#corroded coffin concert

[hellowhisperingstars]

For the shorties

Over the years of performing for bigger and bigger crowds, the men of Corroded Coffin have seen pretty much everything. That didn't stop Eddie from looking out over a crowd at an outdoor concert and stopping mid speech about the next song to see your vertical challenged ass in a tree watching the concert in complete contentment. A wide smile on your face as you grip the branch above you to help stabilize you.

"Are you really sitting in a tree?"

"Yeah!" You screamed back at him.

"Just don't fall and die or anything." He laughed into the microphone. "Also, don't headbang, you'll give me a heart attack!"

"No promises!" You call over the crowd with your own laugh. The crowd laughing and cheering with you.

"Jesus Christ..."

[sofiiel]

Did you enjoy this concert? It was pretty wild. 🤘🏾 Meet me at their next show!

[hiscrimsonangel]

With bejeweled ear points and stilettoed thigh high boots made of the same leathery material… a blood red teardrop hanging from a fine silver necklace that sits perfectly at the top of your cleavage… maybe dye your hair vampire red for the night too..

The corset you wear for corroded coffin’s Halloween concert at MSG 🦇

I think this person hand makes all of their designs. They’re so talented 😍

[riality-check]

Steve, realistically, shouldn’t even be at this show. He doesn’t care about the band, he didn’t want to make the drive, and he had to bring Anna along because he couldn’t find a babysitter.

But he was going to suck it up to go with Dustin, who immediately bought tickets to see his favorite band when they went on sale. Who called Steve this morning to inform him, somehow both solemnly and frantically, that he had the worst food poisoning known to man, and, that until he stopped puking and shitting at the same time, he could not leave the bathroom.

Steve very much did not need to know that.

With Dustin went the rest of the Babysitters’ Club, all of them having eaten the same shady pizza and suffering the consequences. The only exception was Mike, lactose intolerant but cursed to take care of his idiot friends.

He texted Steve to ask if he had extra bleach. Steve dropped it outside the house because no way in hell was he entering that building.

Dustin assured him, amidst too much detail and shockingly disgusting background noise, that both tickets shouldn’t go to waste, and with no one able to babysit Anna, Steve should take advantage of both.

So, here he is. Standing in the first level - Dustin couldn’t get floor tickets, thank God - of a show for a metal band he has no intention of ever listening to and holding his four-year-old daughter, who has bright pink ear defenders looped around her neck in preparation for when it gets really, really loud.

“When are they starting?” she asks for the fourth time in as many minutes, with a sigh too big for her little body.

“In a few minutes,” Steve says, keeping an eye on the stage, where he watches the crew set up. Mad respect for them hustling so hard. He could never.

The seats are slowly filling up, and Steve feels a little sad for the first opener, a little sad that they don’t have a full house for their set.

A group of four guys takes the seats right next to Steve, with a pale, long-haired, big-eyed guy right next to him. He’s got tattoos on his arms and rings on all his fingers and a silver bar through his upper ear.

And he’s arguing emphatically with his friend next to him.

“I’m telling you, American Psycho is more recognizable!” he says, hands flying. Steve discreetly makes sure he and Anna aren’t within striking distance. “Not to mention cheaper!”

“A prop chainsaw,” his friend - a short white guy with shorter but equally wild hair - says, “can’t possibly be that hard to find by tomorrow.”

“We already have the axe!”

“I’m with Eddie,” the big white guy at the end of their group says. “I’m a sucker for American Psycho.”

“Okay, but I’m the guy who has to use the props,” the fourth friend, a Black guy with short braids who looks annoyed at this conversation, like they’ve had it before. “And I think I’d have more fun with the chainsaw.”

Eddie - the guy with long hair and heavy jewelry and hands with a mind of their own - rolls his eyes. It’s a full body movement, one that has him spinning to face Steve. When he does, his face cycles through a myriad of emotions too fast for Steve to really track.

“Hi, pretty boy,” he says. His eyes then dart down to Anna, who stares at him with her head cocked to the side. “Pretty dad. Dad. Pretty. Hi.”

“Eddie,” the short guy cautions.

“Yeah, sorry, anyway, can you be a tiebreaker for us?”

“Sure,” Steve says. Anna squirms, so he lets her out of his lap to stand, holding her hand all the while. “What do you need?”

“American Psycho or Texas Chainsaw Massacre?” the big guy asks.

“You gotta give him context.”

“No, I don’t, Jeff.”

The guy who said he’d be using the props - whatever that means - rolls his eyes and stops fighting.

“What’s American Psycho?” Anna asks, choosing the best time to pay attention to the conversation, like always.

“A movie you’re too young to see,” Steve says. “And the one I’m picking out of those two.”

“Oh, thank you,” Eddie says, using a tone that better fits Steve saving his drowning dog or something. He then turns to the rest of his friends and says, “I fucking told you!”

Anna gasps. “You’re not s’posed to say that!”

Jeff smothers a laugh behind his hands, while the other three guys stare at Anna, half confused, half admiring.

Eddie clears his throat, looking significantly abashed. "Sorry, Miss-"

"Anna," she says.

"Anna," Eddie finishes. Then he turns to Steve. "And you are?"

"Steve. No Mister for me though. I might be a dad, but I'm not that old."

"You are old, Daddy," Anna says.

Steve frowns down at her, where she stands at his feet. She's smiling, mischievous like she always is when she says something along these lines. "I'm not that old."

"Yeah you are! You're like, you're like, like, fifteen."

Jeff gives up on hiding his laughter.

"I'm older than fifteen," Steve says gently, trying not to laugh.

Anna’s jaw drops. “You are?”

“Thank God for that,” Eddie mutters, then shuts his jaw with an audible click.

Steve tried to come up with an answer for that, but someone comes on a mic and starts playing the drums, so he moves the defenders over Anna’s ears and pays attention to the show instead.

It's... fun, he guesses. Fun if he were into it, maybe. The first opener has a lot of energy, even if the music isn't melodic enough for Steve's taste. He finds himself tapping along to the steady beat, moving slightly in his seat to the music.

It's nice background noise. He'd put this on while he grades papers. It's steady enough to fill his head but doesn't have a whole lot of lyrics he could get distracted by and sing along to.

Eddie and his friends, meanwhile, are having the time of their lives. The short guy - Gareth, Steve thinks his name is - mimes the drum part of each song with startling accuracy. Archie jumps up and down, Jeff absolutely screams along, and Eddie-

Anna stares up at Eddie, eyes wide and jaw slacked as she watches him bang his head to the music.

Steve almost snaps a picture of it, this little moment, before the second song ends and Eddie snaps out of his zone.

He shakes the hair out of his face, then looks down at Anna, who's still staring at him. "What?"

She cocks her head to the side in a mirror of his. "What was that?"

"What was what?"

"The," she pauses, then starts shaking her head really hard, side to side. Steve puts a hand on her shoulder before she slams into the chairs in the row in front of them.

Eddie laughs. "The headbanging?"

"Yeah," Anna says, nodding.

"It's a way I move to the music," Eddie explains.

"Like dancing?"

"Sort of," Eddie says. "It's easier. I look stupid when I dance."

"You're not s'posed to say that," Anna tells him solemnly. "Right, Daddy?"

Steve meets Eddie's eyes. Even with the lights down, they're big and pretty and reflective, and Steve is going to kick himself so hard if he chickens out before he can get his number.

"Right," he says, still looking at Eddie. "We're not supposed to call ourselves stupid."

"Sorry," Eddie whispers.

"Don't be."

Anna tugs on Steve's hand, then Eddie's. "Teach me."

"Anna," Steve cautions.

"Can you please teach me?" she corrects.

Eddie glances down at Anna, then back up at Steve. "If it's-"

"Go ahead," Steve says because Eddie has more than passed the vibe check at this point.

Eddie crouches down as a new song starts up, and while Steve can't hear what he's telling her, he sees her smile, bright as day.

By the last song of the first opener, Anna is headbanging along with Eddie, off-beat in the say little kids always are but more than making up for it with effort.

Steve gives into the impulse to take a picture.

When the first opener finishes, Steve picks Anna back up and takes her ear defenders off.

"Woah," she says. "Can I keep them-"

"Nope," Steve says. "They stay on when the music is on. You heard it fine, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but you-"

"I have my earplugs in," Steve says, pointing at them.

"So do I," Eddie says, and when he moves his hair back, sure enough, there are black earplugs nestled in his ears.

"You don't seem like the kind of guy to wear earplugs," Steve says.

"You don't seem like the kind of guy to come of a metal show," Eddie counters.

Anna climbs out of Steve's arms and onto his back, where she loops her arms around his shoulders and just hangs, like she does sometimes when she gets bored.

Weirdo kid, Steve thinks affectionately.

"That's because I'm not," Steve says. "I was supposed to come with a friend, but he got sick."

"Yikes," Eddie says. "You coming tomorrow, too?"

"I am," Steve says. "Are you?"

Eddie raises his eyebrows, like he didn't expect Steve to ask that. "Yeah, we'll be here. Not in these seats, though."

The lights go back down before Steve can ask what he means by that. He reaches behind him, scoops Anna back down on the ground, and puts her ear defenders on by the time the second opener strikes a scary-sounding opening chord.

Anna doesn't look scared at all. From the moment the music starts, she looks up at Eddie, and when he starts headbanging, she does, too.

Yup. Steve has effectively created a monster.

He contemplates, if Dustin is fine by tomorrow, skipping out on the show and giving his ticket to Anna, but that means not seeing Eddie again.

He really wants to see Eddie again, even if he won’t have the same seats.

Whatever that means.

Steve decides not to focus on that. He decides instead to focus on the moment. He listens to the music. He lets Anna take his hand and dance with it. He bops his head along with hers, but not too hard because he can’t risk aggravating his whiplash.

He enjoys the show, even if it’s not his cup of tea. It’s easy to enjoy the show, with Eddie next to him. It’s easy to enjoy his wild hair and pretty jewelry and big eyes and contagious enthusiasm.

It’s easy to see the way Eddie looks at him.

It’s also very easy, after the venue clears and Anna falls asleep in the car on the way home, to forget to ask for his number.

Shit.

(Part 2 is alive!!)

[ikarakie]

it's corroded coffin's first, proper world tour. they've skyrocketed into the public eye within the last few years, and they couldn't be fucking happier. it's all so amazing, so surreal.

they get to indiana. the crowd is electric, the venue bigger than any of the bars or crappy hole in the walls they used to perform in. eddie steps to the mic nearing the end of the second half of the show.

"indiana, it'a a fuckin' pleasure to be with you tonight." he says, a bit lowly, into the mic. screams fill his ears, thousands of smiling faces. but he's after one in particular. "i'm gonna need your help for a minute here, guys." he motions for the lights to go up, grabs the mic from the stand and crouches close to the barricade, squinting.

"i've got someone out there, mixed up in the crowd." he can't help the fond smile as he says it. "and i wanna find him before this next one. take a quick look around ya, if you're next to a guy about my age, fluffy brown hair, big brown eyes, probably in a preppy little outfit and glasses, give me a scream."

everyone's looking this way and that, eyeing the people around them. thirty seconds later there's screaming to his left. eddie crosses the stage, peers into the crowd. the big screens capture the moment he spots him; his eyes go bright, there's a crooked lovesick grin on his lips.

"hey, sweetheart." he coos into the mic. the crowd bursts into cheers and whoops and chatter. the camera cuts to someone at the barricade, having been pushed forward by others. he's exactly as eddie had described, leaning against the railing and smiling up at the star. for a few seconds they gaze at each other like they're the only ones in the room.

then eddie blows him a kiss, which he catches. eddie laughs a little, brings himself back to center stage. picks his guitar back up and settles mic back into the stand.

"this next one," he begins, adjusting the stand slightly. "is something you haven't heard before." there's unmistakable moisture gathering in his eyes. "i wrote the lyrics entirely myself. it's- it's for those people in my life who i couldn't be here without." his eyes stray back to where steve is, watching him with a watery smile. "those who were there, in '86. who pulled me back up from hell. the bravest fuckin' souls i ever met in my life." he takes a deep breath. hears the rest of the fuckers scream from the VIP area, dustin's voice unmistakable.

"this, my dearest indy, is 'knights of the upside down.'"

[a-lilguy]

[thisapplepielife]

Written for a @astrangersummer.

Firing on All Cylinders

Week #16 Prompt: Concert & Rain | Word Count: 3000 | Rating: T | POV: Jeff | Characters: Jeff, Goodie (Freak), Gareth, Steve, Eddie | Relationships: Jeff & Goodie, Background Steddie, Mentions of Previous Gareth/Di (OC) | CW: Language, Mentions of Previous Addiction | Tags: AU, Famous Corroded Coffin, 1990s, On Tour, Slice of Life, Jeff and Goodie are Best Friends Who Talk About The Problems of Their Other Friends, Rain Show, Road Manager Steve Harrington, Eddie Loves His Guitar and This Rain is a Real Problem

June 8, 1995

"Looks like real rain today," Jeff says, standing in front of the hotel window. 

It's really fucking coming down here in Tulsa, so much so that Jeff can't really see much beyond the edge of the windowsill. 

As his dad would say, it's going and blowing.

"Rain? You think?" Goodie says, then adds, "What gave it away? The torrential downpour?" 

Jeff laughs. Asshole.

They've been lucky so far and haven't ever had to play in the rain, at least not rain like is forecasted for tonight, but that's clearly gonna end today. 

"It's basically a hundred percent chance all day long," Goodie says from the couch, less snarky this time. He's reading the morning paper that had been dropped off at their room door. 

Jeff rests his forehead against the cool glass, contemplating everything that is bound to go wrong tonight, now.

"This is gonna be a problem," Jeff finally announces, still looking at the sheets of rain hitting the windowsill.

"No fucking shit," Goodie answers, "Eddie's gonna be a real pain in the ass about that precious guitar of his."

Jeff nods, because Eddie is undoubtedly going to be exactly that, "I'm gonna call Tim. See if we can head this off at the pass."

And he picks up the room phone, scans the contact sheet that Steve left with them, and calls the room with his guitar tech in it.

"Tim, is Artie there?" Jeff asks, sitting in the office chair, swiveling slightly.

"Yep. We're already on the same page," Tim answers immediately, and they probably are. Artie's been Eddie's guitar tech long enough to know how he's gonna react to the prospect of pouring rain during an outdoor gig. "Sweetheart would be fine, you know? All your guitars will be fine. We can prepare for this, we have time, and we had ample warning that it's gonna be like this. This is the best case scenario. Seriously. This isn't a surprise storm, and so far, we aren't looking at lightning."

"I know, I know. And I'm not worried about my guitar. I trust you. But Eddie's not gonna play her in the rain. You know he's not," Jeff says, because they all know that. They do. It's never gonna happen. Sweetheart is more than a guitar, and Eddie will have nothing risking her. 

Especially not after the broken neck debacle. She's already been bunged up by touring, and thankfully fucking fixed, but Eddie's not gonna purposefully drown her.

"We know he's not," Tim says, "so we'll make arrangements."

"Good, good. What do you think? I'm thinking we have three options," Jeff says, "One, you run out and buy Eddie something new in town. A throwaway. Something he has no emotional attachment to."

Tim is relaying the idea to Artie, and Jeff can hear Artie disagreeing, which Jeff gets. Eddie won't want to play a guitar he doesn't know, "Same page. Two, he plays Hercules. I think this is fifty-fifty, depending on his mood. Or three, we get him some options ready from my spare guitars on the trailer. That way he'll be familiar, at least."

Jeff hears them murmuring, mulling it all over, and then they agree that those last two options seem the most likely. They're gonna call a meeting later, once they get a hold of Steve for the logistics, but they'll be ready for either. Or if Eddie surprises them. But he won't. 

Jeff is just settling down on the couch next to Goodie when the door swings open, Gareth poking his head in, "It's gonna rain all day."

"Is it really? I had no idea," Goodie snarks, and Jeff smiles. 

"Fuck you, too, Goodie," Gareth says dryly, then looks back at Jeff, "Steve's on top of it."

"Thanks. We called the techs," Jeff tells him, and then the door slams shut behind him.

"I really gotta stop giving him a key to my room," Goodie says, and Jeff laughs. 

"I think this is my room," Jeff answers, looking around, but Goodie's shit is all over the room, too. They have separate suites. They have the money to do that now, but old habits die hard, and they often end up crashing together, still. The road is lonely, and an empty room is often just depressing. He's not sure how Gareth is functioning on his own, especially now that he's sober.

"Omaha's coming up," Jeff says, because every time he thinks of Gareth, that's all he can worry about. That looming tour date. The disappointment that's sure to follow when Gareth's ex-girlfriend doesn't show up to see the Tom Petty heavy encore set they've put together, just for her.

"I'm well aware of where Di is," Goodie says dryly, "I haven't forgotten that we just spent all that time learning shitty songs she'll never hear."

They aren't shitty. Goodie's just being a contrarian. Jeff knows that. Knows him better than he knows anyone else on earth. And Goodie doesn't mean half the shit he says, he just says it to ruffle feathers. Gareth's feathers, if possible.

"Your Honey Bee is good, though," Goodie concedes.

And it is. They've whipped all the songs into decent shape, but Honey Bee feels damn good. Natural. Electric. Diana would really like it, Jeff thinks, and he hopes that maybe, just maybe, she'll show up to hear it. Either way, covering songs, giving them their own Corroded Coffin twist, is still some of the most fun they have on the road.

"She might come," Jeff says, even if he doesn't believe it. Gareth fucked his relationship up, probably well beyond repair, and now Gareth just has to live with it. They all have to live with it. Which, honestly, has been more stressful than when Eddie first got with Steve and drove them all nuts. At least Eddie was happy.

Gareth is withdrawn, quiet. He's different in a way Jeff can't really pinpoint. Not yet. Only time will tell how this all shakes out. If he's growing up, if he can change, or if this is all gonna explode in their faces when he doesn't get what he wants, two days from now.

"She won't fucking come if she knows what's good for her, and Gareth? He's not good for her," Goodie says, flipping to the next page in his newspaper. Jeff's pretty sure he's not reading a damn word of it.

Jeff thinks that's pretty harsh. They're supposed to be supportive of Gareth, here. He's their friend, their bandmate. Their kid to look after. It's been that way forever. They love him.

"She might come," Jeff says. Because she might. Anything can happen. He can't see the future.

"Well, she'd be a goddamn fool, then. I told her to run, to not take any of his shit, and she better listen to ol' Goodie."

Jeff cuts a knowing look at Goodie, "You also gave Gareth a pep talk last winter, telling him she'd marry him someday. So, pick a lane. You can't bet on both outcomes. It's unsportsmanlike."

Goodie sighs, "You aren't supposed to know that. Gareth has a big mouth."

Jeff fucking laughs. There are no secrets between them, and he's not sure why Goodie thought he didn't know. Of course he knows.

Goodie keeps talking, "Well. Both can be true. She's not coming this week. But yeah. Someday. Someday she will. And when she does, I'll still tell her it's a mistake, but she won't listen."

"You sound awfully invested," Jeff says, poking at Goodie.

"It's been our own private soap opera for how long now? Of course I'm invested. I don't have time for television, I gotta be entertained somehow." 

Jeff just shakes his head.

"Well, is he gonna relapse, when she doesn't show up, old wise one?" Jeff asks, mainly teasing. But he is worried about it. 

"No," Goodie says. 

"No?" Jeff asks.

"No," Goodie confirms.

She most likely won't come, they all know it, and Steve's on top of that, too, making a plan to limit the fallout. If Gareth relapses, they're all fucked. This tour schedule cannot accommodate it. No way.

They would. Of course they would. But it would probably mean the tour will come to a screeching halt. All momentum lost.

"If he falls off the wagon, I'm chaining him to said wagon, and dragging him along behind us," Goodie says.

"You say, to a black man," Jeff says.

Goodie lowers the paper, so Jeff can finally see his eyes, "Didn't mean it like that. Jesus."

"I know," Jeff says, and he does know that. Goodie's been his best friend since they were too little to understand what that meant. But still. Not the best imagery.

"He won't fall off the wagon. We won't let him," Jeff proclaims, as if this is within their control.

Goodie says what he was thinking.

"Like we've ever been able to control that kid. Eddie barely can, and Eddie's so far up Steve's ass-"

"Literally," Jeff cuts in, teasing.

"-now that Steve's back on tour, even Eddie doesn't have the time to babysit."

It's true. It's all true. As much as the undercurrent of worry is there, they can't expend the energy on it today. They don't have the time, and obviously have other more pressing issues today. Tonight, it's gonna be Eddie's turn to be unhinged, Jeff's sure of it, "Let's worry about one thing at a time. Tonight it's the rain and Eddie's guitar."

"If he'd just have a whole stable like we do, this would never happen."

"Not how he works, and you know it."

Goodie rolls his eyes. 

"I don't get it. They're just guitars. I love 'em. But I don't really play favorites," Goodie answers, tossing the paper onto the coffee table. "If the bass I play tonight breaks, well, there are twenty more I can play tomorrow. I'll chuck it in the audience-"

"No, you won't. Steve and Erica will both kill you," Jeff corrects. Been there, done that, had the lawsuit to prove it. Erica got it taken care of, but they don't need any more legal troubles.

"I'm not scared of Steve," Goodie says.

"But Erica?"

"Fuck yes, I'm scared of Erica. I'm not an idiot," Goodie says, and Jeff laughs. It's a good thing she's on their legal team, and not working against them, that's all Jeff knows.

Goodie looks up at him again, "Steve never should have bought Eddie that guitar."

Jeff just nods, even if he doesn't really agree. Jeff helped Steve pick her out. Steve knew which guitar Eddie had been drooling over, but asked Jeff to come in to make sure she'd actually be a good one, if he bought it. So, Jeff played the two they had in stock, and picked the one that seemed to have the best sound, and the best feel, and Eddie has loved her more than they could have ever imagined. It was a great gift.

Steve did good.

Steve's always done good, though. They wouldn't be here without him, Jeff has no doubt.

Even if it being from Steve has made Eddie awfully attached to it, as a result.

That night, Eddie doesn't surprise them, but Hercules is ready to go, and Artie promises to give him an extra coat of oil on the fretboard.

The rain hasn't let up, not for a second, and they've never had a rain show like this one. It's kind of cool, and Jeff's really having fun with it. He jumps up and down, bouncing on the balls of his feet, the puddled water splashing beneath him every time he lands. Goodie's soaked, they all are. 

This tour is just firing on all cylinders, and he isn't sure how they've gotten here. Screaming towards the top. All of them. Together. Finally, in sync. Coming off the last couple years, the torture tours they've endured, Jeff's ready for something to go smoothly, for something they can all fucking enjoy for once.

Eddie and Gareth are clean. 

Steve's back on the road, his back not totally fixed, but definitely better than it was.

Jeff gets to have fun with his best friend, playing music, selling out stadiums, and making a boatload of goddamn money.

And tonight, they get to play in the rain in front of god knows how many people in this park. Looking out over the grass, the crowd is fucking pumped, as if the rain hasn't ruined the night for them at all. And if the fans don't care, why should they? 

This is fun.

Someone, Dustin, Jeff thinks, runs out a hat for Gareth. His hair is plastered down, sopping wet and in his eyes, and Jeff watches as Gareth pushes it all back off his face, putting the cap on backwards. He looks funny that way, not at all like himself, more like they've got Chad Smith sitting in, but at least his hair is out of his fucking eyes. Eddie is fiddling with Hercules, like he's not sure that everything is going okay.

It's more than okay. And when Gareth bangs his sticks down again, counting them in on the next song, off they go again and the crowd screams louder than any rain could ever cover.

Back in the dressing room after the show, Goodie is trying to peel his wet shirt off over his head, and Jeff snags the hem of it, helping him tug it off. 

Then he works on his jeans, and it's a whole 'nother job. Everything feels glued on.

"I've never been this soaked in my entire life. I think I could wring out my underwear," Goodie says, and as soon as he steps out of them, he does exactly that over the sink in their shared dressing room.

Jeff laughs, "You can shower first. I think that's the rule. The one with the most soaked skivvies gets to go first."

Goodie smirks, but grabs a towel from the pile on the counter, and slams the bathroom door behind him.

Jeff looks in the mirror, he's lucky. He's the only one of them that doesn't have enough hair to look like a drowned rat. Steve looked awful. All that hair, hanging down around his ears, where it just doesn't belong. 

Not that Eddie will care. Steve is perfect in Eddie's eyes, that's an absolute certainty.

Jeff steps out of his wet clothes and tosses them into the hamper that Eddie had provided for them. He'll be glad to get warm and dry. After being hit with the AC while all wet, he's freezing.

Jeff's putting on a dry robe as Gareth walks in, Dustin's hat still on his head, "Eddie and Steve are showering first. Can I hang with you?"

And Jeff nods, kicking out one of the plastic chairs. There is a couch, but there's really no reason for them to be dickheads about it and get the upholstery wet. It's not the venue's fault that there was a torrential downpour.

"That was crazy, huh?" Gareth asks.

"Still sounded good though, Mike had the audio tuned in great for what he had to work with."

"My cymbals were muted," Gareth complains, and they were, they could all hear that, but if that was the only problem they had all night, they made out like bandits.

"Think your drums survived?" Jeff asks, picking up one of the decks of cards that are ever present on their show riders. 

He deals Gareth in without even asking. 

"Yeah, they should. The techs have 'em," Gareth answers, picking up his hand, rearranging them around in his own hand to his liking. "Eddie's freaking out about Hercules though. Steve's got a job ahead of him tonight."

"He'll be fine," Jeff says.

"Hercules or Eddie?" Gareth asks, smiling as he puts down the cards he intends to play.

"Both, but I was talking about Hercules. Artie won't let anything happen to that guitar."

Gareth nods, and Jeff plays his own cards, as they can hear the shower running in the bathroom beside them.

A while later, Steve pops his head in, freshly dried and styled and looking much more like himself. He looks towards the bathroom, where Goodie's still in the shower, taking his sweet-ass time.

Obviously seeing that the coast is clear, Steve starts talking, "Denny got back to me. Sheryl Crow isn't playing all the festival dates, but we checked our schedule against the ones she is playing, and I made it work to get you two tickets to Pine Knob in August. It's a Sunday."

Jeff smiles, "Awesome. Thank you. Don't tell Goodie. It's a surprise. That means you, Gareth," Jeff says, because he knows Steve won't say a word. Gareth, on the other hand.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Gareth says, laying down his cards, "Eddie out of the shower?"

Steve nods, and Gareth hops up, probably more than ready to be out of his wet clothes, "Gonna go shower before I end up with diaper rash in my crack from sitting in these wet jeans all night."

"Please do that," Steve stresses, looking back at Jeff, shaking his head after Gareth's gone.

"Any luck getting us backstage?" Jeff asks, hopeful.

"Definitely," Steve assures.

Jeff grins. He doesn't know why he's surprised. They are famous in their own right, and Steve can work fucking miracles. Now, Jeff's not especially looking forward to going to H.O.R.D.E Festival for himself, but he does want to see Goodie's face when he comes face-to-face with Sheryl Crow, outside of a red carpet.

He smiles at Steve. 

Jeff hears the water cut off in the bathroom, signaling that it'll be his turn soon. Steve leaves, and Jeff gathers up his clean, dry clothes, passing Goodie in the doorway of the bathroom.

This is gonna be a good summer, even if it rains the whole time. Because they finally feel back on track for the first time in a long time.

As Eddie would say, this is their year.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @astrangersummer and follow along with the fun!

Notes: Yes, technically, this was meant to take place during Tuesday's Gone With the Wind, but if you haven't read that, I'm pretty sure it can just stand alone. Also, Goodie's referenced pep talk to Gareth happened in Only a Broken Heart. It was fun to look at this 'verse from Jeff's POV for a bit.

The H.O.R.D.E. Festival line-up from the date mentioned, looks like it would have been: Ziggy Marley & the Melody Makers, Sheryl Crow, Blues Traveler, Black Crowes. I'd have seen that show! Dave Matthews Band played other dates, but it doesn't look like this one.

Fun fact: I really wanted to write it in as Lilith Fair, because that seemed like a fun place to send Jeff and Goodie, but alas, it didn't quite exist yet in 1995.

[smellsliketeenangst]

Another Eddie poster I made for my new apartment!

[stevieharringtonwifeguy]

new eddie/transfem stevie drawing challenge just dropped

[thewritersaddictions]

First Kiss: Eddie Munson- Sweaty

Pairing: Eddie Munson

Pov: reader

Warnings: Concert! Eddie, backstage, First Kiss, Fluff, sweatiness, Eddie (because he's an actual warning), Corroded Coffin mentioned, drunk strange men, unwanted attention, race-neutral reader

Summary: Eddie is pumping with adrenaline from the show, picking you up and spinning you around in the air before setting you down and kissing you.

A/n- Firefly-graphics for dividers

WC- 2.6k

Stranger Things Master List // The Adults Master List // Series Master List // First Kiss Master List

The number of people that always came to Eddie’s show, always had me struck. When we would show up the crowds would be yelling and screaming for him and his band to show through the curtains. What was truly funny to me was that I never showed up with Eddie, yeah we showed up at the same time. But Eddie wanted to keep his persona up, so Eddie would kiss me on the cheek before we would leave our apartment. I didn’t have a problem with that at all.

I liked that about Eddie, we weren’t keeping our relationship a secret because Eddie didn’t want anybody to know about us. Instead, he wanted to keep me all to himself. “I know how hard the media can get to ya, so if you don’t want people to know I understand.” Eddie had said on our second date now that it was nearly two years ago when he first started out. 

Now that we were two years into his career, I liked the way that I was able to watch him from the background of a relatively well-established bar, or concert hall. I could get a full view of my boyfriend, even though Eddie tried his hardest to keep his long hair out of his face, and his eyes never seemed to work. Especially when Eddie was on stage, the sweat would drip down his face and leave his hair dripping.

All while his face beat red from screaming and singing at full blast for as long as two hours at a time. Tonight’s show would be no different, when we got there I gave him a simple wink as I watched him walk into the back of the concert hall. I made my way toward the back of the concert hall which was more set up like a bar. A large booth was all for me as I waited for the show to start. 

Ordering a drink from the waiter that cames over, and when the lights go down I get ready. It’s funny to me that even thought Eddie and his friends are out of highschool they still run together and I bet most of that is because of their connections with this band. The curtains pull back and the crowd roars with happiness, screams can be heard. I just watch as Eddie comes out grabbing onto his guitar and the mic. 

While his best friends set up behind him. Gareth, and Jeff are setting up with their respected instruments. The crowd gre louder, and before Eddie was able to get a songor a word out the crowd was shouting for them to get started. 

Through the mic, everyone was able to Eddie's voice. Loud and energetic. “Alright, guys calm down. We’ll get started soon enough.” Eddie said, but that did nothing to calm them. So, I continued to watch from afar. Watch as Eddie handled himself and his band onstage, the music grew and that’s when I knew they were ready. Eddie came close to the mic and started to sing as he strummed away on the guitar.

For two hours straight I watched as my boyfriend sang and danced around the stage with his guitar hugged close to his chest while his fingers worked a magic I’d never seen before. As he strummed away on his guitar the crowd danced and sang along with him. He was a glimmering spark of something that I feared no longer existed. I watched like I did every other weekend how the sweat would pour down Eddie’s face, making him shine under the high-beamed lights. 

The concert hall was dark all over, but the stage was. Eddie rocked out until the whole crowd was able to hear him grappling to catch his breath through the mic. At the end of each show, he would have the music cut so he would be able to talk with the crowd. “You guys fuckin’ rock! You know that right?” He asked the group tonight.

They screamed back, I watched as the mixture of teenagers who idolized him, the women that no doubt wished they were with him later on, and the men that stood in amazement that they had just watched a two hours show for less than fifty bucks. 

I couldn’t help but crack a small smile as I finished my last drink. I waited till Eddie done talking with the crowd. “Guys, we thank you for coming and singing along. We will see you soon.” Then he looked outwards into the further crowd. Winking, at me I presumed, but the crowd gushed over the interaction that was directed towards anyone who would take it. 

When the house lights came back up and the crowd of drunks, women, men, and teens fanned out I got up from my booth in the back of the hall. I didn’t wait long already missing seeing Eddie and hearing his voice. Two hours was always able to drag me into wanting him even more. 

-

I bobbed and weaved through the large groups of people until I got outside. Eddie and I had a unspoken agreement that I would always come back stage to greet him after one of his shows. It should also take me no longer then a few minutes to get my way through a heavy dense crowd before I was knocking at the backstage door. The sunset that was shining through had been taken hostage by the nights sky. The sky was scattered with stars, in every single shape. I looked up towards the sky for only a moment. 

I was distreaced by the sky when  ifelt a rather rough and sticky hand grabb at my wrist. “What’s a girl like you doing here, huh beautiful?” A drunk man asked me. I was shocked, never… not once had a random guy grabbed at me at this concert hall. I cleared my throat, and tired my hardest to wrangle myself out of his sharp and rather disgusting touch. Regardless of how hard I struggled to get out of his hold he would let go. “Please just let me go!” I struggled with his hold and thought… stupid to think that he would let me go. 

I wasn’t drunk… well drunk enough to forget about my Eddie, so I struggled further. As other people passed us and didn’t even’t take notice to the uncomfortable way that the man was pushing me further and further into the brick wall. My clothes weren’t even that revealing or should even garner me the attention that this man was willing giving me. “Tell me sweetie, do you think I wouldn’t notice you?” he asked his alcohol drenched breathe fanning into my face. 

Again I thought about what I was wearing. It’s true I wasn’t wearing another dark or nearly anything that you’d find someone else wearing here. There was no lace or black mesh. Rather it was the complete opposite of the color spectrum. I had worn a light pink, nearly baby-pink-colored skirt with skin-colored tights underneath and a tight-fitting white shirt that matched my outfit well. A pair of high boots that were also white. “Please just… I need to get going!” I said loudly. Trying to get someone's attention. “Oh of course you’ve got somewhere to get going. Some lame young guy to go fuck!” The man screamed in my face, and I flinched back in a mixture of disgust and fear. “Yeah just here to get your rocks off watching as you teased all these men here.” He said spitting his breath all over my face. His grip on my wrist was getting tighter, and I wouldn’t doubt that a large bruise would be there in the morning. 

“Come on sweet little thing. Give me a kiss, that’s the least I deserve.” The drunk man said as he inched closer to me. I closed my eyes, whispering “Please just let me go,”  as I leaned so far into the brick wall that I could feel the imprint of the brick. “Excuse?” I heard, my eyes shot open and I struggled harder than before to get out of the grip of the strange man.

I looked over, and Eddie was standing there. A feral almost demanding look stuck on his face. “She asked you to Let. Her. Go,” Eddie said, he wasn’t yelling, but there was a force behind his words. Punctuation that I had never heard before. The strange man scoffed and rolled his eyes before letting go of my wrist and walking away. I watched and shook with disgust before running into Eddie’s arm. 

-

“Shit, babe.” Eddie said smoothing out my hair and kissing my forehead softly. It would have sucked it that drunk strange man had been my first kiss. I shook my head trying to get the whole situation to not be imprinted on my back of my eye lids. “Are you okay, Y/n?” Eddie asked as he pulled me a little out of his hug. I shrugged my shoulders. “I am now.” I answered and leaned back into his chest. Sweaty or not Eddie smelt like heavens and safety. “ I just knew that something was wrong when I didn’t hear your knock.” Eddie said, “How about we get backstage.” Eddie followed up with. I hummed and shook my head in his chest. We walked together my hand slipping into his. 

The walk wasn’t far, and we walked in comfortable silence before he popped open the door. Letting me walk in first, he was right behind me. Shutting the door with a loud slam. “Here you go, babe.” He said softly. Handing me an unopened water bottle. I took a bottle swig and let the excellent refreshing water coat my throat and stomach. I wasn’t ready for Eddie to pick me up swiftly in his arms and spin us around a few times.

My legs swung around and Eddie’s grip was firm under my arms. I could smell Eddie all around me as he spun us around me. A mixture of a little bit of beer, a little bit of metal, cool and fresh cigarettes, and of course weed. It wafts into my head and makes me dizzy, nearly sending a shiver up and down my spine. 

There was just something about the way that Eddie looked at me as we spun around. There was a bright light behind his hazel eyes. Like I was the only person that he saw, “How’d you like the show tonight babe? Besides that dick head, are you sure? That you’re okay?” Eddie asked, setting me down and letting me answer the three or so questions he had asked in just a few seconds. 

-

I patted down my skirt and brushed the few hairs that had fallen out of place, back into place. “I loved the show like I love the show every time Eds,” I said before continuing. “Yes, baby I’m sure. I’m glad you were there to rescue me.” I said fawning over my boyfriend. The tips of his ear were covered in pink tinges. “Like your knight in shining armor?” Eddie asked me.

I giggled at the thought of Eddie. The rock and metal fanatic is my knight in shining armor. “Oh, please say that I can be your knight?” Eddie asked. His hands came into mine as he jumped in front of me like a child asking for their toy back. Happiness was written all over his face, and I smiled. I hadn’t said a word. “Oh you know you wanna say it, baby,” Eddie said coaxing me into saying what we both already knew. 

 “Eds you can be my knight in shining armor.” I said softly while trying not to smirk. “Fuck Yay! Can your knight ask for someting in return for saving you?” Eddie asked. “Anything you want dearie.” I answered back. The shock and excitement that crossed past Eds face was funny to watch. “Anything, Y/n?” Eddie asked, stretching out the word. Like it was foreign on his tongue. Like nobody had ever said yeah sure you can do or have anything that your dearest heart yearns for. I shook my head, or hands still connected. 

Eddie thought for a long moment. His eyes scanning over my face as I wondered and worried about what he was gonna ask for. I know that Eddie would never ask me to do anything dangerous or that I was uncomfortable with. Eddie sighed heavily and closed his eyes before opening them back up and looking deeply into my eyes. “Y/n, baby.” I hummed. “Can I ask for a kiss?” He asked, eyes wide just waiting. Waiting for me to reject him, or for me to let him lean down and cup my chin. Making me reach his lips with just has much yearning. 

I licked and bit my lip. Sighing softly. I shook my head, but nothing happened. I looked up at him, the most beautiful smile written on his face. His cheeks shined with deep red blush, and I saw a full smile. “Can you say it though?” He asked me. I smiled softly up at him. “Yes, Eddie, you can kiss me,” I said. Still, I looked up at him. He reached down grabbing my chin softly and making me look up just a little more. He stared deeply into my eyes before he leaned down and caught my lips with mine. Plush and so soft, something that I had never dreamt of. I always thought that his lips would be rough to the touch of mine, but instead, he takes his time. Pressing his lips into mine and I barely feel his tongue swipe past my lips. He’s so gentle and I can’t help but fall into his touch. His other hand came to catch my waist as I fall further into the kiss. 

When the kiss broke. I was smiling like a schoolgirl, and let’s be honest so was Eddie. “Thank you, my princess,” Eddie said bowing at the waist. He always kept up with the bit even if it was long over, but as much as I thought I’d never do that, I grabbed my skirt and crusty. “My knight in shining armor. Mr.Munson thank you for saving me.” I said winking at him.

Even though I was shorter than Eddie by only a few inches I reached up and grabbed Eddie by the back of his neck pulling him down with both of my arms. “Can I have another kiss, Mr. Munson?” I asked in a whisper. Smirking he shook his head this time. This time I reached forward hooking my lips onto his. It was his turn to fall into my touch, even if his hands were cupping my back supporting me as much as I was keeping him. 

It felt like we were breathing for each other, and as he continued to kiss me I melted. Further in love with Eddie than I had been for the past two years. “Oh come on guys!” I heard someone say off in the distance. I felt Eddie smirk against my lips before pulling away. I looked over at the same time as Eddie.

There was Jeff standing there with a look of fake disgust and anger. “What’s wrong Jeff? I’m just kissing my girlfriend. Which.” Eddie said pointing a finger up. “I’m allowed to do it now!” Eddie said proudly. I cracked a smile, that only grew as we watched Jeff roll his eyes and walk away. 

Eddie winked at me, before reaching for me and walking us toward the stage. “It would probably be best to help clean up right?” Eddie asked sarcastically.

Completed on: 02/09/23

Posted on: 02/11/23

The Adults- @yourfavdummy

[lamoabss]

y’all know the silly little slash picture,,,(don’t lie I know you do 👁👁) I’ve seen many incredible artists create eddie in that pose so uh,,,here’s my take 👀

Corroded Coffin tour ‘87 💥💋

[formosusiniquis]

she likes the boys in the band (i'm her all time favorite) - ch 1

Clutching the flier he’d picked up off the street tight in his fist, Steve isn’t sure if it or being friends with Robin was the worse idea. "Robin! I can literally hear your thoughts. Which is at least one thing we've experienced together that is weirder than this."

In the relative safety of the Family Video, it was still hard to ignore the wakes that Starcourt left behind. He had adjusted for the most part to the constant behind the ear pressure of his fancy new hearing aid that the government had given him. Just like he’d adjusted to the glasses and contacts he had to wear to bring the world back into focus. He hadn’t adjusted to the feeling of both his hearing aid and his glasses on his ears, but he didn’t need Robin anymore to put his contacts in for him in the morning before work.

Really the hearing and vision loss were a small price to pay for everyone making it out of that bunker alive. Steve would sacrifice them and more in a second if it meant making sure Robin, Dustin, and Erica made it out okay. 

The doctors had been amazed it wasn’t worse. Explaining in their patronizing way that Steve likely had further degradation to look forward to, and then getting even more patronizing to the kid with a grade 4 concussion when explaining what degradation meant. The government doctors were a little nicer at least, when they were doing their scans and running their tests; but he figured they knew that a good bedside manner meant the difference between a signed NDA and a leaked press release about all the shit they weren’t taking care of.

Even they were surprised by the lack of memory loss and other fun brain trauma symptoms that Steve should have been showing.

But then they had all conveniently left out the fact that he could feel his coworker in the back of his brain when they were detailing his current symptoms. Her thoughts, feelings, memories of being tortured by people who didn’t feel all that different from the ones that had been poking and prodding them.

That might have gone a long way in explaining the brain stuff. If they’d decided to share.

But then after being tortured, he also wasn’t seeing a huge difference between the government that tied him up, drugged him up, and threatened to break all his fingers and the government with a history of kidnapping, drugging, and experimenting on children but hadn’t done it to him yet.

"Sorry, I'll move back about forty feet before I keep thinking about how you want me to go to an amateur metal show with you."

They were figuring it out anyway.

AO3

[chiaseedspace]

Chrissy Cunningham, the muse, and Eddie Munson, the rockstar, after a Corroded Coffin’s concert.

[1lostsoul0fishbowl]

“You’re being ridiculous,” Mike snapped.

Suddenly she’d had enough. “I am ridiculous,” she loudly agreed. “I am ridiculous to let you be so mean to me. Mike, I dump your ass.” Eddie looked up immediately, his eyes fixed on her, and El could see a few other members of the Party nearby, watching. Good. She wanted everyone to know.

Mike was gaping at her in disbelief. “Seriously?” he cried.

“Seriously,” she told him. “I dump your ass. For good. Forever. Do not come to me next week with Eggos or flowers saying you are sorry and you will do better if I come back. You will not do better and I do not want to come back. Not ever again.” She didn’t need any more time to think; she knew without a doubt that what she said was true, and she was absolutely certain she didn’t want to be caught up in that cycle any longer.

—chapter thirteen

SHE DUMPED HIS ASS AT LAST. fly, babygirl!

[riality-check]

DILF!Steve concert saga, featuring Eddie POV for this part! part 1, part 2

"I have to open it."

"Nope."

"Gareth. I need to open it."

"The vault is sacred," Archie says.

At the same time, Jeff chimes in, "The vault was your idea, Eddie."

Eddie thunks his head against the wall. "I know. But I need-"

"They're on the last song," Archie says, putting a hand on Eddie's shoulder. It's probably meant to be comforting, but it feels patronizing as shit.

Eddie is a good friend, though. He doesn't shrug him off.

"Once they're through, I'll unlock it," Jeff says, dangling the key slung around his neck.

"But you could do it now," Eddie protests.

Gareth sits protectively on top of the black lock box. "Absolutely not."

Eddie sighs and waits for the guitar solo onstage to end, nodding his head along to the beat.

It's what he usually does when they're backstage, but this time, it brings a smile to his face. Miss Anna was a natural yesterday for her first time headbanging, and her dad is the reason Eddie wants to break the sacred vault tradition.

He wants, no, needs to know if he got the note. If he decided to write something. If he wants to go a little further than PG flirting.

Eddie for sure wants to go further than that. God. Steve's handsome face and his big hands and his thick thighs (deliciously exposed by his shorts in the summer heat) are all wonderful incentives to skip a few steps and go straight to ramming him into a mattress.

Or, with how that shirt clung to Steve's biceps and how his shorts clung to his ass, let him ram Eddie into the mattress. He isn't picky.

(He isn't desperate, either, thank you very much, Gareth. And no, he won't admit how long it's been since he got laid.)

From the house, the audience roars, and Eddie jumps off the arm of the couch he was laying on.

Gareth sighs and gets off the lock box.

"Jeff, open it," Eddie says, staring at the vault and subconsciously making grabby hands toward it.

"Is that how we ask?"

"I could always yank the key off you."

Archie sighs and, ever the peacemaker, takes the key from Jeff and unlocks the vault. The second it's open, Eddie snatches his phone and turns it on.

Please please please let the DILF text back, he thinks to himself as he waits for this stupid metal brick to turn on and give him a resolution to this whole ridiculous situation.

Because, first, Eddie doesn't really jive with kids. Sure, they flock to him in the same way they flock to every other vaguely cool-looking person, but aside from asking if he has to draw his tattoos on every day or if his mommy is okay with him having his hair that long, they generally leave him alone.

And that's okay. Eddie easily made his peace with not having kids about ten years ago. Between his strong preference for men and the way that significantly decreases those odds and the choice to not pass on his truly abysmal family history of mental illness and addiction, it seemed obvious and a lot more selfless.

But Anna was cool as hell. Smart as hell, too, in a way that made Eddie feel like he was looking back at a time before school punished him for being bright and verbose and energetic.

Anna didn't make him want kids. Again, the whole family history thing is a real vibe killer. But she did give him enough fuel, for just an instant, to think that dating someone with a kid might not be a deal breaker anymore.

Or maybe Steve was just that hot.

He whined a lot yesterday, in the hotel, about how hot Steve was.

His phone turns on, and, front and center, is a text from an unknown number:

I guess I don’t have to ask you what you do for a living. Just so we’re even on that front, I’m a teacher, and Anna’s full time job is preschool.

Eddie grins so hard he feels like his face will split in two.

"Is it him?" Jeff asks, trying to look over Eddie's shoulder.

"Of course it is," Gareth scoffs. "Look at his face."

"What did he say?" Archie asks.

Eddie takes the easier way out and lets him have the phone.

Gareth and Jeff crowd over Archie's shoulders, and Eddie watches their faces change as they read the message.

"Oh, he's bitchy," Gareth says.

"That means he's perfect," Jeff says, with a pointed look at Eddie.

Eddie shoots Archie a clear "back me up" look and gets a shrug in return because all his friends are assholes who know his type way too fucking well.

"What do I say?" he asks.

Archie tosses him the phone. "I don't know. Flirt back."

"I don't know how!"

"You ground against a guitar-"

"And kissed me onstage," Jeff continues. "But you don't know how to flirt?"

Eddie puts his head in his hands. "I didn't have enough sex in high school to know how to do this!"

"That's not an excuse when none of us did!" Gareth says.

Jeff barks out a laugh.

"Just ask if he's free tomorrow," Archie says, like the rational, wonderful friend he is. "This was the last stop of tour. It's not like you have to get anywhere else at a specific time."

"Okay. Okay, yeah, I can do that," Eddie says, hyping himself up. Before he can second guess himself, he writes back.

Since it's summer, I'm assuming you both have off. Can you fit it in your busy schedule to have dinner with a humble musician tomorrow night?

"Oh, shit, did you send it?" Gareth asks, snatching his phone.

"Wait," Archie says, like the rational, horrible friend he is. "Do we know if he's single?"

"Oh, shit," Jeff whispers.

Eddie takes his phone back and refuses to look at it. He wants to shut it down. He wants to drop it. He wants to drive to nearest river and throw it there.

"Am I a homewrecker?" he asks absently.

"Only if you succeed," Jeff says.

"He might have a wife," Archie muses. "He might be straight."

"Okay, dude, enough," Gareth says. "This was supposed to be exciting! Eddie was supposed to get ass!"

"He might be ace."

"Archie, shut the fuck up."

He holds his hands up in surrender, and Jeff pats his shoulder, a little comfortingly, a lot condescendingly.

Eddie sits down on the couch. Puts his head in his hands. Breathes.

He's flirting with a married man. He's absolutely flirting with a married man. This is a new low. This is worse than the time he licked the floor of a restaurant, drunk, for five bucks. This is worse than when he greened out in the parking lot of a Chuck E. Cheese. This is worse than when he accidentally told the gas station cashier that he loved them and immediately walked into the glass door behind him.

This is. So bad.

And then his phone rings, so it'll get worse. It has to. That's how these things go.

Eddie has always been self-destructive, so, of course, he looks at the screen.

I can't swing dinner, but how's lunch? Fair warning: it might be a playground picnic if my babysitter bails.

"Holy shit, I'm not a homewrecker," Eddie says.

"I didn't think you had it in you," Jeff says.

"He's single!" Gareth cheers.

"Can I talk now?" Archie teases.

"I'm not a homewrecker!" Eddie says, and he launches off the couch to hug the nearest person, who happens to be Jeff.

They have to get out of the venue. He has to figure out the logistics of the date and how to be normal by the time he gets there and what to wear and everything else.

But, right now, Eddie is over the fucking moon that Steve is even giving him a shot. And he hopes, giddy as all hell and hanging off of Jeff's shoulders, that Steve feels even a little bit like this.

He writes back, once he's calmed down:

Lunch might just become my new favorite meal.

[sunwarmed-ash]

I don't care what anyone says, Panic! At The Disco opened for Corroded Coffin in 2005

in this WIP I will