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kennahjune · 1 year ago

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PART 4 of S3 STEDDIE

Hop on board cause I’m making no promises of this being the last part

Tag list: @viridianphtalo @thisisallicouldthinkof @thatonebirthstone @swiftielouie55 @luthienstormblessed @spilled-jar @just-a-tiny-void @marklee-blackmore @stevesbipanic

…

True to his word, Eddie showed up to the shop around 10 with the Jeff and Gareth. And someone Steve didn’t quite know.

Steve chuckled as he watched the kids crowd him, all of them talking a mile a minute. Steve had informed them happily about Eddie’s DND background the previous night, and Lucas, Mike and Will were quick to jump on board.

El came to stand next to him behind the counter, quickly taking the open stool left behind there for employees.

“Too loud for you?”

El nodded.

“Yeah.” Steve chuckled. “They get like that. It’s pretty sweet, actually.”

El nodded.

Steve ruffled her hair and stepped out of the store to gather the shitheads.

“Hey, hey!” Steve clapped his hands. “Inside all of you! Let the guys in before you hound them!”

Will and Lucas both scurried inside, eager to hear more about DND and the weird shit that goes down in the trailer park. Steve huffed and looked pointedly at Max and Mike, who were loitering.

“You both to. Inside.”

They huffed and rolled their eyes, but made no arguments the second time around.

The guys walked in to, Steve moving out of their way as they all waved friendly hellos.

Eddie stayed by the door with Steve, both basking in silence and the chatter from inside the store.

Steve turned to Eddie. “Hey, uh, I get off of here at 2, and I have to drop the kids off, but um— I was wondering if you wanted to maybe come by afterwards?” Steve refused to look Eddie in the eye and anywhere in the face for that matter. His gaze remained on the floor of Scoops Ahoy while he picked at his bottom lip. He really needed some new chapstick.

Eddie bumped shoulders with him and Steve rocked with the hit. “Totally, Stevie. Why don’t you come by to mine, huh? I can even pick you up at 3?”

Steve did look at him this time, his eyes shining and picking up the nervous grin and bashful blush. Steve grinned merrily and held back a squeal and a clap. “Sure! Of course— totally, that works, uh— 3 then?”

“You got it sweetheart. I’ll see you at the 3.”

And with that, Eddie called the guys over and they all left. Steve finally let out that squeal and clap.

“Steve are you going on a date with Eddie!?”

Oh man.

…

“Eddie are you going on a date with Steve!?”

Oh man.

“No, Gare-bear. We’re just hanging out at the trailer later.” Eddie denied and denied. He snatched Gareth’s paper bowl of ice cream and took a bite. Gareth huffed and crossed his arms, mumbling about him owing 3 dollars.

“‘Not a date’ he says, and yet Harrington had him twirling his hair and smiling like a middle school girl,” Jeff taunted, giving Gareth his own ice cream to make up for his new lack.

Gareth took the ice cream with a grin and thanks.

“Shut it. I was not twirling my hair.” He so was. Still is, actually.

Brian scoffed. “Dude, get over yourself. You’re clearly into him— and from the looks of it he’s into you! What’s so wrong with saying that?”

Eddie frowned and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Cause I kind of wanted him to be an asshole.”

Jeff raised and eyebrow, stealing a bite of Brian’s ice cream.

“Like—“ Eddie waved a hand in the air. “—he was an asshole in high school, but also, not really? He never actually did anything to anyone. Barely even laughed. He was just bitchy, now that I look back on it. And I guess there was some part of me that wanted him to be an asshole so that I didn’t seem like a dick for hating him.”

“But you don’t hate him.” Gareth pointed out with his ice cream spoon.

Eddie scoffed and flailed his arms to turn around. “Yeah well— I don’t know!”

“You literally just asked him on a date?” criticized Brian.

“It’s not a date! We’re literally just hanging out!” Eddie continued walking backwards out of the mall.

“Yeah,” Jeff rolled his eyes. “You guys are ‘hanging out’ but he’s coming to your place at 3 and just the mere idea of it has you not only red in the face but so flustered you trip.”

“What?” Eddie asked incredulously. “I didn’t tri—“

He tripped over a curb in the sidewalk.

Gareth spit out his ice cream laughing at him. At least it didn’t get on Eddie this time.

Whatever.

It wasn’t a date.

…

It wasn’t a date.

But Steve was getting ready for it like it was.

Max and Mike were on his bed. Neither really wanted to go home and decided to stick at Steve’s for a bit longer. Steve let them, but he called Jonathan over beforehand to keep an eye on them. It got him an eye roll from both of them but it was whatever.

Mike and Max were sifting through the shirts he’d pulled out from his closet.

“You don’t have anything.. I dunno, darker?” asked Max.

Mike scoffed. “Don’t even. Eddie’s clearly into the pastel shit Steve wears.”

“I don’t see why.”

“Yeah well not everyone wants to look like a walking traffic cone.”

Max threw a polo at his face.

“Do you have any of those sweaters you used to wear with Nancy?” Asked Mike.

“What about that light blue one Nancy got you for Christmas last year?” Asked Jonathan from the bedroom doorway. They all jumped at the sudden intrusion.

“Christ, Byers!” screamed Mike.

“Don’t ‘Byers’ me, Wheeler. I’ll take your crayons.”

Mike stuck his tongue out.

“I don’t have the sweater right now, it needs washed.” Steve answered. He’d gotten batter on it when he was baking with Joyce and El a while back.

Mike bypassed him and looked through his closet. Steve let him. He knew he’d be missing a couple of button ups later (they all stole each others clothes one way or another) but it was whatever.

Jonathan joined Max on the bed.

“What about these jeans?” Jonathan held up a pair of light wash blue jeans that Steve still fit from junior year. Well— “fit” was putting it lightly. They squeezed around his ass and thighs a lot more than they used to. But maybe that was what he needed tonight.

“Yeah, those work.”

“These to!” Steve barely caught the shirts— plural— that were thrown at him from Mike. The first was one of his many white tank tops. He threw it on without much thought and examined the second shirt. This one was one of his more rare shirts; a short sleeve, light brown, flannel button up.

“Put it on, doffus.” Mike waved his hand at him in a scarily similar way to Erica. Steve wondered briefly if Erica got it from Mike or if Mike got it from Erica.

Steve put the shirt on and buttoned only the bottom button. He tucked it in the jeans very loosely.

It was oddly perfect.

“Now go change! Maybe I can do your eyeliner!” Max shoved him away.

Steve scoffed. There was no way he was letting her do his eyeliner.

Steve let her do his eyeliner.

It was painful. Max poked him in the eye with the pen at least 3 times and he kept having to remind himself that he couldn’t rub at his eyes unless he wanted to ruin it and go looking like a raccoon.

It was a pretty subtle touch, actually. Max and Mike made sure to keep it light while Jonathan watched from his desk chair. Mike even let Max do his eyeliner. The eyeliner brought just enough attention to his eyes but also distracted from his ungodly eye bags. He needed to buy some more concealer soon. Max offered hers but they aren’t the same shade.

Jonathan even convinced him to put in his diamond studs. Which sent Max and Mike into a frenzy about his ears being pierced. He’d gotten them done as a baby because his mom wanted them done but his dad refused to let him wear earrings.

Mike whined about wanting his ears pierced for a while.

In the end, Steve was happy with his new look.

Max and Mike stared at him, examining.

“I love it.”

“It suits you, oddly enough.”

“Happy to please.” Steve gave a dorky bow. Max and Mike scoffed.

“You look amazing, Steve. Before you go I do want a picture though.” Jonathan held up his camera.

“A picture? What for?”

“You’re first date with a guy, duh!” Yelled Max. Mike snickered.

Steve flushed. But in the end he let Jonathan take the picture.

That was when the doorbell rang.

…

It wasn’t a date.

But of course Eddie was treating it like one.

Which is why he sat with Gareth, Brian and Jeff in his room, rifling through his drawers for something half-decent while they tried their bests to pick up the absolute wreck of a room.

“Dude I promise he’ll like you in anything you wear. Seriously.” Reassured Jeff.

“I know I know! But I want a shirt that’s at least clean!” Exclaimed Eddie over the racket of Metallica playing from his radio.

Gareth and Brian shared a look.

“Eddie. Park your ass.” Gareth demanded.

Eddie opened his mouth.

“Park your ass right the fuck now.” Gareth snapped his fingers and pointed to the bed. Eddie huffed and sat like a dog. Gareth was scary when he was mad.

“Now listen. You’re fine. You have like half an hour before you have to pick him up. All you really need is a shirt and a pair of jeans that don’t smell odd.” Gareth went to take Eddie place rifling through his dresser. “Boom.”

The jeans he threw at Eddie were black (like all his jeans) and had rips in the knees. The shirt was a simple, white, used-to-be-t-shirt with the sleeves cut off and the entire thing cropped to just above his bellybutton. Not to mention all the holes in it from getting caught in fences and just deciding to take scissors to it one day. The black Metallica symbol was well faded with time and love.

Eddie deemed it good enough and changed quickly.

“Now.” Gareth clapped his hands. “Put your hair up in a bun, get it off your neck. But not a high bun, just right behind your head. Hang on lemme—“

Eddie, Jeff and Brian let Gareth do his thing. Surprise surprise; Gareth had actually been on his fair share of dates. A lot more than the rest of them anyway. And whatever the hell he was doing seemed to be working so fuck it.

Putting his hair up showed off where Eddie had pierced his ears all the way up, and the multiple studs and hoops going through the holes. Honestly it was refreshing getting his hair off his ears— strands kept getting caught in his earrings.

Jeff grabbed Eddie’s jewelry box from his dresser and sat down with it on his bed. Eddie stood in front of him while he attached chains to his belt loops for him.

Brian helped him clip a couple of silver necklaces and chains on as well and Gareth convinced him to put in his earrings and piercing. And soon enough Eddie was a menace to metal detectors around the world.

And right on time to.

Eddie rushed to put on his extremely worn out converse before running out the door with the other guys.

Gareth was dropped off first, then Brian. Then it was just Jeff and Eddie in the van while he drove.

“You’re gonna do great, man.” Jeff reassured. Eddie sighed.

“I know. I know that— but it’s like. Seriously nerve racking. Like I’ve been on little to no dates in my life but hanging out with Steve Harrington? Jeez.”

“Why are you so nervous? Make a move tonight! Ask him out for real this time man. I’m like 100% sure he’ll say yes.”

“Yeah but asking out Steve is like asking out a single mother. You don’t only have to lover her but the kids as well.”

“Those twerps?”

“Those ‘twerps’ were the subject of several of our conversations yesterday because of how much Steve loves them. I haven’t even met all of them apparently!”

Jeff laughed just as Eddie pulled up to his house. “You do you man. All I’m saying is make a damn move. Cause if you don’t, I will.”

Jeff got out of the car cackling while Eddie yelled at him from the drivers seat.

…

Steve opened the door and nearly fell over in astonishment.

Holy shit?

“Holy shit?”

Eddie grinned down at him. “‘Holy shit’ what, Harrington?”

“I— you— um. Uh.”

“Jesus, this is pathetic, Steve!” Mike yelled from the couch.

Steve hushed him harshly over his shoulder. He turned back to Eddie so quickly his bangs hit him in the face. “Sorry! Sorry. Mike and Max insisted on staying over for a bit. Come inside for a moment? I still have to grab a few things.” he smiled nervously and apologetically.

Eddie smiled back and accepted the invite in.

Steve is proud to say he only panicked a little. The back of his neck was moist with nerves and his hands were starting to get cold but he hasn’t burst into tears yet so he’ll consider it a win.

And honestly— with how Eddie showed up looking?— that’s such a fucking win.

God Steve wanted to to bite him.

Eddie made himself comfortable in the living room with Max and Mike while Steve dragged Jonathan upstairs to his room.

He closed the door maybe a little too loud but it’s fine. It’s whatever. What’s not whatever is the current impending breakdown over everything finally settling in.

“Steve. Sit down.”

He sat on the floor.

“That works.”

Jonathan sat right next to him and gathered him in his arms. “You’re ok. You looks amazing. Those jeans do wonders for your ass. I’m sure he thinks you look fucking fantastic. You’ve got this.”

And for a while that was how it went. Jonathan whispering small reassurances until Steve felt himself-enough to finally go back out there.

“God he looks so /good/, Jonathan! I wanna fucking bite him!” Steve put his head in his hands.

Jonathan smirked. “Save that for at least the third date, Steve.”

Steve groaned.

There was an insistent knocking on his bedroom door.

“If Steve’s done freaking out I think you guys should go soon!” yelled Mike from the other side.

Steve quickly stood with an uttered curse. The moment he walked back into the living room Eddie’s eyes seemed to lock on him.

Steve gulped.

…

Eddie gulped.

‘Holy shit’ was right.

Steve looked… he doesn’t even know. Ethereal? Divine? Like a fucking meal?

God Eddie wanted him.

And— Jesus Christ— was that eyeliner?

Steve Harrington was going to be the death of him. “Eddie Munson, 1965-1985, killed by the prettiest boy to ever walk this fucking Earth.”

Jesus H. Christ.

Steve invited him in and Eddie accepted. A smooth feeling of proudness and self-confidence flowing through him at the stuttered responses from Steve. Guess the guys were right. Though he’d never admit that to them.

The moment Steve closed the door behind him he was bounding off with Jonathan upstairs. Eddie tried not to think too much into /that/.

“He’s nervous.”

Eddie looked at Max.

“Nervous?”

“Hella. We’re talking 3 breakdowns and a panic attack nervous.” Confirmed Mike. “Dustin’s gonna be so pissed he missed Steve’s first date with a guy.”

Max snickered at that.

Eddie sputtered. “It isn’t—“

“—a date. Well I call bullshit. If you like Steve you take him out and you make him feel good, you hear me?” Max threatened.

Eddie put his hands up in surrender. “Nothing but the best for Stevie.”

Mike eyed him. The kid was actually kind of scary.

“You hurt him and I blow your fucking brains out.”

Jesus H. Christ. Steve Harrington control your kids.

Eddie sat on the other side of the living room from them.

When Mike went to go gather Steve and Jonathan after an impending 10 minutes, Eddie sat in momentary silence with Max.

“Mike means good. He’s a jackass but he’s been through some of the most with Steve.”

Eddie looked her in the eyes. “I promise on my weed stash and swear on my mothers grave that if hurt him neither of you will get a chance to fulfill your threats before I dig my own grave.”

Max snorted at that. Just as Steve came back, to.

Eddie’s eyes locked on him immediately, greedily drinking in the beautiful curve of waist and those plush thighs squeezed nicely by his jeans.

Eddie stood and gave a two-finger salute to Jonathan and waved off the kids. He and Steve were stepping out in no time.

“So— hang on. Are we gonna take my car or your van?” Steve asked Eddie once they’d stepped off the porch.

“Uhhhh,” Eddie hesitated for a second. “My van? And I can drop you off afterward.”

Steve nodded. “Okay. Okay cool.”

“Cool.”

They got in the van.

Steve demanded control over the music, claiming to refuse to listen to “that bullshit” the entire way (it was only a 10 minute drive, tops), but Eddie let him have it. Although he complained immediately about the Wham! Steve had put in. Steve dismissed him jokingly and sang along quietly to Careless Whisper.

Eddie chuckled and watched him out of the corner of his eye. It was quite the scene; Steve Harrington in his van, singing to Wham! while tapping on his thighs.

Eddie focused on the road.

…

Eddie pulled up to the trailer at the tail end of Killer Queen by, well, Queen.

Steve forced him to stay in the car until the end. Eddie found it stupidly endearing.

When they did finally leave the car for the trailer, Eddie remembered Wayne being home. He waved at the old man sitting in the recliner. Steve followed his example and waved as well.

“Hello, sir.”

Wayne clicked his tongue. “Don’t use that ‘sir’ bullshit on me, boy. I ain’t your daddy.”

“Oh! Sorry, Mr. Munson.”

“No—“

“C’mon, Stevie.” Eddie smirked.

Steve looked confused between Eddie and Wayne, before apologizing once more to Wayne and hurrying to follow Eddie to his room.

His room.

Steve held back a squeak. He was going to Eddie’s room! Oh man. He might pass out. Is he gonna pass out? Gosh that’d be embarrassing.

Eddie sat on the bed and patted next to him. Steve sat as well, but kept to the edge of the bed.

“Sorry, totally forgot Wayne didn’t have work for another hour.” Eddie rubbed the back of his neck.

Steve shrugged. He didn’t mind, really.

“So? What does the amazing Hair do in his free time?” Eddie’s asked, leaning his head in his propped hands and smirking at Steve.

“The amazing Hair carts around like 7 kids in his free time.”

Eddie snorted something ugly and Steve laughed at the noise.

Talking to Steve was easy.

Eddie never thought he’d find this kind of relaxation outside of his Corroded Coffin guys yet here he was, lighting up with Steve Harrington of all people while they traded banter like old friends.

It was one hell of a time.

Eddie’s regretful to say that they seemingly spent a good hour talking about other people instead of theirselves.

Steve waxed poetry on his kids, even as he gave each one a good hearted insult right along with the praise.

“Dustin’s a menace. The tone that boy has! I mean— sure he’s smart and a good kid but Jesus Christ someone needs to knock him down a notch!”

Eddie snorted, a plume of smoke coming out of his nose with it.

“And Mike can be downright insufferable sometimes. Don’t get me started on when he gangs up with Max. They’re fucking brutal.”

Steve was laying on his back on Eddie’s bed, his legs bent at the knees and were squished between himself and the wall. Eddie was right beside him, so close Steve’s head was practically in his lap.

He wouldn’t mind Steve’s head in his lap.

Shit— he wouldn’t mind his head in Steve’s lap. Eddie’s head, cushioned on those divine thighs? Mark him down as eager and horny.

Anyway.

Wayne popped in some time later, sending them both a goodbye. Much to Steve’s cute confusion.

“Why’d he say bye to me to?” He looked up at Eddie with wide eyes.

Eddie gave into an impulsive urge and booped his nose. He snickered when Steve went cross eyed watching the movement. His nose wrinkled adorably.

Steve Harrington was a sweetheart when high.

“Cause you’re here, ain’t ya? It’d be rude to not say bye.” Eddie shrugged taking a drag and passing the blunt to Steve. Steve took it with gentle fingers.

They blew out at the same time accidentally and it sent Steve into a fit of giggles.

He was an absolute sweetheart and Eddie was determined to get every cute reaction he could out of him.

They smoked for a few minutes longer, the blunt finally reaching the end and Eddie putting it out. Steve had moved to sit at the edge of the bed, his left leg crossed under his right. He was chewing at his nails again, staring into space.

Eddie sat next to him, and when Steve didn’t give any sign of acknowledgement Eddie finally reached over and grabbed his hand. He forced Steve to stop chewing on his already ragged nails by interlacing their fingers and his rubbing his thumb over his knuckles.

Steve sighed and leaned into Eddie’s shoulder, eventually dropping his head onto said shoulder and digging his forehead in as if trying to bury himself.

Eddie would let him.

“I haven’t relaxed like this since sophomore year,” Steve informed quietly.

Eddie hummed. “I think that’s when you first started buying from me, right?”

Steve snickered. “Yeah. And then I made Tommy do it for me.”

“Why, did I scare you?” Eddie teased.

“Something like that,” was the mumbled response.

Eddie hummed. “Well I shouldn’t. I’d never hurt a fly. In fact— flies kind of scare me.”

Steve snorted and giggled into his shoulder.

“It’s true, ok? Don’t laugh jackass! Flies are creepy little fuckers.”

“No, no.” Steve laughed quietly, his hands gripping Eddie’s arm weakly. “You didn’t scare me, per se—“

“‘Per se?’” Eddie mocked.

“Shush! —per se,” Steve continued pointedly. Eddie laughed. “You just— intimidated me?”

“Are you asking me?”

“You’re kind of an ass, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told.” Eddie snickered.

Steve rolled his eyes, but the grin on his face erased all doubts in Eddie’s mind.

“You’re a cool guy, you know that Steve?”

Steve looked up at Eddie, his eyes impossibly wide. It was cute, how his nose scrunched up and his eyebrows furrowed. How his pretty, pink lips parted with a sharp exhale. Eddie smiled.

“And you’re an oddball, Eddie.”

Eddie’s shoulders shook with the laugh that barreled out of him.

…

I’m so sorry this took so long to get out 😭

Writers block hit like a motherfucker after writing their outfits lmao. Lemme know if you wanna be tagged!! Part 5 should actually be the last part :)

#stranger things #steve harrington #dustin henderson #mike wheeler #eddie munson #robin buckley #will byers #lucas sinclair #max mayfield #el hopper #gareth emerson #jeff from hellfire #the dude i named brian #steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson x steve harrington #season 3 stranger things #but gayer than it already was #idk what else to tag

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urhoneycombwitch · 1 month ago

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heart like a hearth

roommate!Eddie x roommate!Reader it's the holidays, and goddamn everyone is home- you and Eddie haven't had a moment alone in weeks. good thing you know a boy with a van and an alibi...

foreword: Roommates!au cinematic universe expands: extended family unlocked! YES this was supposed to come out over the holidays NO I won’t be changing the setting but don’t worry it’s not overly/grossly Christmas-y. as one anon astutely pointed out, this Reader tends to be the most OCD of all my Reader iterations so I hope her actions/line of thinking reflects this disorder and not just due to being an ass, yanno? happy readin’ <3

cw: drinking, smoking, weed usage, R is related to Max (no specificity), R is referred to with a few fem nicknames (girl, princess etc.), van fucking (secluded spot!), fingering, oral (R receiving), multiple orgasms, unprotected PiV, brief argument, angst (resolved), R plays feelings close to the chest

wc: 8.1k

___

Eddie’s been shockingly well-behaved recently, and you’d almost think it’s due to the looming threat of a Naughty List if it weren’t for the simple fact that he hasn’t had time to behave otherwise.

The last few weeks leading up to Christmas have been, so far, a whirlwind of constant noise and color. Your and Eddie’s apartment is conveniently central enough from various friends and family, and the two of you have been blindingly busy playing hosts.

Your cousin, Max, came by train last week, along with her best friend, El, and a ragtag group of Eddie’s former D&D minions. Three whole days of cheesy holiday crafts, winter movies, and braiding the girls’ hair while Eddie ran a gripping oneshot campaign; giving way to late evenings, El and Max sharing the pullout couch while the boys took up what little was left of the floorspace like cozy little sardines.

No time after the kids were sent off, either- Robin was insistent on making you a proper boozy eggnog from her heirloom recipe, which had Nancy offering to bring her famous chocolate crinkles, and just like that, you were signing up to throw another party.

The Best Ever Eggnog Bash (Robin’s titling) has been raucous fun so far- Eddie paid all the neighbors off with various gifts of booze, weed, and/or Wheeler’s cookies, so last night, the karaoke machine got turned up to ten and much spiked (Best-Ever) eggnog was imbibed.

Everyone was either too inebriated or too tired to drive afterwards, so an impromptu sleepover was called for- blankets tugged from all corners of the apartment again to make soft sleeping pallets for Robin and Nancy, while the rest of the boys (Jon, Argyle, and Steve) passed out like a pile of puppies on the couch.

In the morning, it only seemed natural to keep the party going- Robin had planned to stay through the weekend, anyways, and everyone else was loath to cut short their holiday break.

Around lunchtime, Jeff and Gareth showed up with instruments in hand, expecting a rehearsal session but were instead greeted with plates of grilled cheese and a knotted ball of lights that no one had been able to untangle yet.

They’re in the corner of the living room, now, bickering over the sound of a Crosby record as Jeff loops the string of lights around Gareth’s waiting hands.

Jon and Steve are sharing a joint on the couch, giggling at a test pattern on the TV screen; Vicki, Robin, and Argyle are in various states of lap-sitting and stool sharing at the breakfast bar, a wasteland of cookie decorating ephemera spread across the counter.

“I think we did this backwards,” Nancy says, thoughtful and amused, passing you a freshly-cooled plate of gingerbread men. “Should’ve saved the alcohol for after the fine motor skill activities.”

“And deny the elves this simple joy?” You reply, sardonic and equally amused, setting the plate in front of your friends. Robin’s eyes light up, and Argyle nearly spills a whole flute of tequila in his haste to stake claim.

“The frosting will make you sick if you keep eating it,” Nancy cautions, but Robin’s already stuck the spoon in her mouth, pulling her choice of cookie in close and muttering with dogged determination to a blushing Vicki- “Gonna make you the best gingergirl ever. Seriously. It’s gonna blow your socks off.”

Longsuffering, Nancy sighs and leaves to check the oven. Eddie whirls into the living room hoisting a clear tub of board games above his head that rattles as he shakes it, truimphant- “Found it. I’m about to Dutch Blitz you into the next century, Harrington.”

“I wanted to play Boggle,” Steve whines, but his protests are quickly swallowed by the swarm of helping hands rearranging the living room; all the furniture gets pushed to the edges while Eddie deals in players on the carpet.

Something about Eddie is particularly magnetic today- he’s wearing this maroon knit sweater gifted from his uncle, lean biceps flexing under soft fabric whenever he leans to place a card. The deep red is a great color on him, contrasting so nicely with his wild dark curls and glinting silver rings; so nicely, in fact, that you’re driven to distraction, ogling him openly from your spot mixing icing by the sink.

The thing about Eddie behaving himself? It’s kind of driving you crazy.

You’re used to the bickering, the good-natured arguments, Eddie pushing your buttons until you snap or bend. You were expecting at least some skirting of the Rules- sneaking into your room after all your guests were asleep, maybe leaving a hickey that couldn’t be explained away- but he hasn’t progressed past fleeting, friendly touches and interactions.

(Well. Except the other night at the bar. But you’re sure everyone was too tipsy to see under the table, his hand inching up your skirt...)

And then, with stunning clarity- you realize you miss him. Like, you actually, truly, miss Eddie. He’s sat on a carpet just a few steps away, profile softly backlit from a nearby candle, and you’re aching to be closer.

As if tuned in to your frequency, Eddie looks up to catch your eye. Time and noise fade into the background of your thoughts; for a moment, it’s just you and him.

Just a few more days, you think, trying for telepathy. Then it’ll be just us again.

He gives you a wink from across two rooms, and the grin breaks on your face before you can think to stop it.

___

Later in the afternoon, you’re using the only available sink in the bathroom to wash frosting from your hands when Eddie pokes his head around the partially-open door.

“Hey. We gotta go to PJ’s.”

He’s wearing his black leather jacket, your puffed winter coat folded over one arm, ringed hand curled around the doorframe as you finish drying your hands.

“I can do a snack run.” Agreeable, you take the proffered coat to put on. PJ’s Corner Store is less than two blocks away, but if you send Eddie out alone into the big world with a simple task there’s no telling when he’ll be back. “I’ll be quick, you stay and host.”

This last word ends on a tease as you zip the warm coat up to your chin, Eddie following your lead into the hallway even as he shakes his head. “Nah, that’s no good We’re out of cigarettes, too- stole Emerson’s last one.”

“Hey,” Gareth squawks from the kitchen, mouth full of gingerbread.

“You shouldn’t be smoking ‘em, anyways, kid,” Eddie says, sagely, sticking the filter of a fresh cig between his teeth even as he lectures.

“Well apparently we’re going to PJ’s,” you announce, hooking a thumb at Eddie behind you in a gesture of it can’t be helped, while inside you’re buzzing with the possibility of walking with just Eddie. Two blocks there and back, all that quiet snow…

There’s some protest at both hosts abandoning the party until everyone learns that the corner store has snacks, and then you’re fielding a barrage of requests and organizing spare change and crumpled bills into your pocket.

Eddie meets you by the front door, walking backwards while giving Nancy strict instructions for holding down the fort- “Don’t let those shitheads in my room, Wheeler, I’m counting on you to preserve state secrets-” -then he reaches past your head for the coat rack, pulling the length of Robin’s green scarf from its hook before wrapping it snug around your neck.

As he tucks the frayed ends into your coat, you notice the glint of van keys that he must’ve palmed silently from the other hook.

“Thought we were going to PJ’s,” you whisper.

Eddie pulls his hands away but not before trailing his fingers against the bare side of your neck, leaving a cascade of goosebumps in their wake, and replies in the same low, conspiratorial tone- “Who says we’re not?”

Finally, after scattered last requests you’re borne out into the cold on a wave of cheery goodbyes. The second the door shuts, Eddie’s tugging at your coat sleeve.

“Let’s go.” The order is gentle but weighty enough that your swirling questions are quelled, for the time being- you follow close on Eddie’s heels down the building stairs, boots crunching into the layer of fresh snow as he leads you across the parking lot.

At the van, Eddie carves ice from the windshield, strong arm moving the scraper in a solid arc. You hazard a glance at the apartment windows, an internal sigh of relief when you realize Eddie had parked on the west side out of view.

“Not really sure what your angle is, here.” You’re not trying to poke the bear, this time, you’re just genuinely confused and a little on edge, unused to taking a backseat where planning is concerned.

Eddie doesn’t answer, and you follow him to the other side of the windshield as he continues scraping, talking all the while. “I just mean- we can’t be gone long. Nancy’s responsible enough but if she starts drinking, too, then all bets are off. And it’ll probably look weird, you know, if it’s just you and me gone for so long. And we really should get snacks-”

“We will,” Eddie says, interrupting for the first time to open the passenger side door. “In you get.”

Eddie loads you into the van (rather like a dog, you think, petulantly clicking your seatbelt), then gets in himself, turning on the engine to blast vented heat throughout the van.

The speakers crackle to life, and as Eddie turns onto the main road you fiddle with the radio dial until soft, instrumental Christmas music plays on low- a welcome respite from the weekend’s cacophony of noise.

You’re a little sad to be missing out on what would’ve been an extended walk; the roads are clear, and in less than two minutes, PJ’s appears down the street like a beacon, lights from the OPEN sign glowing against a backdrop of white.

Sad, that is, until Eddie drives past PJ’s.

“Eddie.”

A direct response to the note of warning in your voice, Eddie keeps his eye on the road but reaches for your hand (previously, tightened into a fist around your jeans).

Once you allow his fingers to weave between yours, Eddie uses the stoplight as an opportunity to turn towards you, thumb brushing over the tops of your knuckles as he asks, “Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” The answer comes so easily- you didn’t even have to consider an alternate option. Your trust is not something simply given, and Eddie knows it; there is still this lingering part of you, though, that wants to push back.

As a sort of self-protection, a longing for the familiar, you ready an argument. “But-”

“Nope!” Eddie interrupts, tugging at your hand in his grasp, almost jolly in his denial. “No comebacks. No skirting. I wanna hear you say it.”

The light turns green, but with no cars in at least a mile radius, Eddie’s foot stays firm on the brake, his bright, intense gaze fixed on you.

You have a sudden urge to dash yourself against the passenger side window, or maybe to jerk the car door open and roll out onto the dirty snow of the sidewalk. A stifling, panicked feeling that would be overwhelming if it weren’t for the fact that Eddie is watching you so tenderly, even while the wheels of your mind work overtime.

A brief few seconds that feel like an age, and then, with a squeeze of his hand, words that take shape and form in a voice quiet but sure- “I trust you, Eddie.”

His grin is wide, even as he presses a kiss to your knuckles, dropping your hand in favor of the wheel as the van resumes its speed. “Atta girl. Wanna show you a place.”

The van cuts a smooth path up a sloping westward street, warm holiday lights from the row of houses reflecting colors in the snow. There’s another stop sign at the top of the hill, and Eddie turns left again, steadily climbing, until the road flattens out.

A road sign declaring DEAD END looms and then passes your window; at the same time, the paved road turns to gravel. Not for the first time, you’re grateful that Eddie learned to drive on the harsh backroads of his native Tennessee hometown- it means he’s adept at guiding the van through a wintered forest to get to the other side.

The other side turns out to be well worth the wait. The snowy boughs of thickened trees give way to a clearing, and Eddie parks a safe distance away from the edge of the hill while still close enough for you to take in the view.

You unbuckle, leaning into your forearms on the dash for a better look, a soft exhale of exclamation- “Wow.”

It’s a spectacular sight- the city sprawls in shining white, pinpricks of winking lights everywhere that make the whole thing look like a blanket of sequins.

You’re keenly aware of the fact that Eddie isn’t looking at the view, he’s watching you take it in for the first time; you throw him a bone, flopping back into your seat with a sweet smile just for him- “Killer spot. Almost worth the adrenaline of thinking you were gonna axe murder me the whole time.”

Eddie scoffs, shrugging his jacket off and tossing it into the depths behind his seat. “You know I prefer a sword as my murderous weapon of choice. Smoke?”

A hand-rolled joint sits between his fingers, your arched eyebrow in response, incredulous- “Seriously? How much time do you think we have?”

“At least three hours,” Eddie says, confidently, straightening his legs into the footwell to fish the lighter from his front jeans pocket. “I showed Nance where the weed brownies are and told her to go crazy.”

With the movement of his legs, the red sweater rides up, a strip of tantalizing milky stomach and smattered trail of dark hair immediately burning itself into your brain. You swallow against the dryness in your throat, questioning even as he lights up- “When the hell did you have time to bake?”

“I have my ways.” Eddie inhales. Smoke pours from his nostrils, the whites of his teeth when his head swivels to catch your eye. “Made a batch while you and the kids were out. Our dear guests will be blind to time, trust me.”

“I do,” you insist, hot shock of fluster in your chest, shedding your own jacket that joins Eddie’s with a harsh throw before deciding you actually can’t let this one go. “I just… did you forget El’s dad is a cop? Like, badge and everything.”

“So?”

If Eddie wasn’t smoking, you’d be half as distracted- he’s in his natural element, knees spread, head lolling on the seatback, a hazy cloud around the loose black curls that settle and shift on his shoulders.

“So, you should maybe be more careful. You’re really not worried about getting caught with contraband out on your- on our counters, for that matter?”

It’s an argument quickly losing steam as the air grows heady with weed; Eddie takes another drag before reaching to stick the end of the joint between your lips. “Why would I worry when you’ve clearly got that covered for the both of us?”

Your brows knit together, a thunderous expression fixed on its target as you take a drag, baring your teeth on the exhale. Eddie chuckles, eyes already lightly red-rimmed as he watches, coos, “My little dragon.”

“I’m serious.” The joint is pinched between your own fingers now, but when Eddie reaches for it, you move quicker, holding it out of reach. He pouts, draping himself with dramatics over his armrest as you shake your head- “Eddie.”

He acquiesces, a goofy, deep forward-tipped bow that sends tendrils of his hair swinging across the knees of your jeans, one of his big hands wrapping around your upper thigh to steady himself. “Sweetheart. Y’know I always kid-proof my shit. I solemnly swear my allegiance to your best judgement.”

Eddie knows just what to say and do to diffuse your temper- you can’t be mad or annoyed with the crown of his head practically in your lap, supplicative and good-natured.

You take another lungful of smoke, this one traveling direct to the contours of your brain, dampening the stress and lighting up the sensation of Eddie’s hand on your leg.

“Bring me here just to smoke?” Your free hand lifts, sets itself on the top of Eddie’s head- you note the way his shoulders stiffen slightly, the way his fingers curl tighter into the doughy flesh of your thigh. “Or did you have other, more nefarious intentions?”

Eddie dips so low his lips touch just near his thumb, warm breath of his groan seeping into your skin even despite the layer of denim. His other hand grasps your hip, subtly pulling you closer to the edge of your seat. “Yeah. I intend to break Rule Two in a major way.”

Oh, right. The rules. ‘Apartment as neutral territory’ being one of them.

The joint sputters when you take a final hit, a small hiss when you snuff the end into the ashtray tucked snugly in a cupholder, leaning over the expanse of Eddie’s stretched spine notched through his sweater. “The van counts in my book. As far as neutrality goes.”

Perking up like a kid at Christmas, Eddie lifts his head, still half in your lap but chocolate eyes shining with hope (and no small amount of lust)- “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

It’s all the encouragement Eddie needs to make his move, pulling with intention now until you’re out of your seat and in his lap, knees on either side of his hips, pelvis settling into the crook of his own where a familiar hardness can be felt.

Eddie attaches himself to your neck, kissing desperately down the column as you arch into him, hands roaming down your back, another breaching past the hem of your top to feel your ribs.

“Fuck.” Already breathy and it’s been ten seconds. It should be embarrassing but it simply isn’t, not with the way Eddie’s finding his way to your bra, cupping and squeezing over the soft fabric like it’s all he’s been thinking about. “What’s got you so worked up?”

“Been weeks, princess.” His breath slides hot over the wet marks he’s leaving, teeth nipping at your collarbone, a soft groan when your hands find their way back to his hair, fisting around the soft anchor of his curls.

Eddie’s other hand not busy with your breast slides to the front of your jeans, a deft maneuver as he pops the button and slides his fingers past the elastic of your underwear; a hoarse, choked moan when he feels the slick accumulated there.

In awe, he draws his hand up and out, leaning back just to hold it up for the both of you to see in the soft backlighting of the dash. As his ringed fingers separate, stickiness glistens and webs between the digits.

Chest heaving, cheeks burning, you shrug, feigning casual even with fistfuls of his hair in your grasp- “Like you said. It’s been weeks.”

Eddie puts his hand back where it belongs, between the apex of your thighs that automatically try to snap closed as his fingers hit against your clit like a pulsing homing beacon, just for him. He works you up quickly, panting and wet noises the only companion to the wintry silence, like you’re the only two people in the whole city.

He slips two fingers past your entrance, curling them just right, hitting against that spongy spot that makes your legs tremble and pulls a warbled moan from the back of your throat.

Your arms resting on his shoulders spasm with the mounting pleasure, unintentionally bringing Eddie’s face in line with your breasts (an angle he’s more than happy to take, giving your other breast some mouthy attention through the layers).

“I’m- oh, fuck me- fuck, Eddie. I’m close.”

Your body responding far faster than normal (it really has been weeks, after all), the falling is fast approaching, heel of Eddie’s pumping hand hitting perfectly against that fizzing bundle of nerves.

That tight resolve is worming its way in- you don’t want this to end. You want Eddie’s mouth on your chest, his fingers warmed to your core temperature, you want it always.

He can tell, because he always can, when you’re holding back; the small, subtle ways in which your body stiffens and tries to restrain itself.

Eddie tries to play stern, even as his cock throbs painfully, pinned under your squirming thigh- “Don’t hold back, sweetheart. You know I’ll give you another one. C’mon. Let it go.”

It’s all the encouragement you need. The coiling tension snaps in a sparking, roiling heat, gushing around Eddie’s steady and quick tempo; hopefully this spot is as soundproof as it feels, out here at the edge of the world, a sharp, whining cry as you come and fall apart.

The aftershocks cause full-body tremors, while Eddie soothes with hands and voice, murmuring praises and calling you names that make your head spin like “good girl” and “sweet thing”.

Panting, you manage to lift your forehead off Eddie’s while his hands drop to your hips again- he looks fucking wrecked. Hair sticking up at the back thanks to your handiwork, pupils blown so wide the black is swallowing the gentle brown, a blush of pink at his cheeks. With a crooked smile, he asks- “Gonna let me top this time?”

A call and response, one that shakes a giggle from your shivery lungs- “I’ll think about it.”

Eddie gasps in phony surprise. “Wow, it really is Christmas.”

Rolling your eyes, stamina returning, you pat the tops of Eddie’s shoulders before using them to push yourself from his lap. The cry of his protest is short lived once he realizes you’re just moving to the back of the van, arranging the two discarded jackets for extra padding.

You make quick work of your shirt and have just shoved the waist of your jeans down to mid-thigh when a loud thunk startles you into looking up- in his eagerness to get back here with you, Eddie’s foot got caught in his seatbelt.

He curses, lying flat on the floor of the van looking like a gangly marionette while trying to yank his foot free. Your laughter has him twisting to watch, head tilting back to try and catch your eyes until he lurches free with an oof.

Disentangled on his hands and knees, Eddie frowns when he sees the kicked-aside pile of your jeans and top, and starts with whiny reproach- “Heyyy. I was supposed to do that part. You-”

In a single swift move, you twist the clasp of your bra and shove it off, revealing the full sight of your breasts to the end of Eddie's stopped sentence. He gets with the program after that, expeditious to the point of humor, stripping down to just boxer shorts as you lie back on your elbows, body molding to the comfort of padded flooring.

“That sweater really does look insane on you,” you comment, the rich red a blur as it’s flung to the corner. “Couldn’t stop staring, earlier.”

“Oh yeah?” Eddie’s brows waggle a suggestive dance as he crawls forward, stretching out over your supine form, kissing between the valley of your breasts. “I’ll send Uncle Wayne my regards.”

“Maybe no blood relative talk right now,” you gasp out, his lips forming a suction over your left nipple.

A wet pop as he moves to the other, considering- “Probably a good call.”

In what is quickly becoming a familiar facet of sex with Eddie, he can’t seem to stay away from your pussy for long. Ever since the first time you fucked, Eddie’s been lightly obsessed with figuring out your body, all the ways in which it can tick and sing for him alone- and he’s proven to be a quick study.

Drawn like a magnet, his lips leave damp patches as he kisses his way down your torso, across your stomach; you’re heaving with unsteady, anticipatory breaths as Eddie’s teeth catch at the band of your undies, as his hands pull-slip them down your thighs and off.

You’ve never felt more well and truly fucked, in every sense of the word, than when Eddie’s mouth is on your cunt.

It’s an art form, really- the particular attention he pays to all the small hotspots you didn’t even realize were a thing: the bony bridge between inner thigh and pelvis where your femoral artery whooshes in response to his canines; the tender skin just under your weeping hole that makes everything clench when his tongue deftly prods.

Fucked, as in where the hell else am I ever gonna have it this good; conversely, fucked as in can’t possibly hold onto that thought with his tongue where it is.

His hands can never agree on a favorite place, usually taken to roaming about your body- this time, his right rests solid on the softness of your stomach, keeping the rolling wave of your body at the mercy of his lips while the other hand squeezes the fat of your upper thigh in a tight grip.

It’s impossible to stop the cacophony of sounds that spill out, nearly drowning out the slick noises of Eddie familiarizing himself with the inside of your cunt; sharp gasps, moans, a cry as he dips back in, out again, thighs shaking, closing around the silver hoops that line the shell of Eddie’s ears.

When his clever mouth moves up to pull the aching bead of your clit into a suction, the space between your ears goes white as the damn snowscape outside.

“Jesus fuck, Eddie. Oh, my god- don’t stop. Please don’t stop, that feels-”

In response, Eddie moans, sucking harder, taking his hand from your thigh to fit two fingers into you, wall of muscle swallowing him greedily. Your spine arches from the padded floor, heels digging in where your legs are slung over Eddie’s shoulders, hand burying itself in the soft crown of Eddie’s hair.

“Oh- fuck, fuck, Eddie- Eddie, Eddie…”

There’s a distant awareness that you’re babbling but you know Eddie likes it, loves that he’s the one making you fall apart past the tight boundary of sound you usually keep; the pads of his fingers coast against the front wall of your cunt once, twice, and your second orgasm of the evening hits with the force of a freight train.

The pleasure wracks through your frame, fevered flush sparking down to the tips of your toes as it moves through your seizing muscles. Your hips jolt upwards, a pleasant counter pressure when Eddie’s hand on your stomach stays firm, keeping your pelvis aligned so there’s not a moment away from his mouth.

Eddie’s tongue draws out the feeling on your pulsing clit while his fingers stay at that perfect angle, driving into you with the same fast-patterned stroking that keeps your rapture spiraling. The pleasure starts to ebb but still he laps at you, head shaking back and forth like a dog, pinning your wrist to the floor when you squirm and seize up, foggy and helpless to the flow of euphoria.

He pauses, finally, your body going lax the instant his mouth leaves to start kissing his way back up your stomach. In the waning light from the back van windows, Eddie’s chin is shimmering with your slick.

You have a sudden, desperate need to kiss it off him. Rule Number Four be fucking damned, you want to kiss this boy, full on the mouth. Unbelievable you’ve both stuck to it for so long- the desire welling within is something two orgasms can't begin to touch.

Would it be so bad… your heart pounds, blood chorus singing through your veins as Eddie gets closer, crawling up your body. Your better judgement is not at play here, dizzy and sick with affection, reaching up to touch the black-inked wyvern on his bicep, tangling the fingers of your other hand into the chain of the swinging guitar pick necklace.

The interior of the van has warmed with the heat of your combined bodily movements, but when Eddie shoves his boxers down and off you could swear the temperature spikes three degrees at least.

Eddie’s mostly focused on both of your lower halves, a ringed hand at the ditch of your knee pushing it towards your chest, spreading you open that much further to line up at your entrance- so he doesn’t see the way you’re looking at him. The way your eyes are drinking in every bead of sweat, every contour of his bowed head and tight shoulders.

With his other hand planted on the floor of the van just by your ear, Eddie uses the extra stability to drag his cock through your soaked folds, using your spend to coat the heavy tip and generous length.

The hand under your knee cinches tight, Eddie hissing through his teeth- “Shit. So wet. S’all for me, sweet thing? Hm?”

“Yeah.” You’re struck dumb with wanting, unable to play coy, urging Eddie in closer with a heel at the small of his back. “All yours. Please-”

A sharper tug than you intend shortens the silver lead, hauls Eddie’s face shockingly close to your own, his breath puffing out tantalizingly close to your lips, lashes blinking rapidly in surprise against your cheek.

“Okay,” Eddie murmurs, voice husked, sheathing himself into your cunt with achingly slow precision. “Okay, sweetheart. All mine.”

His forehead bumps gently into yours with each small thrust as he tests the waters, holding back even still, making sure your body is ready (a moot point as you feel wet enough to fill an inflatable pool by now).

The thick head of his cock slides against that innermost spot, your knees rising to cage in the sides of Eddie’s torso; he lifts his head from yours just far enough to be able to see your face when his thrusts pick up intensity.

Somewhere, there’s a loose hinge in the van that squeaks with each movement, grounding you with each rock of Eddie’s hips, each push and pull and delicious drag of his throbbing cock. Other noises, too: like your open-mouthed moaning, and the short ones Eddie makes each time he slams into you, exhale of breath halfway between a grunt and a sigh, his dark eyes still dancing over your face.

The pleasure is building again, everything mounting and climbing up to that peak. Eddie chokes out a “fuck” as the channel of your cunt squeezes him vice-like, hips faltering, rhythm skipping beats.

It’s impossible to hold on to any one thought, fragments swirling along with all those firing synapses- the fresh layer of snow on the roads, coating the pine trees, the slatted roofs. Eddie’s chipped Garfield mug next to yours on the counter at home.

Eddie’s fringed bangs, stuck to his forehead with sweat; the mole on his left peck, the freckle above his second rib; Eddie’s lips, the bottom one plush and dark from being bitten and abused by his own front teeth; Eddie’s lips-

In the end, you’re not sure if it’s the pull of your hand in the chain, or the fact that Eddie was already ducking down towards you again.

What you do know is that it feels a whole lot better coming on Eddie’s cock when his mouth is on yours.

As far as first kisses go, this one is sloppy, wet with spit and tasting of your cum, Eddie’s noise of shock quickly turning into a vibrating groan as he kisses you back. His tongue is still coated in a layer of your slick but once you suck that away you finally get a pure taste, for the first time, of him. Of Eddie.

It’s this thought that freefalls you headlong into orgasm, taking Eddie with you, bottom lip taking the pinch of Eddie’s teeth as he comes, too, warmth blooming as his cock spits out weeks’ worth of pent-up release.

“Fucking hell,” Eddie says against your lips, enjoying the novel feeling while trying to regain his breath. “Jesus christ. You okay? Was that- I mean, it was good?”

In the honeyed afterglow, you press a palm into Eddie’s cheek, relishing in the fact that you can feel his smile when you reply, honest, “Very good. The best.”

As if unsure he’s allowed to now that the moment has passed, Eddie doesn’t kiss you on the lips again, instead planting a chaste but no less adoring one on your cheek. Carefully, he sits up, then helps disentangle your body from the weave of his own.

Your head swims as you take the proffered hand to sit up, arms automatically crossing over your chest; Eddie digs through the clothes pile and offers you things one at a time; underwear, bra, a sock, then the other, quiet and attentive until you’re fully dressed.

The dampness between your thighs is vaguely uncomfortable but nothing can be done about it until you’re back at the apartment. You sit cross-legged on the padding of Eddie’s coat, blinking at the boy gathering his clothes until he catches you and grins back, softly.

Eddie asks, like he can read your mind, “Still okay?”

At the base of your throat, something stings. “Um. I don’t know.”

Eddie’s mass of black curls pops through the opening of his sweater, which he shifts to jam his arms into. “Don’t know if you’re okay? Or…”

The sentence hangs in the air as Eddie looks at you, partially dressed in his boxers and Christmas sweater, looking flushed and curious and adorable. The stinging moves to the corners of your eyes, fingers tangling into each other with nerves and plummeting hormones.

“I’m okay, I’m just- I’m just sorry.”

Eddie snorts, like the idea is ridiculous, shaking the wrinkles out of his jeans- “For what? Being crazy hot? Can’t fault you for that, babe, kind of the whole point.”

The tears that are threatening to spill aren’t allowing you to join in on the jokes, not yet. Same as earlier, your voice quavers, brows drawing together as you stare at your twisting hands- “Sorry for kissing you.”

“Don’t mention it.” Eddie’s tone is faux chipper, like kissing you is a totally normal occurrence that didn’t just blow his world open, doing an awkward crunch-wiggle forward to get his jeans on. “The day I accept an apology for one of your kisses is the day I should be sent to the guillotine. Without trial.”

The brand of his lips hasn’t left yet, your tongue poking out without permission to swipe over your bottom lip, skin buzzing and still tasting like him. “We- I should at least try to stick to the rules.”

Was the kiss your doing, though? The way he was looking at you, just before you pulled him in- almost like he was waiting for it. Waiting to kiss you-

Still in a jovial post-sex mood, Eddie buttons his pants and perches on a spare amp box in the corner, boots sitting between his socked feet. “Sure thing. Just, ah, running the stats here- I don’t think the evidence stacked against our very epic but very secret dalliance is bound to be hidden for long.”

“Right.” This, at least, is a normal topic of conversation, hearkening back to the times of ten minutes ago before a kiss fucked everything sideways.

You lift a hip to pull Eddie’s coat out from underneath, folding it over an arm just to have something to do. “Well, there’s always an alternate explanation. I’m getting good at those, y’know- borrow a tasteful scarf to hide hickeys. ‘I was late because of the dentist, the vet, the traffic-’”

“Always one for excuses.”

There’s not an ounce of joking in Eddie’s tone this time, enough derision to make you look up, sharp and sudden- “Excuse me?”

This time, Eddie is the first to drop his gaze first, hair falling over his face as he bends forward to fit his foot in the mouth of his boot. “Nothing.”

A hollow thunk as his heel makes contact, then he reaches for the other boot with a weary, flat laugh, shaking his head under your tense gaze. “You just- you don’t think they’ll see it? Smell it on us? All the l- the- y’know, the affection? The intimacy?”

The Word he swallowed sits in your own throat, just behind the sting. The cool tips of your fingers slot over your eyelids, Eddie’s coat in the crook of your elbow smothering your senses with spiced cologne and nicotine. Maddening.

In the dark behind your fingers, the tears gather. The Rules, once a lifeline to your structured self, now seem childish and hurtful. You say the one thing you’re able- “I’m sorry.”

Another dull thunk for his second boot, and then you hear Eddie rise, feel the soothing brush of his touch on the crown of your head as he passes- he doesn’t even sound mad. “Don’t be. S’okay.”

The handle on one of the back van doors pops, preceding a metallic creak and a rush of cool air. You drop your hands from your eyes, watching the profile of Eddie’s face against the backdrop of wintry woods as he crouches at the van’s edge, drawing in lungfuls of crisp air.

The cold leeches in, bringing with it a sense of exposure, taking all the smells and heat of sex from the coziness of the enclosure and lifting it all out to be scattered on the wind. You have a strange feeling of wanting to reach out and hold onto the last of it, as if it were tangible.

Eddie’s boots crunch into the snow, but he doesn’t go far, just steps a yard or so away. Through the single open door his back is turned, shoulders rolling, neck stretching from side to side, working out the kinks.

Longing aches through your bones; you want to bury your face into the space between his shoulder blades and breathe in that musky, rich red fabric. You don’t feel as though you’ve earned that right, somehow.

Instead, you snag your own boots and coat to jam on, joining Eddie under a sky paled with early evening light. He stands silently, eyes fixed on the trees, breath a floating cloud around his head.

You stand just as silent, shoulder to shoulder, Eddie’s black jacket still tucked in your crossed arms. Silent until you can’t bear it, bouncing on the balls of your feet against the icy wind that cools the sweat under your arms and back with a chill.

“I know you don’t want me to be, but I am. Sorry, that is. I don’t-”

The tears are back. You swallow them down, determined to loose the words from your lips, however clunky, because Eddie deserves to hear them at the very least. “I don’t know how to function without rules. Without some sort of- cage, or, like, something to hold me in, ‘cuz otherwise I-”

In answer, Eddie breaks his deer-like stillness to turn, pulling you into himself, arms wrapping you up in a solid hug. The warmth starts to creep back in as he rocks you gently, dropping kiss to the top of your head before saying- “I know. I know, honey, because I know you.”

Tears make wet tracks down your cheeks, dampening the front of Eddie’s sweater, even as you make a watery attempt at humor- “No, you don’t. Don’t even know my middle name.”

“Sure I do. Guessed it ages ago. Obviously Albert.”

His hug tightens when you sob a laugh, clinging to him, words still fighting to the surface- “I’m just, sorry, that I’m the way that I am and I can’t change it, not right now, at least, but it’s hurting you and I just am so s-”

“Honey, honey,” Eddie’s mumbling over your stream of consciousness, pressing in closer to rest his cheek on your crown. “Don’t have to be sorry. ‘M not hurting. Not from you, never from you. I like you so much-”

“I like you so much,” you sniff, pulling your head up to look at him even through the tears so he knows you mean it.

You’re met with a wide smile, a winner, the kind that shows all his teeth, bright enough to rival the snow- “Oh my god. You have a crush on me?”

“Shut up,” you mutter, pushing at his chest but weak enough that he chuckles at the effort, basking in the extra touches.

There’s an unfortunate lack of time but you take what little aftercare is afforded, hearing the thump of Eddie’s heart under your ear, relishing the feeling of his hold. Though the winter air is bitter with cold, it helps to clear your mind from the sex-weed-shame loop.

Spoken into the fibers of Eddie’s sweater- “I just… don’t want to share you yet. It’s stupid and complicated but I want it to be our thing, for a little while longer. Just us.”

“Just us,” Eddie repeats, kissing the parts of you he can reach- forehead, temple, line of scalp. “I can swing that. Not too different from now, hm?”

“It will be, though.” It’s a promise that scares you, but one you’re confident you can make in good faith. You just need some time. “Promise.”

With one last squeeze, Eddie lets you go, taking his coat from your arm to slip into, patting around for his keys and jingling them with a wink- “Your chariot awaits, princess.”

___

As it turns out, Eddie wasn’t, in fact, lying about going to PJ’s, which is why you now find yourself under the harsh fluorescents of a corner store aisle with your roommate’s cum drying in your undies.

“Snakes.”

Zoning out on the racks of candy, Eddie’s sudden word from just behind your right shoulder makes you jump.

“What?” You cast a glance backwards.

In response, Eddie’s jacketed arm brushes yours when he leans past you for a bag of gummy snakes. He’s already got an armful of various chips and a 6-pack of beers, the bottles clinking as he shifts.

“Robs won’t eat the bear kind. Said the shape makes her too sad to eat.”

You consider this, sliding a bag of peach rings off the metal line for Nancy. “But biting a snake’s head off, that’s all good and fine for a tree hugger?”

“She’s an odd duck,” Eddie agrees, wistful, plastic crinkling under those big palms that were mapping the shape of your body not twenty minutes ago.

“Well, you’d know all about that, huh?” You knock a shoulder playfully into Eddie’s side.

The look he gives you is mischievous, sparkling through the frame of long, dark lashes. “If it quacks…”

Earlier, you’d used the payphone to call home while Eddie hunted for vittles- a short drive back, but nonetheless you were anxious to know the situation you’d both be walking into.

Annoyingly, Eddie was right again- Nance sounded unusually giggly, telling you all about the epic blanket fort the boys had built under Robin’s orders, the background filled with drunken and otherwise intoxicated chatter. Not even eagle-eyed Nancy noticed the time you and Eddie spent away- all she asked about was the food supplies.

At the counter, a lone employee bags the snack fest with disinterest, retrieving Eddie’s requested pack of smokes and sorting the crumpled bills you provide with barely a word.

Eddie’s eyes keep darting to yours, nostrils flaring, hamming up the humor, and it’s getting harder not to laugh each time, corners of your mouth twisting to keep the noise from bursting out.

If there’s something funny, Eddie wants to share it with you. He’s always been generous.

In the glittering snowscape of PJ’s parking lot, Eddie plucks at your sleeve before you can open the passenger door.

“Got somethin’ for ya.”

You turn with a frown, eyeing him suspiciously- “If you just spent real money on a pack of those skeezy ‘sex pills’ from the front counter I’m actually not interested.”

“No, no, it’s-” Eddie slings the grocery bag handles to his other arm, rustling in his coat pocket to procure a small, flat parcel of brown butcher paper. “Your Christmas present. Didn’t wanna give it in front of all those other weirdos.”

There’s a loop of white string tied in a knotted bow; you smile softly, taking the gift from Eddie’s proffered hand and plucking at the string. “But- I didn’t bring yours, it’s sitting under the tree-”

“I know. It’s cool, I’ll open it day-of if you want, I just… wanted you to have this now.”

You think about the shiny new record waiting at home for Eddie as you unwrap the present with burgeoning glee- in the middle of the paper lies a circlet of weaved fabric, in varying shades of forest green and cerulean blue.

It’s not until you lift the loop into the air that you realize what it is- a friendship bracelet.

“Max and El helped,” Eddie explains, in the nervous, self-conscious way of a gift-giver. “Had a whole craft sesh while you and the boys were out ice skating. Don’t think they quite believed I was makin’ it for Jeff, but…”

He trails off. You’ve just noticed the tiny silver pendant dangling from the center of the bracelet, about the size of your pinky nail- it dances with movement, casting glints of light from its surface, the engraved E flipping in and out of sight.

“Couldn’t craft that one. Need a little more real-world metal working practice under my belt for that.” Eddie hooks a thumb in his belt loop for emphasis, rocking back on his heels. “Got it when I went to the big city last month.”

You run the pad of your finger over the engraving, feeling the grooves of the letter press up against your skin, shocked into silence.

“And- uhm, I mean, if you hate it, or if it’s, like, totally weird that I just gave you something with my initial on it-” Eddie is full of fidgety nerves, making a sweeping gesture with his hand to indicate general whateverness- “I didn’t mean it like an I own you sorta thing, you’re your own woman- person- obviously, and you can totally just throw it to the birds-”

The parking lot and nearby street is empty, but even if it wasn’t, that wouldn’t have stopped you from pulling Eddie in by the jacket collar and kissing him breathless.

He makes a little mmph of surprise, then gets with it, kissing back, letting you direct the show with a fistful of his lapel. When you pull back, his eyes are half-lidded, a lovely pink flush in his cheeks as he chases your mouth for one last kiss.

“Thank you,” you whisper, genuine, lifting your right wrist for Eddie to take- “Will you put it on me?”

With gentle dedication, Eddie fits the bracelet around your wrist and ties the ends together, silver pendant sitting perfectly at the base of your hand.

“You’re comin’ for Christmas, right?” Eddie’s taking his time with microadjustments of the fit, using the excuse to trail his long fingers around your upper arm while he’s at it. “Don’t think I officially asked you yet, just sort of assumed.”

He’s petting the inside of your forearm, almost to distraction.

“Wayne won’t mind?”

Eddie snorts, a double-squeeze to your wrist as he fiddles with the ends of the bracelet. “You kidding? Pretty sure that spiteful old man would lock me out of the damn trailer if I showed up without you.”

Despite the cold, warmth blooms through your limbs, a holiday spent with hot chocolate on the Munson couch a fortifying future indeed.

Eddie pulls your wrist to his face, meeting it halfway for a kiss before giving your hand back. “C’mon, sweetheart. Let’s go see what damage those holiday hooligans have wrought on our apartment.”

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