#eddi circa
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archivodemargenes · 2 years ago
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y-yisus
muchas canciones con relaciona yisus craist o la religion
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rntdll77 · 23 days ago
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Y ya ves mi compañera
Que me muero de la pena
Pero toda esa paz que me diste
Me cambió.
Fiestas del Patrón - Eddi Circa
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shushmal · 7 months ago
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The latest Family Video customer is barely through the door before Eddie explodes, "Ugh, Tyler."
Beside him, Steve scoffs in agreement, nose wrinkled with distaste. He's so hot. "Yeah, exactly, uugh."
"That should be his middle name. Ugh," Robin chimes in. Eddie's so glad they're in agreement about the bleach-spiked punk guy that graduated three years ago but is still bumming around Hawkins. "Steve, I can't believe you dated that guy."
Seriously, Tyler is the worst— Wait, what—?
"Wait," Eddie says, gaping at Robin. "What?"
"You could barely call it dating," Steve huffs.
"You were together for a month and a half," Robin says. She's got this evil grin on her face and is pointedly not looking at Eddie who is very desperate for Robin to look at him right now, please. "You drove that bum to Indy every weekend. He broke up with you on Valentine's day."
Eddie's weak "Tyler? Tyler Teaks?" gets completely ignored.
"I—" Steve says with haughty emphasis. "—broke up with him on Valentine's day. Don't get it twisted, Buckley."
Robin snorts and finally glances at Eddie. "Steve only broke up with him because the guy blew him off. On Valentine's Day. Which is basically getting broken up with," she tells him, and ignores it when Eddie whimpers at her.
"Yeah, but I'm the one to ended it!" Steve insits.
Eddie, finally, finds his voice, and says, "Tyler Teaks?! Harrington!"
"Ugh," Steve says, slumping against the counter. "I know." He cuts a glare over at Eddie after a moment. "I blame you for this."
"Me?!" Eddie shrieks, incredulous. He's pretty sure he's stepped into another parallel world. Perpendicular world? A world where Steve apparently dates guys—and guys like Tyler Teaks, no less. Eddie's sure he's gone completely batshit insane. "What the hell did I do?!"
Steve stands, cocking his hip the side, and looks down his handsome nose at Eddie. "You wouldn't be my New Year's kiss at Tina's party," he says. "So I had to settle for Tyler Teaks instead."
"What the fuck?" Eddie says, completely lost. "What—? You—? Tina—? KISS—?!"
Beside them, Robin is grinning, laughing, eyes going back and forth between them, munching on a stolen back of skittles—her own personal dramedy on stage before her.
"Yep," Steve says, popping the P. He looks distinctly bitter. "Pulled my best moves on you, and you turned me down."
"Steve," Eddie breathes. He reaches out, places both hands on Steve's shoulders, intent. The eye contact he forces Steve into is desperate. "I don't even remember getting to Tina's New Year's Party." He takes a deep breath. "I woke up in her mom's pantry the next morning with no shoes and no memory of how I got there."
Finally, Steve cracks, a big smile stretching his face. Robin cackles. "Yeah, I kind of figured as much," Steve sighs, wistful now. "You told me, and I quote, 'Steve Harrington, you are very beautiful and I want to have a summer wedding because you'd look beautiful-er with sunflowers'—"
"Don't forget the 'you look so hot in that sweater' part."
"—'But actually, I am a very straight man. So very super straight.' And then you crouched down on the floor and crawled away." Steve is biting his lip now to keep from laughing. Robin is not so nice. "Like I couldn't see you, and the handkerchief flagging in your pocket."
"Oh my god."
"Don't worry, it was really cute," Steve says, grinning. "But, I still needed a New Year's kiss, and unfortunately for everyone involved, Tyler was my only willing choice."
"Oh my god."
"Totally duped me though, he was super sweet the entire night," Steve sighs. His mouth is twisted into genuine regret now. "Plus, the next week, you acted like you'd never spoken to me before, so—"
"OH MY GOD."
Steve and Robin give him twin grimaces. Robin's is a lot more sympathetic. Steve's is confused. "Listen, man," Steve tries to soothe. "I'm sure that's pretty embarrassing, but it was a cute story! No hard feelings, I promise."
Robin's sympathetic grimace deepens.
"No," Eddie says, standing up straight. "I refuse. There is no way I turned down Steve Harrington for a New Year's kiss. There is no way."
"Wait—"
"Eddie, where—"
Eddie marches for the door, digging his keys out of his pockets. "Good-bye friends, I must go see a supergirl about time travel."
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inhogihun · 4 days ago
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This Eddie is a little bit insane because imagine on your first day of work your new co worker is giving you petty comments and dirty looks so you join him in the gym in the most revealing shirt ever and get all sweaty and decide to feed into his pettiness and get into the ultimate diva argument while he's also all sweaty and panting from weighting heavy lifts that he put on there to try to impress you
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hitlikehammers · 2 days ago
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Early November, 1984 and all Eddie wanted was to light up behind the Byers' place in peace🚬
he went all that way and all he got for it was a maybe-dead💀-but-definitely-unconscious-king👑-slash-maybe-babysitter(?), plus some shithead children directing his van🚐 to those fucking abandoned labs that may as well be lit up in neon lights screaming 🚨THIS IS A FUCKING TRAP🚨
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Eddie shouldn’t be here. Like, not in a it’s forbidden kinda way, but more in a, there’s no real reason for him to fucking be here.
Save for the obvious.
It’s just…after the whole dead-not-dead thing with the youngest kiddo, the property around the Byers house has kinda turned into no-man’s-land; easy place to get high when Eddie wants a change of scenery, basically, with no one trying to break his nose, or call the pigs.
Or snatch his supply.
But when he hears that fuckface Hargrove call out, the tone on him—and Eddie’s real sensitive to tones, he can guess between the lines for everything he can’t read—he perks up; listens in. Stays put out of sight.
(And no, he does not cream his pants when Harrington calls back, Jesus; taunts like the cocky prick that he is—
And no it is not a close thing or…whatever.)
Point being: he hears more than sees what happens. Up to and including a gaggle of literal fucking children dragging Harrington toward wha Eddie thinks is Hargrove’s eyesore of a car, one of the sheepies crossing around like they’re planning on driving it, and Eddie’s not one for the rule of law or anything—definitely not if it’s Hargrove’s property that’s on the line—and fuck yes Eddie’s driven without a license, and far below the age to get one, but, but—
He’s tripping over himself to turn the keys in his own ignition and swinging the van around quick enough to kick up dirt before he leans over and throws open the passenger door.
“Hey,” he hisses, low but not quiet, he needs them to hear but he doesn’t know if Hargrove’s gonna storm out any second, it’s a delicate balance; “hey, get in,” and he’s crawling over the seat to open the back, too, to push things to the side to mostly leave it flat, tossing blankets to the middle with no care for their cleanliness because there’s no time for that shit, there’s no time and then he’s grabbing the hinges of the doors and flinging his whole top half around to eye this hoard of strange ankle-biters and what’s revealed quickly to be their still-weirdly-attractive-when-beat-to-shit charge in Steve Motherfucking Harrington, trying to project some degree of meaningful trustworthiness, because he is trustworthy, here and now, but they’re kinda in the fucking clock of crazy-eyes-Mc-West-Coast stumbling out of the house, so Eddie’s kinda gotta urge these rugrats with real feeling, waving his hands to the point where his fucking wrists hurt:
“Get in.”
And of course these little urchins still and just, raise a fucking eyebrow at him. Like they’re not working on an inexact sort of fucking timeline—
“Who the fuck are you?”
Yeesh. He wasn’t off when he said they were ankle biters; the little lambies have teeth.
“I just wanna help,” Eddie tries to say it with as much of the genuine concern that he really and truly feels, and not get weighed down with the probably-suspicious-off-the-bat vibe of pulling up in a random van just to start the exchange out with waving some strange kids into the back of it.
Jesus, that sounds terrible, wow, okay.
He gets it.
“No,” oddly, not the ringleader girl who eyed him first but it’s the curly headed boy now who stands up, squares his shoulders, and stares Eddie down with an only-slightly-less-menacing glare. “No, you’re not gonna hurt Steve.”
“I don’t want to hurt him, I swear,” Eddie’s honestly surprised by how unmuddled his tone bleeds put as desperate, versus irritated by this motley crew of munchkins trying to fight him when he is risking his own neck to help them.
And…King Steve, but then: can he be that motionless, hanging awkward from the noodles limbs of a handful of preteens (at most)?
“I just want to get you out of here, somewhere safe,” Eddie bites his lip, wonders where the fuck he intends to go and realizes he was probably just going to drive toward his home and hope for the best; “Er, somewhere safer than here,” and they don’t fucking budge, little assholes, and Harrington doesn’t fucking twitch, and just, just…
Ugh.
“Come on,” he urges them again, just shy of begging; lets how fucking nervous he’s getting seep clear into his tone a little, but he honestly doesn’t think he’d have convinced them to move if not for the crashing of something in the house behind them, and—well.
Nothing like impending doom to speed shit along.
“I wanted to drive,” the redhead’s muttering with a scowl as they heft the body they’re barely keeping off the ground and awkwardly feed Harrington head-first up to Eddie where where he’s crawled properly into the back of the van to help, and Eddie thinks these little fuckers just might be more wild and feral and insane even than he originally would have guessed for how they make to scramble behind their Steve; only just manages to steady and lower the royal body as careful as he can before the hoard clamors in and denies Eddie so much as a moment to press his finger under Steve Harrington’s flop of bloody hair and touch below his jawline where those stupidly infuriating moles of his speckle his skin, marks that Eddie’s hasn’t ever really paid attention to ever, nope, Eddie only needs now to assess whether he’s just accepted a dead fucking body into his van but: no.
Maybe a little sluggish, but pulse’s strong. Which: Eddie doesn’t care about past the legality of it all. Beyond getting saddled with a murder charge or some other bullshit.
No other reason. Of course. Yeah.
The only thing that floors him more than the Hardy Boys-plus-Girl on steroids tearing onto the cushions around where their unconscious charge is laid out, as Eddie shifts into gear and makes to get the fuck out of dodge, like, yesterday, is the even-louder voice in his head that asks probably the most pressing question:
The fuck did the King do, and how, and why, to make these children this loyal?
What follows all that is quite arguably—actually more than that; definitely a strong contender for—the most surprising thing that’s ever happened to Eddie. That could maybe ever possibly happen to Eddie, in any circumstance for any reason within any universal construct or reality. And he’d been really marinating in his Munson Doctrine this year, too, having been forced to reevaluate some shit after the letter arrived to hammer the most disappointing nail in the coffin of Eddie’s first senior year, but then…fuck everything, then there were the stupid little sheepies and their stupid gorgeous goddamn babysitter—which still, still: what the fuck was that, who the fuck even was Steve Harrington?—and Eddie’d barely even put the ink down to dry before all of them banded secretly together and shredded that motherfucking document before it could even properly take root in Eddie’s brain.
All while something else entirely started to take root in his chest, in his hea—
Well. Something. Something that wasn’t even remotely recognizable inside his most recent—and most polished to date, if he does say so himself—draft of the Doctrine like, at all.
Which is the point.
Because Harrington was indeed alive, and did indeed wake up, and clocked Eddie quicker than expected, even by name—Munson? What the fuck?and hell if that hadn’t fluttered between Eddie’s ribs an indefensible amount that no one would ever know about ever, thank you very much, but still: Jesus H. Christ—
But all his own humiliating discombobulation at the not-even-hands-just-voice-and-presence-of-the-golden-boy aside: it’s a damn good fucking thing Harrington wakes up, and is definitely not dead, because Eddie knows where the King lives, and he knows he’s not driving in that direction but had instead been foolish enough to give these shitweasel munchkins the benefit of the doubt here, like that there maybe was a safe house or some shit, fucking sue him, he was a little prepccupied, yeah—by the threat of a chase with that Hargrove fucker and then by the absolutely spectacle of Harrington screeching at the wayward waifs like a harried mother at the stovetop, because fuck, but Eddie nearly crashes them into three ditches and at least five trees for for trying to watch and he can’t even pretend otherwise—but the end result is definitely not a fucking safe house, and these little asshats have directed him in the wholeass wrong direction, if the undeniable fact of the old abandoned labs at the edge of town looming big through his windshield, looking at least slightly less abandoned (as if that’s not goddamn terrifying in and of itself), what the fuck has he literally driven into, is he an accomplice, and to what, and just, just Jesus—
“Hey.”
Eddie is honestly wholly jolted out of his spiral for a lot of reasons, here. The low tenor exhale of a sound in a voice too kind and open and invested, to much like music given what it does to Eddie, what music means to Eddie and what this voice shouldn’t fucking mean too straight out the goddamn gate. The proximity of a body close enough to feel the warmth of each breath. The indefensible feeling of it being nearly erotic out of nowhere and with no justification at all—just the reality of Eddie’s world right now, to feel the barest brush of the side of a body alongside his, leaning forward where he’s still in the driver’s seat. All of that would tip his world at the very least into a different sort of spiral pattern, breathless in a completely other way.
But.
What knocks Eddie hardest and most effectively in one go is the hand on his shoulder, braced to comfort and steady, and the realization in the flesh of how fucking big it is, how the span of that palm, those fingers, because Eddie knew those hands looked big, not that he’d studied them with any real…attention or anything but feeling them was something entirely other, and the touch, the touch is…is—
“Hey,” and Harrington’s breath is close enough then to tickle Eddie’s hair, goddamn: “breathe.”
And where Eddie hadn’t been wholly aware that he wasn’t, y’know, doing the breathing thing so well, either for the absolute insanity of the evening or the ominous spread, all proper D&D-style foreshadowing of nope don’t go there not now not ever waiting where these menaces had directed him to drive; but whatever the reason, where Eddie now takes a gulp of air in now that fucking burns, there’s Harrington, leaning over a little more, a second hand on Eddie chest to steady him as he falls all while he’s fucking squeezing Eddie’s shoulder, only a second before he’s getting ready to jump out of the van like he wasn’t just beaten unconscious like, five fucking minutes ago.
What the actual flying fuck.
If Eddie weren’t a goddamn idiot, he’d put the van in reserve before anyone could get out the back, fuck the way they’ll be thrown against the sides, at least they won’t be walking—willingly—into whatever the fuck’s waiting, all angry red and kinda…pulsating in the distance in a way that may or may not be a trick of his own paranoid mind, and then spewing little glowing motes into the air like lightning bugs.
Which could be charming, if it weren’t way fucking past the season for that shit.
And in fairness, the whole experience of Steve Harrington touching him and leaning close and breathing near him and telling him to breathe? That shit does carry him through—mostly—the hours that will follow, cliche and genuinely fucking embarrassing as it is, as it will be, to acknowledge at all.
But in the now—
“Thanks, man.”
And…oh, well, fuck.
As in point number one: that hand—bothhands—really are distracting as all hell but then also, simultaneously, very much point number two:
What the actual fuck.
“What?”
Apparently sending Eddie-usually-eloquent-enough-to-spin-some-pretty-bullshit-on-demand-Munson reeling outta nowhere is this fucker’s MO. Probably for the best that Eddie’s been writing him off as a pretty airhead for years now—if for nothing more than his own sanity.
Or else, like…relatively speaking.
“You got us here,” Harrington gestures out the window and…yeah.
“Here?”
That’s the relative part. And the insane part to be thanked for. Because where they’ve ended up is definitely the DoE labs that were supposed to have shut down or whatever, after people disappeared and came back and disappeared again and also didn’t and were never gone and fake bodies and whatever.
No one thanks anyone for bringing them to a place like this.
“And it’s more than I could have asked someone to do,” Harrington’s going on like it’s a casual thing, a favor like walking his goddamn dog and not more like what’s actually staring them down inside the fencing, namely the building that doesn’t look as abandoned as advertised by half, and definitely doesn’t at all look like the only thing it’s missing is a big neon sign blinking TRAP! FREE TRAP! IN THE MARKET FOR A QUICK PAINFUL DEMISE AT THE HANDS OF THE WORLD’S SHITTIEST TAINT FACTORY EAST OF ARMPIT-IAPOLIS? STEP RIGHT UP! ALSO REMINDER: CLEARLY A TRAP!
“Harrington,” Eddie doesn’t love the way his voice trips over a bonafide gulp. “Steve.”
He also doesn’t love how much feeling sneaks into that part because one, where the fuck’d that even come from and two, he…
Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever said this guy’s first name out loud. As in…ever.
He doesn’t love how nice it feels, how scary but bubbly-warm it tingles at the base of his throat and the pit of his stomach.
So there’s all of that.
Still set inescapably under the threat of the non-existent-but-no-less-real-neon-sign-of-death and…stuff.
“We know what we’re doing,” Steve’s pats Eddie’s shoulder again, moves the hand from his chest like he’s pulling away, like he’s leaving to go toward the trap and Eddie whips his head around just in time to catch Steve shrug sheepishly and add:
“Like, mostly.”
It is not at all lost on Eddie, how Steve doesn’t even try to sidestep that he’s walking into the gaping maw of probably death, here.
That might be the most terrifying part of this yet.
“I could,” Eddie’s voice is a crackle, so he tries clearing his throat, licking his lips; “I could at least try to help.”
That comes out a little stronger, but not steadier, and he doesn’t really think he’s making his point very well at all.
But then there’s Steve, and his hand back full on Eddie’s shoulder, saying:
“You could,” like he believes that; “and we’d be grateful,” added in like he means that too.
And most unbelievable of all of it, what he tacks on last with a squeeze of his hand and a lower pitch for no reason Eddie can figure save to catch inside the clench of his pulse so it takes to jittering like fucking mad as the King himself exhales:
“I’d be grateful.”
And what the fuck does that mean, said with eyes so bright when the night’s so dark?
And what the fuck does it mean when Eddie’s heartbeat starts jittering, a butterfly between cupped hands, until:
“I need you to be safe though,” and the words have physical form, brush Eddie’s frizzled curls straight behind his ear like…tenderness, delicate.
What. The. Fuck.
Eddie blames the way his heart goes form butterfly to battering ram, ready to crack through his ribs for no reason save a feeling he can’t justify, but’s too real to pretend away as less when he half-fucking-moans:
“What about you?”
Because Steve’s shepherding the kiddos. He’s keeping Eddie on the sidelines, safe. He’s charging into battle with a handkerchief and a bat and a goddamn pair of rubber gloves found from somewhere, sticking out his back pocket like he’s flagging in day-glo, holy hell—
But who takes care of Steve?
“I’ll see you at school,” Steve winks, leans this time to bump one shoulder straight to Eddie’s and then he’s jumping out the back of the van, and he’s moving too fast and—
“Harrington,” Eddie calls, suddenly forgetting he’d ever been trying to keep quiet, to avoid attention of whatever they’re going out to face, Hargrove or harbingers of worker fates, or both at once; “fuck, fuck,” he hissed as he trips over shit that got shifted back in his way as he stumbles to the doors and yells:
“Steve!”
And it’s like maybe saying his name does something to Steve himself, too, because he pauses, and even for the distance, the little curve of his lips isn’t a smirk, it’s a smile.
It’s fucking beautiful.
And then he’s saluting cockily before he turns on his heel with just one last parting shot;
“See you on the other side, Munson.”
And the tunnels beyond only let him watch so long, see so far. The weird shit in the air, and the bandanas he can see a scuffle over, to make sure they’re tied over noses and mouths, lit by weird pulsing colors, obscene squelching noises he can hear the echoes of even this far back and just, just…
Typical eldritch fuckery from a monster manual.
That doesn’t belong in real life.
It’s a fucking trap, Admiral. Good fucking god.
And Jesus H. Christ, but Eddie hadn’t even had the chance to light up tonight as he’d planned, as he’d explicitly driven out to do.
For fuck’s sake.
>>>part two 💚
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For @miraculousmultifan, who requested Post-S2; 'Now, I’m not going to deny that I was aware of your beauty. But the point is, this has nothing to do with your beauty. As I got to know you, I began to realise that beauty was the least of your qualities. I became fascinated by your goodness. I was drawn in by it' at my HOBBIT-STYLE BIRTHDAY MONTH PROMPT FEST—very late, obviously, and MID-S2, rather than post but it ENDS UP being post-S2, promise 🖤
✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @ajeff855 @askitwithflours @awkwardgravity1 @bookworm0690 @bumblebeecuttlefishes @captain--low @depressed-freak13 @dragoon-ze-great @dreamercec @dreamwatch @estrellami-1 @finntheehumaneater @goodolefashionedloverboi @grtwdsmwhr @gunsknivesandplaid @hiei-harringtonmunson @hbyrde36 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @kimsnooks @live-laugh-love-dietrich @mensch-anthropos-human @nerdyglassescheeseychick @notaqueenakhaleesi @ollyxar @pearynice @perseus-notjackson @pretend-theres-a-name-here @pukner @ravenfrog @sadisticaltarts @samsoble @sanctumdemunson @shrimply-a-menace @slashify @stealthysteveharrington @swimmingbirdrunningrock @theheadlessphilosopher @theintrovertedintrovert @themoonagainstmers @theohohmoment @tillystealeaves @tinyloonyteacups @tinyplanet95 @warlordess @wheneverfeasible @wordynerdygurl @wxrmland @yesdangerpls @yourmom-isgay @1-tehe-1
divider credit here
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violet-knights · 1 month ago
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I love the idea of android Buck because I think it would just be so fun.
The technophobe and his robot boyfriend
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moonylouwho · 6 months ago
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Buck, Eddie, and Christopher… ✨Bluey Edition✨
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strangerstilinski · 2 months ago
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nothing gives me a sicker sense of satisfaction than the fact that eddie munson would absolutely despise 90% of the songs on my playlist titled 'Eddie Munson' 🥰
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ebongawk · 10 months ago
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did u guys know that Eddie Munson actually stole my tattoo
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1980ssunflower · 2 years ago
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love being the one dude who never gets new f/o's LMAO
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archivodemargenes · 2 years ago
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u-unión
colectivos lgbt y uniones de gente queer <3 a juntarse chiques
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colleenmurphy · 1 year ago
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basicbutpsycho · 1 year ago
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hitlikehammers · 22 hours ago
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Seriously though, ALL THAT EDDIE MUNSON WANTED in Early November, 1984 was to get a little high and maybe make it through senior year this time 🎓
...but if by mid-November of 1984 he maybe felt a little more strongly about wanting something someone else because 👑Steve fucking Harrington💗 is maybe his surprisingly (?) squishy heart's 🫀 fucking kryptonite���� and maybe, unthinkably, impossibly 🚨THIS IS NOT A FUCKING TRAP?!?!?!?!??!?!🚨 What THEN?!?!?!?!?
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<<<last time:
“See you on the other side, Munson.”
And the tunnels beyond only let him watch so long, see so far. The weird shit in the air, and the bandanas he can see a scuffle over, to make sure they’re tied over noses and mouths, lit by weird pulsing colors, obscene squelching noises he can hear the echoes of even this far back and just, just…
Typical eldritch fuckery from a monster manual.
That doesn’t belong in real life.
It’s a fucking trap, Admiral. Good fucking god.
And Jesus H. Christ, but Eddie hadn’t even had the chance to light up tonight as he’d planned, as he’d explicitly driven out to do.
For fuck’s sake.
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Eddie’s fingertips are numb from drumming the steering wheel so long, cuticles biting from biting too hard for too many minutes, maybe even hours. He can’t turn on the van, can’t risk the noise.
Wishes like hell he could, to drown out the stray growls, the screams, the howling, the definite fucking explosions of something, the…ripping.
He doesn’t know how he knows that’s what the sound is, the low screechy rumble. But he knows.
So he’s about three gasps of too-shallow breath from sicking up whatever he ate today when he hears something else.
Footsteps.
Motherfucker.
His legs are half-numb, asleep from staying so still, so unobtrusive for so fucking long, but he dives for the still-half opened back doors, doesn’t bother with the windows because part of the whole production was being able to hear something, no matter how sick it sloshed around his veins every time there was anything to hear, and he scrambles blind for something to swing, to hit with, whatever’s finally coming to his door but then it’s too late, the the hinges are creaking and—
His intruder’s just as struck dumb as he is, but Eddie has pure fucking adrenaline on his side, so he pants out while he crumbles like a string-cut puppet, so much for that tattoo idea—
“What,” Eddie spits, shaking his head more like a spasm, hair going everywhere and catching in his mouth; “and I do not ask this idly, Harrington,” then he’s wheezing kinda humiliatingly; “but what,” and he gestures wifey at the still crimson-tinged woods beyond, now lit brighter with actual fucking flames farther back, plus the not-dust clusters floating on the breeze and that’ll definitely be what Eddie blames for the way he coughs out hard:
“Actual fuck?”
“Munson?” And the way Steve says his name sounds like it should be accompanied by a frown, or at least more confusion, but what Eddie seesinstead is something like the…good sort of surprise.
Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever been even just a part of anything like a good sort of surprise. The suggestion of it alone here any nows heady as all fuck.
“What are the hell are you still doing here?”
And, well. He, that’s…
That’s a very interesting question.
“Umm,” and holy fuck, is Eddie glad it’;s as dark as it is, it has to be impossible to see proof of how hot his cheeks have gotten.
“Well, it seemed pretty intense, whatever you were,” he clears his throat, tosses his wrist again at the still-very-glowy maybe tunnels or maybe rips in spacetime, fuck if Eddie even knows.
“Wanted to try and come help but,” he shrugs, hides a little behind his hair; “not really my forte, but getaway car,” he reaches and knocks on the wall of the van, a little proud: “that I am a sought after professional so, I figured,” the he shrugs again because…what the hell did he figure? What the fuck use is he in whatever the fuck this actually is, which, which…
“But I’m gonna ask one more time,” because Eddie is nothing if not obnoxiously curious, so:
“What the actual fuck?”
And Harrington? Steve?
Motherfucker just snorts, and grins a little, despite the soot and blood and the swelling from the whole getting beat unconscious not so long ago.
“Gas leak, I guess,” Steve huffs something like a laugh that’s not actual funny, but feels more like an inside joke Eddie doesn’t get, but desperately wants to; “probably what’s been causing all the weird shit around here.”
“Oh, wow,” Eddie covers the weirdly gnawing ache to know, know, know this man and his little secrets; fuck, also his big ones, all his secrets, all of him, what the fuck. “Didn’t know you were a goddamn comedian, save some for the rest of us,” he rolls his eyes when Steve frowns a tiny bit, tips his head like a puppy who doesn’t understand and good fucking god is it adorable.
Eddie’s so fucked, isn’t he, and out of nowhere.
“King can’t also be the jester, man,” Eddie takes pity on him, explains, wonders if giving his secrets will merit him the pleasure, the privilege of learning Steve’s the way he wants, or finding something in the inklings he’s feeling that are real and not just wishful thinking or heightened emotions in an impossible night that makes no sense so maybe any possible future for what Eddie’s got sparkling at the edge of ever single one of his veins is just as nonsensical too, and fuck—
“You mentioned a getaway car.”
Eddie stills; and that’s not mean feat.
“And seems like I was maybe a little incapacitated in the way here so,” Steve leans in, close enough that Eddie smells smoke, and sweat, and might fucking faint because it’s fucking intoxicating. Eddie’s not even mad he didn’t get a joint in before the night went to shit in the maybe-best-and-most-fantastic of ways.
If it’s not just nonsense, and a blip of the impossible on the radar of Eddie Munson’s deeply unimpressive life.
But Harrington’s eyes are twinkling, and when Eddie gets over the thumping of his heart and hears the squabbling of tweens approaching, the question Steve’s teeing up comes straightforward, but then full of layers all at once.
“Up for giving us a lift, then?”
If Steve’s involved?
Is he fucking ever.
Dropping the little barnacles off doesn’t take long, even if they’re kinda scattered around town. Eddie gets an earful and a half about D&D, which isn’t the worst thing, though he mostly relishes see Steve’s reactions, listening to his little interjections for the shitheads to can it. It’s…there’s just something about it.
Something about him.
“My house isn’t this way.”
Eddie…realizes that.
“Yep.”
So fucking eloquent, Munson. Jesus.
“Pretty sure yours is, though”
Oh, look. All this time Eddie’s tried to write him off as stupid and pretty and he’s actual a paladin fighting dragons with an actual brain under that gorgeous hair, son of a goddamn bitch.
“I’ll sleep better,” slips out of Eddie’s mouth without thinking, because of the two of them left in the van, seems like Eddie is the one who’s fucking brainless.
“What?”
He really wants to bang his forehead into the steering wheel but…that would be a good chunk of what’s driving Eddie, literally, toward Forest Hills.
“Your head,” Eddie taps his own temple, keeps driving, keeps his eyes on the road because he thinks he won’t be able to look away if he even gives himself the slightest taste in this moment.
“You look alright now but like,” Eddie sucks a sharp breath through his teeth, because:
“Not gonna pretend you didn’t scare the fuck out of me, not to mention your brood,” because that’ll soften the really fucking telling confession, obviously, score one for Eddie not being a whole-ass sap about someone he barely knows and—
“Oh.”
Eddie breaks his own rule not to look in a fuckking instant, because that single word, more a breath exhaled, is…wondering.
“Oh, you’re,” and Steve looks like he’s working from something bigger than just Eddie making a fool out of himself for worrying over Steve Harrington’s wellbeing. “You wouldn’t sleep well because,” and Jesus H., Eddie stepped in this shit because now Steve’s spelling it out, but then at the same time…he’s spelling it out like he wants to see all the letter laid plain to…
Marvel at.
Almost like…almost like he doesn’t know what to do with it. And if he doesn’t, if he didn’t know what to do with being cared about, what the fuck did that mean for Steve fucking Harrington—
“Sure,” Steve finally says, pulls Eddie from his thoughts, his wonderings, the way he’s fucking appalled at the implication that maybe no one’s ever shown Steve enough regard to fucking care.
“Sure I can,” and Steve’s feeling the words out like they’re precious and not just…basic; like maybe he’s afraid they’ll go away:
“Stay.”
Eddie shifts into park and runs around to open the goddamn door before he can think twice of being that absolutely and indefensibly insane, makes sure Steve steps down from his seat without incident, without a single bump of scrape.
Holds himself back from guiding him with a hand at the base of his spine to the door but like…only just.
He throws a pair of jammies that look like they’ll fit and pretends to take time in the bathroom that not mostly just freaking the fuck out about the wave of, like, just…feeling things about the fact that Steve Harrington is in his house. In his room. Will be in his clothes when he convinces himself to breathe, and walk out of the safe space near the shower.
“Okay if I wake you up,” Eddie makes himself enter with words, lest he get caught up in just staring, and never find his way back out. “I think that’s what they say you gotta do for hits like that to the noggin.”
Steve snorts, but nods, and only winces for the motion a little.
“Yeah, dude,” Steve says, and it’s…fond. Good god.
Addictive, more than anything Eddie’s ever sampled, and he’s not as experienced as he talks a game for, but like, he’s had his share.
“What are you doing?”
Eddie looks up from where he’s shaking a blanket out to stretch across the floor. It’s cold enough that he’ll need it, is all.
“My uncle sleeps on the couch,” Eddie says, because it’s really that simple.
“Then let me,” Steve reaches for the threadbare blanket, grabs at the corner and scrambles up from where he’d sat on the bed like he damn well was supposed to, because he’;s got a fucking head injury.
Also he’s a guest, even if kind of a…guest brought here under some degree of duress. Eddie didn’t exactly give him too much of a choice. But he doesn’t, can’t dwell, because Steve grabbed for the blanket.
And his hand touched Eddie’s hand in the process and made it inconveniently accurate that now they both have brain injuries of one kind or another, goddamn.
“Get the fuck up here,” Steve finally sighs, but again, like it’s fond, and how, and why, as he pulls Eddie up by where they’re both holding the blanket still; “not kicking you out of your own bed,” he mutters, shifting to the side that Eddie doesn’t use. Like he knows.
Eddie’s maybe vibrating from the fucking cells of him until sleep finally comes in the form of Steve’s steady breathing, and the warmth of him inescapable and so fucking like comfort, wrapped in the worn blanket Eddie’s mama made when he was still small.
Anyway. That’s how it starts. Being anything, in the vicinity of Steve Harrington.
Waking him up dutifully four times before it makes sense to get up and go about the day; or else, for Steve to. Eddie isn’t into mornings.
But he does tail Steve out the door before realizing that Steve doesn’t fucking have his own car here, and then he’s shoving bare feet in his Reeboks and taking Steve to Loch Nora, where he’s still sleepy enough—probably, or at least it’s a decent excuse—to ask if Steve’ll call him a couple times today, just to make sure his head’s still okay.
And Steve does the…fond-marveling look that skips in Eddie’s chest, fuck all, and agrees. And waves at him with a secret little grin—and Eddie wants all the more to know those fucking secrets—and then, know what that fucker goes and does?
He calls. On the hour, every three hours until they both agree to go to bed. Like he knew somehow that Eddie was waiting, the whole goddamn day. Even if he doesn’t wholly understand the why.
But then of course Eddie can’t leave well enough alone, even after the sees Steve off that next morning and through the calls that follow after; can’t fucking sleep in the days that follow, not like he managed that first night, when objectively he should have been freaked the fuck out the worst, given even the hint of what he thinks maybe he saw in the woods—but whatever. Point is, he realizes real quick that he needs to know if Harrington is alright, with his own two eyes. Under his hand when he dares touch his skin just a little to see if it’s still warm and…stuff.
And yeah, okay, he might not know all the details or the context, but he’d picked up enough to know things were peachy in the most wholly fucking sarcastic sense possible, and the idiot is in fact at school that Monday when he absolutely should not be, if the state his face is still in is anything to go by, but…yeah.
Eddie corners him in the locker room, where Eddie doesn’t go because he cuts gym like he gets paid to—wouldn’t that be nice, he’d be rich—and he’s gonna call it a public service more than a vaguely stalkery act because hey, he’s a super senior but he thinks, just maybe, that sport-ing with what’s undoubtedly a concussion isn’t the best idea.
He pops out in front of Harrington before he makes for the back entrance after coming from his car between classes for fuck knows what reason, maybe cleaning his goddamn pulverised face a little, and shimmies him closer to the tree-line where Eddie’s storefront sits and its weird, or maybe concerning, because Harrington lets him with just the slightest sounds of protest—maybe he’s worse off than expected if he’s this willing, fuck, and what’s Eddie gonna do if the Golden Boy passes out in the middle of the woods, way to think this through—
“Any reason you kidnapped me from phys ed?”
Eddie startles at that voice. Remembers vividly—inconveniently—how broad the hands that the voice comes with are. How arm. How—
“You shouldn’t be having balls throw at you,” Eddie answers, more petulant that’d be planned. And wholly unprepared for the curl of a smirk he gets in return at the wording.
Jackass. His majesty’s just fine, Eddie should have left him. To—
“Knight in shiny armor again, Munson,” Harrington tuts at him, but…once Eddie processes and accepts the flush he knows is on his cheeks, he can actually look at the guy, who’s taken a seat now on Eddie bench, thighs thick how he spreads them wide across the wood.
Wood, Jesus, thank fuck he didn’t say that out loud to make it two-for-two.
“Gonna give a guy ideas, if you keep at this.”
And Eddie’s jaw drops a little at that tone, lewd little, taunting but not for the cruelty of it, more the playfulness like somehow the world’s tipped on its axis and up is down and Steve Harrington can make weirdly-close-to-come-ons in the presence of Eddie Munson. Or, fuck. Not just in the presence of.
Clearly directed at and to, in the absence of literally anyone else.
And he can’t know it, not then, not yet: but giving Eddie Munson an in, giving him the ideas?
That’s a fucking dangerous game.
And the wildest part of all of it is that smirk, that glimmer in those eyes.
Like Steve goddamn Harrington knows it, and—somehow, unthinkable—wants dealt in to play.
>>>part 3/3 ???
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For @miraculousmultifan, who requested Post-S2; 'Now, I’m not going to deny that I was aware of your beauty. But the point is, this has nothing to do with your beauty. As I got to know you, I began to realise that beauty was the least of your qualities. I became fascinated by your goodness. I was drawn in by it' at my HOBBIT-STYLE BIRTHDAY MONTH PROMPT FEST—very late, obviously, and MID-S2, rather than post but it ENDS UP being post-S2, promise 🖤
✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @ajeff855 @askitwithflours @awkwardgravity1 @bookworm0690 @bumblebeecuttlefishes @captain--low @depressed-freak13 @dragoon-ze-great @dreamercec @dreamwatch @estrellami-1 @finntheehumaneater @goodolefashionedloverboi @grtwdsmwhr @gunsknivesandplaid @hiei-harringtonmunson @hbyrde36 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @kimsnooks @live-laugh-love-dietrich @mensch-anthropos-human @nerdyglassescheeseychick @notaqueenakhaleesi @ollyxar @pearynice @perseus-notjackson @pretend-theres-a-name-here @pukner @ravenfrog @sadisticaltarts @samsoble @sanctumdemunson @shrimply-a-menace @slashify @stealthysteveharrington @swimmingbirdrunningrock @theheadlessphilosopher @theintrovertedintrovert @themoonagainstmers @theohohmoment @tillystealeaves @tinyloonyteacups @tinyplanet95 @warlordess @wheneverfeasible @wordynerdygurl @wxrmland @yesdangerpls @yourmom-isgay @1-tehe-1
divider credit here and here
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yovrnewromantic · 8 months ago
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WORTH IT
ex!husband eddie munson x reader
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based on the hc! by me that eddie kidnaps your kids, charging kisses for ransom wc: 1.2K
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“You know you can’t keep doing this.”
Eddie can hardly hold back a pout. He knows you’ll criticize him if he lets it slip, reminding him that ‘he’s a grown man for goodness’ sake’ even though his puppy eyes never fail to succeed against you. Except once. Only once, when you filed for divorce circa 12 years ago.
Filed into the back of the van, your children are pressing their faces up against the glass windows. Their eyes are wide, noses are upturned, fogging up the glass with each breath— looking like the myth of pig-men came to life and are giddy to draw smiley faces and ‘hi mom’s into the steamed up glass. Unlike you, they enjoy when their dad kidnaps them, waving their teachers off with forged letters so they can hobble into his car and fiddle with the stereo as he stops at the florist, and biting their lips to stop their excitement when they see your old camaro pull up.
Forget-Me-Nots lay half-forgotten at Eddie’s side as he ruffles his already messy curls, mesmerized as you step out the car, mom jeans and rock shirt hanging loose. You look as beautiful as the day he met you. Some days, he feels like it is the first time he met you, his heart paralyzed by a certain type of warmth at the sight of your face. It’s like everything around you disappears and he recognizes his purpose. You. You make him feel like a teenager in love.
“Eventually I’m just gonna call the cops on your ass.”
Angry is not how you would describe yourself in the moment. The first time it happened, hell, you were pissed. Smoke practically blew out your ears when he first called, interrupting himself with giggles while he announced “The prince and princess of, phh, Munsonville have been exiled along with the King. Haha, oh um— If you wish to see them ever again, you must pay the price!” After the second, third, fourth, and tenth time, it’s only become a nuance.
“Hi, Mom!” your daughter calls out, voice muffled. Her hands are sprawled against the window, the hair that was once well-kept into two braids is now fuzzy and tangled. Her brown doe eyes peering at you, standing on her tippy toes to see. Looking like the splitting image of her father. Behind her, your son is playing with Eddie’s electric-blue guitar, strumming the string so harshly that you cringe, but Eddie doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he’s still staring at you.
Dumbly, Eddie just sticks the bouquet in your face, his fist inches from your face. “M’lady.” Through the thin stems of your favorite flower, you can see his lopsided smile.
Rather delicately, you take the flowers from his grasp, looking at them for a second too long to keep up your uneffected act. These must’ve been on sale, you assure yourself. He doesn’t remember the flowers you walked up the isle with, he couldn’t have. When you can finally drag your eyes away, your brows are furrowed. Something fluttering in your stomach as Eddie tilts his head, usual shit-eating grin strangely sweet. Small indigo petals flutter to the ground as they’re knocked off their branches from impact of hitting Eddie square in chest.
“Ow!” He lifts his arms up in defense. The purple-blue veins that flex on his bicep matching the shade of the dwindling flowers. “Y/N!”
Finally, easing your attack, your chest rises and falls as you point a finger at his chest. “Give my kids, Munson!”
“Mrs. Munson!” Again, you raise the flowers to wack him over the head, but Eddie’s hand grips your wrist, holding it in place and smiling innocently at you. “You know the drill by now.”
Groaning, you hide your face in what’s left of your flowers, a red hue rising on your cheeks. It’s embarrassing— giving in this easy to your ex husband’s demands, but there’s a special spot in your heart for Eddie that just. won’t. go. away. No matter how many dates you went on, no one could replace him.
Eddie’s hands are gentle as they pry your hands, and flowers, away from your face. He’s close enough that you can feel the heat of his breath. Harshly sighing through your nose, and trying to convincingly eye roll, you choke out, “What do I owe this time?”
“Well, seeing as it took you ten extra minutes to get here from the estimated time…”
You shake your head. “I was busy explaining why the teachers didn’t need to issue an amber alert, dipshi—.”
“Ten kisses.” He’s too happy with himself, rocking back and forth on his heels as he watched the disbelief transform your pretty face.
“Ten?”
He raises his brows, playfully puckering. “Lay ‘em on me, honey.”
It’s never not awkward, begrudgingly (not really) approaching your ex husband with slow, torturous movements. Fingers finding his tattooed skin— which you used to color before you became adults and life went to shit, tracing up the expense of his arms until your hands connect around the back of his neck. He’s nibbling his lip as you inch forward, impatient. When your lips are close enough to touch, your breaths sync and your eyes meet. Heart racing, your eyes flutter shut. Lightly, the plush of your lips meet his— always surprising— soft lips. One.
Again. Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Six.
Seven.
Eight.
Eddie can’t help himself. His hands fly to your waist, squeezing the flesh he can reach and pulling your closer, shoving his tongue in your mouth when your hands tug on his hair. He tastes just as you remember, like tobacco and cheerios. As his tongue explores your mouth, you moan into his. Betrayed by your own body, dammit. His lips twitch against yours. When his teeth start to clash against yours, that’s when you pull away, a thick string of saliva connecting you. Nine.
Your eyes are hazy, a dumbstruck, lightheaded feeling coming over your body as you lean forward again. Foreheads connecting. Your noses nudging. Panting into each other’s mouth. Far too sensual for a divorced couple. Eddie finishes the last kiss for you, pecking your lips. Your breath hitches when he drags his teeth against the bottom. Ten.
“Pleasure doing business with you,” he chuckles, panting. His large palm finds the bottom of your ass.
“Go to hell,” you whisper against his lips. “Kids!”
“Already in the car, Mom!” Tucked in the back of the car, seat belts buckled, your children look unimpressed. Your cheeks go bright red as you adjust yourself, trying hard not to stomp to the car as you avoid contact with Eddie, who walks slowly, cockily, behind you.
“I’ll call you later, sweetheart!”
You shove your hand out your unrolled window, middle finger up. Eddie’s laugh makes your chest tighten, but you won’t let it show, flipping on your sunglasses and pulling the fuck away from him. Eddie smiles as his kids wave through the window, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans with a knowing look on his face.
He’ll win you back eventually.
p.s. 💋
“Mommy, are you and daddy getting back together?”
With your grip tightening on the steering wheel, knuckles turning your white, you meet your five year old son’s clueless eyes in the review mirror— the product of the last time you got back together with his father. “Not a chance.”
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not edited or read over 😔
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subcultureblues · 3 months ago
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Don’t You Want Me (Baby?) Pt 1
———
Steve and Eddie are either hooking up or dating - and are about as bad at keeping a secret as they are dealing with their feelings. (Dustin POV)
1 / 2 / 3 / 4
———
“For the record, I still think this is dumb.” Lucas said over the wind.
“Yeah, well, you’re dumb.” Mike said, sharp witted as always.
“Got you there.” Will grinned, sidling up beside him on his bike. Mike shot him a look, vaguely betrayed. Will shrugged innocently and kept peddling.
“Alright, alright, let the court record reflect you’re both morons.” Dustin sighed, peddling between the bickerer’s bikes and cutting ahead.
All four boys skirted to a stop outside the trailer park. Dustin wiped at his forehead under his cap, the humidity creeping back up on them as soon as the air stopped it’s rushing by.
“Dude, if Eddie wasn’t picking up the phone, well, there’s probably a reason for that.” Lucas said, in that tone of his. The demeaning one.
Dustin just shook his head. Name one good reason to ignore your party? One good reason. Dustin certainly couldn’t!
He started walking his bike up through the dusty lot, leaving the rest with little choice but to march ever onward.
“Maybe he’s still sleeping.” Will said, lingering a bit behind the pack.
“At 1 in the afternoon?” Lucas rolled his eyes.
“What? He does, like,” Mike’s voice dropped to a paranoid whisper. “weed, right? Jonathan’s always sleeping in?” Mike looked behind them at Will, who shrugged.
“Eddie,” Dustin said his name rather uncharitably but he’s at his limit here, really, he is “has been dodgy weeks now. Doesn’t answer the phone, he’s never free on the weekend, never hangs out after Hellfire anymore - I’m telling you guys, somethings up.”
“Or maybe - he’s finally graduated after the third try and he’s tired of hanging around high schoolers all the time.” Lucas rolled his eyes.
Dustin shook his head at Lucas, because that can’t be it. Eddie loves them. Well, he loves Dustin and likes the rest of Hellfire’s fresh meat well enough. They bonded, alright? - after everything they went through in the Upside Down. Hell, they’re practically brothers. And it’s not just Dustin who thinks that, Eddie had said it first. Well, he called him ‘the little brother I never wanted’ but had said so sarcastically. Obviously, he’d meant the opposite.
Hard to feel wanted right now though, considering as of circa maybe a month ago, Eddie’s been MIA. He still shows up to Hellfire, obviously. But that was about it.
After stopping the clock on the apocalypse and banding together to clear Eddie’s good name, it kind of become a thing - Eddie taking them out to get slushies after a game. Calling up Eddie to tell him, not ask, but tell him they were all going to the arcade. He’d even gone to Eddie’s trailer a few times so he could help Dustin homebrew his subclass!
Steve had started tagging along too, usually. Him and Eddie even getting started to get less awkward around each other after a while. Not best friends or anything, Not like Dustin was hoping. But friendly. It had been totally awesome! And totally annoying that he had mysteriously gone to ground.
It’s possible Dustin’s being, well he doesn’t want to say needy...
It’s just, Steve started picking up extra shifts at work and spending a whole lot of time with Robin. Not that Dustin didn’t support their relationship. Steve’s been single so long, it hadn’t started verging on pathetic exactly, but it was a near thing.
It’s just hard for a guy not to feel neglected.
The four boys had almost reached the trailer when they heard it. At first Dustin dismissed it, surely the trailer next doors’ doing. But no, that music definitely coming from Eddie’s.
That in and of itself, wouldn’t be unusual. Eddie is likely the loudest human being on the planet. No, the weird part is it’s not thrashy, garbage can lid, Eddie-music but goddamn…
“Is that - “ Mike said, trailing off from sheer befuddlement.
“Culture Club.” Lucas could barely hide the cackle in his voice.
“What in the -“ Dustin muttered, throwing his bike in the grass and wandering up to the door like it was a gate to another dimension. For all he knows, it might just be.
“Eddie?” He knocked on the door. Nothing. He tried again. Obviously, someone’s home.
Dustin’s only met the man briefly but he didn’t take Munson Sr for being the bubblegum pop type.
Besides, Mr. Munson certainly wouldn’t be playing anything this loud unless those late nights at the plant had him going deaf. Dustin peeked through the window into the living room. More nothing.
“Oh man.” Lucas shoved him to press his face against the glass too. There was a slow smile creeping across his face, like he was suddenly overjoyed they had come to the trailer park after all. Lucas wasn’t gonna let their DM live this one down, not any time soon. “I thought he was supposed to be cool.”
“He is cool.” Mike said.
Dustin just sighed, threw his hands up, and started rounding the corner of the RV. Eddie’s van was here, ergo Eddie. Dustin was sure he’d be lurking around here somewhere. The rest of the boys followed, their previous hesitation now nowhere to be seen.
“Come on.” He gestured towards the window. They all leaned in and Dustin was already furiously rapping on the window. “Ed - “
Dustin’s eyes went wide. And maybe his face a bit pink.
Eddie was here alright.
He was laying in bed. Very much not alone. There were two of them, lying in bed together. They were under the covers but Eddie was sprawled out on top of someone, a thick curtain of hair hanging over both faces. Clearly, ew, kissing, based on, and Dustin might be scarred for life here, a hand gripping Eddie’s hair at the base of his neck. He could just barely hear their sadistic DM… giggling… over the music.
As for the tunes, the obvious culprit was in the corner of the room. Eddie’s little cassette stereo.
“Eddie?” Dustin blanched before he could stop himself. And it was of course, in that exact moment Culture Club decided to betray them and Karma Chameleon ended.
Will went to shush him, grabbing his shoulder to drag him away but oh shit, Eddie definitely heard that. The guy squawked and jolted up in bed, swooping the covers up to hide them both in their immodesty. Eddie’s eyes peaked over his elbow like a vampire leering over his cloak. He gaped at the window, clearly rather horrified.
The boys all threw themselves out of the frame, Dustin pressing up against the back of the trailer.
“What the fuck - “ he heard Eddie say. “What the fuck.” He sounded almost angry but closer to panicked. There was a vague whispering match, but whispering was never really Eddie’s strong suit, so they heard him just fine.
“Relax.” Eddie said, though he did not himself sound relaxed. “No, it’s fine. We’re cool. You need to - I need you cool right now.”
They heard something like a grown man crashing off the bed and gracelessly hit the floor.
“I know, I know, I know. I know! Christ, I’m sorry, ok? I didn’t - I’ll deal with it. Just - “
The boys were already turning tail and scurrying back to their bikes. Gone entirely red in the face.
“I told you this was a bad idea.” Mike said, the hypocrite bastard.
“No you did not!” Dustin huffed.
The front door swung open with a bang and Eddie came spilling out towards them as he, oh gross, scrambled to get into his jeans. He was still shirtless and sweaty, hair fluffed up like an angry cat. Looking rather frantic.
“It’s not what it looks like!” He actually looked properly pissed, hands shaking with it as he did up his fly.
“We didn’t see anything.” Lucas put his hands up, but the guilty way he refused to meet Eddie’s eyes kind of gave up the game.
“Nothing!” Will squeaked, beet red and squeezing his eyes closed tight. Just in case they hadn’t made themselves look incriminating enough.
“God, of all the shit fucking timing -“ Eddie’s fist clenched up in front of him and he let out a frustrated noise, eyes darting around the trailer park. “Look I can explain. If you just, ergh, give me a minute to think of something.”
“No need! We didn’t see anything, promise.” Mike assured him again, his voice nearly steady. Good for him.
“Right so. I guess, did I mention I’ve take up recently taken up semi pro Grecian wrestling - “
“Do you have a girlfriend?” Dustin couldn’t help interrupting him. Lucas smacked him. He gave Lucas a face, which was returned, so Dustin did it again even harder. But fuck Lucas cause it may have been the right thing to say. Eddie stopped fluttering, looked right at him. Squinted, scanning his face.
“You know you can just tell us. If you did. You could have just told us in the first place.” Dustin didn’t get why Eddie wouldn’t. Did Eddie think this kind of thing was too ‘grown up’ for them. They were high school freshman for Christ sake! The only one of their little crew who didn’t have a girlfriend was Will. And I guess Steve.
Allegedly.
Of course, Dustin didn’t believe that for a second.
“I - what?” Eddie perked up.
“If you had a girlfriend. Do you? Is that - “
Eddie huffed out a hysterical laugh. It was weird. But then, Eddie wasn’t exactly the poster child for Normal. Dustin crossed his arms.
“Sure. Yeah.” He took a big breath as he looked behind him back into the trailer. “I have a... my girlfriend.”
“Sorry. For coming over.” Will said, timid like a mouse.
“It was Dustin’s idea.” He took Mike for many things but never a rat. Dustin sputtered indignantly, throwing up his hands.
“And we didn’t even see anything, really! So if you’re worried about your girlfriend’s modesty, like - we didn’t see anything, we swear! Right guys?.” Lucas insisted. Mike and Will bobbleheaded in agreement.
“What the hell are you squirts doing here, anyways?” Eddie said, scrubbing roughly at his forehead.
“I needed to get my binder.” Dustin said flatly. And maybe to remind Eddie that hey, he’s still here too. Like, right here.
“Your fucking - “ Eddie said in disbelief, and then he laughed. “Your binder.”
“You weren’t answering the phone.”
“Yeah well I was busy.” Eddie said, eyes wide and awfully antagonistic.
“Busy getting busy.”
Eddie turned his wild eyes on Lucas
“Thin ice, Sinclair. Thin fucking ice.”
That just made him chuckle again. At least he half tried to hide it behind his hand. But Lucas always was the least cowed by Eddie.
“Is this why you haven’t been hanging around anymore, like all month.”
“Jesus. Henderson, I’m sorry, ok? Hard as it is to believe, I do have a fucking life outside the game.” Yeah, Dustin thought, it was pretty hard to believe. “Look, just give me a second.”
“I’ll be quick - “ Dustin made a move to come inside.
“No.” Eddie firmly hip checked him out of the way.
Eddie slipped back into the trailer. Through the open door Dustin could just barely make out the words.
“False alarm. No - actually. I’m being serious. They think - “
They think what? Think they have a right to be here at Eddie’s trailer. Taking up space in Eddie’s life. Well they do. The party almost died saving the world side by side with Eddie, they had more right to be here than that - Dustin just grumbled. He wouldn’t call her a harlot. But only because Susie’s voice was already in the back of his head, admonishing the thought.
Eddie came back and pushed the binder hard into Dustin’s chest. He was stumbled back a step. “Now scram.” He said, not leaving room for Dustin to get a word in edgewise.
“Look, I’m sorry I haven’t been around but I… See you at Hellfire, ok?” Eddie slammed the door in their faces.
“How great could this even chick be?” Dustin frowned. Great enough to edge the party out of Eddie’s life it seems like.
The other boys just shrugged. They all picked up their bikes.
“I mean, why can’t he just like, bring her along when we hang out or something.”
“I told you, maybe he just wants to hang out with someone his own age for once.” Lucas said.
Maybe Eddie’s too cool to bring his new girlfriend around his dorky freshmen friends. Is he embarrassed to introduce them to her or something.
“Come on.” Will said. “We should get back to Mike’s.”
“Yeah. Yeah whatever.” Dustin said.
———
“Since it’s Friday, our parents said me and Mike and Lucas could go to the arcade for an hour before it gets dark.” Dustin said to Eddie as they walked through the empty school hallway after Hellfire.
“No can do, compadre. Fight the good fight against those Space Invaders in my steed, yeah?” Eddie grinned down at him over the few boxes of mini in his hands.
Dustin huffed.
“What? Too busy hanging out with your girlfriend? Dustin said petulantly. “Just bring her along if your - “
The three most senior PC’s in Hellfire skid to a stop in front of them. Dustin and Eddie nearly walked straight into the wall of them. It was almost comical the way all their heads swiveled around to oogle at him. Jeff only just managed to choke back a chortle.
Dustin was honestly offended on Eddie’s behalf. Sure, dude was a drug dealing, super duper senior nerd/freak/metalhead combo who had been semi-recently accused of ritualistic dismemberment - but certainly someone was into that.
“My -? Oh yeah my, my - that.” Eddie winced, avoiding many, many eyes.
“Oh, and you have a girlfriend now do you?” Gareth huffed a laugh, in clear disbelief. Eddie glared daggers at him.
Dustin really didn’t see why it was that hard to believe. Eddie was like, really cool. It was an indisputable fact. If all of them could see it, why couldn’t some weird, off the wall alt girl see it too.
“I don’t want to hear a fucking word from you. Any one of you.” Pointing rapidly at all three of them, like he was warding off the words waiting right at the tip of their tongues.
“So who’s the lucky lady, Munson?” Jared said, like he had ‘held action, Vicious Mockery’ and simply couldn’t help himself. He was fighting a positively delighted smile. Eddie flushed.
“The DM giveth and the DM taketh away, and you would be very wise to remember that, Ser Elias.” Eddie said loudly, still jabbing his finger about like it made him more authoritative.
“Sorry man, just joking around.” Jeff grinned good naturedly.
“Yeah, I mean, good for you dude.” Gareth said, with a genuine smile. He tapped Eddie on the chest who childishly batted Gareth’s hand away.
“No, don’t do that. I - seriously guys, we’re not - it’s not like that. I’m not ‘dating’ anyone.” Eddie deflated, looking uncomfortable. The unflappable Eddie, looking all too flappable after all. He tucked a piece of hair behind his ear and huffed. “Just someone I’ve been screwing around with alright.”
Eddie walked past them. Dustin almost felt bad for bringing it up. Almost.
He turned to Gareth.
“So you guys don’t have any idea who it is?”
The guys looked around at each other, all of them shrugging.
“Who knows.” Jared shrugged again, this one still no more helpful than the last.
“Unless,” Gareth straight up giggles, “it’s that suburban mom Eddie’s been swooning over since sophomore year.”
“Yeah right.” Jared chuckled, shoving Gareth forward. They all continued walking.
“That… doesn’t seem like his type.” Dustin said, suddenly confused and perturbed and feeling like he doesn’t know Eddie Munson at all.
“You’d be surprised.” Jared grinned and clapped a hand on his shoulder.
They exited the school just in time to see Steve getting out of the car. Usually after Hellfire he didn’t bother. He just wanted to get the kids rounded up and out of the parking lot as quickly as he could ever really manage. Not today though. Eddie walked to Steve’s Beemer, parked in the stall next to his van.
“Munson.” He said with a small smile. He grabbed one of a few boxes of minis out of Eddie’s arms.
“Uh, Harrington.” Eddie gave a hesitant smile, before bowing his head with predictable theatrically.
“Hi, Steve.” Dustin said from behind. Steve gave him a fond nod before looking back up to the DM.
“So, uh, how was the session?” He said kind of awkwardly.
“Bordering on child abuse.” Eddie beamed.
“I got knocked out, twice.” Lucas windged, holding up two fingers as he walked by.
“Whatever keeps you humble.” Steve shrugged. He turned back to Eddie. “So. Uh. Any plans for this weekend?”
Eddie blinked, then he raised his eyebrows with a haughty grin. “Dunno, had a few things in mind.” He shrugged.
“Cool. That’s cool. I did too. But uh, then my parents came home from their trip early.” Steve scratched the back of his neck. “So, you know, guess there go my plans for the weekend.”
“Huh.” Eddie frowned. “Bummer.”
“Shotgun!” Dustin decided, throwing open the passenger side door.
Mike, Lucas, and Will who also couldn’t care less about their inane small talk, were already piling into Steve’s car. Steve was lingering though, helping Eddie load his stuff into the van. Dustin’s glad they’re making an effort to be friendly acquaintances, especially since he’s pretty sure it’s mostly for his own sake. But come on, it was like, 3 small boxes. They had space invasions to thwart.
And of course, Lucas was still bitching at Dustin about his failure to come through with a healing spell.
“I’m a bard, what did you want me to do?” Dustin rolled his eyes.
“You have healing word!” Lucas said, to which Dustin roll his eyes. Again.
“Which does like, 2D-nothing!” He looked out the window, wishing Steve would hurry the hell up already. Him and Eddie were still talking? What the hell did those two even have to talk about? Eddie was giving Steve an optimistic grin, but Steve was just shaking his head.
“Cure wounds than!” Lucas groused.
“Well, then you should have thought about that before you went down thirty-five feet away.”
“You could have dashed.” Lucas crossed his arms.
“Ugh. That would have defeated the whole - ugh!” Dustin rolled the window down impatiently. “Steve is it cool if I eat in your car?“ Dustin hollered. He wasn’t actually gonna, he just knew how to get the man’s attention.
“Absolutely not! You know the rules.”
“Don’t worry, it’s just a granola bar! Nature Valley.” Dustin shouted back.
“Don’t even think about it Henderson!” Steve said, already rounding the car. Eddie laughed brightly.
“Harrington?” He said.
“I - Yeah. Fine. Fine, alright.” Steve said to which Eddie smiled triumphantly. That better mean they were done with their little pow-wow.
Eddie climbed into his own vehicle. Steve opened the Beemer’s drivers side door but he didn’t get in yet. Instead he stood there running his hand through his hair muttering something to himself.
“See ya, nerds!” Eddie called out, lowering his own window. There was a chorus of goodbyes from the Beemer. “And Harrington -“ He started the van and a blast of guitar poured out. He smiled that Eddie smile. “You worry too much.” He said. And then he swept out of the parking lot with the sound of his obnoxious music on the wind.
“Yeah. Sure.” Steve muttered sarcastically. He got behind the wheel, Dustin’s threat of snacking seemingly forgotten.
“What was that about?”
Steve just waved him off and started the car.
Dustin eyed Steve skeptically. So what, were Steve and Eddie like, actually friends now or something?
Maybe he knows.
After a few minutes, Dustin finally broke and asked.
“Soooo, do you know who Eddie’s been seeing?”
“What?” Steve says, nearly swerving over the line.
“Jesus!” Lucas swore from the back.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Steve chuckled awkwardly, eyes now, thankfully, firmly fixed on the road.
“Of course he’s not gonna tell Steve.” Mike grumbled.
Dustin stroked an imaginary beard. The fog of mystery only grew thicker and thicker.
“His secret girlfriend.” Mike said, like a little know it all.
Steve just huffed a, sure.
“I bet she’s like, some badass metal chick.” Mike said reverently, looking out the window. “She probably has like face piercings and crazy dyed hair. Or like a shaved head or something cool like that.”
Dustin sighed. She probably was badass. Way cooler than they were. Way too cool to bring around the dork squad.
“Does that sound like anyone you’ve seen around here?” Lucas said skeptically.
“Yeah, I dunno. Gareth said he was into like… suburban moms.” Dustin grimaced.
“Excuse me?” Steve sputtered.
Will made a disgusted noise.
“I know.” Dustin shivered.
“Better watch out for your mom then.” Lucas snickered. Dustin shot him a dirty look.
“Yeah, no way.” Mike shook his head. “He had to be messing with you or something. Eddie probably has like, groupies and stuff.”
“Please. That man has no game.” Lucas said. Steve snorted but played it off like a cough.
“That man runs the game.” Dustin said defensively.
“You know that’s not what that means.” Lucas said.
“The real question is, how long has this little dalliance been going on for?” Dustin pondered.
“Hey, you nosey little twerps. I really don’t think this is like, any of your business.”
“At least a few weeks right?” Lucas spoke up.
“And how do you know that?” Mike said.
“Cause that’s how long it’s been that Eddie’s been using the phrase ‘busy’ to get out of stuff. I mean he’s a jobless, drug peddling hobo, I don’t think I’ve seen Eddie be busy like, ever.” Lucas said, scratching his chin. “Until a few weeks ago that is.”
Dustin grinned widely. “It’s elementary, my dear Watson.”
“It’s invasive is what it is.” Steve grumbled. “Also, he’s not a hobo. He has a house.”
“Well, I guess, technically it’s a trailer.” Will said, rather pedantically.
“Well, it’s got four walls. And he lives inside them. Ergo…”
“He’s also been a lot nicer.” Will said thoughtfully.
“Huh?” Dustin and Steve said, and looked at him in unison.
“The last couple weeks, don’t you think?” Will said, smiling faintly. “He’s been nicer than usual. Or happier. I guess.”
“I guess.” Dustin said.
“You think?” Steve said.
“Okay,” Dustin should have a houndstooth cap and a pipe. “We have our timeline. Now, we need to root out suspects.”
“Alright, this, whatever this is, stops here. You nosey little twerps need to mind your own business.”
“But - “
“I don’t want to hear it. No buts.”
And that was the end of that. For now at least.
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