grateful for the moment of levity.

“No, because I’m a gentleman,” he replies, winking at her, “and I can help dig the grave, save you some work.”

Chrissy laughs, once again captivated by him. He’s a nerd, how is he so gosh darn charming? Her cheeks hurt, her heart hurts, her whole body is tingling with the anticipation of what she’s about to do.

“Chrissy—“

“Will you go out with me?” she asks, slapping her hand over her mouth when she realizes she interrupted him. She closes her eyes, entirely mortified. “Shoot, sorry!”

His hand spasms in hers before he tightens his hold. “You’re…” he starts, hand shaking in hers. She opens her eyes, horrible visions of him crying dancing behind her lids, but he’s laughing, whole body moving with the effort of suppressing it. “You’re apologizing for the best moment of my life?”

She laughs, too, helpless not to. “Is that a yes, or are you just laughing at me?”

He hums, tilting his head closer to hers, chuckles finally fading away as he replies, “can it be both?”

“Always.”

Chrissy bounces a little in her seat, vibrating with pent-up excitement. Maybe sometimes the girl can get the guy instead of the other way around.

He hums again, low down in his throat, and their gazes lock. The energy in her car is so electric her skin is buzzing with it. She wants to reach across the distance between them and steal a kiss. But girls don’t do that sort of thing. Girls aren’t supposed to—

She leans across the console separating them and kisses him, and kisses him, and kisses him. Jeff gasps into it, like he’s the one being electrocuted now, and suddenly his hand is out of hers, but that’s okay because it’s on her face now, drawing her closer, closer, closer, as he sucks on her bottom lip until she gasps.

She might have stayed in that position forever, craning her body uncomfortably forward like a sunflower toward the light, if she hadn’t shifted a little too far to the left into her car’s horn with a bony hip.

As it blares, they both jump apart, eyes wide, cheeks flushed, looking around for a threat that will never come.

“Oops,” she whispers, settling back into her seat, back protesting at the change of angle.

Jeff laughs, head thrown back, long throat on full display. She wants to bite it, but the moment’s long since broken, so she puts her seatbelt on and shifts back onto the road, cheeks flaming, heart warm.

“Does this mean you’re going to give me your letterman jacket?” he asks once he’s finally stopped laughing. “I’m not familiar with jocks courting rituals.”

Chrissy’s responding laugh isn’t her usual cultivated giggle—it’s a bark that makes Jeff grin at her. “Oh my goodness, can you even imagine the looks we’d get?”

“Or that Steve would.” Jeff replies. “But you’ve gotta admit, I’d look good in his jacket.”

She almost wants to do it for the drama, Eddie’s presence rubbing off on her surely, but it’s not quite worth doubling the lynch mobs that will already be after all of them.

“You realize this is only making this whole situation even messier, don’t you?” she asks, eyes on the road.

“Yeah,” Jeff sighs, but his fingers reach across the car and settle atop her hand where it’s clasping the stick shift. “But worth it, right?”

She’s been smiling so much that her cheeks hurt, but at that, she damn-near beams ear to ear. “Yeah, baby,” she says, heat pooling low in her stomach when Jeff lets out a soft little gasp. “You’re worth it.”

PART 10

[sp0o0kylights]

You know what I want to see, I want to see more of Steve, Eddie, and Robin being 1980s small town kids from Indiana, by which I mean;

Robin is The Source of Gay Knowledge purely because her parents host Hippie Christmas and she managed to sneak away to find a neat bookstore in Indiana once. 

Her knowledge is not in depth. It's patchy, woven together through rumors, stories she heard or things she picked up from her parents' old pictures. She's got a handful of zines, one book, and some movies she managed to order for Family Video behind Keith's back.

She acts like she's Queen of the Queers because in Hawkins she pretty much is.

(Max and El ask her what a lavender marriage is once, something they overheard snooping around. 

Robin confidentially answers that it's code for when one woman dresses up as a man, fooling officials into wedding two woman.

She does not live this down two years later when they find out what it actually means.) 

Eddie doesn't spend every weekend in Indianapolis. 

Gas is expensive, his busiest days of his "job" is Friday and Saturday, and he has no fucking clue what the hanky code is. 

He's wearing that bandana because Metallica front singer James Hetfield has one on all their tour posters. 

Eddie does make it down to a gay bar though, by accident. Rick needed some back up for a shady deal. Promised Eddie a boatload of free drugs to sell if he agreed to just stand there and look mean. 

He was warned the bar they were meeting in was 'weird' and to not 'freak out' --which Eddie thought was hilarious given his nickname and general appearance, but whatever.

He doesn't understand when they get there, because it's just a bunch of hot men with hanky's in their back pockets everywhere.

Then he sees two women kissing and it clicks. 

He can't out himself in front of Rick, but one of the bartenders playfully dresses him down for his own hanky, letting him know all about the code and teasing him through his embarrassment. 

He's got an offer to come back and learn what color and which pocket his hanky should actually be in, a prospect Eddie was salivating at until Chrissy Cunningham up and died on his ceiling.

(He still wore the hanky, because the feeling of that bartender tugging it out and stuffing it back in might be the closest thing he's ever had to sex and he absolutely wants a repeat. 

He's young and horny, sue him.) 

Steve Harrington may not be academically smart but he's not dumb. 

He figured out a while back that the basketball team as a unit probably crossed the queer line more than once--or at least it did before Hargrove came in. 

( Brad Handly for example, went around slamming kids into lockers and screaming slurs like a fucking movie villain one Monday because the varsity team got dead drunk at Laura's party on Sunday and hey, look, there weren't that many girls there, okay?

They all had fucking hands and mouths. Everybody but Tommy was single and hot to trot. Nothing gay about it.

Its not even like they were kissing or treating each other like chicks. It was just Brad's first time and they got to tease him later for overthinking it. 

Dude graduated soon enough after and given Steve was on the team as a sophomore, he hadn't thought about the guy and why he might be freaking out so bad in years.) 

Robin's entire panic attack at Starcourt, and a few more after had Steve replaying that whole incident. Reframed it a bit, and, yeah.

In retrospect that had been extremely gay, actually. 

It sat with him a lot easier than he'd thought it would. Partially because of Robin, but mostly because that's just who he was.

Stranger things had happened to Steve and this one didn't want to kill, maim or otherwise eat him, so it got filed under 'interesting facts he should never tell his parents if he wanted to keep his trust fund' and then he went about his day. 

(Or he tried too, anyways.

It caught up to him when Eddie and Robin somehow figured out the other was queer and dragged him along to some bar Eddie had a standing invitation at, with demands for Steve to do what he did best.

Babysit.

Their magical trip was utterly destroyed when Brad Handly happened to be the very same bartender who had given Eddie the invite.

 Considering Brad's immediate bark of laughter followed by a hug and introducing himself as "Steve's gay awakening", Steve ended up having to speedrun through Eddie and Robin both having a crisis for him.

It didn't help that Steve had politely, and laughingly, corrected Brad with a casual; 

"Pretty sure that was Tommy man, but if it helps I think that tongue of yours gave Matt Burdon a crisis."

--which ended up with him answering a lot more gay sex questions with Brad than he cared too. 

At least he, through Brad, was able to help Robin connect to some local lesbians and--after a second crisis from Eddie regarding how Steve managed to have more sex than "the resident town freak and guy who actually knew he was gay, Steve!"-- even helped Eddie out by catching the metalheads tongue with his mouth later that evening.

The last one landed him a boyfriend, trust fund be damned.) 

[asbealthgn]

(based on this post. it ended up longer + less lighthearted than i anticipated)

The ding as the microwave timer finishes lines up perfectly with a frantic pounding on the front door, and it makes Steve jump. 

He just got home from the championship game twenty minutes ago. Now he’s heating up a TV dinner because he forgot to eat beforehand. He spends about one and a half seconds dithering over whether he should get the tray out of the microwave before or after answering the door, but the pounding has only gotten louder. So he leaves it where it is.

“Alright, I’m coming,” he mutters as he heads for the front door. “Goddamn.”

When he opens the door he barely even has time to process that it’s Eddie before the other man is tumbling inside, jetting out of sight back towards the kitchen.

“Eds?” Steve calls after him, shutting the door and locking it. “What’s wrong?”

There’s no answer. Back in the kitchen, Steve can’t see Eddie at first. Then he hears the shallow breathing coming from under the table. Steve leans over and sees Eddie curled up there, arms wrapped tight around his knees, eyes wild. 

“Baby, what happened?” Steve asks. He gets on the floor and crawls under the table, pushing a chair out of the way so he can sit next to Eddie. He wraps his arms around Eddie’s shoulders, pulling him in. Eddie’s shaking like crazy and as he leans into Steve, his shallow breaths turn into sobs. 

At a loss for what else he can do, Steve strokes Eddie’s hair, murmuring soothing things in his ear. He doesn’t know what caused this, but he’ll do everything he can to make it better. Eventually, Eddie’s sobbing subsides and his breathing evens out. He’s still shaking, but this is progress.

He lifts his head and looks at Steve. His eyes are puffy and red, cheeks streaked with tears. Steve brushes them away, tucking a lock of Eddie’s hair behind his ears. “Can you tell me what happened, sweetheart?” he asks softly, “It’s okay if you don’t want to.”

“I—” Eddie says, eyes welling up again. “I don’t—” He shakes his head sharply.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” Steve says, “You don’t have to.”

Eddie shakes his head again and takes a shuddery breath. “I don’t understand what happened,” he says, voice strained. “It was like—shit from a movie. It shouldn’t be possible.”

Something about that is a cold drop of fear in Steve’s belly. Impossible things that happen in Hawkins are never short of catastrophic.

“What was it?” he asks. 

“She—she started lifting and—and breaking—”

“Who?”

“Chrissy,” Eddie whispers, voice tiny and fragile. 

Steve rubs a hand up and down his arm, trying to transfer comfort through his fingertips. “Cunningham?”

Eddie nods. Steve sort of knew Chrissy when he was still in school, only because she was on the cheer squad so they ran in similar circles. He thought she was sweet, but didn’t really know her that well other than that. He definitely didn’t know that she and Eddie knew each other.

“So—” Steve shifts. “When you say breaking—”

Eddie lets out a distressed sound, somewhere between a whimper and a sob. “I don’t know how else to explain it,” he croaks, shaking his head. “It was like someone was pulling on her, lifting her up, and—I don’t know how, Steve, because there was nothing touching her but she just lifted off the ground and then—all her bones—”

He cuts off as the tears take over again. Steve holds him tight as he cries, his own dread pooling in his stomach. This definitely sounds like some Upside Down shit. He needs Dustin, or Robin. Someone who can investigate this and figure out what’s happening. But for now, Steve can hold his boyfriend, do what he can to help. 

When Eddie’s breathing starts evening out, he lifts his head off Steve’s shoulder. “The cops—they’re gonna think I did it,” he whispers, “I—I don’t know what to do, I don’t—”

“Eds, breathe,” Steve says, running his fingers through his hair. “You’re safe here. No one knows we’re together, so they won’t come looking for you here. You can hide out here until we can clear your name.”

“But—how is that even possible?” Eddie asks, eyes wide. “What happened—no one will believe me. I don’t know why the fuck you even believe me.”

Steve nods. “I can’t really explain it, like, literally, I don’t know how to, but this kind of thing has sort of happened before,” he says. He takes Eddie’s hand and squeezes it. “There are people who are smarter than me who can help. I promise.”

Eddie keeps watching him with those big eyes. 

“Do you trust me, Eds?” Steve asks softly. After a moment, Eddie nods. Steve smiles. “Good,” he says. He kisses Eddie’s forehead. “We’ll figure it out.”

After a while, he coaxes Eddie out from under the table and sends him upstairs to change into pajamas. Steve takes Eddie’s keys and goes outside to pull his van into the garage. Dad’s car is currently at the airport, so there’s an empty space. If this is still going on when his parents get home in three weeks then he’ll just have to figure something else out. 

Back inside, he spares another second and a half’s thought to the TV dinner still languishing in the microwave. It’ll have to wait. His boy is more important. 

He takes the stairs two at a time, only slowing when he hits his room so he can ease the door open. Eddie is in bed, curled up under the covers, staring blankly at the wall. Steve changes quickly into pajamas and then gets in bed next to Eddie, pulling him into his arms. 

“You’re safe, Eds,” he murmurs against Eddie’s hair. “I promise.” 

The problem is, he can’t really promise anything. If the Upside Down is open again, Steve can’t guarantee anyone’s safety. He thought it was over, that the gate was closed for good when Joyce blew up the Russian machine. He thought he could keep Eddie away from this dark and twisted world. But if Eddie has to be dragged into it, then Steve will do everything he can to make Eddie feel safe. 

They fall asleep clinging tight to each other, like maybe it’ll stave off the shadows.

“Hey!” 

Steve looks away from the TV at Family Video to see Dustin and Max barging through the door. “Steve,” Dustin says as they approach the counter.

“Did you guys see this?” Steve asks, gesturing to the TV. He’s not sure he can reveal how much he actually knows without revealing how he knows it, but it’s definitely important to get the kids aware that the Upside Down could be involved.

“How many phones do you have?” Dustin asks, completely ignoring the news broadcast. 

“Someone was murdered,” Steve says. 

Dustin gives him an exasperated look. “How many phones do you have?” he repeats.

The hell is this about? “Uh, two,” Steve says, glancing at Robin. She looks just as lost as he feels. “Why?”

“Technically three if you count Keith’s in the back,” she adds.

Max and Dustin share a significant look. “Yeah, three works,” Max says.

Nodding, Dustin slings his backpack off his shoulder and plops it on the counter. Steve frowns. “What are you doing?” he asks just as Dustin shoves the backpack hard, sending it tumbling to the floor inside the counter along with several tapes. “Whoa, what are you—”

“My pile!” Robin shouts as they back away and Dustin launches himself over the counter.

“No, no, no, no, no!” Steve says, throwing his hands up as Dustin’s feet knock over another stack of tapes. “Not my tapes!” Dustin completely ignores him, heading straight for the computer. “Dude! What are you doing, man?”

“Setting up base of operations,” Dustin says matter-of-factly, typing away on the keyboard.

“Base of operations?” Robin asks as Max joins them behind the counter, having gone the long way around.

“Stop,” Steve tells Dustin, “Get off of that.”

Dustin doesn’t budge. “No,” he says, “I need it.”

“Need it for what?”

“Looking up Eddie’s friends' phone numbers.”

Steve’s stomach drops. What the hell does he know about Eddie? Why does he need to get in touch with his friends? Shit, Max lives across from Eddie at the trailer park. Maybe she saw something. Maybe they think Eddie’s guilty.

“Seriously, guys,” Robin says, collecting tapes and rearranging them on the counter. “Maybe on a Monday you can play around in here like toddlers, but it’s Saturday. It’s our busiest day.”

“Alright, look, Robin,” Dustin says, putting up a finger in her direction but not turning around. “I totally empathize but this cannot wait until Monday.”

“What, ‘cause calling all of Eddie’s friends is an emergency?” Robin asks. 

“Correct!” Dustin says. 

Shit shit shit. What do they know? Steve needs to get them the hell out of here before they decide to go calling the cops on Eddie.

“Do you want me to strangle them or do you want to do that?” Steve asks Robin, trying to distract himself from his panic.

She grins at him. “We could take turns.”

Dustin turns to Max. “Can you just fill them in while I do this?”

“Fill us in on what?” Robin asks. She and Steve both turn to look at Max, who sighs. 

“We think there might be something going on with the Upside Down,” she says. 

Steve feels Robin’s hand shoot out and lock around his wrist. He glances at her and sees the panic on her face. Weirdly, all he feels is relief. So Max and Dustin’s investigation is about the Upside Down, not about accusing Eddie. That’s definitely positive, all things considered.

Max glances at Dustin and then back at Steve and Robin. “The murder happened right across the street from me,” she says, “The girl that got murdered was Chrissy Cunningham, and I saw her going in with Eddie. Honestly, he might be guilty, but the lights were flickering around when it would have happened. And when he left, he looked terrified.”

Yeah, Steve can vouch for that. Who wouldn’t be?

“So, we’re trying to track down Eddie to find out what really happened,” Max says, gesturing to Dustin. “We need to use your system and your phones to call around and see if anyone’s heard from him.”

Steve swallows. “Uh, that might not be necessary,” he says. 

“I know you have a weird vendetta against him,” Dustin says, not looking away from the computer as he keeps typing, “But it is imperative that we find Eddie immediately.”

“No, I get that,” Steve says, sighing. “I’m saying I know where he is.”

Dustin stops typing and turns around. “What?” he asks, looking dumbfounded. “How?”

Steve scratches the back of his neck. No taking it back now, he guesses. “He, uh, came to my house last night,” he says, “That’s where he went after Max saw him leave.”

“Did he tell you what happened?” Max asks.

“Sort of,” Steve says, “He was really upset, obviously, so he couldn’t really—”

Dustin waves his hands frantically. “Hold on, wait,” he says, shaking his head. “I thought you and Eddie didn’t even know each other. Now suddenly you’re close enough that he went to your house?”

“Long story?” Steve offers weakly.

Robin nudges him with her elbow and gives him a significant look. “One that I would really like to hear,” she hisses. Okay, so she’s on to him. Maybe that’s not so surprising; they basically share a brain. And he came out to her a few months ago, so the pieces are all there. 

At the very least, the kids accept that Steve and Eddie know each other and abandon their ridiculous scheme to call all of Eddie’s friends. They want to go to Steve’s house right away to talk to Eddie, but Steve refuses to drive them until his and Robin’s shift is over. They threaten to bike there, but Steve eventually manages to convince them that there’s no way in hell Eddie is opening the door for anyone. 

So once their shift wraps up, Steve, Robin, and the kids bundle into the Beemer so he can take them back to his house. He’s apprehensive about this, not sure exactly how Eddie will react. But he knows Dustin well and will probably recognize Robin and Max by sight, so surely he’ll know Steve didn’t bring strangers around. Right?

He parks in the driveway on the off chance that someone drives by at the exact wrong moment and sees Eddie’s car in the garage. Urging the others to be gentle, Steve unlocks the front door. 

“Eddie!” he calls, not wanting to worry him with the sound of the door. “It’s me!”

“Hi!” Eddie’s voice calls from the kitchen, sounding significantly less distressed than he did this morning. “Baby, did you know you left a TV dinner in the microwave?”

He appears in the entryway looking soft and a little rumpled in a pair of Steve’s sweatpants and a green crewneck. His eyes widen in surprise and horror as he sees the others, but their heads have all snapped to look at Steve. Dustin’s eyes in particular are bugging out of his skull.

“Did he just call you baby?”

[corroded-hellfire]

what about like an angst with reader, eddie, and Chrissy and maybe ends happy. like a romance type thing but lots of angst

Somehow this got lost in my drafts, so I deeply apologize it took me so long to get it out! I tried to angst it up for you.

Warnings: mentally and emotionally abusive parents, Eddie’s a jerk but he comes to

Words: 3.8k

“Are you sure you’re okay?” 

Nancy’s voice betrays her worry over the phone, and you have to assure her for the fifth time that you’re all right. 

“Why do you keep asking me that?”

Annoyed isn’t a word you would’ve used to describe your mood before, but it’s certainly fitting now that Nancy keeps interrogating you. 

“You just sound different,” Nancy answers. “You sound off.”

“I’m fine,” you lie. 

“Why don’t you go and see Eddie?” Nancy suggests. It’s not a secret that your best friend can make you happier even when the world is turning to shit. His presence hasn’t been quite as helpful lately since it’s a constant reminder that he has a date with Chrissy Cunningham coming up—and not one with you. 

“Yeah, maybe I will,” you tell Nancy. 

“Good. Call me if you need me.”

“I will, Nance. Bye.”

After hanging up the phone, you stroll into the bathroom and survey the damage on your face. Digging through your makeup bag to find your trusty makeup remover, you make a mental note to stop off at Melvalds on the way home to pick up some more. The skin beneath your puffy eyes is tender as you use a cotton swab to clear away the smeared mascara. Hisses of pain leak through your teeth as you gently dab at your waterline, trying to make all traces of your sob fest vanish. 

Makeup worked for the most part when hiding your irritated eyes and the raw skin around them from crying so much. But when you cried while already wearing some, it made the evidence plain as day with the black streaks running down your cheeks. The only person who knows that your mom and her boyfriend treat you like garbage is Eddie—which means you have to take extra precautions when trying to hide the signs from him too. Eddie threatened many times to kick the shit out of your mom’s boyfriend. There have been a few times when he was high that you had to physically restrain him from heading out to find the prick. He hated how your mother treated you as well, but Eddie could never threaten a woman—even one as horrible as her. 

Once you’re satisfied with the cover the makeup has given you, you grab your keys and head out to your car. This had been one of the worst beratings you’d ever gotten and there was still a ringing in your ears from the vitriol they spewed. 

You think you’re better than us? Just because you graduated high school? Think you’re some big hot shot? You’re nothing. No one gives a shit about you. I gave birth to you and am obligated to love you—but you even make that difficult!

You imagine Eddie’s reaction if he found out. He’d again be trying to talk you into getting into your car or his van and just driving off together. Somewhere, anywhere. Most of the time the two of you said you’d drive to the beach, seeing as neither of you had ever seen the ocean before. The fantasy of Eddie kicking the ass of the douche your mom is dating and then whisking you away to the beach keeps you company on the ride over. 

Wayne’s truck isn’t parked beside Eddie’s van when you arrive, which means the older man has left for work already. The usual blaring of Eddie’s stereo that you can hear from outside doesn’t meet your ears as you step out of your car. You hoist yourself up the few stairs to the front door and rap your knuckles on it. There’s no answer. Leaning in, you definitely hear shuffling going on in there, though. You knock again.

“What?” comes a muffled bark from the other side of the door. Frowning, you push the front door open and step inside of what has become your second home. 

“Um, Eds?” His back is to you as you shut the front door behind you. By his hunched position over a lower shelf and the shuffling and scraping sounds reaching your ears, you can tell he’s looking for something. Frantically, if the frazzled eyes he gives you in the briefest of glances over his shoulder are any indication. 

“Oh, hey,” he says, turning immediately back to the task at hand. 

“Can I, uh, talk to you?” One of your hands twirls a keyring around your finger, while the other comes up to gingerly touch your swollen lower eyelid. 

“Now?” The groan accompanying his words takes you aback. There’s never been a single time that he’s made you feel like a burden or inconvenience. But the way he’s acting now is sure giving you that impression. 

“Are you busy?” you ask in a soft voice. 

“Trying to find that ring with the skeleton hands holding the stone.”

“Why?”

“Because Chrissy likes that one.” He says it so absentmindedly, like he’s giving 99% of his efforts into finding the piece of jewelry, and 1% of them talking to you. 

“What’s it matter what ring you wear right now?” Frowning, you cross your arms over your chest.

Eddie groans again and opens another drawer. “To wear on our date tonight.”

The air rushes out of your lungs faster than when your mom landed a verbal gut punch at home. You thought you had a whole week to mentally prepare for Eddie going out on a date with the queen of Hawkins High. 

“T-Tonight?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “Something came up for her next weekend, so we rescheduled it for today.”

“Oh.” It’s all you can say without bursting into tears or punching a hole in the wall. 

“Yeah,” Eddie says again, turning around to finally face you. “So, you know, if you could just…” Eddie gestures towards the front door, obviously hinting at you leaving. 

“O-Oh. Yeah. I-I just need to talk to you about something,” you say weakly. “It will only take a minute. I-I promise.”

Eddie groans and rubs a hand over his face. “I don’t have a minute. I need to find this ring. You and I can talk whenever. The date is tonight, though—it’s important.”

And I’m not, your mind adds. The pain in your eyes seems to throb even more, as if Eddie’s words are irritating them further. 

“Right,” you say. “Okay, I’ll go.” 

“Thanks,” Eddie mumbles as he continues his search. It burns like a branding iron down your esophagus. You can’t count all the times that Eddie said to come to him whenever you felt low or like you wanted to run away or when you couldn’t take being at home any longer. It made you feel special. Now, he doesn’t even have the time of day to listen to what you have to say. Even if you shouted, “Hey, this is about the people who I live with that abuse me!” it probably still wouldn’t get his full attention. You’re not going to use that as an excuse, either. Not going to use it to get your best friend to talk to you when he clearly doesn’t want to and has better things to do. 

An idea pops into your head and it’s planted itself before you really even have time to consider it. Slowly, you walk back to the front door. But before you open it, you turn back to face him. 

“Can I just ask one f-favor first?” you say, doing your damndest to keep your voice from shaking. “And then I’ll leave, I promise.” 

Pausing his perusing, Eddie heaves out a sigh and turns to face you, hands on his hips. “What?”

“Can I have a hug?”

Eddie takes the few steps towards you and pulls you in for a quick squeeze. It’s not exactly what you wanted, but you still let your head rest against his shoulder, scrunching your eyes closed as you try and savor this moment with Eddie. Usually, his hugs are like a balm for your soul. But this one is rushed and half-assed. It’s clear he wants you to be gone. So after one last squeeze of him in your arms, you grab the front door knob and open it to the warm late spring day outside. Over your shoulder, you look at Eddie. He’s back to shuffling things around, pink tongue poking out of his pretty lips as he focuses on his task.

“Goodbye, Eddie.”

There’s no response. You didn’t really expect one, anyway. The two of you have been best friends for years. But you know the place that Chrissy holds in his heart and there’s no room for anyone else in that spotlight. It’s not the kind cheerleader’s fault, though. All she did was agree to a date with the best man you know. How could you blame her? 

Taking a deep breath, you step out of the trailer and close the door behind you. 

The first thing you do when you get back into your car is turn up the radio as loud as your eardrums can stand. Hopefully it’ll be enough to occupy your mind so it doesn’t wander and you don’t spiral even further. Melvalds is on the way home from Eddie’s, otherwise you probably would have skipped it. But, you think, you can also grab a candy bar or two to drown your sorrows in if you stop by the store. 

Luckily, no one you know is working at the store this evening. It makes it easier for you to grab the things you need and get out without having to have a conversation with anyone. On your way back to the car, the dumpster on the side of the building catches your eye, as it’s overflowing with garbage. They must have gotten a delivery earlier in the day because empty boxes also pile high out of the large green bin, many littering the floor around it as well. Without giving it much thought, you pop the trunk of your car before grabbing as many boxes as will fit in the cramped space before shoving them inside. You slam the trunk, giving it enough oomph to make it close despite the amount of cardboard you managed to cram in.

No one is home when you get there, which isn’t a surprise. Eddie would be occupied the whole night, so you know you’ll have no interruptions. Because who else would call or show up to see you? No one, of course. So, you lug the empty boxes into your room and take a look around the small space. Most of your belongings should fit in the boxes and the small suitcase, duffle bag, and backpack you have in your closet. 

Heaving a sigh, you get to work and start to pack up your room. What’s keeping you in Hawkins anymore? High school is over and your only college plans so far were community college—and they have those just about everywhere. Family was a mark against staying in Hawkins, and your friends were either going away to college or dating pretty cheerleaders that’ll have them forgetting all about you eventually. Why not have your own new start? 

There’s not a whole lot in your room to begin with, so most everything you own ends up in a box or a bag. It’s nearing three in the morning by the time you shove the bags containing your clothes behind the driver and passenger’s seats in your car. Figuring you’d end up sleeping in your car for the foreseeable future, you pack all your bedding into the backseat, creating a nest that you could curl up into when you were tired of driving. 

The boxes are heavy, but you manage to haul them to the driveway all by yourself. After stashing most of them into the trunk, you realize they’re probably not all going to fit. Gritting your teeth, you decide to give it the old college try and force them all in. Headlights turn down your street and you have to shield your face as the beams blind you. None of your neighbors are particularly friendly, so you know none of them will stop to see what’s going on. To your chagrin though, the vehicle starts to slow as it approaches your home. The closer it gets, you begin to hear the familiar squeak that churns out as the tires roll up. Eddie. Ice floods your veins as your mind scrambles to find something to tell him. What possible explanation could you have for loading up your car with all of your belongings in the middle of the night? But how do you tell him that you planned on skipping town without giving him a heads up first? 

You run out of time as the van comes to a halt and the thump of Eddie’s boots hits the pavement.

“Uh, whatcha doing?” Eddie drawls. The lights on the front of the van finally fade out and you can see him approaching you. There’s a confused yet amused furrow on his brow as he slips his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. He’s wearing the same t-shirt as he was when you saw him before, but now his leather jacket is thrown over it. 

“Nothing,” you say lamely as you throw your weight behind your attempts to close the trunk. 

“Really?” Eddie raises his eyebrows as he leans against the side of your car. “Nothing? Because you always load your car up with boxes in the middle of the night. How could I forget?”

Deciding to just ignore him, even though you know that won’t work, you put your focus back on the task at hand. Eddie gives you a few moments, watching in amusement as you try to leap on top of the trunk. 

“What, are you getting rid of a body? Come on, who’d ya kill? You know I’ll help you out.” There’s a playful smirk on his face as he pushes off of the car and his eyes catch on the bedding you have in the backseat. “Wait.” He points at your comforter and pillows bunched up on the old worn seats. “Are you…going somewhere?”

“Maybe.” It’s petty and immature of you, but you’re still hurt by how easily he dismissed you before. 

Eddie’s jaw drops and he lets out a scoff. “And what? You just weren’t going to tell me?”

“Honestly,” you huff out, momentarily giving up on closing the trunk, “I didn’t think you’d care very much.”

“Excuse me?” Eddie’s eyes practically pop out of his skull. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, forget it,” you mumble. “What are you even doing here?”

“I came to tell my best friend about my date,” he says, irritation clear in his tone. “But it seems like she’s mad at me for some reason.”

All you can do is stare at him. He seriously doesn’t know? He can’t figure out why you’re so upset with him? Anger boils your blood, thawing out the ice that previously resided there. 

“Well, I’m busy, Eddie. So, you know, if you could just…” Your eyes flicker over to his van, not so subtly quoting him from earlier in the day. 

It takes a few moments, but it finally dawns on him. He drops his arms to his side and has the good sense to look embarrassed.

“Oh, shit.” Eddie groans and rubs his hands over his face. “I’m an asshole, aren’t I?”

Some of your anger turns to irritation as you see his body deflate. You cross your arms over your chest, refusing to give up all your vexation towards him. 

“You are.”

“I’m sorry.” He steps towards you, letting out a sigh. “You wanted to talk to me about something and I just brushed you off. I’m a pretty shitty best friend.”

Not quite trusting your voice, you nod your head. Eddie comes even closer and tilts your chin up so you’re looking at him. His lower lip is jutted out and he’s made his eyes somehow even wider. 

“Can you forgive me?” he asks.

You have to bite your lip from letting a small smile peek through. Even when he’s been an asshole and an idiot, he can still find a way to cheer you up. 

“Maybe,” you say with a shrug.

Eddie heaves an over dramatic sigh that you know is meant to keep the atmosphere around you light. 

“What about we talk about whatever it was you came by for, hmm?”

The suggestion suddenly sours your mood again. You’d managed to get the venom hurled at you pushed to the back of your mind, too focused on Eddie hurting your feelings. Now the vile words come back to you and your best friend immediately picks up on the shift in your demeanor. 

“Fuck,” he grumbles under his breath. He knows the reason your body would tense up like that. It only serves to make him feel even worse about shooing you away before. Eddie lifts his eyes and scans the driveway before looking back at your house. “Are they here?”

“No,” you say softly.

“Good, I’d fucking lose it on them.” He takes a deep breath before ducking his head to meet your eyes. “How bad was it?”

The question is what gets the tears prickling in your eyes. You try to hide it, but your trembling bottom lip gives you away. Eddie doesn’t hesitate to tug you closer to him and pull you into a hug. 

“Whatever they said, it isn’t true,” Eddie mumbles against your hair. 

“D-Did you know it’s almost impossible to love me?” you say with a hoarse voice. You clear your throat before you speak again. “And that I’m a pathetic waste of space that nobody wants around?”

“I do.”

You can’t help but look up at Eddie when he says that, skepticism written all over your face. At first, the look puzzles Eddie. Then he remembers what he did when you originally came to see him and talk about the shitty things your mom and her boyfriend said to you. Eddie had just brushed you off, made you feel unimportant and that he cared about Chrissy more than you. Nothing could be farther from the truth. You mean everything to him and the fact that he made you feel anything less than is absolutely eating him alive inside. 

“I promise I want you around all the time,” Eddie tells you. “There’s never a time I don’t want you around. I’m so sorry about before, sweetheart. I clearly wasn’t thinking. Is…is that why you were leaving?”

Without meeting his eyes, you nod your head. “Figured no one wanted me around. Was tired of being here,” you say, gesturing to your house behind you. 

Eddie nods his head and presses a kiss into your hair. You think he’s going to say something, but instead he walks around you and picks up one of the cardboard boxes you were trying to get in your trunk. Instead of assisting you with it, he steps away from your car with the box, and you look at him in confusion.

“What’re you doing?” you ask.

“This was never going to fit in there,” Eddie says, nodding towards your car. “Gonna put it in the back of my van.”

This confuses you more than anything. You watch him in silence, a frown etched into your brow, as he yanks open the back of his van and slides the box inside. 

“Why your van?” you ask.

Eddie gives you a look like the answer should be a no-brainer. 

“Because the boxes weren’t fitting in your trunk, and I have plenty of space in mine.”

“What?” Your brain feels like it has whiplash from everything that’s gone on today. Maybe Eddie was the one making sense and you’re just not getting it. “How’s it going to help me in your van?” 

“Well,” Eddie says as he walks over and picks up another of the boxes that you couldn’t make fit. “We’re going to have to stop at my place, anyway. I’ll have to pack up some shit to take.”

“Take where?” Your voice sounds about as flabbergasted as you feel. The fact that you’re becoming more and more sleep deprived isn’t helping either. 

“Wherever we’re headed,” Eddie says with a shrug. He slides the second box in beside the first one in the back of the van. “The ocean, I presume.”

“What?” you practically shout into the quiet, dark night. 

“You wanna leave, right?” Eddie asks as he closes the back doors of the van. “Finally leaving these assholes you live with, yeah?”

“I, um,” you stutter, not completely sure of what’s going on or what you should say. “Yeah. I-I’m leaving.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow at you and tilts his head.

“And you really think I’d let you leave without me? Bullshit. We can crash at my place tonight then head out in the morning. Maybe plan a route over breakfast.”

“Wha—Eddie, no.” 

The refusal seems to confuse him. His brow pinches together as he leans against the side of his van. 

“What?” he asks.

“You can just pick up and leave. You have Wayne. And the Hellfire guys. And…Chrissy.”

“Sweetheart,” Eddie says with a humorless chuckle. He shakes his head and makes his way over to you. Gently, he picks one of your hands up in his own and laces your fingers together. “The Hellfire guys still have the club when they head back to school in the fall. Wayne’s been saying you and I should get out of Hawkins for months now. And as for Chrissy?” Eddie shrugs and a knot forms in your stomach. “We’ve only been on one date. And yeah, I really like her. But I’m not going to pass up being on the road with my favorite person.”

Not only does the knot untie itself at your words, but it also seems as if the rope turned into little butterflies that are spreading their wings all throughout your abdomen. 

“O-Okay,” you say, trying to fight back the tears in your eyes. 

“I’ll meet you at the trailer, yeah?” Eddie asks, slinging an arm over your shoulders. “Don’t go getting a head start without me.”

“I promise.”

Eddie holds his pinky up to you. “Pinky promise?”

Smiling, you lock your pinky with his before letting your hands fall to your sides. Eddie takes one last look at your former home before striding over to his van.

“Thank God you’re leaving this place,” he says, eyeing every little detail of the house with disdain. Memories of all the times you called him crying because of something that happened within these walls flood you. It’s the reminder of all the kindness and love he’s given you over the years that really allows you to forgive him for his rude behavior earlier. It still hurts, but expecting Eddie to be perfect wasn’t fair to anyone. 

“I’ll see you in five minutes?” you ask as you finally get your trunk closed.

“Then you’ll never be able to get rid of me.” Eddie throws you a wink before closing himself in the van.

Grinning to yourself, you slide into your own driver’s seat. 

“I’m gonna hold you to that, Munson.”

[little-annie]

It's in the kitchen of their shitty little 1.5 bedroom apartment that Eddie Munson continues to bemoan his roommates request for him to watch the 2024 Olympic Games with her this evening.

“Christine Henrietta Cunningham,��� he starts with a sigh, wiping the reminentes of yet another YooHoo from his upper lip, leaning a narrow hip against the countertop's edge, “there is no way in hell you are getting me to watch the Olympics.”

Already wearing her team USA sweater, Chrissy tries to protest. Just as she did last night and the night before. For some reason thinking it's such a dire thing that Eddie watches the Olympics this year.

“First of all, not my middle name. Second-”

“You would literally have to glue my eyeballs open.”

“Second-” she tries again, voice stern, pointing a yellowed spoon in Eddie's direction as she dishes up a bowl of Kraft Dinner for them both.

“There is not now, nor will there ever be, any reason for me to watch juiced up jocks prance around and play any form of sportsball.”

There's so many reasons. Christ. Fuck. So many. But he's not telling Chrissy that. He'll watch the reruns when she's not home. He couldn't possibly be caught dead after last time.

“What about the swim-”

“Not even Gandalf himself,” Eddie interrupts, “-could convince me to waste my precious campaign planning time on such a thing.”

Following Chrissy to the living room, bowl of macaroni in hand, Eddie refuses to sit down next to her on the couch. He's not going to watch. Nope. Maybe sneak a peak in passing? Sure. But not watch. Are you kidding me?

“What a about To-”

The metal spoon that was once in Eddie's hand chatters to the floor as he mock gasps. Neon yellow noodles on the tile that the cat comes running over to clean up, Eddie stands in abject horror. She wouldn't dare.

“Don't you dare say what I think you're about to say, Christine. My 2020 not obsession with Tom Daley shan't be spoken of. It was merely a blip in the system. A glitch in the matrix.”

He still thinks Tom Daley can get it. But that's neither here nor there. And what is there, is simply between Eddie and the well used bottle of lotion next to his bed.

Chrissy rolls her eyes, now sitting with her legs crossed on their ugly ass thrifted couch, patting the cushion next to her as if Eddie's a dog. “Eddie you literally watched every one of his ra-”

Races?

“I did not.”

Okay maybe we wanted to. Who wouldn't? But it's not like he obsessively watched every one of the man's races.

“... I missed two.” He admits Inna whisper.

And what a sheer travesty that'd had been

“Oh yeah. You missed two. Oh Edward, how could I forget?” After patting the cushion mindlessly next to her again and eating a spoonful of macaroni she faux whines, “‘Oh Chrissy, would you record the race for me? I don't want to miss it.’”

He doesn't sound like that.

“I do not sound lik-”

All pathetic and whiney? Eddie Munson doesn't sound like that.

“As if I would believe you actually gave two shits about the races you giant homo.” Chrissy rolls her eyes so hard Eddie's surprised she doesn't hurt her neck, “You just liked seeing those boys in spandex.”

Well…. She's not wrong. Sports are dumb. People playing sports for money is dumb. What the Olympics does to those cities in the aftermath of the event is dumb.

But she's not wrong.

Spandex

“…. I hate you”

“No you don't.” She smiles, blowing Eddie a kiss.

“Um. Yes I do.”

As if he could ever hate Chrissy.

Avoiding making eye contact with her as she continues to pat the cushion next to her and turning heel towards the hall, Eddie decides maybe it's just best to eat his supper in his room. Away from jockey spandex and its temptations, “Anyways. As I was saying. Fuck you and your jocky hobbies Chrissy.” Eddie yells from the hall, “My time is far too valuable to be wasted mindlessly drooling over arrogant jocks and their-”

In a sing-songy voice Eddie hears Chrissy call from behind him, “You're gonna want to watch this!”

He groans, turning back around from the journey he'd just started in the direction of his room, “I would rather di-” only to be caught short when a familiar mole dotted, spandex covered ass makes its way across his TV screen.

He'd recognize that ass anywhere.

Went to every goddamn swim meet at the stupid community pool to see that beautiful ass in motion for years.

He fawned over it in the halls of Hawkins High.

Drooled over it on the odd days he actually attended gym class. Tried to solely avoid eye contact with it when he found it bare and within reach in the change rooms only an hour later.

Fuck.

Eddie's knees feel weak and before he knows it he's climbing over the back of the couch, bowl of macaroni in his lap and mirroring Chrissy's position. Legs crossed. Eyes glued to the TV. Mindlessly eating chemicals that some big corporation somehow manages to pass off as macaroni and cheese.

“Is that Steve Harrington?”

Oh look at those moles.

Beautiful.

Those pecs?

Fucking hell.

“Christine!?” Eddie screeches from his position on the couch when Chrissy doesn't answer, just simply shrugs and smirks at him. The little devil. “Did I just see Harrington?”

“Told you, you'd want to see this.”

[steddiehyperfixation]

don't you forget about me (part three)

(part one)(part two)

Everyone’s left to “let him get some rest,” but Eddie doesn’t rest, not really. Although he does drift off the second he closes his eyes, his sleep is not restful and his dreams are plagued: 

Chrissy Cunningham stood in his trailer, small blonde girl in her cheerleader uniform. If Eddie hadn’t only just come out of his room with an unopened baggie of ketamine, he might’ve thought she’d already overdosed. Her eyes were rolled back, body frozen stiff like she was having some sort of seizure. Eddie shouted at her, shook her shoulders, waved his hands and snapped his fingers in front of her face, but Chrissy didn’t respond. He feared she might collapse, but then she did something much, much worse: she began to levitate. 

Eddie immediately let go of her shoulders and scrambled back as some invisible force slammed the girl into the ceiling. Her bones snapped; one at a time, her arms and legs twisted in unnatural angles. Her jaw unhinged and cracked out of place, her mouth now stuck in a horrible, soundless scream. Her eyes bled, dripping red down her cheeks, and then they exploded, popped with a sickening squelching sound, and her eyelids caved in to empty, bloody sockets.

Eddie wakes up screaming. His heart pounds frantically, the monitor beeping like crazy, and all his muscles are tense like he’s ready to run. 

Someone is at his side immediately; a gentle hand slips into his own, a soothing voice asks if he’s alright and tells him it’s okay, he’s safe now, it was just a nightmare. Eddie recognizes that hand, that voice, that shape in the dark. When did Harrington come back?

Eddie’s gasping, struggling to inhale a proper breath into his fear-frozen lungs. His wild eyes dart over the figure sitting beside him before landing on the hand that’s curled around his. Harrington must misread something in his expression then, because he mutters, “Sorry,” and starts to pull his hand away.

“No,” Eddie manages, instantly grabbing the other’s hand again and gripping it tight. “Keep- keep holding onto me.” 

“Always,” Harrington whispers, the word an exhale under his breath, so soft Eddie thinks he may have imagined it. 

Harrington rubs his thumb over the back of Eddie’s hand. His touch is calming, grounding. Eddie’s breath begins to even out and his heart returns to a normal pace as his residual panic slowly dissipates. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he sighs heavily once he’s recovered a bit. He presses his free hand to his chest. “That was the most terrifying dream I’ve ever had in my life.”

“It’s over now,” Harrington says, still soft, still tracing circles across Eddie’s skin. “Whatever it was, it can’t hurt you anymore.”

But it can, because Eddie can still see those horrible images behind his eyelids every time he blinks. He says so, shakily, “Think it's burned into my brain now, though. It was so real, man, I’m not sure I’ll ever get her disfigured face and mangled body out of my head.”

Harrington pauses. “Wait a second, did you dream about Chrissy?” 

“Yeah, how did you-?” Eddie starts to ask, then stops as he remembers what Harrington had said yesterday about Chrissy being murdered in his trailer. The realization sets in with a cold chill. He shakes his head in horror, tightening his hold on Harrington’s hand like it's a lifeline. “No. Oh no, please don't tell me that actually happened.” 

“It did. I’m sorry, it did.” Harrington clasps Eddie’s hand in both of his now. “That wasn’t just a nightmare, Ed, that was a memory. You’re starting to remember.” 

“Well, shit,” Eddie mutters. If that’s what his lost memories are like, he thinks he’d very much rather them stay forgotten. “I’m starting to see why my brain blocked it all out in the first place, then. Was the whole rest of the last 11 months that awful too?” 

“No…” Harrington frowns and that kicked puppy look flashes across his face, darkening the spark of hope that had just flickered in it before. “Well, maybe, I don’t know. I hope not.” 

“Great,” Eddie sighs, tired and sarcastic. He stares up at the ceiling where the gnarled ghost of Chrissy’s corpse still haunts his vision. “Can’t wait to remember more.” 

“I’m sorry,” Harrington says quietly. A heavy sadness runs thick in his voice again, same way he’d spoken when he first learned of Eddie’s amnesia. He squeezes Eddie’s hand once and then lets go. 

So much for always, Eddie thinks dimly. His hand feels cold now, naked and untethered without the solid pressure of Steve’s fingers curled around it. 

“You should try to go back to sleep,” Harrington tells him. The mattress shifts, the springs creak, as he rises from where he’d been perched at the edge of the bed. In the empty space he leaves behind, Eddie only feels even more untethered. 

A sharp rush of panic grips him at the thought of being left here alone in the dark with the twisting shadows and afterimages of his nightmare. “Wait, Steve,” Eddie calls out immediately, before Harrington can even begin to turn away from him. “Will you stay?” 

“Yeah.” Harrington nods, murmurs, “I’ll stay.” 

~

So Steve stays. He stays and he sits in the stiff chair by Eddie’s bed, and he spirals. Of course he spirals, in the silence, in the dark. He can’t seem to do anything else in Eddie’s presence lately but let his mind spin around in circles ‘til it breaks. 

Was the whole rest of the last 11 months that awful too? Eddie’s previous question is the catalyst of his spiral this time, the words that are currently echoing in the whirlpool of Steve’s consciousness, because he hadn’t thought of that before. He has already wallowed in the idea that he was something so unimportant he was easy to erase, but Steve hadn’t yet considered the possibility that he was something so horrible he needed to be erased. It makes sense, though, doesn’t it? The nurse did say Eddie’s amnesia was in part due to psychological trauma, and his memories do end just before he and Steve properly met. Was being with Steve so awful Eddie’s mind lumped it in with all the other recent traumas and just had to wipe it away? 

An ugly guilt twists beneath his skin, like a deep rot running black in his veins. Steve curls his hand into a fist in his lap, digs his fingernails into his palm as if the sharp bites of pain will help release what is dark and decayed inside of him. As if it will choke the voice in the hollow behind his heart that now tells him he deserved to lose Eddie’s love, or that maybe he never truly had it in the first place.

And, see, Steve knows he’s spiraling. He knows his brain has just tripped down some bullshit rabbit hole of self-deprecation and that really his despairing conclusions are not in any way rooted in reality. He knows Eddie loved him. He knows Eddie’s amnesia is not his own fault nor is it a reflection on him. He knows it’s got nothing to fucking do with him. Yet nonetheless, his mind continues to tumble downwards on a quest to prove the opposite. The rot still festers; the hollow still whispers.

“Hey, Steve?” Eddie’s soft-spoken words eventually cut through the quiet and shake Steve from his lamenting thoughts. 

He sits forward. “Yeah?” 

“I can’t sleep,” Eddie says. “Do you, uh- sorry, could you…maybe hold my hand again?” His voice is small like he’s asking for something embarrassing, and his hesitancy kind of breaks Steve’s heart. “Just until I fall back asleep. It just- it makes me feel safer.” 

“Yeah, of course.” Steve scoots his chair closer to the bed and gently takes hold of Eddie’s hand again. 

Eddie sighs, a heavy exhale of relief, his body beginning to relax almost immediately. He squeezes Steve’s hand. “Thanks,” he mumbles. 

“Anytime,” Steve whispers in response. Always, forever, anything; because I love you, want you, need you, miss you. He swallows down the emotion that rises in his chest. Another spiral threatens to drown his mind again and he fights that off too, tries not to think about everything that fucking hurts. 

He focuses on the familiar feeling of Eddie’s hand in his (it’s bittersweet; he’s not thinking about it), on watching the steady rise and fall of Eddie’s chest as he slips back into a more peaceful sleep (he wants to kiss his forehead, tuck him in like a child; he’s not thinking about it).

Steve leaves first thing in the morning. The second Wayne walks in and Eddie now has someone else there to watch over him, Steve tells the older man briefly about Eddie’s nightmare and then he’s out the door before Eddie even wakes up, and he doesn’t return that day. 

He can convince himself, illogically, that it’s better for Eddie if he stays away - that Steve’s spiral was right and he’d only make Eddie uncomfortable in the daylight; the less he’s around, the less the rot inside of him can poison Eddie too. But also it’s selfish. Mostly it’s selfish. Because as much as Steve craves to be near him, it hurts far more to be around him and not be seen, not be known, not be loved. The ache of missing him when they’re apart is so much easier to bear than the ache of missing him when he’s right in front of him.

Still, Steve does come back that night. He doesn’t want Eddie to be alone, and with Wayne working graveyard shifts and everyone else having parents to answer to, Steve is the only one left who’s both willing and able to sit with him through the night. He has a feeling, just a feeling, same as he’d had the night before, that Eddie might need him again. Well- maybe not him specifically, but just someone, anyone, to comfort him in the dark, and Steve can be that someone. And maybe that’s selfish too, because it feels good, eases the ache a bit, to be the one to help Eddie, to take care of him. If Steve cannot be loved then he will settle for being needed.

Good for them both, then, that Eddie does end up needing Steve that night. Eddie jolts awake from another nightmare memory - this one about being chased onto the lake by Jason Carver and watching another body float above the water and be crumpled and killed by Vecna - and Steve is there once more to hold his hand and soothe him back to sleep.

And then, again, Steve is gone the next morning, back the next night. Such is the pattern he’s fallen into, the selfish, stupid pattern: gone when he cannot feel loved, back when he can feel needed. 

Tonight is the worst nightmare yet. Steve can tell it’s bad even before Eddie wakes. The heart monitor begins to beep more rapidly, Eddie whimpers and twitches in his sleep. Steve grabs Eddie’s hand and tries to ease the nightmare before it worsens, though to no avail. 

Eddie doesn’t wake up screaming this time, but choking and crying, rasping through hyperventilating breaths fragmented nonsense about bats and pain and death. He doesn’t seem to be completely aware or lucid right now, still stuck in his nightmare where he’s dying and he’s scared, so scared. 

“Shh, Eddie, it’s okay. You’re okay.” Steve can’t stand to see him like this. Holding his hand isn’t enough. “C’mere,” he murmurs. “You’re alright.” He doesn’t even think, just climbs onto the bed with him and very very carefully, very very gently, sits them both up and pulls Eddie onto his chest, wrapping his arms around him and holding him close. “You’re alright,” Steve continues to whisper softly, lips brushing against Eddie’s hair. “Just breathe, baby, it’s okay.” (The pet name just slips out; neither of them notice.)

Eddie clutches Steve’s arms, leans back against his chest and tucks his face into the curve of Steve’s neck. He’s trembling, breath still rapid and panicked, not yet free of the waking dream he’s trapped in. “I died- I’m dead- I was dead,” Eddie keeps babbling in shaky, sobbing gasps. “It hurts- and I died. I don’t- I don’t wanna die- I don’t-” 

“You’re not dying, Eddie, you’re not. You’re okay,” Steve reassures him. “You’re alive.” He gently pries one of Eddie’s hands off his arm and guides it to the boy’s chest, covering his hand with his own as he presses it over Eddie’s heart to give proof to his words. “Do you feel that? You’re alive, you’re so alive.” 

Eddie sucks in a deep breath, lets out a tremulous exhale. “I’m alive,” he repeats, his voice wavering like he’s trying to convince himself of something he doesn’t quite believe. 

“Yeah,” Steve confirms, still holding his hand over Eddie’s slowly steadying heartbeat. “You’re alive.” 

Eddie repeats it again, a little more solidly this time. “Okay,” he breathes out. “Okay, I’m okay.” His hyperventilating has finally begun to ease, his tremors gradually dissipating. He seems to wake up a bit more now, settles back into reality. He rolls his face out of the crook of Steve’s neck and tilts his head up to rest it against his shoulder instead as he looks at him. “Steve,” Eddie says, not like a question or the beginning of a sentence, but more like he’s only just now becoming aware of who’s holding him. 

Steve gives a small hum of confirmation in response. He doesn’t know if Eddie is going to want him to move now, if the way they’re situated is uncomfortable for him or if Eddie is even okay with this situation at all. Steve can’t tell. He should’ve thought of that first. Holding his hand is one thing, but pulling Eddie half on top of him and holding him there is another thing entirely. And Eddie doesn’t know him anymore. Steve wouldn’t blame the guy if he freaked out at coming out of a panic attack to find himself in some strange man’s arms. 

But Eddie just closes his eyes, goes quiet and still for a few long moments, and so Steve stays where he is, assumes Eddie’s trying to go back to sleep. Steve will keep holding him until then. 

“Why are you always here at night?” Eddie asks suddenly, opening his eyes again. So he’s not trying to go back to sleep. 

The question catches Steve off guard, and not just because he hadn’t expected Eddie to speak again. “I, uh, I don’t want you to be alone- you know, with your nightmares.” 

“No, yeah, I know, and I-I’m grateful for that, but,” Eddie clarifies, “I meant, why are you always only here at night? I know you’re around during the day, dropping off one of the kids or Robin or whatever, you just don’t come in. Like- you’ll hold me through a nightmare, but you won’t actually hang out with me and just, like, eat shitty hospital food and watch shitty hospital TV with me. What’s up with that?” Eddie looks up at him. His tone is light enough, but there’s a genuine curiosity in his eyes, and a confusion that borders on hurt. “Thought we were supposed to be friends, Harrington.”

“We are,” Steve says immediately. “We are friends. I just- I didn’t want to force that on you or-or make you uncomfortable or awkward or anything. I know you don’t know me anymore.” 

“Well, you haven’t given me much of a chance to get to know you again,” Eddie states plainly, and that catches Steve off guard too. 

“I didn’t know you wanted to.” 

“Of course I want to,” Eddie mutters. “You’re a decent guy, Stevie. Not how I thought you’d be. Maybe I want you to keep surprising me.” 

The way one corner of his mouth quirks up then, popping a dimple in his cheek, makes Steve’s heart stutter, chest warm with a rush of affection. He can’t help but smile a little too. “Okay.” 

“Okay,” Eddie echoes, smirk stretching into a proper grin now. He taps his fingers where they rest on Steve’s arm. “You better hang out with me tomorrow.” 

“I will,” Steve agrees, because how can he say no to a smile like that? “Promise.” 

~

Satisfied, Eddie closes his eyes and settles back to try and fall asleep again. A lingering fear still runs like an undercurrent beneath his veins though, scared of sleep and dreading the possibility of another nightmare, another memory. He shifts, pulls Steve’s arms a little tighter around him. Eddie never seems to have bad dreams once Steve is holding onto him.

(part four) taglist: @romanticdestruction @daydreamsandcrashingwaves @paintsplatteredandimperfect @hallucinatedjosten @mugloversonly @estrellami-1 @alongcomesaspider @thatonebadideapanda @tell-me-a-secret-a-nice-one @dragonmama76 @wxrmland @nuggies4life @sirsnacksalot @myguiltyartpleasure @lolawonsstuff @marklee-blackmore @vinteraltus @sebastiansstanswhore @0happyeverafter0 @scarlet-malfoy @hotluncheddie @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @emsgoodthinkin @alyelf @warlordess @stevesbipanic @lil-gremlin-things @rockandrolodex @badcaseofcasey @bat-outta-hel @fandomcartographer @manda-panda-monium @littlewildflowerkitten @giopandaonice @mightbeasleep @queenie-ofthe-void @krazyperson @worldofshea @marvel-ous-m @tartarusknight @a-little-unsteddie @xenon-demon @goodolefashionedloverboi @xxsky-shockxx @mc-i-r @bookbinderbitch @aspenshade88 @slowandsteddie @thedragonsaunt @daydreaming-mood @space-invading-pigeon @irregular-child @a-lovely-craziness (i have hit my limit on amount of people i can tag in one post; taglist will be continued in replies. please lmk if you'd like to be removed from this list. no longer accepting any more additions atm!! also, thank you guys so much for all the support on this so far omg??? this is insane for me and i'm so glad y'all are enjoying my writing <3)

[ladykailitha]

The Hellfire Exotic Club Part 1

September was way too far away for the release of this story. It was just becoming too fun not let you see it. So here's a sneaky peek before my hiatus on the 18th.

Rated M This story is not for the under 18 set. Like this whole story deals with sex and nudity. Might even make it a hard E to be on the safe side.

Summary: The Hellfire Exotic Club was the hottest ticket around. The best male and female exotic dancers in the whole god damn state with each night a deadly sin. When owner, Eddie loses his Envy because the guy fucked the wrong person, he has a week to find a replacement. But when Steve auditions with Julia Michael's Heaven, it turns the entire club on its head.

Now Eddie must deal with the usual nut jobs trying to close him down, dancers not liking the new changes, and his former Envy causing trouble, all this on top of having budding feelings for Steve.

But if Eddie is anything, he's resilient and stubborn. Come hell or high water, him and his club is going to come out of this just fine.

~

The Hellfire Erotic Club was the hottest ticket in town. Known for two things. It’s hellish theme and its eccentric owner and lead dancer Eddie Munson. It was mainly a burlesque club with some stripping involved. But that’s not why people came in droves. Eddie was Lucifer, king of hell and his dancers all had demon names: Lilith, Astraroth, Mephistopheles, Beelzebub, Leviathan just to name a few.

There were women dancers, but the main draw was men in shapes and sizes, dancing. Each night was a deadly sin. With Lucifer on Saturday night as Pride. The only colors allowed seemed to be red or black with little variation, but what they lacked in originality they made up for in style.

Their outfits were always the titillation of the crowd even before they came off. Not that they always did. It was entirely up to the dancer. One of everyone’s favorite nights was Mammon the demon of gluttony. He was a heavy set man who could out spin anyone on the pole and always stayed dressed for the whole show. Except on his nights when he was bathed in an glittering yellow glow, he would get as far as just his pants on. Regardless of what did or didn’t take off, Mammon attracted quite the crowd every Tuesday night.

Eddie loved what he did. His demons were the talk of the town and everyone who was anyone came through his doors. But he had a problem. His demon of Envy Billy Hargrove got caught with the daughter of the mayor. The very married daughter of the mayor. By her husband on what was supposed to be their wedding anniversary.

And while Eddie liked to court controversy, not that kind. It was bad for business if people thought they could get into the g-strings of his dancers. It set a far too dangerous precedent that he really didn’t want to set.

Billy got nasty when Eddie decided to let him go, which only further cemented his decision to do so.

So now he was down a deadly sin and only three days to fill it. To say that he was sweating bullets would be an understatement. He was on his thirteenth audition in as many days and his head was pounding. This was the last one of the day and then he could go home and wallow in his misery.

Then the first notes of Heaven by Julia Michaels filled the air and Eddie looked up. The dancer was gorgeous. He was fit in a way that reminded him of classical ballet dancers. Thin and yet strength showing in every step.The way he moved was like wind on the water. Each move, each step was sensual and sexy as hell.

Eddie scrambled to find the guy’s application. Steve Harrington. And yep, three years of classical ballet at the local dance company, two years on the pole at strip club. And...oh that was interesting. A year teaching pole dancing at a local fitness club to rich bitches.

The song ended and the guy cracked a wide grin at him, nearly ending Eddie’s life. He was elbowed in the ribs by his choreographer and partner in crime, Chrissy Cunningham.

“What made you decide to try out for this position?” Eddie asked, still looking at the application.

“You’ll probably laugh,” Steve said with a disarming smile, “but me and my best friend have always worked together and she recently got a job here as a waitress, so I thought why the hell not, and decided to audition after I saw the flier when I dropped her for her first day of work last night.”

“Robin Buckley is your best friend?” Chrissy asked, her eyes wide.

This time it was Eddie’s turn to elbow his best friend. She already had a crush on the new waitress.

“I have to say,” Chrissy said, leaning on the table with her elbows, “the size of your balls of bringing a song titled ‘Heaven’ to club known for its Satan iconography must be really off the charts.”

Steve threw his head back and laughed. “Did it work?”

Chrissy and Eddie shared a glance. And then Eddie leaned forward next to her, mirroring her pose.

“Yes,” he said with a matching grin, “You’re hired.���

~

To say Eddie was impressed with Steve’s dancing would have been an understatement. The guy had moves that he had created himself. Hell he had an entire routine on a chair that made the “Flashdance” one look tame in comparison.

Fuck, even Chrissy was super close in asking him to teach her some things, because on top of dancing like a sex god, he had the patience of a saint when it came to teaching.

Eddie had fifteen dancers, well technically fourteen because he was one of the dancers. But he had seven principle dancers (again including himself) and eight backup dancers. All named after demons and evil gods. Beings that belonged to hell.

But they were having a hard time figuring out what to name Steve. Billy had gone by Asmodeus even though he had been Envy and not Lust. Envy because he wanted the job of Lust soooo badly.

Steve was okay with taking up the position of Envy. He was the new guy after all and beggars couldn’t be choosers.

But there was something about Steve that made it hard to pick a name for him. So he went hunting down demon and devil names. He already had quite the roster of best Hell had to offer with his backup dancers.

Like his Seven Deadly Sins they were all shapes and sizes, not being able to get work anywhere else because they weren’t the ‘ideal’ body type for dancers.

Fuck, three of his Sins weren’t even ‘thin’ or ‘built’ by any stretch of the imagination. Mammon, Lamia, and Rosier all had body types that would have made other erotic clubs balk.

Mammon, his Greed was more like the comic book character The Kingpin. He was built like a tank and was fucking sexy for it. His curly hair was styled 1920s chic and it made for a rare week day being popular.

Lamia, his Wrath was voluptuous and curvy. She wasn’t ‘fat’ or whatever, but she wasn’t dancer sleek either. Her dusky skin tone and long black hair made her exotic and interesting. On the nights it wasn’t her Sin, she did belly dancing and she was enchanting.

And finally Rosier, his Lust. This is where Eddie courted controversy in the best ways. People could get behind Wrath or Greed not being conventionally attractive, but Lust? That was different. Rosier was a black man who was built, but not in a Chippin’ Dales or Magic Mike kind of way, more in a boxer kind of way. He was barrel-chested with thick thighs. But there was no doubt Rosier was the it guy for all the bachelorette and even a couple of bachelor parties.

Yeah, sure, Gluttony, Sloth, and now Envy were all dancer builds, but the fact that the other half wasn’t? That’s what made The Hellfire Exotic Club so special. That’s what got people through the door every night.

While Hellfire was open every night, Eddie was the only dancer who was there all week. He was the owner and had to be there, but he always made sure each dancer had one night if not two a week they had off.

That was another thing that they were having trouble finding for Steve, what he could do on the nights he wasn’t Envy. Because everyone had something. Stella, his Lamia belly danced; Jeff, his Lust, sang; and even his Sloth, Gareth, played piano.

It wasn’t until Chrissy suggested that the two of them, her and Steve, dancing together as angels on their off days, did it all click.

Steve would dance Monday through Saturday as Samael and then “fall” during his final dance with Chrissy on Saturday to dance Sunday as the envious Satan.

Plus it gave the club a chance to shake up the program in a way that Eddie would have never thought of before hiring Steve.

“And five, six, seven, eight!” Chrissy called out time as Steve hurried to learn a new a dance in three days.

He stumbled and the whole dance crew gasped.

“Hey, Dingus!” Robin called from behind the bar were she was learning the different drinks for Wrath Thursday. “Don’t break a leg, this isn’t theater and they really don’t want to have to hire someone else. Plus, I’d kill you.”

Eddie and Chrissy gave each other concerned glances before Steve burst out laughing.

“If you think this is so easy, bitch,” Steve sassed back, “you get up here and shake your ass and I’ll do the waiting table bit!”

Robin gasped in outrage. “How dare you presume that I couldn’t!”

“Robs,” he said with a sneer, “you have all the coordination of a three hour old baby giraffe and the spots to match!”

She threw down her towel and chased him around the stage, both of them giggling like children.

“Cher,” Eddie said to Chrissy, “how’s that crush coming now?”

Chrissy hit his arm. “Oh yeah, it was bad enough when she was just a cute waiter, but now she’s got this weird sibling relationship with the hottest dancer you’ve ever hired, this is way worse.”

“Glad you made the distinction about hired dancer,” he huffed. “If I‘m not the fairest of them all, I start throwing apples.”

Chrissy’s eyes lit up. “Ooh, we should have a fairy tale night where everyone dances to different fairy tales. With your looks you’d be perfect for Snow White. The pale skin, the dark hair, just add the red lips and it would be perfect.”

Eddie rubbed his chin. “We could even do it on a Sunday, because most of the fairy tales are about envy right? Snow White, Cinderella, Beauty and the Beast, even Hansel and Gretel. Start coming up with fairy tales you’d want to do and we start practicing for it.”

“You’ve got it, babe!” Chrissy said with a kiss on his cheek. She turned back to the stage. “Hey Robin! You can’t murder the talent.”

Robin stopped in her tracks and turned slowly toward the front where Eddie, Chrissy and the rest of the dancers were watching their antics with varying degrees of amusement and shock.

“Shit.” She turned back to Steve. “You live today, dingus. But I’m watching you.”

Steve laughed out loud, his head thrown back, his eyes crinkled, his nose scrunched up, and his mouth wide open as his body just shook with the mirth. “You love me!”

Robin put one hand on her hip and tapped her lips thoughtfully. “Yeah, I suppose.” She went over and kissed his cheek before hopping off the stage and trotting back to the bar to finish being trained.

Chrissy blinked at Steve for a moment before shaking herself off. “Starting at the top?”

“Sure thing!” he chirped happily and got back into starting position.

“Hey, Chris,” one of the backup dancers said shyly.

“Oh hey, Stolas,” she greeted him by his demon name. “What’s up?”

Stolas chewed on his lip and twisted his fingers together. “This might be out of line, but I think I know why he keeps flubbing up at the turn on the second chorus.”

The whole place went dead silent. Eddie opened his mouth to tell him to keep to his place when Steve spoke up.

“Why’s that?” he asked jutting his chin up.

“He’s trying to do the turn as he would in ballet and pirouette,” Stolas said meekly. “But it’s coming off too weak for the move, so he keeps falling.”

Chrissy and Eddie’s jaws dropped. They weren’t the type to see a ballet much less having danced it. Chrissy had a background in cheer and gymnastics, while Eddie had always done burlesque. Eddie knew what to look for when interviewing dancers, of course. There was a certain style and strength that came from doing ballet. Hell, Steve wasn’t his only former ballet dancer. Stolas was one. Leviathan was another. He even had a couple others that started in ballet but moved to other styles of dance.

But Eddie wouldn’t have known why Steve kept fumbling that part.

“Can you show him how to do the turn?” he asked.

Stolas nodded. Eddie waved his arm in the direction of the stage and Stolas hopped up to the stage.

“All right, Stolas,” Steve said with a grin. “Show me what you’ve got.”

And fucking hell, the instant Stolas got into position Eddie could immediately tell the difference between Steve’s and Stolas’ stances. Stolas planted his feet differently.

Eddie watched as Stolas and Chrissy worked together to help Steve get the dance down.

God, he loved his people.

On nowhere else could he have found such a great combination of dancers and good people. Yeah, he got to dance with his best friends, play his guitar, operate a club that was world renown, but knowing that he attracted good people, too? Yeah, that was what made Hellfire so special.

And Steve was going to fit right in.

~

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

Tag List: ONE SLOT REMAINING

1-@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @justforthedead89 @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

[littlexdeaths]

trouble in paradise?

older brother’s best friend eddie x fem reader

warnings: angsty angst im sowwy, reader is bit insecure and jealous, implied hellcheer

it’s a recipe for disaster masterlist.

a/n: this takes place right at the end of the car troubles saga for reference! also i’m sorry in advance, we had to spice things up a little bit tee hee. xx.

you knew it was too good to be true.

because there she was, perfect chrissy fucking cunningham.

the girl eddie had been pining over since high school. you knew all about his massive crush on the former cheerleader, since sid had never stopped teasing eddie about it.

you were always a bit jealous of her because of it. with her pretty strawberry blonde curls that cascaded down her back and her gleaming smile that could light up a room.

you’d never be as good as her.

she was giggling at something he said, her fingers wrapped around the meat of his bicep as they left the shop’s office. where not even a few days prior eddie had you pinned to the other side of that door.

but a few steamy make out sessions didn’t secure his loyalty to you. and from the goo goo eyes they were giving each other, you knew you had lost your chance.

neither of them had noticed you yet, which you were thankful for.

you had originally dropped by to bring him a lunch as a small thank you for all the work he did on your car. knowing he rarely ever packed one himself besides a bag of pretzels and whatever he could get from the vending machine in the break room.

you had all but skipped inside the shop, still on cloud nine from seeing him the night before. eddie had snuck in your bedroom after your brother had passed out in a weed induced coma, whispering pretty promises in between the heated press of his lips on yours.

“i want you, sweetheart.” he’d said, brown eyes full of sincerity. “more than just this… i want you to be my girl.”

but those promises clearly meant nothing to him, as he so easily moved onto her no less than twelve hours after he’d been in your bed. and you can’t help but feel so incredibly stupid for believing he really liked you in the first place.

before you can make an even bigger fool of yourself, you dump the paper bag into the trash and quickly rush out the auto shop as tears begin to blur your vision. completely unaware that lucas sinclair had witnessed that entire interaction.

while lucas may not know exactly what’s going on between you and eddie, the look of betrayal on your face spoke volumes.

“yo! eddie!” he shouts, fishing the crumbled bag out of the trash once chrissy leaves the shop. eddie’s name is written across the front in sharpie, with a little heart dotting over the i.

the younger male frowns when eddie’s jogs over to him and he thrusts the bag into his arms.

“really not cool, man.” lucas just shakes his head and walks away.

and eddie is dumbfounded, what did he do?

series taglist: @nailbatanddungeon @angel-eyes-and-devil-hearts @mugloversonly @eddiemunsonfuxks @munsonhoneybaby @alagalaska @creative1writings @missmarch-99 @stolen-in-moonlight @xxbimbobunnyxx @calumfmu @bastardstevie @prestinalove @indigosparkle444

let me know if you would like to join the taglist!

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Happily ever after

Written for the @steddiemicrofic challenge, November 2024 edition

Prompt: guard, 532 words

Rated: T

Tags: POV Chrissy Cunningham; Fantasy AU; Magic AU; Domestic fluff; Married Steddie, Chrissy has a crush on Robin

Notes: More from this universe

The light behind the stained glass windows of the tavern beckons Chrissy closer as she locks up her flower shop - colorful patterns mingling with the painted blossoms on the walls.

“It's for Steve,” Robin told her, back when they first met. “He needs lots of color and noise.”

She never explained, and Chrissy never asked, but she's seen how Steve smiles when she brings the leftover flowers by.

Voices and the scent of food engulf her as she opens the door. The inside is as vibrant as the outside, every wall sporting colorful paintings and tapestries. Robin is nowhere to be seen, but Eddie is lounging by the fireplace, regaling the neighborhood kids with a story. Chrissy sets her flowers down and pulls out a chair to listen.

“What happened then?” Lucas is just asking.

Eddie tilts his head.

“After the thief rescued the guard from the sky vault,” Dustin says impatiently. “Did they get revenge?”

“Nah,” Eddie laughs. “They ran away like the thief promised. They settled in a country far away, where nobody knew about magic, and started a new life. The thief found a house for them and their loved ones, and they filled it with life and color and laughter. And they lived happily ever- what, Michael?”

Mike scowls. “That's a lame ending. What about the thief's magic? He should get it back and find the guard's family and- ouch!”

Max smiles sweetly and lowers her hand. “I think it's a very romantic ending.”

Beside her, El nods. “What about the thief's other promise? That he'd never stop kissing him.”

“He didn't,” Eddie declares proudly. “The thief loved nothing more than kissing his beloved. Sometimes, he'd kiss him for hours on end, in all the places he could reach, until he'd beg-”

“I don't think they need to hear that,” says someone behind Chrissy.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie exclaims, flying out of his chair to sweep Steve into an embrace. “Finally. My heart's been longing for you all night.”

“I was just in the kitchen, you big drama queen,” Steve grouses, but doesn't fight when Eddie pulls him in for a long, noisy smack on the lips. “Sorry, Chrissy. Robin will be here any minute.”

Chrissy waves him off. “Don't worry. Your husband is an excellent entertainer.”

“I see that,” Steve says, turning to the kids. “Shouldn't you be home? It's way after dark.”

They start to protest, but Eddie cuts them off.

“Nuh-uh, you little pests, off you go. Story's over, and I have a beautiful man to kiss.”

They shriek in disgust, and Eddie cackles as he ushers them out the door, hand never letting go of Steve’s.

“Ugh, they're such saps,” Robin mutters, walking out of the kitchen with a bowl of hot stew. Their fingers brush as she shoves it towards Chrissy.

She shrugs, watching how Eddie whispers something into Steve’s ear, making him blush. “I think they're cute. You can see that they've been through a lot together.”

Robin smiles. “You're right about that.”

One day, Chrissy thinks, she's going to ask about that particular story. For now, the old house is full of noise and color, and that's all she needs to know.

Tag list:

@sourw0lfs @bananahoneycomb @firefly-party @whoneedscanon @steddie-island

@sidekick-hero @theheadlessphilosopher @extra-transitional @penny00dreadful @medusapelagia

@mugloversonly @0happyeverafter0 @stevesbipanic @acingthecounts @sweetheartprincess28

@starryeyedjanai @sailing-through-hawkins @original-cypher @tinyplanet95 @n0-1-important

[wheels-of-despair]

Gonna Need A Bigger Bathtub Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: Evil Woman, Eddie, and the rest of the Hellfire nerds have been sentenced to helping out at the school carnival. There will be casualties. (EW kinda hijacked this fic, but it's still a wild night for all!) Contains: Everyone's own personal hell, violations of child labor laws, carnival games, heroic rescues, new pets, a happy ending... for most. Words: 2.8k

"This is such bullshit," Eddie growls, slamming the front door of his van.

"It's one day," you remind him as you slide out of the passenger's seat. "Half a day, really. It's the price of a diploma."

You meet at the back doors, where the rest of Hellfire is piling out into the sweltering parking lot of Hawkins High. On a damn Saturday.

"Eddie?" He turns to you, misery on his face. It's still decorated with traces of fading yellow bruises from the rumble with the jocks. So is everyone else's. "I tell you this with all the love in my heart, but: Suck it up, buttercup."

"Easy for you to say," he sighs, stripping himself of his battle vest and emptying his pockets into an old coffee can. "You're not in the dunking booth."

He slams the back door, locks it, and looks at his keys with hesitation. "I'll hold 'em," you offer. You pocket Eddie's keys, and he throws an arm across your shoulders as you walk toward the field behind the high school where the carnival is being held. The rest of the boys reluctantly follow along behind you.

Your official assignments were distributed last night, after you helped set this shit-show up. Now you're here, at the damn Hawkins High Carnival Fun-Raiser, ready to raise money (and fun!) for the stupid school you're leaving behind in just a few weeks. Eddie's graduating, you remind yourself. This is a small price to pay for that diploma he's been working so hard for.

"Where have you been?" Miss Click screeches when she spots you, waving her clipboard in frustration. "It's almost time to open! Go get set up! Now!"

You answer with mumbles and half-assed salutes as you pass. Today is going to majorly suck.

"This is me," you sigh mournfully, stopping at your assigned booth. The rest of the boys keep trudging toward their own personal hells, but Eddie stays with you to say goodbye. "Close your eyes, hold your nose, think of Ozzy."

"Who told you the secret to giving great ora—" You cut him off with a shove in the direction of the dunking booth, and he turns around and walks backward to grin at you. And then he stumbles, catching himself just in time to avoid a fall. You cover your mouth to hide a laugh, and he flips you the bird before he turns around.

You have been awarded the honor of running the fish bowl game. It's a table full of fish bowls that people try to throw ping pong balls into. If they win, they get a live fish in a plastic bag. You're hoping for a quiet night, banking on the fact that most people probably don't come to the carnival for a new pet.

You're in a good location; you can see most of the boys from your booth. Jeff is in charge of the balloon game across the way, where people throw darts at balloons and pop them for prizes. Grant's manning the Lucky Duck Pond nearby, where toddlers will pick up a duck and feel like a little winner every time. Gareth is glowering at his popcorn cart a little to your left. And when you stand in the corner and lean out a little, you can see Eddie eyeing the dunking booth warily.

Assorted jocks are set up with easy-to-assemble sports games. Uniformed cheerleaders sell raffle tickets. You have Patrick McKinney with some kind of basketball game to your right, and Chrissy Cunningham in the Kissing Booth to your left. That seems sanitary.

"How are we doing over here?" Overlord Click asks.

"Ready and waiting," you deadpan.

"Why haven't you put the fish in yet?"

"What?" you ask.

"You're supposed put the fish in the fishbowls, silly."

You look from the massive bucket of goldfish in plastic bags to the fishbowls.

"You want people to throw balls at the fish?"

"Why do you think it's called the fish bowl game?" she asks.

"Because you toss a ball into a bowl and win a fish?"

"Put the fish in the bowls," she orders.

"And if I don't?"

"Then perhaps Principal Higgins will have second thoughts about letting you and your little friends off so easy," she says through pursed lips. "Now put the fish in the bowls, or I will put someone who can follow simple instructions in charge of this booth."

You'd like to put her in a fish bowl and let kids throw balls at her. Maybe let someone dunk their balls in her bowl, too. But the thought of Hellfire having suffered a week of detention for nothing gets to you. You reach for a fish bag, untie it, and carefully dump the poor little guy into a bowl.

"Every two or three bowls will do," she says. "We don't want to run out of prizes."

She walks away, and you want to chuck a fucking fish bowl at her.

You stare at the bucket of bagged fish and settle for staggering three of them across the front row of bowls so they're visible to people walking by. You apologize to the little guys as you pour them in.

You're surprised by how many people are willing to haul a goldfish around the carnival all day. But they get their dumb balls in and take their bagged fish and carry on. You take money and distribute fish until dusk, when your relief shows up to grant you fifteen minutes to eat and use the bathroom. How generous.

Since you have no appetite, you decide to check on the boys.

"Hey," you grin at Grant, yawning with boredom by his little duck pond. "Gettin' lucky yet?"

"Kill me," he mouths as a new herd of toddlers approaches. You back away from them with a horrified expression, and he laughs as he takes their mom's money.

"How's it going?" you ask Jeff, leaning against the plywood outside of his balloon-filled booth.

"Oh, just great," he rolls his eyes. "Love watching these degenerates throw darts in my direction. If I get hit, I will sue."

"As you should," you affirm.

"I'd rather be here than in the dunking booth, though," he says. "Poor Eddie, man."

You turn and look in Eddie's direction. He looks like a drowned rat.

Because the person trading money for balls is Jason Carver.

"Oh, no," you groan. "See ya," you say quickly. Jeff waves, then presses himself against the plywood wall as another wave of darts are launched toward the balloons.

There's a long line of jocks waiting for a shot to dunk the freak. It looks like he's barely catching his breath between drops, and exerting all his energy into crawling back on the stool.

"Look here, boys," Jason Carver says loudly when he spots you. "Does the little freak girl wanna play?"

"Maybe she does," you respond. "But her break's almost over, so she won't have time unless these gentlemen want to let a lady cut in line."

Jason gives his flunkies a look, and they part for you like a sea of dickheads. Eddie's breathing heavily on his little stool above the tank and still trying to brush his wet hair out of his face from the last dunk.

"Three tries for $3, miss," Jason says sweetly. Eddie's spotted you, and is shaking his head, but you hand over your cash. Jason gives you three balls.

You throw them quickly, before the pricks can figure out what you're doing. You launch them high and far, way over the target and into the woods. You almost wish the gym teacher could've seen it.

"You bitch," Jason seethes.

"And yet, you're the one who has to fetch," you smile, walking around him to the tank. You reach in and hand Eddie a hair tie. "It's almost over," you remind him. Eddie's in the process of tying his hair back when he's sent into the water again. You both yelp in surprise; Eddie at being dropped again without warning, and you from getting drenched by the splash. You turn to see Carver leaning against the target with a smirk on his face. He set it off manually.

"Thanks for that," you smile sarcastically. "It's really hot out here. I don't envy the person who has to suck Higgins' sweaty balls tonight. Maybe you should suggest he take a dip in the tank before the carnival closes."

You leave before he can work out what you've said, checking your watch to see that you need to get back to your fishy booth.

More fish have been put into open containers. Damn you, temp!

Business carries on as usual, until you notice that two elementary-aged kids are standing off to the side and watching you.

"Can I help you?" you finally ask, sick of being stared at like… a goldfish in a bowl.

"My fish died," Brace-Face pouts. His pal Glasses looks on nervously.

"What'd you do to it?"

"I didn't do anything to it!" he argues with a stamp of his little foot. "You gave me a bad one!"

"No refunds or exchanges." Is this an official policy? Probably not. Are you going to indulge this brat? Definitely not.

"Told you you shouldn't have taken it in the bounce house," Glasses mutters. Your eyes narrow.

"You took a live fish into the bounce house?" you ask.

Brace-Face freezes.

"Give it," you command, holding out your hand for the dead fish. He drops the bag into your hand. The poor little fishy is indeed dead; floating upside down in a plastic prison filled with too-warm water. You turn your gaze from the fish to the kids. "Scram."

They do.

"What was that about?" Miss Click asks, appearing out of nowhere.

"His fish died and he didn't want it anymore," you shrug.

"Did you give him a new one?"

"No."

"Good," she sighs. "We can return the live ones and get a refund when the carnival is over."

"The live ones?" you ask.

"There are bound to be casualties," she shrugs. "Anyway, I'm here for a cash pickup."

You take a fistful of bills out of your apron and hand them to her, concocting a plan as she counts the money and writes on her clipboard.

When she leaves, you dart over to Gareth.

"Give me some popcorn bags."

"Why?"

You huff in annoyance. He puts on his customer service voice.

"Small, medium, or large, ma'am?"

"Large."

He hands you a stack.

"Come see me when you get a break," you instruct, tucking them under your arm and returning to your booth.

Fun fact: You can fit four fish bags into one large popcorn bag.

The first batch of refugees (and Eddie's keys) are smuggled away by Jeff after a whispered explanation. He walks away with a grin and a popcorn bag held to his chest, looking like everyone else walking around the carnival with a snack.

Grant and Gareth's breaks come next, and eight more fish are rescued. They seem pleased to be sticking it to The Man and saving lives. Eddie is the last person to get a break, only an hour before the carnival is scheduled to close. This event is violating so many labor laws.

"This is the worst day of my life," he groans, stepping over the side of your booth and collapsing in the grass beside you. He's still dripping from his last dunk.

"Then I really hate to ask, but…" you bite your lip. "I need a favor."

Your sweet Eddie, soggy and wet and miserable, is the hero of the day. He transports twelve fish to the safety of the van. After his last run, he comes back with flushed cheeks and a twinkle in his eye.

"What about these little guys?" he asks, pointing to the fish in the bowls.

"I think their fates have been decided by a crueler god," you sigh.

"Munson! Your break is over! Stop loitering and get back to your booth!" the aforementioned crueler god barks, chasing him off with a threatening wave of her clipboard.

That's alright. Less than an hour to go, twenty-four fish saved, and a diploma with Eddie Munson's name on it being printed very soon. It's worth it.

When the time comes to pack up, Miss Click comes to collect the rest of your cash.

"How much do you get for taking the fish back?"

"How many are left?" she asks, eyes darting from her fistful of cash to the bucket that the boys of Corroded Coffin helped you empty.

"Just the ones in the bowls," you answer.

She performs a quick fish count and cringes. There are ten left.

"I don't even think it's worth trying to take those back," she sighs.

"Can I have them?" you ask. She eyes you suspiciously. "I've grown attached to the little fellas," you shrug, looking to the ground shyly.

"Fine," she laughs. "It's barely a dollar's worth of fish, and saves me an hour. You did a good job, moving so many! I bet there's a lot of happy kids out there, and a lot of dough in here!" She waves the leather zipper pouch containing the funds.

You smile, grateful that she didn't notice how few people were actually walking around with fish.

"We have to return the bowls though, so you'll have to put them in bags when you take them."

"That's alright," you grin. "I can handle bags."

You bag your remaining fish and present them to the boys with a grin when the post-carnival clean-up is complete.

"Look, guys! I get to bring a few fishies home!"

Your joy is met with eye-rolls and groans.

"What the hell are you gonna do with all those?" Eddie asks once you're safely in the fish-filled van.

"Eat them?" Gareth suggests.

"I bet if I put them into the tub with you, they'd eventually nibble you to death," you threaten.

"Nah, don't do that," Jeff says. "His funk will kill the poor little fishies." Gareth smacks him, and a playful slap fight breaks out in the back of the van.

You're all laughing as you pull out of the parking lot… but your smile soon fades. What are you going to do with all of these fish?

"Anybody want to take a fish or two home?" you ask hopefully.

"Nope," the boys in the back say in unison.

"Eddie?"

He puts his hand up, blocking his face from your view so you can't work your puppy-eyed magic. You roll your eyes.

"I'm gonna need a bigger bathtub," you sigh.

Thirty minutes later, after Jeff and Grant are dropped off, Eddie pulls into your driveway.

"How are you going to break it to Mom that you brought home a hundred fish?" Gareth grins.

"I had accomplices," you remind him. "And there are only… thirty-four?!"

Two Days Later

"Okay, babies, are we ready?" you ask, smiling down into one of two buckets full of goldfish.

Much to your surprise, your mother did not murder you for bringing home 34 mostly stolen goldfish. She found the situation hilarious, and declared that she'd always wanted a backyard fish pond anyway.

Your babies were freed from their bags and put into buckets for the night. The next morning, there was a group expedition to the home improvement store.

It took all weekend to get the hole dug and the liner laid and the filters installed, but you all had so much fun doing it.

(Except maybe Gareth, who hissed "I'll get you for this" every time he stopped to wipe the sweat from his brow.)

There's still work to be done with the overall landscaping, but flowers are your mother's department, so those can wait. Now, it's time to introduce your fishies to their new home.

You look to Eddie, standing on the other side of the little pond with a fish-filled bucket of his own.

"Release the fishes!" your mom calls, camera at the ready.

You both start to pour, slowly, and watch the little gold creatures plop into the pond and start swimming. When the buckets are empty, you set them aside and meet in the middle, kneeling beside the pond to peer down into it.

"They look so happy," you whisper.

"Well, yeah," Gareth grunts, dropping to his knees beside you. "They have a memory span of like three seconds."

"So do you," you and Eddie say together, looking away from your fish long enough to smirk at each other.

"That's good, though," Eddie says quietly, wrapping an arm around you. "Because they don't remember the carnival. They've already forgotten all the bad stuff. This is their life now."

"And it's gonna be a good one," you smile, leaning into him.

"How do we forget that fucking carnival?" Gareth mumbles.

Eddie glances back to see how far away your mom is. She's staring at a butterfly on one of her flowers through the camera's viewfinder.

"The good shit's in the van," he whispers. "Our memory loss comes later."

[steviewashere]

I am itching to write a frat boy Steve Harrington fic. Definitely modern day, no upside down, no supernatural elements. But not one where he desperately wants to leave it or he's being shunned by the other guys or where he feels like he doesn't fit in. Just one where he does stupid shit because it's funny to him.

He's got an estranged relationship with Tommy Hagan, another one of the frat boys. But they both ignite at the opportunity to get drunk, challenge each other to stupid bets (with no real reward), and party with people. Tommy's kind of a dick, but mostly a class clown kind of guy—doesn't do a whole lot of bullying, maybe some friendly teasing that sometimes goes a little too far (because he sucks at gauging his limit).

Steve's a reformed bully. He's learning to just sort of go with the flow, which is aided a lot by being loose and free and goofy and out-of-his-mind stupid at frat parties. He wants to meet as many different people as possible, maybe not become friends with all of them, but he wants to at least broaden his horizons.

He's buddies with a sorority girl named Nancy Wheeler (who also happens to be an ex-girlfriend, but that's water under the bridge), but she's not into partying—more into having a group of girls who want to see her succeed as a journalist (her sorority consists of her high school best friend, Barbara Holland, Tommy's girlfriend, Carol Perkins, a giddy cheerleader, Chrissy Cunningham, and a band geek who wants to be a conductor, Robin Buckley). I think he also becomes friends with Jonathan (although a bit reluctantly) through Nancy, and Argyle through Jonathan.

Steve becomes friends with Robin Buckley. Slowly, but surely. Adores her rambling conversations, which increase when she gets even the slightest bit tipsy with him (she never exceeds a few shots, and when he's with her, he doesn't drink more than that, either). She teases him without hurting his ego, unlike Tommy. He appreciates when she tells him that he's being a meathead, when he's out of his depth, when he's doing something even the slightest bit offensive. With her, he learns about his own sexuality (when she eventually comes out to him during a rather intense frat party—they had too much to drink this time, both loose-lipped and teetering). He learns to appreciate the more nerdy aspects of her, Nancy, and the rest of their sorority. Realizes he's more catty than he thought. Plays soccer with Robin on the weekends, though he sucks in comparison to when they play basketball together.

And through Robin, he meets somebody entirely new to him. Eddie Munson, a metalhead with a raspy voice and a cigarette addiction that Steve can get into, who charms in this weird flirtatious (though unintentional) teasing, who's beyond weird and dramatic, geeky with a touch of defensive. He's got a bite to him that Steve barks right back at, though never meanly. They get along like a house on fire, not a match, a house. Sure, sometimes they drink and party. But Eddie likes quieter things, despite his loud and boisterous personality. They smoke weed and sit on the roof and point out stars, or they talk for hours and hours until they both lose their voice, or they smoke and lay in the grass—absorbing one another's warmth without realizing.

It knocks Steve down, how much he learns to adore somebody like Eddie. Stirring something in him, something he's felt in his drunkest moments with Tommy. But with Eddie, he's completely sober. He's sober with intense emotion and want for a guy he's never expected to orbit around.

And, oddly enough, it's not Robin that tells him to go for it.

It's Tommy. He says something like, "Hey, we may not be best friends anymore, but I know what love looks like, man. And, y'know, considering all your past relationships, maybe it's time that you get something that makes you happy?" His voice is serious, unusually so. And Steve sort of clings to it, like a warm blanket on a camping trip. Tommy then adds something along the lines of, "Be stupid with me, Stevie-boy. Don't be stupid about your feelings. That gets you nowhere. And...I don't know this Eddie guy, not really, but there's something to him. Like a...one of those cloud things that Carol's always talking about—an aura? I could see him drawing you in before you had the chance to get his name."

Steve probably retorts with, "Shut up." And then blushes stupid about it. Because Tommy's never been wrong about these sort of things, no matter how much of an air cadet he can be. And he's also not wrong because when Robin first described to Steve who Eddie was, without giving a name initially, Steve was hooked like one of the fish he catches. (He goes on frat boy fishing trips and has a million photos in his phone of all the trout he's caught. Holds them up to the camera in that Straight Boy Way™️ (trademarked in case you can't see that on your dash), all proud as if the fish is his degree he's going out for.)

Also, I imagine that Steve goes to school to get a bachelor's degree in something like sports science? Or like physical education? Even something like family and human services?

So, line up of fields of study/options because now I want to come back to this:

-Nancy: Journalism -Robin: Music Education or Music Composition -Eddie: English or Music Production or Art -Steve: Sports Science or Physical Education or Family and Human Services -Tommy: Economics -Barb: English or Art History -Carol: Architecture -Chrissy: Special Education and American Sign Language (S.E. is typically a minor, but ASL is almost always a major) -Jonathan: Photography and Composition -Argyle: Neuroscience (I just feel it in my bones that he's like secretly crazy talented in sciences)

I can also think of some of the scenes being texting in group chats. And like with illustrations of Steve holding up his fish? God, my brain is on fire tonight.

[ebongawk]

ok ok ok ok ok HOW ABOUT a drunken kiss with hellcheer 👀 and if u make it sad so help me god i WILL fly to u and beat ur ass

4. A Drunken Kiss

They were playing fucking spin the bottle.

What kind of full-fledged high school seniors played spin the bottle? Wasn't that reserved for, like, thirteen-year-olds? But Stacie Mancini had drunkenly shouted, "Oh, my God, we should play a game!" and someone had suggested this, so now a bunch of almost-twenty-somethings were gathered in a half-assed circle as an empty bottle of vodka spun around and around.

Stacie landed on Andy Fuckface, and she looked mildly disgusted, which. Good for her. She still sucked his face for a solid five seconds. Andy landed on Tracy Mathews, Tracy landed on Jason Carver. Jason didn't even look at his fucking girlfriend before he stuck his tongue down Tracy's throat.

Chrissy, for all intents and purposes, looked like she didn't even want to be there. She flinched when Jason leaned toward the center, but otherwise made no show of being an active participant in the game.

And Eddie, with his front row seat to the action from the dealer's perch in the corner, had to wonder why no one seemed to fucking notice how uncomfortable she was.

Staying sober for these gigs was a goddamn chore. While it used to be fun to watch the chaos and debauchery unfold, being privy to the disgusting nature of inebriated human teenagers got old.

Maybe he was a little cynical. Because this shit had stopped being fun around the exact same time he caught the aforementioned Ball-Fondling Carver sneaking upstairs at a different party with Theresa Peretti.

It was the first and only time he'd ever considered getting involved.

Like, okay, so maybe sometimes he felt a little bad when he caught people who had significant others mackin' on those who were not the aforementioned significant others. But fuck it. Not his circus, not his monkeys, right?

He'd ruined that little unspoken rule of his that Monday at school. Seeking Chrissy out, small and drawn and sad as she was, and had straight up told her what he saw. No beating around the bush, no bullshitting.

Whether or not that had anything to do with the fact that Chrissy treated him like an actual human being was meaningless.

She'd just blinked at him. Then, instead of the anger or upset he'd been expecting, she let out this vague little laugh.

"Oh. Um. Thanks, Eddie, but... Could you maybe keep this between us?"

"What? Did you hear me, Cunningham? That asshole--"

"No, I know. And, truly, I appreciate you telling me. Just... Just trust me, okay? I'll handle it."

He'd wanted to scream. To rip his own hair out and throw it at her like that would lift the starry-eyed curtain she was clearly hiding behind. But that was, like, two months ago, and he still saw her tucked under Carver's arm day in and day out, so Eddie had resigned himself to bearing witness to her silent suffering on the off chance he caught a glimpse of her in the hallway or any of their shared classes.

Why the fuck anyone would stay with a whole ass cheater made no sense, so Eddie stopped trying to understand the popularity masses.

"Oh, shit, that's pointing at the freak," someone whispered, drawing Eddie's attention out of his own head and back into Chance Kinicki's hazy basement. He blinked, meeting Chrissy's gaze from the other side of the room, and put the pieces together.

It had finally been her turn to spin the bottle, and it had landed between two of the nearer bodies and was trained on him.

Which. What the fuck.

"Nah, man, let her spin again," Carver slurred, waving a loose wrist in the air. "She's not gonna lock lips with trash. Right, babe?"

Oh, he was such an asshole. Eddie wanted to knock him down a peg or five. Preferably while sober, so he wouldn't have the excuse of his intoxication to blame getting his ass handed to him by quote-end-quote trash.

Chrissy said nothing. She just stared at him, wearing something in her expression that Eddie couldn't identify. After a few tense, quiet seconds, Chrissy stood, stumbling a little through her own drunkenness, and made her way across the room. Shaking off Jason's grabby hands as she stepped around people and bottles before coming to a swaying stop directly in front of Eddie.

"Hi," she muttered, looking down at him with ruddy cheeks and glassy eyes.

Shit. Shit. What the fuck was happening? Eddie's hands twitched where they were sitting on his thighs, staring up at her like she was an angel come to deliver some new commandment.

Thou Shalt Not Lust After Unattainable Girls Who Are a Little Too Intoxicated to Make a Rational Decision. Or something.

"Uh," he managed, the word strangled up from his throat like she'd wrapped her dainty little fists around it. Like all of his oxygen already belonged to her. Fuck, all the oxygen in the room belonged to her. "Hey, Cunningham."

"'M supposed to kiss you," she continued, tilting her head to one side as her eyes wandered along the grooves of his face. Settling on his lips once she'd taken her fill. "The game says so."

"I wasn't playing the game, princess," Eddie reminded her gently, glancing around her to see the audience watching them with rapt eyes.

Chrissy just shrugged. Like that was enough of an explanation.

"That's okay," she answered. "The bottle knew, Eddie. Right? It knew that I..."

Then, before he could react or breathe or fucking think, she was petting his hair back from his face, leaning down, and pressing a slow, soft kiss right to his lips. Like a fucking deer in the middle of the road, he froze, unable to parse together half a thought that wasn't whoa.

Fucking fireworks.

He finally got enough wits about himself to pull away, because she was drunk and he wasn't and none of this was right, which wasn't fair but that was neither here nor there.

"Oh," she breathed, blinking at him, some of the haze in her eyes clearing. Her cheeks had gone even pinker, lips still half-puckered like she wanted to lean back in and taste him all over again.

"Hey!" Jason barked, struggling to stand from the floor, blazing eyes staring daggers at Eddie. "Get off her, freak!"

Dude, he wasn't even touching her.

"Shove it, Jason," Chrissy responded before Eddie could ask him if he was serious. She leaned toward Eddie, half-shielding him with her body, and he really thought she was gonna fall into his lap, she was so goddamn unsteady. She managed to stay firmly planted, using a hand on his shoulder to keep herself straight, and actually stuck her tongue out at her boyfriend.

Eddie wanted to die, it was so fucking cute.

"Babe--"

"I'm dumping you."

The fucking gasps that erupted across the room were actually comical. Eddie couldn't have stopped himself from laughing if he'd tried. Which, he did not, because it was too goddamn funny. The cackle he let out drew the attention to him, but, Jesus, fucking worth it.

Before he realized what was even happening, Chrissy was taking his hand, pulling him along behind her as she escaped up the stairs. Her considerable strength barely gave him a moment to grab his box of tricks as she hauled him from his gig as the weekend fun-bringer.

Why he was part of her little storm-out, he couldn't explain. But he wasn't exactly unhappy about it, either. As it was, for effect, he raised a devil horn at Jason's flabbergasted glare on his way out.

"Wow," Chrissy said as they escaped into the chilly April night. "Wow! I just did that!"

"Yeah, uh––"

"Oh, shoot, we gotta get outta here," Chrissy stated, glancing back over her shoulder. Grimacing and rushing him toward his van just as the front door of Chance's house swung open, an absolutely irate Carver standing in the muted light.

They ran, Chrissy surprisingly steady on her feet, and laughed the whole way to his van. He unlocked the passenger seat, diving across the center console and yanking Chrissy in after him. Carver had slipped at one point, the alcohol probably rushing around painfully in his head, and was struggling back to his feet just as the rest of the laundry basket team finally came out. Chance and Patrick were both obviously trying to hold back their laughter, but Eddie didn't bother finding out what happened next.

He started the van and peeled the fuck outta there.

Chrissy was still laughing, although it was much quieter now. No longer filling the night air with little tinkling notes of her joy, it was more like the soft music of wind chimes outside. Following them as they ate a few miles of concrete in the otherwise sleepy town.

"So, uh. You want me to take you home, or––?"

"No." He kinda expected her to be staring out the windshield or her window, but instead she was looking directly at him. Not offering him a modicum of relief from the weight of her gaze. "I do not want to go home like this, Eddie."

"Uh..."

"Can we, like, go to the lake or something? Please?"

Well, how the fuck was he supposed to say no to that?

The back of the van was stuffed full of blankets, pillows, a mattress from Gareth's younger brother's bunk bed and a few couch cushions off the spare couch on the porch, because he and the guys had gone down to Indianapolis to see Metallica during the week and had slept in the van instead of coughing up the dough for a motel room.

Chrissy made herself right at home, making the bed until it was nice and soft before throwing open the back doors of the van where he'd parked at Rick's house. Staring out over the lake as it twinkled with starlight. Like a bunch of white Christmas lights were hidden beneath the lapping waves.

He sat next to her, trying to breathe around the way she cuddled into him like she fit right in the circle of his arms. Which. Yeah. She did, but if he thought about it too much, he'd drive himself crazy, so.

They talked a little bit about how she'd just publicly dumped her boyfriend. About how relieved she was, now that the farce was finally over, because she'd been wanting to do that since way before he told her about the cheating. How happy she was to be there with him.

Which. He didn't know how to comprehend that, really. So he let it sit in the air, soft and gentle as the breeze that made music of the leaves outside, and breathed it in. Pulling it into his lungs like her little admission would coast through the oxygen in his blood and make itself part of his fucking DNA.

"Hey, Eddie?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I kiss you again?"

God, how was she so cute? The sleepy cadence of her tone, still slightly slurred with alcohol.

Shit. Denying her felt stupid as fuck.

"Ask me again when you're sober, yeah?" he said, desperately playing at lighthearted. "Might change your mind in daylight."

"Mmm," she hummed, her voice so fucking adorable. "Doubt it."

Hand to God, he hadn't fucking meant to fall asleep. He didn't know where Chrissy lived, exactly, but he figured he'd let her sleep off the drunk for a little bit before he roused her awake and got her address.

Yeah. Stupid move on his part, awakening when the sun hit his eyes first thing in the morning.

Because now he knew, intimately, the way Chrissy blinked back into consciousness in the morning light. The way the sun's rays, just barely peeking up over the wooded horizon, hit her hair and made it glow like fire. The way she sniffled, looking around in confusion before her eyes landed on him.

The way she smiled, bright enough that her eyes slipped closed and her nose scrunched up.

"Morning," she breathed, rolling over from where she'd been plastered to his side so she could stretch. Said so casually, like she wasn't ruining his entire fucking life just by existing.

"Uh," he started, his voice gravelly. Half-choked and terribly embarrassing. "Morning, Cunningham. Shit. Sorry. I didn't mean to fall asleep."

Chrissy hummed, finished with her stretching. Then, like it was the most natural thing in the world, she rolled right back into him. Tucking her face into his shoulder for effect.

Yeah. He was dead. He'd, at some point between school yesterday and Chance Kinicki's house, died, and now he was having those crazy imaginations where his unstated dreams were coming true.

"'S'okay," Chrissy mumbled into his chest. Prompting him to wrap his arms back around her. Because why the fuck not? "I, um. I definitely didn't mind."

Yeah. Heart attack. Stroke. Car accident. Something.

"Hey, Eddie?"

"Yep?" God, the way his voice broke, you'd think he was going through fucking puberty again.

"Can I kiss you again now?" A breath, like she heard the way his goddamn heart skipped a beat, before she added, "I promise I'm sober now."

Oh fuck him.

"You, uh––" He coughed, clearing his throat. "You actually want to?"

Shit, she giggled, and he fucking felt it against his ribs.

"Yeah," she said, easy as pie. Easy as Sunday morning. Easy as anything. "Yeah, I've, um. I've wanted to for, like, a while now."

He would've sworn he felt Cupid's arrow hit his blackened little heart.

"Chrissy, you can kiss me whenever you want," he croaked. "Like, uh. Now, later, tomorrow. Y'know. Open real estate here for you."

Christ, that giggle. He wanted to swallow her whole.

She tilted her chin back, that gorgeous grin lighting up his dingy van better than any spotlight ever could.

"That's good," she murmured, staring up at him. "'Cause I get the feeling I'll take you up on every offer."

Jesus Christ, he hoped so.

(And she did.)

kiss prompt!

(and a very happy birthday to @astorytotellyourfriends 😘🩷🖤)