Someone to Watch Over Me

Part 1:  “Love is Blind”

Author’s Note:  Do you think the Duffer’s realized what they were doing when they brought Eddie Munson to life on paper?  I don’t think so.  Because it’s been, what, nine or so months now, and I’m still all in on my favorite ne’er do well metal head.

This is my first time with an Original Character standing in for “reader”.  Just like with my reader insert fics, our OC is female and plus size. Pairing:  Eddie Munson x Plus Size OC Amanda Patterson Summary:  It’s love at first sound, pitch perfect and fated, everything in harmony.  If only life were a love song.  

Amanda and Eddie meet by chance but their connection is real.  Some night music and milkshakes maybe all it takes to show that Hawkins’ resident bad boy is worthy of love.  The kind of love a misfit like Amanda is ready to give to the right guy.  Have they each found the right someone to watch out for them? Warnings:  This is a slower burn than my usual, but I think it’ll be worth it.  There will be SMUT in additional chapters, but for now, there’s making out, eating a lot of junk food, some size shaming and self doubt.  Oh, and a character gets slapped.

“There’s a saying old, says that love is blind”

1990

“So, Eddie, how’s the tour been going?”

Pulling a long strand of dark hair over his cheek, a nervous habit he couldn’t seem to break, Eddie raised his dark eyes to the reporter asking the questions, ignoring the video camera and boom mic hovering overhead.  It took everything in him to keep the sarcastic edge in his tone to a minimum, “Well, Chuck, it’s been a helluva time.  Me and the boys, we’re just taking what comes.  It’s been fuckin’ amazing to see so many cities and of course, our fans.” “Oopsie!  Can’t curse like that, Eddie.  Can we cut around that?”  Chuck was asking some producer, talking over Eddie’s head, ignoring him all in the name of being appropriate for television.  Already he was over this whole experience.  What Eddie really wanted was to get back to the green room, have a beer or a smoke- scratch that.  And a smoke, before having to play tonight’s show.

The conversation around editing was still happening, Eddie’s interview on pause.  It gave him a minute to evaluate the man asking the questions.  Smarmy, yea, that’s the word Eddie would use for a guy like Chuck.  Hair slicked back and suit a little too colorful to be classy, the guy was cheesy as hell, but he was going to film a piece about the band.  Something for MTV to use in promos or some shit.  Eddie didn’t really care to know.  There were people for that now.  The same people who kept assuring him that there was no such thing as bad publicity.  Not when there was a nationwide tour that needed to sell tickets and t-shirts and records, so he bit his tongue and smiled sheepishly, waiting for the next question. “We rolling?  Great.  Ok, ready Eddie?” Nodding in answer, Eddie gave him the green light.  The interviewer tapped his finger against the skinny microphone in his hand, picking up seamlessly from where they had stopped earlier, “That’s good to hear.  Now, Corroded Coffin plays specifically metal but who has influenced your musical journey?  Which artists do you listen to?” Blowing out an exhale, his lips parting, Eddie thought for a minute.  “Ya know, all the greats Chuck.  I mean, I cut my teeth on Led Zeppelin.  Heart, Black Sabbath, obviously-” he rolled his eyes for emphasis, “-Iron Maiden and Metallica.  You play metal music and I’m there, man.” Chuck nodded along, agreeing with everything coming out of Eddie’s mouth, trying way too hard to seem interested.  He seemed more like a Madonna kinda guy, too caught up in the look of something to worry about its substance.  It grated on Eddie’s nerves, set his teeth on edge. “Gotcha.  So, the people want to know-” Chuck drug out the question, clearly enjoying the way he baited his interviewee, “-What is Eddie Munson’s favorite song?” Toffee colored eyes widened.  Despite the movement around him, the roadies hauling in speakers and gear, the conversations between stage crew and security guards, the clicking of boot heels on parquet flooring, Eddie could hear it.  His favorite song.  Clear and distinct, the memory a perfectly preserved bubble of sight and sound.  From over his shoulder someone coughed, bringing Eddie back to the here and now.  “Uh, sorry.  Didn’t mean to zone out there.” “Don’t worry, we’ll edit it out.”  Chuck’s hand made a motion urging him to continue. Eddie’s ring laden right hand rubbed across the skin on the back of his neck, internally debating just how real to be with his response.  In the end, Eddie told the whole truth.  He spilled one of his deeply held secrets to a douche bag with gelled back hair and a smile that was too much teeth. Looking directly into the bubbled lens of the video camera, Eddie offered up a reluctant, almost embarrassed smile, “My favorite song?  That’s a great question, man.  And, uh, ya know, I wanna say something hard rocking and fast.  But honestly?  Someone to Watch Over Me by the Gershwin brothers.” Eddie’s voice was practically a whisper at his admission.  He was ready for a ribbing.  A hard rocker like him, known for bad boy behavior and leaving a lady behind in every city?  No way Eddie Munson could possibly be a romantic at heart, right? Fully expecting a laugh from smarmy Chuck, some jab about the softness of his choice, or a comment on it being a standard, something old fashioned or behind the times.  But Eddie only heard the insipid agreement of the interviewer, “Great song.  A classic.” “Yea.  It is.”

—

1987

It had always come naturally to Amanda.  She opened her mouth and the sound just came out, warm and round, with the right amount of inflection and sweetness of tone.  Singing was what she did.  From the time she could talk, Amanda was making music, using her body as the instrument. Church choir taught her how to sight read sheet music, her voice moving up and down the scale in time with the half and quarter notes.  Learning how to let her high Soprano melt in with the other members of the chorus so that no individual could be heard over another.  Discovering the power of dynamics; an effective hushed line that built into a climaxing crescendo, the rush of belting out a powerful note with all of the choir members doing the same.  Amanda continued to discover the best ways to utilize her voice, really only ever happy when she was humming or whistling or belting out a tune. One Christmas there was a tawny wooden guitar under the tree.  She carried it with her everywhere she could.  Teaching herself the chords from a beginner’s guide until she could play “Frosty the Snowman” without stopping.  And her unquestionable love of music grew with every new song she memorized until the entire book had faded from overuse. There were high school musicals, of course.  Grease, Annie, Guys and Dolls, Anything Goes.  And even if she was always the sidekick with no solo, hanging around in the back of the chorus lines, she loved performing.  Being on a stage, with the lights and excitement, the tension of anxiety turning into the power needed to propel her through the show.  Amanda lived for the thrill of it.  Something could go wrong or things could go incredibly right.  In either case, you could never truly know which way it would play out until it was happening.  Then, the curtain would fall and there would be bows and applause. Amanda loved the spotlight, absolutely and unequivocally.  Only, the spotlight didn’t love her back. Her round, full cheeks wouldn’t do to play Sandy.  The curvy, womanly figure she’d grown into wouldn’t work for Annie or Pepper or even Mrs. Hannigan.  Despite the lovely, lyrical quality to her voice, it wasn’t enough to outweigh her looks. So Amanda sang out loud and long from the back row of the chorus, her robe tight across her ample chest.  She learned the simple choreography for musical numbers and was told, “you’re so light on your feet” as if it was shocking to see.  Every year was a new chance to gain that place in the middle of the stage, singing for all she was worth for everyone to hear, but never making it due to a healthy appetite which made her soft in the places where people would rather she be firm. It was the bitterest of pills, but she swallowed it, happy just to be involved.  Pleased to have her name printed in the program as a participant even if she was living off of the scraps of lesser performers who just so happened to look prettier under the hot stage lamps.  She accepted hugs from the pretty boys who tried on singing and dancing as a way to meet girls, but wouldn’t give her a second glance.  The boys who saw her as the funny, talented friend of the group.  Always happy to drive everyone home, listen to everyone’s troubles, offering sage advice and asking for nothing in return.  That was Amanda.

All too soon, school was ending.  Over.  And college loomed in front of her, full of promise and secret worries.

She knew what she wanted, what she had always wanted.  It had never changed despite the wacky directors who hid her behind scaffolding or pushed her to the dim corners of the stage.  Amanda was on the earth to do one thing only: make beautiful music. It was, after all, her favorite thing to do. Unfortunately, it was also incredibly difficult to make a career out of, something her parents constantly felt the need to remind her about.  They only wanted what was best for her, that’s what they said anyways.  And what was best, in the opinion of Mr. and Mrs. Patterson, was a steady job as a hairdresser or nurse or preschool teacher.  Anything really to fill the gap until she met “the one”, got married and started having their grandchildren. Too bad Amanda loved the music so much more.  It had taken a lot of work, hours and hours of debating and shouting but somehow she had convinced them to let her go to school for music.  The catch?  She’d also study education.  It was a compromise Amanda was willing to make, just to get her foot in the door.  Worst case?  She’d wind up a music department chair at some high school or another, a great back up plan to her real dream: musical super stardom like Linda Rondstadt or Carol King. Only, school was expensive, especially when you were trying to make music your career.  And her parents did as much as they could, which she was incredibly grateful for, but everything cost so damn much.  So, almost broke and entirely desperate, Amanda searched around until finding a part time position at The Music Shop.  She started selling sheet music and drum sticks, auto tuners and guitar straps from a squat building painted an obnoxious shade of ocean blue that could be seen for miles in any direction. Occasionally there’d be a student in need of some musical mentoring and she’d drag out her acoustic guitar, the tawny one she kept in its cardboard case after all these years.  Showing them where to hold their fingers and how to press against the tough strings in order to get a pretty sound out of the instrument brought her a lot of joy.  It was still making music and that was enough for her between class work and socializing and generally trying to be a good person. The college classes related to music and music theory were fascinating.  Her collection of records and tapes had grown significantly.  It seemed as though every new person she talked to had a list of bands she “just had to listen to” and Amanda did. How could she ever thank her roommate’s boyfriend for turning her on to Lou Reed?  Did she live before knowing all the words to Pirates of Penzance?  How did Whitney Houston sound so incredible all of the time?

Writing a paper on the importance of Tom Petty’s ability to pen pretty lyrics, Amanda found herself surrounded by like minded musical folks.  She was invited to parties where everyone sang along to the radio, getting rowdy in the tame way theater kids everywhere are prone to do.  Drinking beers was fun.  Smoking cigarettes killed her throat through and Amanda refused to damage her instrument with nicotine like that.  Besides, she couldn’t afford them anyway. When she wasn’t studying or singing or stocking, Amanda did gig out.  Sometime during her first semester she had been approached by Jim, a cellist, Mark, a drummer and Carly, a pianist.  Having met the threesome at someone or other’s pre-Thanksgiving break bash, Amanda hadn’t realized it right away but she was casually auditioning for their band.  Not once did her size come up.  All the three seemed to care about was how quickly they could get her into a rehearsal.  They had a jazz trio and wanted someone to vocalize for them, someone with a soft tone, an easy timber that could get them playing in front of bigger crowds.  That she blended in with their group dynamic made it an easy fit and soon, the four of them were playing shows together all over the area and regularly too. Now, well into her third year at school, Amanda had a good idea of what her life was going to look like.  She would work the store, teaching a couple of private students the ways of the guitar, and sing out with the band on the weekends.  If they happened to get a wee bit drunk after a show, who could blame them?  After all, they were barely twenty and the world still had so much left to show them. At the music shop, one late September Saturday, Amanda took a minute to hang up the flier for Hawkins’ Autumn Concert Series.  Their quartet had been asked to entertain, practicing for weeks now getting the set list perfect for their biggest concert yet.  Smiling happily to herself, she gently forced the pushpin into the cork board where the typical announcements of used instruments for sale, lessons for keyboard or piano, and imploring alerts for new band members all co-existed in a colorful, clashing collage. Stepping backwards, Amanda wasn’t entirely paying attention, her mind already drifting to the highlight of the performance.  What she was going to wear, how she’d do her hair, all the little details that she liked to get right in an effort to make sure that the show went off without a hitch.  That’s how she missed the fellow who was crouched down behind her, ringed hands reaching for the Iron Maiden song book that was propped up on the bottom shelf. Her booted foot hit something solid, something that shouldn’t be in the aisle, and she turned quickly.  A blur of black leather and curls flew upwards fast.  The joint of her ankle rolled and Amanda reached out blindly, connecting with a solid wall of a person, holding on with a death grip to keep on her feet. Holy shit, did this chick have pretty eyes.  It was his first thought and boy, was it a doozy.  Eddie could see the shock clearing as worry crept in, crowding around the wide irises, her lips parted in a panicked “o”.  Clipped nails clawed into the denim vest he always wore, holding herself upright against the unfair tug of gravity, her forearms pressed tightly to his chest.  Bringing a steadying hand to her wrist, he shook his head, shyly smiling, “You alright there?  Took a bit of a tumble, didn’t ya?” Inhaling shakily, Amanda nodded dumbly, her heart still thrumming.  Still standing much too close to a stranger.  She had been certain of falling but having this, this guy break that fall, was disconcerting in an entirely different way.  “Oh, I am so sorry!  I didn’t see you, and-” “Hey, it’s ok.  No harm done, so long as you’re ok.  You are ok, right?”  There was a brief flash of concern that crossed his face, but it faded when Amanda bobbed her head at his question. She hadn’t moved.  Eddie was still looking down at her upturned face, the way her hair fell softly against her cheeks and the sweet sweep of her nose making her look about as precious as he had ever had the pleasure to see.  Eddie didn’t want to look away. For another beat they stood there, together, surrounded by score books and tutorial materials while an instrumental version of “Don’t Stop Believing” played through the store speakers.  Shifting in his Reeboks, Eddie swayed to the melody and Amanda let herself be carried along with him.  In another second, Amanda was certain that she would wrap his arms around her waist and call it a day.  Already, Eddie’s free hand was sliding towards her shoulder, another point of contact with this unknown, but very cute, man. “Yo!  Amanda?  Are you-”  Kyle’s voice cut through the force field around the pair.  At the sound of her manager’s shout she panic jumped back far enough to thud against the very cork board which held her proudly hung announcement, knocking the air out of her lungs with a grunted, “Oof!” “Jesus!  What are you doing?”  

Amanda’s eyes went wide at Kyle’s intrusion, and she pressed a hand to her chest to stop her startled heart from bursting free from the unused adrenaline, “Me?  Kyle, you scared the crap out of me!” Eddie’s head had snapped towards the interruption before pivoting back to the pretty lady he now knew was called Amanda.  His hand reached for hers reflexively, to help steady her, the same shy grin tugging at his lips.  That she took it and held it like a lifeline sent a zig-zag of energy from his fingertips straight to the muscles of his tummy which tightened at the contact. One of Kyle’s eyebrows shot skyward, his face skeptical, “What’s going on over here, anyway?”  He asked as if he already knew the answer, questioning eyes full of judgment. Amanda’s mouth opened and closed wordlessly.  What was going on back here?  She didn’t know, really. Luckily, Eddie did.  “Uh, your beautiful sales associate was just helping me find this-” holding up the song book with Iron Maiden’s logo splashed across the cover, he continued, “-and uh, then you came around the corner and, ya know, scared her half to death.” “Were you dancing?” Sneaking a quick glance her way, Eddie chuckled, “Dancing?  While she’s supposed to be working?  Naw man.  Like I said, she was helping me out.” His arms crossed over his chest, Kyle stared directly at Amanda, all but demanding her side of the story.  Running a palm up her neck, leaning into her hand, she exhaled loudly, “He’s- he’s right, Kyle.  I was just giving him, ya know, a hand.” Narrowing his eyes, not believing either of them, Kyle groaned in frustration, “Fine.  Whatever.  Just, I had a question for you.  Ya know, when you’re free?” Nodding, “Sure.  Yea, of course.  Just um-” she gestured towards Eddie, “-Give me a minute, ok?” “Yea.  Ok.”  Snorting, Kyle moved back towards the register, leaving Eddie and Amanda alone once more. Blinking those amazing eyes his way, Amanda locked her hands together to keep from touching the broad boy in front of her anymore, “So, thank you.  I’m not entirely sure what was going on, but I’m glad I don’t have to explain it to my boss.” “Right.  Well, I’m sorry for tripping you up.  Covering for you seemed like the least I could do.” Amanda heard the store’s music shift, something by Annie Lennox filling the space, and she took a tentative step away from Eddie causing him to lean forward, “Wait-” “Yea?”  Her hair swung over her shoulder, that’s how fast she spun around to face him, her stare open and curious. Nervously, Eddie bit his bottom lip as he rocked on the worn down heels of his sneakers.  For the first time in as long as he could remember he was almost unsure of what to say, “Uh, can I see you again?” Amanda didn’t laugh in his face and she didn’t shy away, both reactions he fully expected if he was honest about it.  Instead, and to his utter amazement, she reached behind her, yanking down the flier she’d only just hung up, “Absolutely.”  And she pushed the paper into his hand before scurrying toward Kyle. Shit.  He was in trouble already. Waiting just another couple of minutes, Eddie made his way to the cashier, patiently standing behind a flustered mom and her teenage son.  That the kid kept trying to get her to look at the cherry red electric guitar and amp set, already staged for Christmas, wasn’t lost on Eddie.  It’s exactly the type of gear he’d lusted after when he was young and eager, before he’d gotten his Sweetheart, and never looked back. Mind wandering, he didn’t hear her at first, “I can help you over here, sir.” Tilting his head towards her voice, Eddie took a shuffling step toward her register, “Ah, thank you, miss.” “No problem.”  But it most definitely was a problem, because Amanda couldn’t lift her gaze his way.  Not when her body rolled over hot at the memory of his chest under her fingers, his brown eyes peering down at her with sweet desire in their burnt caramel depths. Amanda punched in the code numbers, reading the price sticker and busying herself with recording the sale correctly.  “Amanda?  What’s the price for the Fender capo?” “Twelve fifty!”  It’s automatic and Eddie was astonished at how she kept focused on his sale while answering her colleague from memory. Finally, she raised her face to find Eddie’s smiling one already looking in her direction, and struggling to keep the flush of her embarrassment in control managed to ask, “Is uh, is there anything else today?” “Naw, Amanda.  I think this’ll do it.”  Giggling, a bit more timid now that she was safe behind the counter, Amanda bagged up the book and relayed the total.  Eddie pulled the bills out of his wallet, his chains clinking together musically, as Amanda made change for him quickly and precisely.  When he grabbed for the package, his fingers rested over her own for just a heartbeat, “I’ll see you soon then.  And uh, thanks for the dance, Amanda.” Stunned, all she could do was stand there, confused at the Dio patched metal head who pushed through the doorway and onto the street.  Under her breath, Amanda swore, “Fuck.  He knows my name.” —

Eddie didn’t know what he was supposed to wear to an outdoor concert in Hawkins Memorial Park at the beginning of October.  Was it a jacket and tie sort of situation?  Were jeans enough?  Was he going to stick out like a sore thumb if he was wearing a Metallica t-shirt? All of these questions and more burned through the bong ripped brain of Eddie Munson.  Pacing in front of his mirror, he fluffed his hair with his fingers, fidgety and fussing.  “Dude.  You’re fine.  What’s the big deal anyway?” Fixing Dustin with a stare that would wither lesser beings, Eddie folded down the collar of his red checkered flannel shirt, “The big deal?  I’ll tell you, Henderson.  The big deal is-” grabbing for his well used bottle of Aqua Velva and splashing a few shakes into his hands, “-I don’t wanna look like a jerk.  I want to blend in.  Just uh, enjoy some new music, and a nice night.” “Psst.  Bullshit.  Who’s the chick?” His eyes widened.  How could the little butthead know?  Eddie hadn’t said a word about the music store beauty and still, somehow, the pipsqueak was calling him out. “What chick?  Who said chick?  There’s no chick.” “Me thinks thou doth protest too much.” Pausing while he fiddled with the buttons on the sleeves of his shirt, confusion filling his face, Eddie blinked, “Wha?” “It’s Shakespeare.  You protest too much ‘cause, ya know, you’re covering up.”  Frustrated, Dustin shook his head, closing his eyes as he exhaled heavily, “Nevermind.  You’re clearly lying.  Tell me about her.  Who is she?” Looking over at his youthful friend, Eddie thought about it for a long second.  Tell Dustin about Amanda?  What was there to tell?  Shrugging safely into his shirt, Eddie bought himself some time fiddling with the buttons.  “Uh, well.  I don’t really know her all that well.  We, literally, bumped into each other at the music shop when I was picking up my new bible.”  He was now entirely focused on his hair which had decided to go fluffy.  Disgusted at what he saw, looking more pampered poodle than suave rocker, Eddie continued to run his hands through the curls as he chatted with his sidekick, “She’s uh-” “Pretty?” Dropping his gaze to the top of his dresser, Eddie’s cheeks colored at the word, “Yea.  So cute.  And, she seems smart.  Funny, ya know?” Nodding, Dustin came up behind his friend, plucking a stray hair from his shoulder, “Sounds pretty damn perfect, man.” “I’m sure there’s a catch.  There always is when it comes to women.”  Eddie couldn’t help trying to keep his excitement in check.  It was better to set his expectations low.  Less likely to hurt so bad when someone disappointed him and people always seemed to be disappointing Eddie Munson. Catching his older friend’s eye in the mirror, Dustin offered up a toothless smile, “I don’t know, man.  Maybe she’ll surprise you?” —

People were scattered around the park.  Some hovered near benches, others sat on blankets and a lucky few used their lawn chairs, dragged from home, all to get a good view of the small stage where the quartet would be performing tonight.  It was exciting. Amanda had unpacked her mic and cord, scatting a bit so that the guys could get a level on her voice and ensure a balanced sound through their mixing board.  She didn’t really understand all the technicalities, but in the end it helped make sure that they all sounded as good as possible, so Amanda played along.  “Testing one, two, three- testing one, two, three.  Can y’all hear us out there?” A smattering of claps and one enthusiastic “Woo hoo!” met her question.  Carly’s electric piano came next, banging out a couple of chords, before Jim slid his bow across the strings of his bass.  Not to be excluded, Mark took a couple of rim shots, making them all laugh. Now all that was left was waiting for the start of the show.  Seven o’clock and one of the town’s cultural council staff members used her microphone to blab about why they were hosting this event and to welcome Amanda and the band.  The lawn had filled in a bit, more people milling around which was always a good sign, so Amanda took a deep breath before greeting everyone, “Good evening everyone!  We’re the Indiana Four and we’re going to play for you tonight.  If you like what you hear, there’s a tambourine-” jingling the instrument to get everyone's attention, Amanda added, “-and I’ll leave it right here, in case you wanna put a little something in it!”

It was still too early for a full on sun set, but the sky didn’t know it.  Painted in bold streaks of orange that melted into petal pink due to the rays of the sinking sun, it created a warm glow which outlined everything around them with a gilded golden edge.  The moon was already a ghostly crescent barely visible in the rainbow tinted ether when Amanda let her voice rise into the oncoming night.  Mark counted them in with a broad smile in her direction and Carly’s piano joined the swell of music.  The deeper bass notes of Jim’s cello grounded the opening strains of their first song.  Amanda gently shut her eyes, letting her body feel every word of the song she was singing, just like she would do at home in her shower or behind the wheel of her tiny car.  Unaware of herself and completely at ease, letting her instrument, her voice, blend into the melody the four of them created together. Eddie was never going to get over the sound of her voice.  Sweet and soaring, she seemed to change the quality of its tone depending on the song, always leaving him guessing.  Which version of this lady was going to sing next?  A sultry vixen, heart broken and mournful?  The shy ingenue, new to love?  A plaintive bard, looking for answers?  Or some new character created to enchant him with only the power of her voice? In between songs, Amanda smiled brightly, joking with the people gathered and teasing her band mates playfully.  It made the entire concert feel comfortable- easy.  Like the folks who came down to see them were in on the funniest joke.  All one big, happy family who simply wanted to share music on a random October evening in the middle of Indiana. “Ok everyone, you’ve heard us sing a little of this and a little of that-” wrapping her hands around the microphone, Amanda pulled the silver stick closer, “-but now we’re going to do a favorite of mine, if that’s alright.” At the opening strains from the piano, a couple, older with matching graying hair, stood in front of their chairs and started swaying together, wrapped in each other’s arms.  Amanda’s lips spread in a wide smile pointed in their direction as she started, “There’s a saying old, says that love is blind. Still we’re often told, seek and ye will find. So, I’m gonna seek a certain lad I’ve had in mind.” Moving from the lamp post he had been leaning against, no longer content to watch from the shadows, Eddie stepped directly into Amanda’s line of sight.  She saw him.  How could she miss the leather wrapped, long haired guy who was peering straight into her soul?  And she wanted to look away, give someone, anyone else in the assembled listeners, her attention, but Amanda found that she couldn’t.

Had she expected him to be there?  Shaking her head for the crowd to see answered her own thoughts.  No, Amanda had no idea that the metal loving smooth talker would actually come to seek her out.  But, she had thought about it in the small moments between guitar lessons or while driving to her classes in the morning.

So, no.  Seeing Eddie stand there, bold as brass with his wide eyed stare and his hands in his pockets was not what Amanda had been expecting.  Hoped for, maybe.  Wished for, absolutely.  Reality though was better than anything her mind might have considered. “Looking everywhere, haven’t found him yet He’s the big affair I cannot forget, Only man I ever think of with regret.” Eddie swallowed hard.  The words she was singing wrapped around him on the night’s breeze and held on tight.  It was as if they were having a conversation that no one else could decipher, a conversation for only two. “I’d like to add his initials to my monogram, Tell me, where’s the shepherd for this lost lamb?” And she sounded lost.  Abandoned.  Alone.  Exactly like the type of person that Eddie was collecting for Hellfire or the band.  A person who needed someone like him to shield them from the big bads in life.  A guy who could protect her from the sort of wolves that a shepherd like him knew about all too well. “There’s a somebody I’m longing to see, I hope that he turns out to be Someone to watch over me.”

She was singing just to him.  Only Eddie.  There was no one else to look at, no one else who could understand or appreciate what the lyrics demanded.  “I'm a little lamb who's lost in the wood, I know I could always be good To one who'll watch over me”

Eddie felt his smile slide into place.  It wasn’t the wide, dimpled, open grin that showed off his teeth and let you know he was happiest.  No, this smile was small, secret.  It drew his pretty pink tongue over the plush swell of his lips, something Amanda could see from a distance.  Then, just to be coy, his pearly top teeth bit into the pillow cushion of his bottom lip, teasing her from her position on the small stage. Even from this far away, Amanda could see that he had made an effort.  A shirt with a collar was buttoned across his chest, all red and black squares that looked soft and broken in.  Sure, it was still under his leather jacket, but the denim vest must have been left somewhere safe, because he wasn’t sporting the pins and patches that she remembered from their first encounter.  Jeans, dark blue or was it black?  She couldn’t really tell, but it didn’t entirely matter.  Either way, they fit snugly around his thighs and only sported a single torn knee.  The threads stretched across his joint, frayed and begging to be played with. His hair was wild.  It fell in waves of dark tendrils, looking to all the world like no care had been taken in its shaping and styling.  Amanda stretched the fingers of her right hand, the one not holding her mic, imagining how Eddie’s curls would feel wrapped around her fingers. He saw it all.  The way her hand fisted at her side before trailing up the chord of her microphone, tangling the slack in her fingers.  How Amanda let every note have its own moment before the next one rose to join it. “Although he may not be the man some girls think of as handsome, To my heart, he carries the key”

Eyes fluttering shut, Amanda took a breathy inhalation as the melody shifted, daring to break the spell by denying herself the sight of Eddie in the crowd.  Her heart thumped in time with Mark’s gentle drumming, thick hips swaying without her conscious approval, the crowd around her all but forgotten.  Sliding back to the original cadence, the song swelled up and out of Amanda, nearing the end. “Won't you tell him please, to put on some speed, Follow my lead, oh, how I need, Someone to watch over me”

Eddie was transfixed.  There was only him and Amanda and her voice and the falling sun burnishing everything rose golden in the fading light.  He caught the way her skirt curled happily at her ankles with every shift of her feet.  The way her mouth formed around the lyrics.  How her chest rose and fell with each expressive stanza. The words repeated: “Won't you tell him please, to put on some speed Follow my lead, oh, how I need Someone to watch over me”

Amanda let her eyes flutter open.  Closer now, unavoidable and un-ignorable, Eddie was standing directly in front of her.  The final note, held until her lungs burned from want of air, faded into the ether and she winked at him.  She couldn’t help it, really. Not when she had somehow managed to carry on as if the most handsome guy Amanda had ever bumped into wasn’t staring straight into her soul as she sang.  Not when every note was rich and ripe and reverberated across the people packed plaza even if, presently, she sang solely for an audience of one. Applause.  Clapping and whistling came from every corner of the park, jostling Eddie’s attention.  From the stage, Amanda giggled at his reaction, but smoothly covered her response, “We are just so grateful that you all came to see us tonight.  So-” tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, a shy smile pointed in Eddie’s direction, she continued, “-we’re going to do one more song before we say goodnight.” She didn’t look at Eddie at all this time.  Amanda wasn’t even sure she could, not after the intensity of singing, to him, for him.  But she could tell he was there all the same, with his elbows bending outward like leather wrapped wings, nervous energy causing him to bounce on his toes in time with the music.

The new melody started and Amanda let it take her away too.  This number is lively, the rhythm more rock than jazz, and she gave herself permission to have a little fun, show off a little bit.  Still, she actively ignored the one set of eyes that didn’t seem to stray from her own through their final song. Soon enough, it was all over and the Indiana Four began breaking down.  A few friendly folks from the audience came up and said kind words.  Luckily there were a few dollars in the tambourine and Amanda happily handed the take to Carly, “Not so bad.” “Not bad at all-” But her friend stopped mid sentence, a voice familiar and still foreign cutting through the conversation, “Um, excuse me?  Amanda?” Turning around, Amanda was surprised to find Eddie so close that the toes of her boots brushed against his Reeboks.  She looked up at him through the curtain of her mascara, “How can I help you?” Now her voice was breathy.  Husky.  And it made Eddie’s skin prickle hotly.  “Uh, I just wanted to tell you- all, tell you all just how much I enjoyed your set.” Only, Eddie never looked past Amanda’s face.  Couldn’t really.  Not when her wide eyes were staring into his own, their long lashes accentuating her curious gaze, her head tilted in a way that showed sincerity.

His calloused palm rubbed against the back of his neck, nerves getting the better of him the longer that Eddie stood there.  It felt like hours.  Long, silence filled hours where no one spoke and he dangled from a weak branch of his own social awkwardness. In reality it was only seconds before Amanda giggled like a crushing school girl, dropping her gaze to break the spell she had unwittingly cast, “Well, that’s awfully kind of you…?” Clearly she was prompting him.  It was unfair that she was at the disadvantage of not knowing his name when he had learned hers through the forced politeness of the customer service industry.  Behind her, Carly snorted as they watched Eddie extend a heavy ringed hand, taking Amanda’s in his own.  Raising it high enough to press a chaste kiss to the back, adding a saucy wink for good measure as he answered, “Eddie.  I’m Eddie.” “Eddie.”  Amanda wasn’t aware that she’d whispered it out loud until her friend was reaching past her, extending her own hand Eddie’s way for a greeting, using her flirty voice to try and charm the very handsome, very out of place guy, “Carly.  That’s me.  And-” dropping her hand when Eddie failed to take it, Carly laughed ruefully, “-you don’t care.” Carly was absolutely right.  Neither one of them paid her any attention because the world as Amanda knew it no longer existed.  Not anymore. There was a new sun, a new sky.  One with raven curls and plump, pink lips.  A center of the galaxy that smelled like Aqua Velva and cinnamon gum and something mossy green.  The world had shifted off its axis, tipping her right into the arms of Eddie Munson. For Eddie, well, he had been gone from the second Amanda had tangled herself around him so tightly that she’d almost fallen.  But it was amazing to recognize that these feelings he was having were mutual.  He got shy then, toeing at the patch of grass in front of her, hands in his pockets while he played at casual, “Wanna get outta here?” Nodding wordlessly, Amanda agreed, only to realize her unspoken intention.  “Yea!  Uh, yes.  Yes.  That would be nice.” When Eddie cocked his chin up, the smile on his face was dazzling, “Excellent.”

— She was sure that she told the band where she was going and who she was leaving with, but Amanda couldn’t be certain.  It felt like so long ago.  An age had passed since she had been standing on the simple stage, singing for all of Hawkins to hear.  Since then, the long ago days of the early evening, so much had happened. Eddie had held her hand as he walked her to his van, holding open the door and ensuring that Amanda was tucked safely inside.  Boys didn’t do that- not for Amanda Patterson.  Not for the chubby girl who still had her baby weight to lose. When he caught her nibbling worriedly at her bottom lip, Eddie asked pointedly, “Everything alright?” “Uh, yea, I just-” “Afraid I’m trying to kidnap you, huh?  I get it.  Vans do have a-” he waggled his eyebrows suggestively while pressing the tip of his tongue to the center of his top lip, “-certain reputation.  But I promise you, Amanda.  No funny business.”  With one hand over his heart, Eddie extended the other, holding his pinky finger out. She recognized the gesture.  Every school aged kid would.  “Is that- are you making a pinky promise?”

His cheeks split into a solar powered smile as he nodded, “Oh, yes.  Absolutely.  And it’s ironclad, since, ya know, we link our little fingers.” Chuckling with her whole body, her shoulders lifted as Amanda agreed by reaching out her own pinky, “Ok, ok.  No funny business.”

They wrapped their littlest fingers around the other, huffing out laughs like naughty children.  And it did comfort any nagging fears that might have flooded Amanda’s mind because it was so silly.  So unexpected.  It was also entirely sincere. Roaring to life like a beast roused from slumber, the van started and Eddie shifted into gear, “Are you, by any chance, hungry?”

He was hoping against hope that she was because Eddie wasn’t ready to say goodnight.  Not now when he finally had this beautiful songbird buckled into the passenger’s seat, looking at him with those electric eyes.  Eyes that kept pulling him in anytime he dared glance Amanda’s way, now fully focused on him and beaming. Normally a question like that would be fully loaded for a young woman very aware of her size and stature, but for the first time and without any hesitation, Amanda answered without reservation, “Starved.”

Exhaling through a grin, Eddie shook his hair off his shoulders, “Then let’s go!” The drive to the diner was filled with chatter.  He offered kind words about the band, the concert and her vocals.  “You, you’re just incredible.  Never heard someone sing like that before.” “Thanks, but truthfully, Carly and Mark and Jim, they make me sound better.”  Amanda did that thing where she deflected the words, the attention, to anyone else in order to minimize herself.  What she didn’t count on?  Eddie’s ability to see right through her. Blowing his bangs off his face, Eddie swiveled to face Amanda, his tone finally serious, “Uh uh.  Nope.  No way.  You’re gonna have to accept that you’re the star of the show, sweetheart.”  Then, he leaned over the center console, right into Amanda’s personal space to bump her shoulder with his own, “Please, take the compliment.” Her jaw snapped shut, hands in her lap where Amanda fooled around her with fingernails, fidgeting.  She swallowed thickly and bobbed her head, her voice gaining strength.  “You’re right.  I, uh, I appreciate you saying that.” “No problem at all, hun.  I’m only telling the truth.”  That’s when she noticed his little finger wiggling her way, “Pinky promise.” — Normally Amanda would frown at the idea of a booth.  They tended to be a tight squeeze, embarrassingly so when she’d have to slide across the bench, her supple thighs sticking to the tacky pleather. She desperately did not want to be embarrassed in front of the forthright dude in front of her. But Amanda didn’t need to worry.  Eddie, lacing her hand in his, tugged her to the back table, “My usual spot- out of the way and the most comfortable one in the place.” Deep and roomy, the color of jellied cranberry sauce from a can, the cushion was accommodating because of its indeterminate age.  She plopped onto the seat with room to spare, more than a little relieved, “Oh yea?” “Yea.  I’ve been breaking it in for years.” Cocking her head in a way that made Eddie’s breath hitch, a clever half teasing smile curling one corner of her mouth higher than the other, Amanda joked, “So you bring all your women here, then?” The deep barking laugh that came straight from Eddie’s chest made an elderly gentleman sitting at the countertop turn around with a scowl.  “All my women?  You make me sound like a lothario.” “Mr. Goodbar?  Is that you?”  She squinted her eyes, leaning into the bit. “Oh, Mandy, honey.  I am nowhere near that good with the ladies.” “I don’t know.  You’re doing pretty good with me, so far.”  And it was out of her mouth like a runaway rocket.  There was no way to pull it back, no way to reign it in.  It was there- out in the ether, like a comet bound to crash through the atmosphere. Amanda froze because now she’d done it.  She had pointed out her interest, revealed herself as wanting, knowing that any other time she had dared to give voice to her attraction it had always been met with let down and heart ache.  The embarrassment boiled through her. God, she had wanted so badly to play it cool.  To ensure that Eddie was really into her before making any kind of declaration that couldn’t be passed off as a joke.  Stewing, Amanda waited for the inevitable rejection from the man far prettier and sexier than she should ever hope to have for her own. But instead of a dismissive shrug or, worse, a comment about liking her as a ‘just friend’, Amanda got to watch as Eddie’s eyes lit up joyfully.  He couldn’t hide it either, apparently, since his smile widened enough to show off a pair of precious dimples, “Yea?  Ya think so?  That’s- uh, that’s good to hear.” Something about his own reckless enthusiasm caused the flood of worry to ebb away, leaving Amanda filled with a warm, gooey sensation that was not as familiar.  Could it be?  Was this what mutual attraction felt like?  Was this what love songs had been selling for generations and greeting card companies were always trying to find new ways to describe?  Was this… love? “Hey lovebirds, what can I get ya?”  It is a universal law that wait staff appear at the table when it is least convenient and this interruption by Cheryl ensured that all was right with the cosmos, her tiny pencil poised and ready to write. They had spent no time reading the menu, but Eddie had it memorized cover to cover.  Looking at Amanda, he nodded, “So, uh, do you trust me?” Again, her head tilted, appraising this nearly perfect stranger with the gorgeous grin and shaggy hair.  “Uh huh, yea.  I trust you.  Why do you ask?” Licking over his lips, he turned all of his unfiltered attention to their waitress, dialing the charm up to eleven, “Hiya Cheryl!” “Hi yourself, Eddie.  What’s it gonna be?”  There was a familiarity there that spoke of too many late night coffee cups and slices of pie.  It wasn’t friendly, really, but it was warm enough and Eddie’s puppy dog eyes moved the conversation into safer waters. “Hmm… patty melts.  Two please, with the curly fries, ok?” A curt nod answered his request, “Yea, and to drink?” He looked at Amanda, that impish twinkle shining bright in his cinnamon dark eyes, “Milkshakes?” “Oh!  Yes!  Vanilla for me, please.”  She beamed at Eddie, excitement at the consideration evident in Amanda’s face. “And I suppose you want chocolate, right Eddie?” Cheryl lifted her gaze from the scribble filled notepad to stare down at Amanda’s dinner companion. Placing his ring covered hand over his chest, Eddie batted his eyes, “You know the way to my heart, Cheryl.” Snorting approvingly at his antics, she jotted down Eddie’s preferred flavor, “All right kids, be right up.” And she wasn’t kidding because before either of them could let the silence grow, two tall and frosty milkshake glasses were being slid across the glittering formica, each topped with a mound of whipped cream and a luscious, over sweet cherry as a crown.  A pair of straws were tossed down without much thought and Amanda greedily grabbed one, eager to taste the delectable treat in front of her. “So, tell me about you.  What do you- like, what do you do for fun?”  Eddie was toying with his straw’s paper wrapper, making small talk and working hard at looking effortless.  He hadn’t been out like this, with a girl he was so into, in ages.  Maybe ever, really, and he was rusty, more than a little out of practice. Amanda swirled her own straw through the thick vanilla shake in front of her, biting into her bottom lip before replying, “Well, I work.  A lot.”  “At the Music Shop?” She shrugged, “Yup.  But it’s not all restocking sheet music and replacing guitar strings.  I teach-” “Like guitar?”  Something about the prospect was so exciting.  A fellow musician to noodle around with and she just happened to have the voice of an angel?  Was this paradise found, or what? Amanda nodded at his eager response, “Yea.  Also some keyboard, like, really beginner piano, ya know?” Eddie slurped at his chocolate shake, brain going a mile a minute.  Shaking his long hair off his shoulders, nearly gawking, he clicked his tongue before sighing deeply, “It’s not really fair.” Worry filled Amanda’s features.  Had she done something wrong?  It had all been going so well, maybe too well?  “What’s not fair?” Rapping his ringed knuckles against the tabletop before pointing her way, “You.  You’re like, too good to be true.” Shy now, Amanda turned away from his kindness, his honeyed praises, and fiddled nervously with the pendant of her necklace.  It wasn’t something she had a ton of experience with; flirting and compliments and genuine appreciation.  If she was on a stage, under a white hot spotlight, Amanda would know exactly what to say, what to do, but here on the worn out bench seat of a small town diner, Amanda found herself unmoored by all the attention Eddie was sending her way. “Oh, that’s like- I mean, I’m not-” she let her voice trail off, suddenly transfixed by something outside of the plate window. “Hey-” Eddie laid his hand, palm up, on the worn down table, his voice dropping to a whisper.  He’d said something to upset Amanda because she had taken those brilliant peepers away and that felt wrong on a primal level. “-Amanda?  Did I- uh, shit.  Did I do something, ya know, wrong?  Shit.” There was something in the defeated sound of Eddie’s expletive that brought her around.  She saw his open hand, still laying on the table and cautiously linked her fingers with his.  But she still could not meet his questioning look.  Twirling one of those big, heavy rings around his large and frankly, distracting fingers, Amanda finally huffed out a lungful of air. “I guess I should like, be honest here and tell you that I’ve never really done this.”  She motioned between the pair of them with her unoccupied hand as if that alone would explain her behavior. Eddie squeezed her fingers for a second, a trace of teasing in his tone when he asked, “Had dinner in a shitty diner?” Rolling her eyes skyward, she snorted out a small laugh, “No.  Well, kinda?  I mean, I haven’t really had a-” she let her eyes lock onto Eddie’s maple brown ones, holding him still, “-a date.  I, uh, never really had anyone, ya know, wanna take me out.  So, this is new.  For me, anyway.” Eddie could see what the admission cost her.  The once pleased smile now turned just a little pouty as her bottom lip puckered from the effort of opening herself up.  Her chest rose and fell rapidly as if she couldn’t keep the air inside her for too long, but perhaps the most telling was the way that Amanda’s hand clung tightly to Eddie’s. For a long second neither one of them said anything.  The kitchen crew could be heard, banging around pots and plates.  Another couple in a nearby booth was laughing loudly.  The radio was tuned to the oldies station so everyone could listen to Sam Cooke singing about Cupid. And when Amanda realized that Eddie wasn’t going to respond, she sat up, stiffer than before, readying to take her hand with her.  But Eddie closed his fist around her fingers, keeping his hold on her and tugging her gently forward, a pained pinch obvious in his voice, “Me either.” “What?” He closed his eyes and swallowed thickly, “I don’t date.  Uh, that often.”  Popping one eye open, just to see if Amanda was still with him, Eddie continued, “Um, I’ve got a bit of a, well, a reputation.  And for some reason, the ladies around here aren’t into that.” Shooting for levity, Eddie hoped to lighten the mood.  Moments like this, where he was on display emotionally, where he was open and vulnerable, made him nervous.  Anxious.  Twitchy.  It was fucking scary to be sitting here with this pretty bird and tell her how much of a disaster he really was with no bravado to use as armor.  And if Amanda wasn’t already heading for the hills, there was no way he would be able to stop her now. “It’s the van, isn’t it?  All the people you’ve attempted to kidnap, right?”  At her gentle jest, both of Eddie’s eyes popped open.  She was still there, sitting sweetly behind her melting shake, a tentative twist of her lips making it impossible for Eddie to stop imagining what kissing her would be like and he felt himself nodding with a hoarse giggle, relieved, “Yea.  That’s, uh, that’s it.  I’m just a creepy metal head with a super creepy van.” “You probably have candy too and uh, puppies?  For the luring of innocents?” “Of course.  What’s a kidnapper without his bait?”  “A weird guy with an empty van?”  And that absolutely shitty punchline was enough to send them both into a giggle fit, shattering any lingering tension created by being a touch too honest in the moment.  There would be a better time to talk about deep dark secrets and the reasons why two lonely people could find comfort in each other, but this wasn’t it. When Amanda pulled her hand back this time, Eddie let it go.  She used her napkin to dab under her eyes, clearing away the tears that laughing together had created.  Then she was dipping down to slurp at her creamy concoction, grinning, “This is so good!” “Right?  But, I gotta say, vanilla is-” “What?  What’s wrong with vanilla?”  Shaking his head with a laugh, Eddie raised his eyebrows, “Vanilla is kinda boring.” “It is not!”  Scalded by his choice of words, Amanda leaned over their shared table at the diner, motioning him closer.  When she was near enough for her now vanilla scented breath to skate across Eddie’s mouth, Amanda husked, “Vanilla is smoky.  Sweet.  It’s hard to grow, super hard to harvest and while there are many imitators out there.  Real vanilla.  The good stuff?  Well, that shit would rock your world.” Amanda, feeling bolder, pushed in tighter despite the formica between them, continuing in a hushed tone.  “And Eddie-” her voice dropped even lower, forcing him to concentrate on every word leaving her tenderly parted lips, lips that smelled like bourbon and sugar and cream.  Lips that Eddie wanted to taste so badly that he was sure he was going to go mad, right here in the goddamned diner, before their burgers ever made it to the table.  Lips that begged to be kissed stupid, carried on, unaware of his rising desire, “-never forget this: chocolate needs vanilla to taste so damn good!”  Sitting back, pleased as punch now that her point was made, Amanda slurped down another sip of her vanilla shake.  Eddie needed a minute.  Or seven.  He was still almost lying chest down on the booth’s table, having to cock his head up to look at the vanilla loving vixen gloating over him.  Spreading his broad hands over the tabletop, Eddie dramatically pushed himself back into his seat, eyeing Amanda warily, acting contrary for the fun of it.  “It’s a good story, kid.  But I’m still not convinced about vanilla’s superiority.  Maybe-”  He was pushing his luck, he knew it.  God, but he knew it only too well.  She’d admitted to being new to all this, inexperienced, but still, fortune favors the bold, isn’t that what some famous person had said once?  Amanda, unknowingly, waited for his follow-up, her mouth wrapped around the striped straw, her cheeks round and smiling, “Maybe?” Leaning onto one leather wrapped elbow, Eddie reclaimed the space at the center of their table, “Maybe I need to taste it again?” She’s confused.  Yea, definitely, confused.  So Amanda moved, ready to slide her icy half filled glass his way.  But Eddie shook his head slowly and waved her forward until their foreheads were almost pressed together.  That’s when he cupped her cheek, gently, softly and Amanda, powerless to stop her body, nuzzled into the warmth there. It felt natural.  Right.  Easy.  And there was no way that Amanda was going to deny herself this little bit of pleasure being offered so openly. If what Eddie had admitted was true, and the way his eyes had scrunched gave her a pretty good idea that it was, then he was in uncharted waters himself.  Something about that idea, that they were both in this raging waterfall of connection together made it safer somehow.  It made it easier to shut her own eyes and enjoy the calloused caresses of Eddie. Eddie slid his thumb over her plush bottom lip which parted without question, “Wanna taste you.  That alright, Mandy?” God, did she like being called Mandy.  She bobbed her head ‘yes’, her eyes shut from the want, already anticipating Eddie’s movements.  But he surprised her again, asking- no, telling, “Open your eyes, baby.  Please?” And only when Eddie could spy the blown open pupils of his dinner companion did he allow his mouth to surge forward.  His slightly chapped lips separated enough for his tongue to sweep across Amanda’s own and he was rewarded with a sultry sigh.  It made Eddie braver.  Bolder.  

Now he was intrepid in his search for the flavor of vanilla, teasing and taking a taste of every muggy corner of her mouth.  His tongue brushed against her own, the fresh flavor of vanilla sweetness everywhere.  Heady and exotic and exciting.  Amanda tipped her chin downward, ready to deepen this first kiss that arched over forgotten milkshakes and the paper napkins wrapping up their silverware, tentatively running the tip of her tongue over Eddie’s teeth.  Traces of chocolate and the syrupy sweet cherry from the top of his treat lingered on Eddie’s lips making Amanda hum harmonically.  Her fingers fisted into the collar of his flannel shirt, ensuring that Eddie couldn’t escape, at least, not without effort. But she wasn’t worried.  When his second hand molded to the curve of her other cheek, Amanda couldn’t avoid smiling, knowing that Eddie was as into this as she was.  As far as first kisses went, this one was ranking pretty high on the list of all time greats and both were reluctant to pull away first. “Ahem!  AHEM!  I have your order.” Two heads turned toward the intruding voice of the bored and bordering on disgusted server Doris but Eddie and Amanda didn’t jump apart like a couple of randy teens might have.  Oh no, Amanda leaned further into the cup of Eddie’s palm, offering their put upon server a small smile, dazed and almost drunkenly, “Hmm, thank you so much.” Eddie would have rather died than forfeit the pleasure of her trusting touch.  With his free left hand he reached for one of the two plates, “Here, lemme have that.” “Whatever.”  Without any further ceremony, Doris, because that’s what her name tag read, plopped both heavy ceramic dishes to the table, “Need anything else lovebirds?” Amanda lifted her head slowly, licking over her bee stung lips and nodded towards the pink cheeked shaggy headed boy still draped across their booth, “Uh, yea.  Could we have another vanilla shake, please?  It’s his favorite flavor.” Chuckling, Eddie let his broad thumb with the bitten down nail graze over the apple of her cheek, speaking to Doris but only looking at Amanda, “Two cherries, huh, Doris?” Rolling her elderly eyes, the waitress shook her head, “Right away.” Steam rolled off the two cheeseburger melts and stacks of seasoned french fries but they remained huddled as close at the table between them would allow.  Cocking his eyebrow, Eddie couldn’t help the teasing, “My favorite, huh?” “Oh yea.  You’re a convert now.” Settling back reluctantly, Eddie smirked your way, “Ever think that you’re my favorite flavor?” He was rewarded with a small kiss pressed to the inside of his wrist and what he realized was a trademark tilt of her head, “I told you that everything tastes better with vanilla, Eddie.” “Yea, you sure did.”  Biting into his burger, Eddie grinned through the grease on his face, sure he had never been happier in his short life.  And if the triumphant smirk Amanda flashed his way proved anything, she felt the exact same way.

— The second their empty plates had been cleared away, Eddie’s hand naturally kind of reached for Amanda’s, needy and greedy for the reassurance of touch.  Just as natural, Amanda slotted her fingers between his, “I gotta say, Eddie, that was a pretty amazing burger.” Pleased at the recognition, Eddie squeezed her digits for a second, “Thanks for trusting me.”  And then he seemed to realize the full implication of his statement.  Thanks for trusting him on the drive over.  Thanks for trusting his judgment about the restaurant and not just his menu choices.  Thanks for trusting his intentions. Her eyes rounded at the sentiment, giving Eddie a flash of sympathy before leaning into a flirty smile, “I had to.  You did pinky promise me that there would be no funny business and that’s ironclad.  At least, that’s what I’ve been led to believe.” “God, you remember everything, huh?”  But he sounded impressed.  Happy that she hadn’t lingered on his more revealing comment. Nodding, Amanda agreed, “Yea, I mean, I kinda have an ear and it’s always been easy for me to memorize stuff.  Lyrics, melodies, lines from movies-” Leaning forward again, engaged and interested, Eddie licked over his bottom lip, “No shit?” “No shit!” Eddie couldn’t help it.  He let his eyes roam over the pretty face in front of him, etching all of the details into his own memory, vowing never to forget the greasy sweet shine of her lips around the red striped straw or how she folded her disposable napkin up primly before laying it across her dinner plate.  The way Amanda’s hand felt so right in his and how her mouth tasted like vanilla ice cream with a trace amount of menthol throat drop lingering along her teeth. Eddie needed to remember it all for later.  For tonight when he went back to his trailer, like a gentleman.  For tomorrow or the day after or the day after that.  For all the days that would spread between this time together and the next time Eddie would be able to see her.  He was going to live off the sound of Amanda’s begrudging laugh when he made a joke that was funnier than it had any real right to be.  He planned to survive on the nourishment of her sugared sighs when those perfect, plump and pouty lips had welcomed Eddie’s own.  It was food for his soul.  Essential for life like oxygen or water. “Uh, Eddie?”  Amanda’s quiet question yanked him out of his own head and back into the present moment. He tugged the forward chunk of his hair between his long fingers, embarrassed at being caught, “Hmm?”  “You’re, uh, staring.” “Yea.  Sorry about that.  It’s just-” “Do I have something on my face?”  Panicked, Amanda patted at her cheeks to find the non-existent stain. And how could he help himself?  “Oh, yup.  A little higher.  No, lower- uh, nope, other side.  It’s right there-” he directed her wildly, pointing at the corner of his mouth to watch Amanda lick the same spot of her own, “-almost.  How do you keep missing it?” “You little shit!”  It was suddenly crystal clear that Eddie was full on fucking with her.  There never had been anything on her face. “What?  You got it.  Just now.”  Eddie’s impish grin made it impossible for Amanda to be truly mad so she settled for shooting him a playfully spiteful glare, “Uh huh.  Yea, sure.” His thumb rubbed along the side of her pointer finger, the gentle drag a grounding reminder of Eddie’s unwavering presence.  Amanda rested her chin against the flat of her right palm before sighing deeply, “What am I gonna do with you, Eddie?” Reflexively, re-actively, he answered, “Whatever you want, baby.” It was Amanda’s turn to stare.  There was an open honesty in the hot coffee color of Eddie’s eyes that hooked her right through the heart and tugged like a caught fish on a rusty lure.  He was being serious, there was no denying it. Around them the air shifted.  It was no longer funny.  It was no longer polite. The world narrowed once more, big enough for only the two of them and the dingy diner booth where they sat as everything else fell away. Her throat tightened and a lick of heated flame unfurled through her belly.  Words flooded her thoughts but Amanda couldn’t seem to settle on the ones that would say what she wanted desperately to express.  Eddie’s seemingly simple declaration had untethered her. Because it was too soon to speak with such clarity of purpose.  Too early for the implication of more to be made.  And yet, for the first time, Amanda saw the ghostly shape of possibility in the earnest expression Eddie wore. There was a promise there, stronger than one created when two little fingers linked, and something about that was spooky.  Scary.  Only, Amanda didn’t feel frightened like she thought she should, shrugging smoothly, “I- I wanna stay with you.” That was her truth, in the singular sparkling now.  Leaving Eddie, even for the comfort of home, was a thought so daunting, so disruptive, that she was actively moving against it.  Everything in Amanda Patterson said ‘stay’.  Eddie’s head bobbed in understanding.  He had no intention of letting the night end so early and without any plan in place for a follow-up rendezvous.  At Amanda’s declaration, he’d changed the grip of her hand, turning it so that their palms touched, textured heat melding together.  

He’d be lying if he denied the libidinous way his blood shot south at the whispered want in Amanda’s voice.  He was a young and virile guy, after all.  But Eddie wasn’t thinking with his dick when he said, “I don’t wanna let you go, Mandy.”

“Am I-” pausing to catch her breath, Amanda started again, “-are we crazy?” “I uh, I don’t think so.”  Conspiratorially, Amanda huffed, “Then what do we do now, Eddie?” His free hand brushed through his curls roughly before landing on the back of his neck, “Let me take you home?” It was a question born of chivalry and Amanda agreed with a thin, “Yes, please.” Eddie stood up first, somehow managing to keep her hand in his as he slipped out of the booth smoothly.  Once he was on his feet, he tugged lightly, bringing Amanda to the edge of the bench before offering his arm.  She watched as Eddie threw some loose bills on the table and then he was leading her outside of the bacon scented diner and onto the sidewalk. She floated at his side, the swaying of her skirt brushing against the stiff denim of Eddie’s jeans.  What had been an appropriate outfit for the early evening was now a bit too thin and he saw her shiver under the bright and clear Indiana sky.  Popping open the van’s door, he saw her settled inside and as she buckled her seatbelt, Eddie shrugged off his leather jacket, “Here.  Snuggle up under this, yea?” Gripping the body warm coat with greedy fingers, Amanda clutched it to her chest, humming her thanks.  He watched as she spread it over herself, nudging the collar with her nose, “Oh man, it smells like you!” “Cigarettes and bad decisions?” “Nope.”  Inhaling deeply, she thought for a minute, “Cologne?  Aqua Velva, like my granddad wears and uh, Green Apple shampoo?”  She couldn’t hide the surprised way her eyes widened or the knowing little smirk her mouth made at this discovery. “What?  I think it smells good.”  Lingering in the space between inside the van with Amanda and outside on the sidewalk, Eddie’s arms leaned into the rusted metal frame, effectively caging her in the seat. Not that she minded when every time he stretched his flannel shirt rode up just enough for an alabaster white slice of belly to peek over the waistband of his jeans.  She had already noticed splashes of black ink over each hip but couldn’t be sure of its shape.  His forearms were on display, the strong veins of his wrists visible under the artfully stained skin, and Amanda let her mind wander at the idea of what Eddie looked like under all that cotton and cloth. Amanda swallowed thickly.  She was very aware of the protective bubble Eddie had built around her, here in the cab of his vehicle.  The scent of him.  The sight.  It was a feast for the senses. And now all she wanted was to taste the plush and pillowy softness of his lips.  Lips that were moving, saying something but her mind had gone over into staticy silver.  She couldn’t help it.  Not when he was standing with his trim waist nearly at eye level, the belt of his jeans drawing them low on his hips.  “Huh?” That grin.  Broad and toothy, spread smugly over his face, “Uh, did I lose you for a second?” “Hmm, yea.  Kinda.  Sorry, what were you saying?” “I was saying, I don’t want to say goodnight, at least-” he raised a hand to her cheek, brushing the calloused pad of his thumb across her smooth skin, “-not so soon.” Having already melted into his touch, hoarse and throaty, she agreed, “Yea, no, me either.” “Yea?  So, if you’re up for a little adventure, I may have an idea.” Amanda lifted an eyebrow, questioning the boy before her with a sarcastic thread to her words,  “An adventure?” “Don’t worry, babe.  I'll make sure to get you there and back again.”  His pinkie finger was wiggling, just waiting for Amanda to link them together in a silent show of trust. —

Thanks for reading!  Part 2 is coming soon!

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Dancing with the Devil { Eddie Munson x Fem OC! } Chapter 8

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7| Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 (18+) | Chapter 11

Chapter : 2 Weeks till Springbreak ! 

Lilly had kinda found her place in Hawkins.

Robin and her were good friends, Steve was a really good friend and a cool brother to her.

Eddie and her were close he had been rather busy with a new DnD campaign.

The cult of Vecna or something.

Robin was busy with band for the pep rally for spring break.

Lilly didn't want anything to do with all that school stuff so she had been watching movies with Steve at work.

Lucas had been busy with basketball and Dustin and Mike were trying to get to all the DnD session Eddie gave.

It was an hour before school was out for the day and Lilly had gym.

She hated it but she wasn't bad at it.

Eddie was once again nowhere to be seen and she knew exactly where he was.

They were playing softball.

Lilly was in the field and she had outed Jason.

He was in all kinds of states and Lilly couldn't help but smirk when they were switching sides.

Cursing at her.

'Can't handle the fact a girl outed you?' Lilly said with a pout.

Chrissy his girlfriend was right behind her giggling.

Chrissy and her had a few classes together and they had been paired for a few projects.

When someone had a curveball it went straight for the small forest.

'I'll GET IT !' Lilly yelled as she jumped over the fence and walked off towards the small forest.

She lit a cigarette and she thankfully heard everyone continuing playing.

Lilly entered the forest but couldn't find the ball.

'Munson.' She said sweetly.

'I don't care that you're not attending but give me the ball back.'

'Damn princess...

Always so salty in the afternoon.' Eddie said as he came forward with the ball throwing it up in his hand.

'I just outed Jason, I'm great.' Lilly said with a smirk.

Eddie smirked back.

'Good for that asshole.

Been providing their basketball party's with weed for so long, and he's still an ass.' Eddie spat.

'Aww Poor Eddie Munson.' Lilly said mocking him.

'You want the ball back?' Eddie said his eyebrow raised at her.

Lilly rolled her eyes.

'I'll trade you for it?' Lilly said holding out her cigarette.

Eddie sat back on the table closing his eyes.

'Try me.' Eddie said

'Very well.' Lilly said while stepping closer to him.

She took a big pull from her cigarette before blowing it in his face.

But it was not like he cared at all.

That was making Lilly roll her eyes she took the ball from him but before she put her cigarette in between his fingers he was holding out she kissed his cheek.

She put the cigarette between his fingers.

And before he could even stand up she jumped out of the small forest.

'See ya later Munson.' She said before jogging out of the forest.

Class was almost over.

'Took you long enough.' Chrissy said a small smile on her face.

'Couldn't find it.' Lilly said putting the ball back in the box.

'Sure.' Chrissy said smiling as the both of them went to the dressing room.

After that Chrissy excused herself she was going to see the school counselor.

Lilly gave her a smile and wished her a nice day before walking off towards the parking lot.

Eddie told her she needed to listen to Black Sabbath, because it was greater then she thought.

So she had leant his mixtape.

*Paranoid by Black Sabbath was playing*

she was looking for Steve's car.

He had promised to pick her up, but he was a little busy with Brenda to which Lilly rolled her eyes.

She didn't notice that she was being sneaked upon.

Lilly felt a tap at her shoulder

And when she looked around there was no one there.

So she looked the other way seeing Eddie walking next to her.

They were close by his black van.

And in a matter of a second he had swept her from the parking lot against the side of his van.

He pulled the headphones of her head and put it on his head.

'Ozzy motherfucking Osbourne.' Eddie said smirking

'You told me to listen more.' Lilly said while shrugging.

He put the tape on pause and gave her back her headphone.

'I was kinda wondering something.' Eddie said scratching the back of his head.

'If you're passing English?' Lilly said jokingly.

'I sure hope so, we've been making homework together.' She bit to him.

'Ha-ha' Eddie said mocking her.

'No Lilith that's not it.' Eddie said while brushing his hand over his upper lip.

He looked to the ground.

To which Lilly frowned.

He usually was so good with words and saying everything that cames to mind.

'Ed? Is everything all right?' Lilly asked.

She looked him in the face.

But he was avoiding eye contact.

'Hey..

You can tell me , are you all right?' Lilly asked again.

'Yeah yeah I'm fine.' Eddie said quickly

He once again brushed his hand beneath his nose.

'I... I.. euh I was wondering if you would like to go on a date with me?' He suddenly said.

And in a second his eyes were up to hers.

Lilly's eyes widened.

And she fastly looked down looking at her Walkman.

Eddie suddenly had a shocked expression on his face.

Was she only nice to him because she liked to him as a friend.

He should have never had asked.

'Lilith, I'm sorry I shouldn't have asked ... ' He said panicky

'Eddie.' Lilly said as she grabbed his hand.

He locked eyes with hers.

' I thought you'd never ask.' Lilly said with a smile.

'I'd love to.' Lilly said smiling.

'Call me okay? Or just come by late.' Lilly said smiling as she escaped his embrace and walked towards Steve's car.

Chapter: A date with Eddie Munson?

It was a late Saturday afternoon.

Lilly had been helping her mom with cooking.

And when Steve came home from work they all sat down for dinner.

'So what are you guys up to tonight?' Steve's dad asked.

'I'm going to the movies tonight.' Steve said taking a bite of his food.

'With who are you going Steve?' Lilly's mom asked him.

'I'm going with Ro... ' Steve couldn't finish his sentence as he got a kick against his calf.

'With Brenda sorry.' Steve corrected himself while taking a sip from his drink.

'Already thought so, I'm going to the arcade with Robin tonight.' Lilly said while finishing her food.

When she was done she grabbed her plate and washed it.

But Steve was faster he threw his plate in the sink and ran up the stairs.

'No fucking way Steven Harrington!' Lilly shouted suddenly running after him.

'THAT SHOWER IS MINE!' Lilly yelled as she jumped up the stairs.

But Steve was faster and closed both the doors.

Lilly was slamming on the doors.

'For fucks sake STEVE!' Lilly shouted.

She rolled her eyes and went back to her room.

Lilly started spitting through her closet.

She wasn't going to dress up completely.

Lilly found a pair of black baggy jeans.

She also found a pair of fishnet stockings and took her Dr martens with her.

For her shirt she wasn't as keen.

The door clicked and she heard Steve say.

'It's your time majesty.' She jumped into the bathroom and pushed him out with his comb and his Farrah Fawcett spray.

She ran the shower and jumped underneath it.

She was scrubbing her skin with the new strawberry scrub she stole from her mom's bathroom.

Lilly skipped her hair this time because off Steve needing to drive her to school, and she didn't want him to leave without her.

When done she jumped out of the shower and pulled on her fishnet stockings, her pants over it.

She was looking at her shirts and choose a simple white top with small straps.

Putting a red bra underneath it, so it wouldn't shine through.

She unlocked the door so Steve could come back in, because he had been banging on the door for at least 3 minutes.

While Steve was brushing his teeth and doing his hair.

Lilly was applying her makeup she kept it once again simple, she just put on her eyeliner and on a dark red lipstick.

She let her hair down, she just brushed the teases out.

And when she was done, she put on her shoes.

And put her cigarettes in her pocket.

She walked downstairs where Steve was waiting by the door.

'Jesus took you forever.' He said with a smirk while giving her a poke in her side.

'Says you, you take ten times longer with your hair.' She said while bumping him while going outside.

The both of them were off to Steve's car and jumped in.

Steve however choose the music this time, he put on a mixtape starting with the clash should I stay or should I go.

They were driving over school terrain.

And Steve stopped the car, and Lilly jumped out.

'Go to Robin's or to the movies if somethings off okay?

Still don't trust the dude.' Steve said looking down so he could look Lilly in her eyes.

'I'm fine Big brother Steve.' Lilly said with a chuckle in her voice.

'Go win over Brenda's heart .' She said with a wink before pushing the door back.

Steve drove off.

They were still playing DnD with their group, so Lilly decided to light up a cigarette.

And when she heard movement she decided to go to Eddie's van.

It was unlocked.

'That's a bit weird for a drug dealer.' Lilly said to herself.

She heard the group walk out of school with lots of noise.

Dustin and Lucas being the loudest.

But Eddie was a clear third party.

'Can't bring you home tonight guys.' Eddie said.

'What is this?' Gareth said.

Dustin, Lucas and Mike were going so you could hear faint shouts that wished them a goodnight.

'You to SPAWN OF HELLFIRE.' Eddie yelled back.

'Yeah I know right.' Jeff replied to Gareth.

'I think he got another girl waiting for him somewhere.' Jeff added.

'Another?' Lilly thought to herself.

It was also none of her business they weren't going out she couldn't be jealous of that.

'No no fellas.' Eddie said.

'This is different.' He added.

'Remember that party I told you about?'

'The Harrington one?' Jeff asked.

'The one he ditched us for.' Gareth jumped in.

'exactly, I needed to follow my gut guys. And this girl.' Eddie said while shaking his head.

'She really is.. ' He took a pause.

They reached the van and Lilly wanted to know what they had to discuss even further so she scooted over in the driver seat. She had pushed the seat completely backwards so she could have one of her legs on the steering wheel. Cigarette still in her left hand.

She took a hit from the cigarette when the door got pulled open.

Smoke left the van

'Really what Munson?' Lilly said blowing the smoke in his face.

Eddie who got the death scare of his life jumped back a few steps.

'Damn not my fault you took so long, and didn't lock your car.' Lilly said as she jumped out of the van. Her hair following her.

She stuck out her hand towards Jeff and Gareth.

Eddie backed her up.

'Goddamnit Lilith.' He cursed.

'Fellas, This is Lilith Johnson.' He introduced her to his friends.

'Hi nice to meet you.' Lilly said.

'But really call me Lilly not Lilith.' She said with a smile.

Putting her cigarette out with her shoe.

'Well guys, it's been a pleasure

But I'm going to take this Lady out on a night she will never forget.

He helped her climb in the van and she jumped over to the passenger seat.

something something Eddie Munson visits a local bookstore to purchase a first edition copy of The Hobbit.

He sits in a big comfy chair to read it and after a few minutes, a group of kids start to gather on the floor around him. Eddie notices a sign next to the chair that says ‘after school story time’ and because he can’t resist their curious little expressions, he begins narrating the first chapter to them.

The bookstore manager, Steve Harrington, hears the children’s laughter and walks to the back of the store to find an extremely animated man reading a story to the kids.

He’s shamelessly watching the storyteller, when his co-manager - Robin - walks by and sees him staring at Eddie.

“You should hire him next week too,” she suggests. “The kids love him.”

Steve gives her a puzzled look. “You didn’t hire him?”

“No. You didn’t hire him?”

Steve shakes his head and returns back to watching Eddie, who’s now standing up and showing his young audience the novel’s map of Middle-earth. He’s not sure who is more captivated in this moment. The kids. The storyteller. Or himself.

“Well, Steve,” Robin interrupts his internal dialogue. “You better find out his story before their parents get here and give us an earful.”

“Definitely.” Steve is still smiling at Eddie - only this time, Eddie catches him and smiles back.

“I definitely want to know his story.”

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

"THE FIRST DATE"

EXTRA CONTENT - "BEYOND THE HOURS"

→ pairings: modern!college!eddie x college!fem!reader → warnings: strong language, upside down does not exist, minors dni → wc: 7k+ → a/n: the very long awaited first date. this was requested by several people. wahoo! also, fair warning for second-hand embarrassment. i think eddie munson is the only person who drag me dancing around a bowling alley and i wouldn't smite them on the spot.

enjoy the main story's masterlist here

EDDIE: What about a fancy dinner date?

YOU: boring.

YOU: and too traditional. when were you even born, Munson? the 60s???

EDDIE: Ha. Ha. I don’t see you making any worthwhile suggestions, sweetheart. 

YOU: i don’t have to make any suggestions, old man. YOU’RE supposed to be wooing ME 

God forbid anyone walked in on you at this moment. 

You were like a high schooler, lying on your stomach with your feet kicking up into the air as you stared at the screen, happily bantering with Eddie over text. All the butterflies, all the blissful jitters, all that dopamine rush that comes with school girl crushes – every single cliche was present and was in full force as you discussed the details of your first date with him. You used to scoff (albeit with hidden longing) at all the romance movies that you truly believed had overplayed all the giddiness, but now you got it. It was disgusting, the way he had you wrapped around his finger so easily, the way he had turned you into a heart-eyed shell of the woman you once were in the matter of a week. 

EDDIE: So you have a thing for older men is what you’re telling me.

YOU: i NEVER said that.

EDDIE: Didn’t have to, sweetheart. I can read between the lines. 

Over the last week, since the two of you had won the bet and you had won over with insistence on him properly asking you out, Eddie had been tossing around date ideas as he tried to plan this very first occasion. The only time you had even seen him was when your entire group met up, the latest outing having been for brunch on Saturday under the guise celebrating the one week anniversary of you and Eddie surviving twenty four hours together without killing each other. 

Didn’t stop him from calling and texting you. And it clearly hadn’t deterred him from losing his mind over doing right by you with this entire first date ordeal. 

YOU: i don’t even have the energy to explain to you how many times you have proven to not do that in the past. 

EDDIE: I’ve read between the lines in the past! 

YOU: you most certainly have NOT

EDDIE: I was able to read when you wanted to kiss me that night. That’s reading between the lines.

And so the giddiness rears its head, full fledged as heat swarms your body and your cheeks ache from your smile. 

YOU: i hate you 

EDDIE: No, you don’t

YOU: i do. i really do. 

EDDIE: You’re such a shit liar

You nearly jump out of your skin when there’s a knock on your dorm’s door, annoying and persistent as it taps out some random rhythm that must be a song of some sort. But whatever song it is, you can’t recognize it as you stand, walking over to answer. 

“Did you forget your key aga-” you begin, assuming it was just your roommate. You’re shocked to see Robin and Steve standing there, “What are you guys doing here?” 

“We had a study date, in case you had forgotten and not seen our hundreds of texts,” Steve huffs, quickly crossing his arms. 

You hadn’t seen their texts. Most of your screen time had been a bit preoccupied with a certain metalhead. 

“Oh, shit,” your face falls as you open the door wider, side-stepping and motioning for them to come in. 

“Yeah,” Steve snarks as he comes right in, Robin hot on his trails and seeming in a far more pleasant mood as the boy mocks you, “Oh, shit.” 

Robin stops beside you as Steve helps himself to a seat in your desk chair, “Don’t mind him. He’s just cranky because he has to get A’s on all his mid-terms to keep his 3.0.” 

“I am not cranky-”

“You are!” 

“Am not!” 

“You so are,” Robin continues to egg him on, choosing your bed as her resting place. 

Your phone bounces a bit from the way she throws herself down on the sorry excuse for a mattress, and you recall how you had yet to reply to Eddie. Fuck.

“When did we even make these plans?” you ask, genuinely confused as you shut the door. You already miss the peace and quiet of being alone, free to preen at your phone and giggle to your heart’s content at the world’s worst flirt over text.

“Saturday,” Steve groans, throwing his head back. 

“It was after brunch,” Robin clarifies, lifting herself up from how she was lounging amongst your blankets, “I mean, you seemed a bit distracted when you agreed, but… We did text you about it.” 

You had been distracted. Eddie had managed to quietly ask the waitress to include your tab with his so he could pay for it without your knowledge, and you’d spent the entire time torn between being upset with the boy and absolutely fawning. It was a bit pathetic, looking back at it – the fact that those were the only two options your mind had presented you with. You’d scorned him over the phone later that night, and he had only laughed. You swear you can still hear it now, having heard it several times since – a low chuckle that rattled into the caverns of your chest, that bounced amongst vines of affection and willed open blooms of adoration just a little bit wider. 

Part of you was still waiting for the wilting. For the other shoe to drop, for all of what had been exposed and had been planted to vanish from your grasps. That first Monday morning, you’d even woken up worried it had all been a dream. 

“I’ve been busy,” you lamely try to excuse your radio silence. 

“Busier than normal?” Steve’s brows quirk up, leaning back in your chair that emits a squeak of protest, “Or have you just been busy with new friends?” 

Your lips twist and your nose twitches in confusion, “New friends? What the Hell are you going on about, Harrington?” 

Robin fully sits up now, watching with piqued interest.

“Eddie,” Steve gets straight to the point, his previous sour mood finally melting slightly, “You can’t honestly tell me that nothing changed after that night.” 

It was something neither of you had really discussed. Steve had seen you two, knew that a lot had truly changed based off of the way you’d tossed him right into the middle of the mess there at the end, but you and Eddie had never said anything about being together. Not to your friends, and not even to each other. 

“Just because I don’t want to tear his head off his shoulders anymore doesn’t mean we’re spending every waking moment together,” you force your best scowl, as if that wasn’t exactly what you had yearned for all week. 

Eventually, it had to wear off. That’s what you told yourself – at some point the initial rose tones would fade less vibrant, and Eddie’s intense occupation of your mind would lessen with the hues. 

“I can’t believe it, but I am siding with Stevie on this one,” Robin finally contributes, “I mean, you guys won’t even tell us what happened that night.” 

“Nothing exciting,” you’re quick to lie, “Just… I don’t know. Boring stuff. Getting on each other’s nerves, sitting around on his couch,” that gets a bitter scoff from Steve that almost makes you freeze up. Damn Eddie for teasing him with the truth about the couch, “Nothing worth making a big deal over. Like I said, we just learned to… to… tolerate each other.”

Tolerate was an interesting way to put spending hours on the phone together each night, sometimes falling asleep while still on the line. 

Steve still looks as though he’s recalling all of Eddie’s annoying taunts from that night while Robin only grins salaciously. 

“Tolerate each other?” she mimics you, leaning forward and pressing her palms into the edge of the mattress beside her knees, “Babe, have you two even said a single mean thing to each other since that night? I think he even smiled at you on Saturday. You’re practically married with two and a half kids already.”

He had smiled at you – multiple times. And each one had struck the most delicate of daggers right into your chest, lighting you aflame under his attempted clandestine attention. Every time those big, brown eyes had met yours from across the table, the ache you’d started to hold for him had only doubled in size. By the end of that morning, when the day had technically started to bleed out into the afternoon, you were nothing more than a vessel of pining for the boy that you hadn’t even gotten the chance to brush against amongst your friends. 

“Whatever,” you murmur as you reach out to snatch up your phone, “I never even understood the whole half kid thing. Like, how the fuck do you have two and a half kids?” 

“I’m sure Eddie would be more than happy to show you,” Steve teases despite his still half-traumatized look.

You’re quick to reach out a hand to whack the back of his head, “Shut up. Are we gonna keep sitting here while you two try to pry something that doesn’t exist out of me, or are we going to go study?” 

Steve’s grumpy mood returns as he rubs the back of his head, him and Robin standing in sync to exit the room.

But before the three of you exit the dorm, you check your phone one last time, having to bite down on that girlish grin when you see two new text message notifications. 

EDDIE: It’s official. I’m a genius. 

EDDIE: Say, are you free tomorrow night? 

—

Tomorrow night couldn’t come fast enough. A shift at your job, one too many hours spent sitting through lectures, ensuring a night of studying with Steve and Robin — all petty distractions, roadblocks on your path to the most highly anticipated first date of your life. Eddie wouldn’t even entertain you with details, only telling you to dress fairly comfortably and to put on your best game face.

And you did. To some extent, you really did.

But you’d finished getting ready hours in advance, something you blamed on nerves, and having that much time to kill with such nerves was dangerous.

Simple makeup turned a bit more extravagant, you had tried on nearly every outfit in your possession, you’d even eyed your hair curler on more than one occasion.

Comfortable. What the Hell was that even supposed to mean?

Your only solution had been to text the man of the hour himself, something to busy your thumbs instead of twiddling them or involving them in taking your date night look several steps over just comfortable.

YOU: okay, so. can you define ‘dressing comfortably’?

EDDIE: According to Google, “dressing in a way that makes you feel at ease in your body” :)

YOU: fuck off. you know that’s not what i meant.

Still no clues. He wasn’t caving so easily to your pestering. You should have known better, considering he’d been professionally dodging any questions or inquiries you had regarding the date for the last twenty four hours.

EDDIE: Don’t overthink it, sweetheart.

That certainly didn’t help. Not even in the slightest. 

You don’t even reply to his text, already back to pacing your dorm before you finally cave to an impulsive decision you’d been grappling with for hours now. 

There was a newish, sporty skirt in the bottom of your drawers. It was comfortable, it had built-in shorts, and it looked damn good on you. The hem fell right around mid-thigh and always flared in an overly satisfying fashion when you’d spin while wearing it. The material of the pleats was nearly impossible to wrinkle. It wasn’t overly soft against your palms as you still nervously smoothed it down once you’d shimmied it on, but you still repeated the motion in hopes of soothing some of your nerves.

You’re sure it’s the wrong option until Eddie sees you in it.

He texts when he’s on his way and you find yourself bounding outside to wait for him far too early to be reasonable. He hadn’t even arrived until after your back had nearly become one with the brick exterior of the dorm building's front wall, leaning into the scratch of the clay on your shoulder blade a welcome distraction until you heard the roar of a motorcycle engine. 

You nearly grow dizzy from the sudden rush of nerves.

This is really happening. You’re about to go on a date with Eddie, the first time of what you hope will be many to come. 

“Took you long enough, Munson,” you snark loud enough for him to hear as he clicks the Yamaha’s kickstand into place right by the vibrant red curb. There’s a sign not even a full foot away from where he’s standing that clearly spells out NO PARKING. 

Oh.

Oh.

If you hadn’t already been riddled with nerves, your knees would have gone weak at the sight of him. 

Since when is that dressing casual and comfortable? 

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did I keep you waiting?” he shoots right back as he lifts the helmet off his head, and something inside of you clenched tightly at the sight with no plans to unwind any time soon.

Dark wash jeans plaster his legs, heavy combat boots smacking against the pavement as he walks to meet you halfway. The black shirt he’s donning isn’t extravagant, but something in the way that t-shirt material stretches across his chest has you burning from the inside out. He’s even gone so far as to tuck the shirt into the jeans, his black leather belt on show as he hugs the helmet below his bicep. And his normal leather jacket — you don’t believe you’ve ever seen it look better, ever seen it fit his shoulders so snugly. He’s dressed to perfectly match the all black bike, the image of a bad boy straight out of every cheesy movie you’d ever seen. 

The only thing that breaks the illusion is the boyish grin pulling the arrival of his dimples along with it as he watches you push off the wall. His eyes are sparkling as you approach him, a constellation of hope and new beginnings twinkling right before you. 

He’s not sorry that you waited on him. Not in the slightest. Especially when those starry eyes travel over your appearance.

You have to force yourself to tsk, because otherwise you might end up just another pile of ash for the poor landscapers to sweep up, “Haven't you heard it’s rude to keep a lady waiting?” 

You stop in your steps just far enough to catch the way his eyes take you in. Drinking slowly. Following the trace of the just fancy enough tank top that you’d chosen to balance the skirt. Lingering on the plush of your inner thighs, barely peeking out the bottom of your chosen outfit for the night.

You almost start to feel self conscious until he lets out a little sigh, nearly a whimper as his eyes trail back up to find yours.

“I’m sure I have,” he chokes out, composure momentarily vanished as you distract him so easily, “But aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” 

“I could say the same about you.” 

You’re like a shark. If you stop swimming in the upstream flirtations, you’ll drown instantaneously in his big brown eyes.

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” you swear you see a hint of a blush across the highs of his cheek bones and sides of his neck as he holds out the helmet for you, “At least with me, it will.” 

“Even the top secret location of this date?” you ask as you take the helmet, considering putting up a fight. You still hated him not wearing one for your expense, and you weren’t exactly eager for any sort of helmet hair, “Do I have to wear-“

He knows the end of your sentence before you even finish, “Yes. No exceptions; you have to wear it every time you ride.”

“Every time?” 

“It’s for safety.” 

“Isn’t it sort of unsafe for you to go without one?” 

“You’re wearing the helmet,” he sighs, nose twitching with indignation as he holds staunchly onto the position, “And to answer your other question, no. I guess flattery will get you almost everywhere, but it’s a surprise.” 

You fiddle with the chin straps, looking down as you feel his gaze burning the top of your head from this angle, “Fine. But we really should just get me my own helmet. You need to wear one, too. And…” you look back up, pausing before you properly put on the piece of safety equipment, “It’s a little oversized. You know, considering it was meant to fit your big head first.” 

He narrows his eyes, still lit up with a sort of playfulness you haven’t grown accustomed to being on the receiving end of. 

You like him quite a bit more than you bargained for. A lot more than five hundred dollars, or twenty four hours, ever would have summarized. 

“We can go helmet shopping another day.” 

We. Not just him, not just you. But you and him. A unit. A couple.

“It’s a date,” you whisper just before you slide on the helmet. You completely miss the wildfire that the ghost of a blush has finally become. You completely miss the way that your talk of you two together, you two as a couple with a future, affects him just as his has an effect on you. 

Helmet hair is worth it, you decide, once you’ve saddled onto the bike behind him and he revs up the engine once more. You’re not as shy as you had been on that fateful night the week before, quick to wrap your arms around his middle and let your chest press hard against his back. The leather crinkles against the contact, the heat of him radiating, and you think you could spend forever like that. 

You’re almost upset that you can’t smell his cologne through the helmet. That once terrible scent of boy. 

Every curve and every slow stop is another excuse to cling to him tighter, every red light a reason for him to turn his head and catch a glimpse of you with a small grin that never once falters. You swear at one of the lights, when he revs his engine in a particularly rowdy fashion right as the light turns green and takes off particularly fast, you can hear his laughter over the loud wind mingling with the roaring engine. You know you can feel it, vibrating in his chest right along with your own that gets lost in the chaos of the unusually busy Tuesday night street. 

When he pulls into the parking lot behind the older building, you catch sight of the neon sign out front and find yourself laughing again. 

“Bowling?” you question, yanking the helmet off less than gracefully as he stands off the bike you’d just swung yourself off of, “You’re taking me bowling?” 

He takes the helmet from you, suddenly looking a bit shy as he averts his gaze, “Not just any bowling. It’s… It’s the coolest bowling alley you will ever go on a first date at.” 

“You say that to every girl you bring here?” 

You’re just teasing him, trying to poke fun rather than succumb to all the fluttering that bruises your inner chest and stomach. But then he has to ruin your fun, strike a match and set you aflame so adroitly.  

“Only the prettiest ones.” 

You should continue the banter, challenge him on just who else fell into that category, but you can’t. It’s in that glimmer of his eyes and the indent of his dimples, the way he looks at you as he slowly rises and somehow softens his gaze all while keeping a threat of a bite beneath the tone. His eyes tell you that you are, without a doubt, the prettiest girl he’s referring to. That in this moment, you begin and you end his world, and not even the commotion of traffic or nip in the air that creeps up as the summer sun sets can deter his attention being set solely on you.

But his tone suggests something far more dangerous. He says it like you’re a prey, an unattainable catch that he’ll be chasing for the entire night. A wicked growl to that voice you’ve been falling asleep to over the phone far more than you care to admit in just a short week. 

He says it like he’s going to ruin you. As if he hasn’t already injected himself into your veins, as if he isn’t the gasoline drowning and raging the burn within you. 

But he keeps up the gentleman persona in the short walk up to the door of the establishment. Holds out his hand for yours to fit perfectly into, guides you to the inner sidewalk as cars fly past and the only thing between you and them is him. 

 The hunt is on from the moment he opens that door for you. 

“Ever the gentleman,” you muse, voice hardly above a whisper as you brush past him and finally catch that smell of boy. 

You think you’d drown in his cologne now if he gave you the chance. Bury your face in his chest, wrap your arms around him and press any inch of your own bare skin to his. 

“Always,” it would have been a weak response if he’d only said it and nodded his head, but he takes it a step further. Right as you pass him, entering the brisk AC, his hand ghosts over the expanse of your lower back. Fingertips nimbly brushing right above the band of that skirt, grazing your tank top just hard enough for you to feel it and shiver. 

It doesn’t stop there. The back and forth, the chase, the hunt.

The way he makes sure your knuckles brush his as he hands you your shoes, even more brushes of his palm flat against your lower back repetitively, the way he insists on a heavier ball that makes his arms strain and muscles display. Over the chatter from the bowling alley’s fairly nice bar and the music trickling out of the overhead speakers, you’re sure that your heartbeat has joined the ranks of audible noises to echo the nice haunt. You’re positive he can hear every thump, can pinpoint the exact moments that poor aching muscle inside your chest begins to race. 

You go for a smaller weighted ball. You don’t think you could handle anything heavier with your current case of weak knees.

“Only an eight pounder?” Eddie tuts at you as you approach your designated lane again, “Come on, sweetheart. You can do better than that.” 

No, I can’t. Your fault, really.

“I have weak arms,” you try to defend yourself as you rotate the red ball in your hands. 

His favorite color. It hadn’t been intentional, but the swirling shades of stark scarlet and deep maroons is a nice touch. 

“Poor baby,” he teases, leaning into you as you deposit the ball right behind his own ball on the track where it already rests.

A twelve pounder. A smoky quartz design, black base swirling with misty white and gold accents. Far prettier than yours by a landslide. 

And fitting for the pretty boy you’re faced with when you turn to watch him shedding his leather jacket onto the bench a few steps away. 

“Not all of us are some big, strong macho man,” you scowl insincerely, moving to sit beside him and follow his lead in switching out shoes, “I’m betting now that by halfway through the game, you’ll be caving and begging to use my ball, Munson.” 

You’re looking down as you casually say it, one shoe already half off and unaware of just how close he had gotten until his hand reaches over. Not even a second later, he has your chin pinched between his fingers, gentle as it guides you and forces you to look at him, “Careful. Bets seem to be awfully dangerous when it comes to the two of us.” 

Damn him. Damn him, damn him, damn him. 

The graze of those fingers against your jaw leaves a trail of ash, burning that lingers and thrums beneath your skin, heart officially skipping beats rather than merely speeding up. You’re coming to realize that when it comes to keeping up with Eddie Munson in his element, in all his charm and flirtatious banter, you’re a bit hopeless.

He has you trapped under his thumb — metaphorically and literally.

“Are you always this flirtatious with all your dates?” you spit out against your better judgment.

Why do I keep bringing up his previous flames? Do I really care? Do I really want to put myself through the torture of hearing about all of the girls, or guys, he’s wooed before me? 

The same glittering eyes, the same hidden smirk from earlier. “Only the prettiest ones.” 

“You keep saying that,” you mumble, chin pressing into his fingertips against their hold, “Just how many pretty dates have you had?” 

The pride softens in an instant. His gaze is less sharp, grin less predatory as he raises his eyebrows. 

“Does it really matter?” 

You can’t help it. Your mind races ahead of you before you can stop it; you’re plagued in an instant with images of how many dates, how many other people he had indulged in over the year you two had wasted hating each other. You try to recall overhearing him describe any of those dates, try to remember if Nancy ever mentioned Eddie passing up one of the hangouts for a romantic endeavor.

You come up empty handed, but it doesn’t stop the overthinking. 

“I guess not,” you feebly answer, unable to tear your eyes from him. 

I guess not is really code for it matters so much more than I care to admit. An impossible riddle you can’t even expect him to pick up on. 

His hand falls from your chin and finds home on your bare knee, warm palm swallowing it up. He gives it a squeeze, and you wonder for a moment if maybe he can read your secretive language. Maybe he’s seeing right through your overconfident front, maybe he has felt every racing of your pulse. 

Maybe, he’s as nervous as you are.

He opens his mouth to say something, but you don’t think you can bear another moment of this new intimacy. It had been easier when the two of you were on a ticking clock, confined to his apartment and parameters of a bet that never really mattered. Vulnerability had less of an edge when you could yearn and pine to see it flourish in the real world — but now, here it was, twisting away within you both a week later and pricking away as the stakes at hand come to light. 

“Are you ready for me to absolutely demolish your ass at this game?” you joke.

“Demolish me? That’s some big talk for someone using an eight pound ball, babe.”

“It’s not about how much you’re packing, pretty boy,” you scoff, “Just that you know how to use it.” 

He smiles slowly, but the quick squeeze of his hand tells you the vulnerability is here to stay. He feels that cutting edge too, and he’s not shying away. 

He leans right into it, just as he does your personal space, “Bring it on.” 

—

“You’re cheating!”

“I’m not!”

“You are! Who the fuck gets three strikes in a row?” 

Eddie strolls back towards you, self-satisfied smirk curling his lips and his hips swaying with arrogance as you continue to pout at his sudden show of sportsmanship, “I believe the answer is me, sweetheart. Wanna see me make it four?” 

“I hope you just jinxed yourself,” you scowl as you hop up off the couch and Eddie swaggers right past you, hardly affected by the palm you smack into the center of his chest for good measure, “I hope you roll nothing but gutter balls the rest of the game, you prick.” 

“Like you have been?” 

“Burn in Hell.” 

Eddie’s cackle echoes through the fairly busy alley. It wasn’t overwhelming, the lanes of either side of yours staying empty, the only other groups several ways down. So far, the date has been good. Even if Eddie was wiping the floor with your severe lack of skill. 

Both of you had opted for Cokes rather than alcohol, Eddie had ordered some sort of platter with onion rings and mozzarella sticks that the two of you had easily been devouring between turns. Playful banter had been kept up easier than breathing, barking words without bite being snapped back and forth loud enough for the entire establishment to hear the two of you being exceptionally childish. 

At some point, your nerves had melted. And you didn’t even need a lick of alcohol in your system for it to happen. 

“Try to aim for the pins this time,” Eddie continues to taunt you from where he’s spread out on the brown faux leather bench you’d been taking turns warming the seat of. 

Your fingers slide into the holes of your ball with ease, courtesy of the grease from all your snacking, “Try shutting the fuck up.” 

More of his laughter sounds off, and you nearly trip on your walk up to the markings on the linoleum wood flooring. It’s a nice sound; a beautiful response to words that could easily read identical to how the two of you used to fight. But these aren’t fighting words, they’re words passed between two… two… friends? 

Is that how you should continue to classify this? Were you and Eddie really still just friends? 

The sound of your ball stuttering in hops across the beginnings of the lane replaces his laughter 

No. Easy question – there wasn’t a doubt in your mind that the two of you were definitely not friends. Not enemies, not friends – something different and something unspoken. And for the remainder of this date, you could live with that. 

Eddie sucks in an audible breath, letting the air whistle between his teeth as your ball veers at the last second and misses the pins entirely. Again. 

“Th-”

“Don’t,” you interrupt him, spinning on your heel and holding up a warning finger. It’s harder to hold in your own grin when Eddie’s already smiling into his fist, leaning his elbows onto his thighs as his big eyes peer at you, clearly amused, “Don’t say a word.” 

His knuckles dig further into his mouth.

“I meant to do that.” 

His eyebrows shoot up, still not speaking.

“It takes real talent to avoid pins like that.” 

He leans over a bit further, and you swear you hear him emit a snort from behind that damn fist. 

You open your mouth to continue with the bit when the clattering of your ball returning to the ball rack comes from behind you. Eddie only shrugs cheekily as he finally drops his fist to grab for a mozzarella stick, his smile contained but those damn dimples still flashing you brilliantly. 

Without taking your eyes off him, you hold up a warning finger for emphasis once more, trying to bite down any signs of your own amusement as you take a few steps back in the direction of the rack and repeat yourself, “I meant to do that.” 

“Sure you did,” he muses before taking a bite of the mozzarella stick smothered in marinara sauce. 

“I did.”

“I believe you.” 

“I-”

It seems the Universe is in the business of interrupting you two. As if it seems all that hope and potential flourishing in the space between you two and decides that simply won’t do. As if it’s too much. 

Maybe it is. But maybe, just maybe, you’re enjoying too much. 

Suddenly, before you can even finish your sentence or grab for your ball, the lights of the alley have dimmed. A few spotlights over the alleys themselves light up, erratically waving patches of light over the shining floor as the music that had been playing overhead cuts out to be replaced with some poor employee’s voice. 

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen-” you and Eddie share a confused glance, “-The time is officially ten o’clock, meaning nineties night has officially begun! Have fun, and enjoy yourselves as we throw you back to the decade of Nirvana and Beanie Babies for the rest of the night with these straight jams.” 

Your face scrunches up in a comical cringe before the buzzing static of the speaker can even cut out and the beginning lines of Say My Name by Destiny’s Child begins to play. 

You aren’t entirely sure of how it happens. Maybe it’s all the playfulness in there, in all that electric teasing at the tip of Eddie’s tongue and all that hopelessness bubbling up in your chest as it dawns on you of the fact you were finally on a proper date with Eddie. Maybe it’s simply a good night for you to continue to make a fool of yourself, and Eddie sees it as a chance he’ll always be right there with you, prepared to make a scene as he follows your lead. 

He stands up to approach you where you’re still rooted beside the rack, matching your own grin that blooms genuinely at the sound of the song. 

It was one of your favorite’s. A small fact about yourself you don’t think you’ve ever told Eddie – that you can remember. 

It’s small, at first. Just mouthing along to the first verse as he moves towards you, recognizing that excitement lighting up in you, shimmying his shoulders ever so slightly. He looks like an idiot – he’s absolutely your idiot. 

“Did you know it was nineties night?” you mumble as he gets closer, shaking your head slightly.

“Stevie might have mentioned something about you enjoying nineties nostalgia,” he drawls, still taking sure steps towards you. 

“Did you ask him for advice for our first date, Eddie?” 

“No,” he scoffs quickly, finally close enough to grab you gently by your hips. He’s nowhere near manhandling you, but it’s still reminding you of the game, of the hunt, at play. You’re his prey and he’s officially making his move. Carelessly, nonchalantly. “He mentioned it ages ago. When they were trying to convince me you weren’t all bad.” 

Your smile widens, “Was this around the time I threw a glass at your head, by chance?” 

“Maybe.” 

The dulcet instrumental of the song continues on overhead, beginning to pick up in beat, making you nod your head along as Eddie finally starts to tug you closer. 

You’re in public, and you both should know better than to make absolute fools of yourselves, but it doesn’t seem to matter when all you can really see is him. 

Your friends had also spent ages trying to convince you that Eddie wasn’t all bad, but you’d always known that much. You’d seen glimpses of the good in him from that very first night. When he’d made you feel welcome, when he’d given you a life-preserver to cling to when you’d felt most out of your element. You knew that Eddie Munson was one of those people who had a hardwired habit of trying to make people feel welcome.

Even in a room full of people, when you’d be non-stop embarrassing yourself endlessly. 

All his jests had been further proof, but when he sees your rock on your heels as you enjoy the music, he takes it a step further. He grabs one of your hands with his free one, keeping a hold of your waist, encouraging all your giddiness over the song. Every single person in the establishment could be staring at the two of you – you didn’t care. 

When he starts dramatically mouth along to the chorus of the song, swinging you around slightly, it takes very little provocation for you to join in with him. 

You both could’ve taken a step further, and properly sang along in the most obnoxious voices possible, but you don’t. There’s still the slightest blanket of security there as Eddie keeps the antics mostly silent, reserving his dramatic reenactments of vocal runs for your eyes only. Even yanking your hand up close to his mouth, as though it was a microphone, as he swings you around again. You quickly become a giggling disarray, hardly able to keep up your own footing, eyes squinting with joy and what must be the messiest and ugliest smile possible showing off all your teeth. The type of smile and laughter you’d normally try to hide on instinct. The kind of smile you cover up. 

But you can’t, because Eddie is keeping his sturdy grip on your hands with his own, and he’s drinking in every second of your joy. He’s vibrant as he watches the way he’s entertaining you. Shamelessly staring, making his antics falter. 

“Baby, say my name,” he purposefully sings along dramatically, quietly but terribly off-key.

You can’t help but let out a snort, “Eddie, you’re an idiot.” 

He ignores you, and continues to give you your own private concert, switching rapidly between singing the main song and the backup vocals, which only makes your stomach further ache with laughter. 

This is what you’d been yearning for the last year. This silly side of him, an absolute fool who couldn’t care less about the stares of others. 

The seductive side of him was enticing. The honest version of him nice. But this side of him? Carefree, rowdy, indiscreet? It may be your favorite yet. 

Only the sound of a nearby teen couple mocking you two break the moment, just as you’ve begun to jokingly whisper-sing back into Eddie’s pretend microphone made of your joined fists. They make what must be vomiting noises, and you catch the tail end of one of them jokingly poking a finger towards their outstretched tongue as you finally sigh deeply. 

You should probably feel embarrassed. Later on, when you find yourself in bed later tonight and attempt to find some rest, you’ll probably ruminate and burn yourself alive with all the embarrassment. But not right now; not with your boy still in front of you, smiling just as desperately wide as you were. 

His dimples would probably consume him if you let him go on any longer. 

“Eddie,” you choke out through residual laughter, tugging your hands free as the song starts to fade out. You make no move to remove yourself from him, though. Your arms find home around his shoulders, hands splayed just below the nape of his neck, “People are staring.” 

“Good,” he snipes back, finally dropping the act but not the glee, “Probably entranced by how pretty you look right now.” 

“Pretty? I probably look like a loser. They’re probably already engraving a trophy for world’s ugliest smile-”

“Oh, don’t do that,” his forehead falls against yours, rolling his eyes, “Shut up and take the compliment. I love your smile.” 

There’s something unspoken there. He loves your smile, yes, but he’s also been denied of it for a very long year. It’s the first step of making it up to you, making up for lost time. 

Making a fool out of himself, just to see that goddamn smile. 

With your arms around his neck, his forehead pressed against yours and the tip of his nose bumping yours, the game of bowling is all but forgotten. Even the teens, still side-eyeing the two of you, can be pushed aside in your mind. 

All your insecurities of the night that have crept in the shadows become insignificant. You don’t care how many dates Eddie has been on before you, you don’t care that you’ve clearly become a prey caught in his web. You don’t even care about the way you’re losing. 

It’s the perfect first date. When one of his hands wander, playing with the hem of your skirt, knuckles and rings brushing against bare skin, it’s perfect. 

“Hey,” you whisper, “I’ve got a question.” 

“I have an answer.” 

“You sound very sure there, big guy.” 

“I am sure,” he pulls his face away just a bit, but his gentle touch against your thigh lings. The other hand stays warm against your lower back, keeping you pressed up against him, “What’s up, sweetheart?” 

Not enemies, not friends – something different and something unspoken.

Hearing him say it out-loud will still be nice, though. 

“Does this mean we’re official?” you breathe out, trying to cling to all your bravery and not let it slip away, “Like – God, I sound like a high schooler right now – does this mean we’re… you know…”

“Dating?” he’s grinning, unable to hide his giddiness. 

“Yeah. Dating.” 

The hand tracing circles on your exposed outer thigh rises up to your cheek, brushing along it as he tucks a bit of your hair back. You swear you see it shaking out of the corner of your eye. 

“I sure would like to be,” it was shaking. You know it surely, because his voice is as well. Vulnerable and honest, just how you like him, “We don’t have to tell the others, we can take it slow, but-”

“But we’re dating.”

It’s not a question. It’s a statement – an affirmation. You and Eddie Munson, the man you swore you hated just over a week ago, were dating. 

He only nods, and you consider the way that his dimples might just swallow you whole instead of him. 

Not enemies, not friends – lovers. It has quite the nice ring to it. 

“Well, in that case,” you finally pull away, dropping your arms slowly and letting your fingers catch on the chain of the necklace he currently wears. A red guitar pick, something you’ll surely learn the story behind soon enough. “Better go and roll that fourth strike, boyfriend.” 

His head rolls back, and a joking groan falls from his lips as his neck stretches and nearly distracts you momentarily, “Don’t say it like that.” 

“Like what?” 

“Like you’re making fun of me, you little shit.” 

Another laugh falls from your lips as you step around him, quirking an eyebrow. Perfect first date, indeed. 

“Get used to it, Munson.”

“I plan to, Sweetheart.”

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eddie loves the public library, once he moved in with wayne he would regularly bring home a stack of books and devour them. wayne had barely gotten his head around the last lot eddie regaled him with, before eddie was onto talking about the next.

eddie using the school library sometimes, though it had nothing on the public one. would watch as steve harrington slumped in during lunchtimes, face bruised, just looking for somewhere quiet.

eddie in the library, secretly spying on steve harrington on saturday. there with a brown curly haired kid. eddie uses dustin speaking a little too loudly about dnd as an excuse to go talk to them. show them where the best dragon books were kept. heart clenching over secretly catching steves warm smile as dustin gets exited.

the librarians of hawkins being some of his few supporters during that terrible week. having the same learned faith in him as wayne - that hurting someone just wasn't in eddies nature.

librarian eddie - crushing on but always being too embarrassed to talk to the guy who comes in for the audio books.

fantasy writer eddie dedicating his first novel to all public library employees across the country, and steve.

I dreamed of your voice last night, and it sounded as lonely as I am. Are you trapped in there? Are you... are you real?

Thank you for trusting the process again <3

friday the thirteenth |eddie munson x reader|

prompt: you and eddie go to the drive in. a small blurb that's apart of the oneforthemunny's spooky story series! also eddie edit made possible by @eddiemunsonsmum :)

Friday, October 13th, 1989 

“Hey, make sure you hide those snacks, ok?” Eddie muttered, a ringed hand gripping the wheel, blowing smoke out the open window.

“I don’t think they’ll all fit in the glove box.” You frown, shoving the crinkling wrappers of honey buns and kit-kat under miscellaneous papers, a few lighters that were stored away in there. 

“Just put ‘em under the blanket, sweetheart.” Eddie nodded, flicking the cigarette out the window, arm craning behind him for the blankets you’d thrown in from home. 

“They won’t look?” Your eyes cut to Eddie’s carefully, grabbing the aged quilt from his grasp. 

“No, they’re not gonna search the van, baby.” Eddie grinned. “Just look in. Just make sure it’s covered, alright?” 

Undoing your own seatbelt, spreading the blanket over the snacks, feet tucked under your legs. Eddie tapped on the cracked leather of the steering wheel with excitement, rolling to a stop on the gravel behind the line of cars. “I’m so fuckin’ excited.” He admitted, eyes sparkling through the gloom dullness of the gray Indiana sky. 

“Yeah?” You giggle. His smile was infectious, made your heart warm with an overwhelming sense of adoration. “I can tell.” 

“This was a good idea. Coming early, because look at this line, babe.” Eddie tilted the rearview mirror to look at the piling line of cars behind him. All swarming to the Hawkins Drive-In for the double feature of Halloween and Friday the Thirteenth… on Friday the thirteenth. 

“Good call with that.” Eddie smiled over at you, heat spilling over your cheeks at his praise. Eddie’s hand fell on your thigh lightly, squeezing your thigh playfully.

 “Oh, shit. Look at that guy. Shoulda brought my mask, huh?” Eddie nodded towards the teenagers parked in the back, running around in their Jason and Michael masks. 

“Yeah… maybe don’t park over there, though.” You cut your eyes at the teenagers, screeching and jumping off their tailgates. 

“Why?” Eddie smirked, van rolling in line slowly towards the ticket stand. “You scared? Afraid they’ll get you-” 

“-No-” 

“-Because I get it, babe. It is Friday the thirteenth. It’s a very scary night. I’d be scared too.” Eddie teased. 

You rolled your eyes. “You’re scared, Munson?” 

“Maybe. Maybe ‘m just excited.” Eddie smirked, long lashes batting at you sweetly. The van creeped towards the ticket stand. “I wasn’t gonna park there anyways, but they did take my spot, fuckin’ assholes.” 

“Your spot?” Your brows lifted in amusement. 

“Yeah, good makeout spot.” Eddie smirked at your scoff, stopping in front of the ticket stand. 

Your head rested against the seat rest, Eddie’s curls illuminated in the bright light of the ticket stand. Rings catching in the light when he handed them the money, bracelets peeking out from the leather of his jacket when he took the tickets. He looked so pretty; so content. 

“Can you put it on the station?” Eddie muttered, shifting gears so the van rolled with a low grunt over the gravel. “You wanna be more towards the front?” 

“I’m fine wherever, Ed.” You hum, turning the dial slowly. “You’re the expert, right, baby?” 

A huff of a laugh left his lips, curling in a small smile. “Yeah. Think there’s a spot up here if this jackass in a wagon doesn’t take it- Christ, who’s taking kids to this kind of movie? Fuck that, we’re not going there. I’m not listening to screaming the whole time.” 

“Maybe they’re older kids?” You grin, the comical tune of the pre-movie show tune playing through the speakers. “Or could be big horror fans. You didn’t like scary movies as a kid?” 

“Yeah, but it’s not fun going with your parents.” Eddie rolled his eyes, reversing into a back spot slowly. “Gotta sneak it or it’s not fun.” 

“Like the candy, hm? That’s the thrill of it?” 

“Exactly.” Eddie smirked, jamming the gear to park. 

“Shit, this part is good, baby. Look.” Eddie whispered, lips still pressed to yours, hand sliding from your jaw slowly. 

“I don’t wanna look, just-” You pawed at his jacket collar, pulling him closer, back into your kiss. 

“-Wait, wait, this is the good part. Hold on.” Eddie muttered, eyes zoned in onto the screen, sitting back onto the van’s floor. 

You huffed, pushing up on your forearms to look at the screen, lips numb from the cold air and Eddie, just in time to see Michael Myers take a victim- a brutal slashing that had the entire lot grimacing out loud. 

“Oh, that’s fucking sick.” You cringe, looking at the van’s floor instead of the movie, stomach twisting uncomfortable. 

“Very fuckin’ sick. Wonder how they do that, huh? Like the special effects shit like that.” Eddie grinned, body buzzing with adrenaline and excitement. 

“I don’t know. They better have won whatever award there is for that, because that,” You nodded towards the screen, the dismembered, bloody body lying there. “Is disgusting.” 

“Wait until you see Jason’s victims. Makes Michael look tame.” Eddie grinned, head falling against the pillow, shoveling a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “Can’t believe you’ve never seen these.” 

“No way.” You wrinkle your nose at the screen. “More of a Beetlejuice fan or Elvira. I always liked that movie.”

“Yeah? Me too.” Eddie smirked. “Really liked that one.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Of course, you did.” 

“I like a spooky babe. Can you blame me?” Eddie pulled you close to his side, lips smacking against your cheek. 

“Oh? So you don’t like me, huh?” You glare at him lightly. “Just wasting my time, Munson?” 

“No way.” Eddie shook his head, looking over at you. “You’re a total spooky babe.” 

You roll your eyes, scoffing lightly. “‘M serious.” Eddie squeezes your thigh gently. “You’re doing this with me.” He nodded towards the screen. “Yeah.” You hum, eyes cutting to the screen, grimacing at the chase scene. “Guess I must love you or something to sit through two of these.”

Eddie Joins the Family

Eddie didn’t think that he would get a big family when he pulled Dustin, Mike, and Lucas into Hellfire. He didn’t think it would happen but it did. One day, after school he’s stopped short at the sound of his name. He stopped and glanced back to see a redheaded girl. She looked familiar but he couldn’t place her. She had a skateboard under her arm and a determined look on her face. “You’re Eddie Munson right?”

Eddie frowned, “I don’t sell to kids.”

Her nose wrinkled, “ew. I’m Max, Lucas’s girl- we’re friends.” She stumbles a little and his eyebrow raised. 

She rolled her shoulders back, “can you give me a ride home? I missed the bus and we’re neighbors. I can give you embarrassing stories of any of the boys,” she waves her hand but he can see her nerves. 

“Sure,” he shrugged and she brightened. However, she was definitely trying to hide her emotions. “Our chariot awaits, milady.” He opened the door for her a swept his hand towards his shitty van. However, it didn’t stop there. Suddenly he was driving her more and more. Even though she didn’t even join his club! Okay, but she was quickly becoming one of his favorite freshman anyways. 

But Max wasn’t the only one. One day he ran into Nancy Wheeler and she actually stopped him. “Eddie, right?” Her eyes were hard and he shifted nervously. He gave her a small nod and she cleared her throat. “Mike’s really looking up to you lately.”

Eddie grimaced, “he could’ve picked someone better.”

She nods in agreement which stings only a little. He knew it was true. “You’re going to meet me twice a week. Give me your schedule.” She ordered and he stood there dumbfounded. “It wasn’t an option, come on.” She waved her hand. 

So he took a moment and wrote it all down before handing it over. She frowned, maybe at his shitty hand writing or the way it was kind of jumbled. “We have study hall the same hour. I’ll get a pass and I’ll meet you.”

“Uh, why?”

Her glare was terrifying, “because if he’s going to look up to you than you can give him a good example. I’m not going to let you keep failing all your classes and show him what it’s okay.” She snapped and Eddie wasn’t sure if he’s ever been this shocked before. “Understand?”

“Aye, aye, captain.” He gave her a weak salute before she turned and walked off. 

Then suddenly he and Nancy were working together often and in the few classes they shared she offered to be paired with him. It was freaky and his friends were just as weirded out as he was. But he had to admit that as they met after school a few times, that maybe, just maybe they were becoming friends. It wasn’t confirmed until one day she was painting his nails as he rambled about an idea he had for a campaign. Except she wasn’t just listening, she was giving him tips and helping him develop it even better. 

And with Nancy came Karen Wheeler. The woman would give him baked goods and thank him for all he was doing with Mike. It was weird but she made amazing cookies so he dealt with it and fucking Ted who didn’t deserve Karen. However, it got even worse when he made a comment that he mostly cooked for himself and his uncle since Wayne worked the worst hours. That had him in the kitchen with Sue Sinclair, Claudia Henderson, and you guessed it, Karen Wheeler. 

The three moms taught him all their tips and tricks, telling him he could impress any girl with his new skills. He didn’t say he wasn’t interested in any girls. Instead, he grinned and took all the information he could. It became a weekly thing and he got all the good gossip that wasn’t high school bullshit. And he gave them all the high school bullshit they wanted. 

And suddenly he became a babysitter for his younger friends. The freshman were annoyed at the development and Eddie got paid to hang out with them so he was fine with it. It didn’t happen often, since apparently Eddie was the back up babysitter. He didn’t care... that much, he was just curious. But being the back up babysitter gave him Erica Sinclair who quickly became his arch enemy and favorite. They didn’t do much but when he was in charge of her they would argue back and forth before retiring to painting mini figures with music playing in the background. 

However, that wasn’t even the end of it. Because suddenly Dustin was introducing him to Robin Buckley. Apparently Dustin had been trying to get her and their friend together but since they didn’t seem to get their act together, Dustin believed him and Robin would work together. Eddie and Robin took one look at each other and saw the fruitiness of the other. Which gave him a friend to talk about all the shit he dealt with that no one else did. No one else but Robin. 

Robin was a beauty and became one of his closest friends. They often spent time at his trailer and she started eating lunch with him and Hellfire. Of course Dustin was being a little bitch about it but Eddie and Robin claimed their were completely platonic. Which had the young members echoing, “with a capital P.” 

That one comment brought in the last of the party that remained in Hawkins, Steve Harrington. Steve was someone he knew from school but this Steve wasn’t what he expected. The first interaction after all the bragging the rest of the party did for him didn’t match up with his old vision. Eddie was leaving Hellfire and noticed Robin standing next to the man, waiting for the kids. “Eddie!” Robin waved like he wasn’t walking towards her already. 

He grinned, “hey Buckley, fancy meeting you here.” Then he glanced over at Steve and god dammit, he was still as pretty as he had been back in high school. 

“Harrington,” he drawled and watched Steve’s face grow pink. Which was curious...

Steve smiled and it wasn’t a smile Eddie had seen on him before, not really. This looked completely real and a little dopey. “Hey, Munson, I heard I’m missing out on the Munson friendship train.” He tilted his head a little and his hair flopped. The kids were already getting into Steve’s car but neither Steve nor Robin looked to be in a rush to leave. 

Eddie laughed a little awkwardly, “Yeah man. You don’t know what you’re missing.” He waved at himself and watched Steve’s eyes drop to follow his hands up and down his body. Which was... it was... Eddie didn’t really understand what he was feeling. 

He cleared his throat, “welp, enjoy driving these gremlins home.” He waved at the back seat. However, when he looked at Steve the dude look upset at the idea. Which was weird because he’s been told over and over how much Steve loved the kids. He waved and jogged off to avoid anymore of that. 

But that wasn’t the last he saw Steve. No, in fact, suddenly Steve always picked them up. Nancy no longer took time out of her schedule nor did any of the parents. And when Eddie went to his weekly dinner session with the moms they all laughed and said Steve was a good babysitter, always so caring about their time and kids. 

And well... Eddie didn’t hate it. Not one bit as Steve got there about 30 minutes early each time and watched the end of the session. Then he’d help Eddie clean up and they’d talk until they parted ways. Some times Robin was with him and most of those nights they’d meet him at the trailer after dropping the kids off with a movie for the three of them. Except soon, Steve would stop with or without Robin. 

Eddie loved and hated his time with Steve. Because the more time they saw each other, the more Eddie fell for the straight boy. He was done falling for straight boys so it pissed him off. But it didn’t stop him from putting his legs in Steve’s lap during a movie. Or letting Steve play with his hair. Or letting Steve kiss-

Okay the kissing was knew. And Eddie wasn’t sure of anything anymore. Not when during Grease Steve got up from the couch to sing and dance along. Eddie had laughed and when he was pulled to his feet, he stumbled into Steve’s chest. It was just the two of them but even if they had been in a crowded room, Eddie was sure the only thing he would’ve seen would’ve been Steve. 

Steve had cupped his face and smiled, “You’re the one that I want, o o oo honey. The one I need,” Steve had sung so soft and Eddie blinked at him, shocked. “Eddie,” Steve whispered as he leaned in closer. “Can I kiss you?” Eddie had made some noise that he’ll never claim and nodded frantically. Steve kissed like it was a sport that he never got less than gold in. Eddie pressed in and they moved in sync. 

And when they dropped next to each other in Eddie’s bed. Eddie didn’t think Steve might be as straight as he previously thought. “You know,” Steve started after they both regained their breath. “All I heard for weeks was Eddie this, Eddie that. Suddenly even the moms were in love with you. And it was so god damn annoying. Cause I knew they were all right. I remembered you from school, how free and open you were. When Dustin and the others mentioned you befriending them I knew they’d be okay. But I was jealous.”

Eddie looked over at him, “You were jealous? Of me?”

Steve snorted and Eddie didn’t think it was fair that even that was endearing. “Of you, of them. I don’t know... but I saw my shot and I took it.” He shrugged and Eddie raised an eyebrow. “Dude, you were like my gay awakening! I serious!” Steve had a big smile on his face and Eddie grinned back. 

“Really? Little ol’ Eddie Munson was King Steve’s awakening?”

Steve smacked him and rolled so he leaned over Eddie, “yeah. You were.”

They grinned at each other, “so you were checking me out when you first picked up the kids.”

“Hell yeah I was,” Steve winked and it was so dorky. He was flushed pink but still trying to stay confident. “To be honest, I lied when we started talking.” Eddie raised an eyebrow, insincerity rising up in him. But then Steve flushed more, “I didn’t want to join the Munson friendship train. I wanted to see what you’d be like as my boyfriend.” Steve wiggled his eyebrows and Eddie couldn’t stop the laugh.

“Yeah?” He flipped them so he was on top of Steve. Steve looked pleased as he did so. “Get ready, big boy. I’ll show you what you’re missing.” He promised and kissed him just because he could. 

Steve broke it though, “so, you, Eddie Munson agree to go on a date with me?”

Eddie rolled his eyes, “yes. I Eddie Munson, will date you, Steve Harrington. You can pick me up tomorrow at 7.”

And Eddie would swear that Steve’s eyes fucking twinkled. “It’s a date.”

So, yeah bringing Dustin, Lucas, and Mike into Hellfire was one of the best decisions he’s ever made. Maybe one day he’ll thank them for giving him the best year he’s ever had. 

David kinda hates that he has to interrupt the truly bizarre conversation Steve and Dustin are having about wiretapping and a ‘Cerebro’ but Career Day is about to officially start and-

Steve: David! Hey, have I intro- no, I introduced you guys already. How do you feel about older women?

Dustin: Oh my god, Steve, El and I are just friends! And anyways, she’s not going to want to date this literal child!

David, reluctantly: I’m twenty-four

Steve: I’m not asking for El. I’m asking for Susie since you won’t marry her either.

Dustin: What’s Susie going to do with a middle school teacher? She’d have a more intellectually stimulating conversation with a brick wall.

Steve: Dude, harsh. Apologize.

Dustin, unconvincing: Sorry

David: Uh, no problem? Steve, um. You wanted to know when… Well, your ex. He’s here.

Steve HE’S here???

ETA: now on ao3 as Hawkins Halfway House for Homeless Horrors

ETA2: now with an additional snippet

okay, how's this for an AU

We know that Steve wants to be a dad. Like, his literal life dream is to have a minimum of six children. SIX. who wants that?? crazy people, that's who. but we forgive him his insanity because he's sweet and will actually probably be a really good dad and there's not enough of those in the world.

the downer is that it's the late 90s, he's a (still) single guy in his thirties, and every adoption agency on the planet would rather give their children to a heteronormative couple who don't even want kids than to a single dude who would dedicate his heart and soul to giving his kids a happy healthy home.

He's bemoaning his fate to Robin at a bar they recently discovered. It's a weird little joint, kinda tucked away on the outskirts where Steve could've sworn didn't exist just last week. The patrons were kinda weird too but neither he or Robin could put their finger on why or how. If Steve had been a little less miserable, and Robin a little less caught up in comforting him, they might've noticed how everyone else in the bar kept sneaking curious glances at them or how they somehow always kept most of their features hidden.

They didn't though. Even when they were interrupted by a handsome black gentleman who called himself Jeff. Jeff said that he couldn't help but overhear their dilemma and that he's actually part of an agency that is more open minded about potential foster or adoptive parents. Steve's a little deeper in his cups than he intended, and doesn't question that some random guy in a bar is offering him a chance of having children. Robin is not as far in her cups and finds it a bit suspicious.

She was going to say something about it but Jeff looked her in the eye and said, "Everything is fine. There's no reason to worry. I'm only trying to help."

"You're only trying to help," Robin murmured back blearily. "Everything is fine. Yeah. Yeah, 'm not worried."

Jeff gives Steve his card and tells him he can stop by the very next day if he'd like, since his schedule is open.

The next day, Steve is regretting having gotten so drunk. Not really because of the hangover (though holy shit, he is NOT twenty anymore he needs to stop drinking like one). No. It's because Jeff had just finished giving him a tour of the facility full of rambunctious children in need of a home.

Actually, that had been pretty okay even if the other adults in the facility startled at the sight of him and the children kept ducking into other rooms to hide from him.

No. It's because Jeff had just introduced him to a child named Dustin who sneezed unexpectedly and somehow turned into a kitten.

"Um," Steve said. Jeff sighed.

"Dustin hasn't gotten back control over his shapeshifting since his mother's passing, but I assure you he's been improving."

"...shapeshifting," Steve said, numbly.

"Yes. Dustin tends to go for cat shapes, like his mother did." Jeff bends down to pick up the loudly mewing tabby kitten. "We've managed to get him to shift mostly into a domestic shorthair, rather than a cougar cub."

"That's great," Steve squeaked as he tried to tamp down the growing hysteria in him. "Really, really great. Y'know what, Jeff, this whole thing's been great but I think I'm still kind of drunk so I'm just gonna go--"

"No, wait," Jeff says, quickly placing the Dustin kitten on his shoulder before reaching out to grab Steve by the elbow. "Please. Look, you seem like a good guy. I did a quick scan of you and everything, and I really think if you'd take a moment to sit down and--"

"JEFFORD BILLANY JONES."

Jeff's shoulders hunched, nearly dislodging Dustin from his shoulder. He sighed again and turned to face the man storming towards him and Steve.

"Eddy, you know none of that is my name."

"I'll call you whatever I want since for some unfathomable reason, you've brought a human into my sanctuary. Why is there a human in my home, Jeffamy."

"Eddy, let me explain."

"It's Eddie in front of the human," Eddie said.

Steve's brain was experiencing some sort of malfunction because Jeff had been calling this man Eddie, except if he concentrated, the way Jeff said Eddie and the way Eddie had said Eddie sounded very very different except it hadn't because they both sounded like Eddie except for how Jeff's Eddie sounded different from, the same as, different, just like--

A pair of ringed fingers snapped aggressively in front of his face, startling Steve from an impending aneurysm.

"You. Who are you, who sent you, what do you want."

Steve stuttered something incoherent. He's pretty sure he's had a mental break from reality. There was some sort of sentient black sludge creeping across the tiled floor, wrapping a tendril around Jeff's leg.

"What is that?" Steve squawked. Jeff beamed at him.

"Oh, this is El! She's a Monster Under the Bed. She hasn't decided on a form yet, but that's okay, we love her just as she is."

"Jeff," Eddie snapped. Jeff looked at Eddie stubbornly.

"You told me we needed all hands on deck."

"How dare you, I'd never stoop to using boat metaphors."

"Don't distract me with blatant lies. Eddy, you said we needed help. You said you'd take anyone at this point."

Steve has not been able to stop staring at the sludge creature (El?). He's beginning to realize that he can't quite remember what Jeff looked like, or any of the adults they had seen. He's noticing that some of the children that have been scampering about had looked off. Like the boy with the bowl-cut they had passed by earlier who had looked...frosty around the edges. Or the girl he thought had had red feathers in her hair but is now suspecting the feathers were something more than decorative.

Ringed fingers snap in front of his face again. Steve finally focused on the man named Eddie who was actually named Eddie which was different from Eddie somehow. Now that he's able to shove away the confusion that is this man's name, he's struck by the fact that Eddie was quite possibly the most gorgeous man Steve's ever seen. He had wide, dark eyes that made Steve think of seabeds in the deepest of waters. His hair was a riot of dark brown curls that for some reason brought to mind swirling schools of fish.

"Answer my questions," Eddie demanded. Steve blinked and, with some difficulty, remembered the previous interrogation.

"Uh, I'm Steve. Jeff invited me because I want to be a dad."

Eddie barked out a laugh.

"Oh, is that right? In that case, welcome to Hawkins' Halfway House for Homeless Horrors! I'm sure Jeff would love to finish introducing you to the rest of our children. Have you met Mike? He's a ghoul! Or Lucas! He's a werewolf and his dream is to become a basketball star. They both have very sharp teeth so watch out for their tantrums."

Jeff scowls at Eddie before turning back to Steve. Steve was starting to feel faint and he was no longer sure if he regretted drinking the night before or regretted not drinking more.

"Steve, it's okay. Eddy is making it sound scarier than it actually is. You said you wanted to be a dad, and we need foster parents that can help these kids learn how to blend in with humans. That's what the halfway house is for, but there's only so much they can learn while living in sanctuary. We need a way to have them experience the human world more directly while still keeping them safe, and I think you're the solution we've been looking for. What do you think?"

"I think I need to sit down," Steve said thinly. Eddie snorted derisively. Steve was slightly offended but honestly everything was a bit too much right now and he really would like to sit down for a moment just to process. Because monsters are real, apparently, and some of them need parents. Which was terrifying to think about but also not so much? Because all kids were little monsters some of the time right? If Steve could have a moment to get his bearings...

"This was a terrible idea, Jeffathan."

"I think it was a great idea, actually. I really think this could work."

"No. I forbid it. Don't do this again."

Then there was a sweet and beautiful humming. It made the edges of Steve's mind go fuzzy and soft. He blinked slowly and looked for the source of the sound. Eddie stared at him intently and when he spoke, his voice was like music.

"Steve," Eddie said. "Steve, do you want to make me happy?"

Steve nodded dumbly. He wanted that more than anything in the whole world. He wanted to make Eddie smile. He wanted Eddie to never stop singing.

"It would make me very happy if you went home and forgot everything you saw here today," Eddie continued.

Steve made a sad sound. He didn't want to forget. He didn't want to forget beautiful, gorgeous Eddie and this place that could make his dream come true.

"Please, Steve," Eddie's lyrical voice took on an aching mournful tone. "If you don't, you'll break my heart. I'll never be happy again."

The sadness in the song made Steve feel like the world was ending. Eddie couldn't be sad! Steve would rather die than make Eddie sad!

"I forget," Steve mumbled through the fog in his mind. "And you'll be happy?"

"So happy. I'd be the happiest man alive if you do that one little thing for me, my sweet Steve."

Steve nods again. "Okay."

"Good boy," Eddie croons. Steve felt like he swallowed the sun at those words. He followed Eddie as Eddie guided him through the halfway house. Eddie hummed his lovely song the entire way.

"Go home and forget," Eddie sang one last time as he helped Steve get behind the wheel of his car.

"Yeah," Steve replied dreamily and drove away.

--

The telephone rang shrilly through his apartment. Steve stumbled out of bed and picked up, only fumbling it a little bit.

"H'llo?"

"Steve, what the hell, I've been trying to get a hold of you all day! Where have you been?" Robin's voice rang out, making Steve flinch. He scrubbed his free hand over his face tiredly.

"Home? I just woke up," Steve said. It was weird that he was fully dressed, he thought dazedly, but it wouldn't be the first time he's passed out drunk in his street clothes. Was he wearing this shirt yesterday? He could've sworn he'd worn the navy one.

"What? Just now? It's like five in the evening!"

"Huh. That'd explain the weird dream," Steve mumbled.

"Was it the one where you get seduced by a giant squid? Because I don't need to know more about your weird tentacle fetish."

"I don't have a tentacle fetish! I had the dream ONE time, and I wasn't being seduced, I was getting drowned and it was terrifying!"

"To-may-to, to-mah-to."

"Whatever, this one was weirder anyway."

"I find that hard to believe but now I'm morbidly curious. Hit me with it."

"...I don't remember."

"There goes my entertainment for the evening."

"Was there a reason you called, Robin?"

"Yes! I met this girl named Chrissy and I swear Steve, she's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen..."

Beautiful. Steve had the faint impression of dark eyes and silver rings, but it was quickly washed away like a child's sandcastle in the tide under the onslaught of Robin's ramblings. As he listened to his best friend, he couldn't help but feel there was something he'd forgotten. There was something he'd been planning on doing today, wasn't there...?

...oh, well. If it was really important, he'd remember eventually.

“In a certain kingdom, in a certain land, there was a village, surrounded by a forest, and a wide river nearby…”

**********

From the Steddie Big Bang project 020, Tessellation (by the incredible @maryofdoom).

Six stories about Steve and Eddie, in six very different universes - check it out here!

Someone to Watch Over Me

Part 3: “He’s the One Affair I Cannot Forget”

Author’s Note:  Oh my lovelies!  Truth time- I almost didn’t post this... I reworked it and reworked it and walked away from it before remembering that I had come too far to turn back now.  So, with my humble thanks to @sweetsweetjellybean​ and @sammy-jo1977​ you now have Part 3!

My taglist is open and reblogs are encouraged!!

It’s filled to the brim, so enjoy!

If you need to catch up:  Part 1 - Love is Blind & Part 2 - Seek & You Will Find are here! Pairing:  Eddie Munson x Plus Sized OC Amanda Patterson Summary:  It’s love at first sound, pitch perfect and fated, everything in harmony.  If only life were a love song. Eddie and Amanda make their union physical, back in 1987.  What does 1990 have in store? Warnings:  There is SMUT ahead (minors DNI), first time with a new partner, and mentions of birth control.  Self depricating thoughts are discussed, some fat phobic ideas are expressed and there’s a passing mention of canon quality Chrissy’s passing.  Also, smoking, drinking and swearing. Happy Reading!

1990

“Well, I think we’ve got everything we need.  Thank you guys for your time.”  Chuck grinned slickly, offering a tepid handshake to all the guys in the group, “The tech team will edit the package together and get it over to your manager for final approval, but yea, this should be on the air in a week or two.  Exciting, right?”

The manufactured for the masses interviewer was looking directly at Eddie as he asked, clearly in need of approval or something less like open disdain from the front man and lead guitarist,  “Uh, yea.  Like, super exciting.  So, thank you?”  Gareth sniggered at his back.  It was becoming way too obvious that Eddie couldn't keep the charade up much longer.  Not when his head was like this- lost in the past but forced to work in the present.  But then salvation arrived at his side.  Maggie, savior, protector, liberator, bumped his shoulder and interrupted with a grave whisper, “Mr. Munson, I’m afraid it’s time.” Vague enough to sound serious, Eddie nodded his head solemnly, “Oh, yea, right.  Well, thanks again Chuck, but, alas, duty calls.”

“No, thank you Eddie-” He didn’t answer the host, having already turned away, hip to hip with Maggie, heads bowed together like naughty kids.  Waiting until they were out of earshot, she sighed deeply, “Ya know, that could've gone better, Emmy.” Eddie snorted at the nickname, his brown eyes rolling, “That guy sucked, Mags.  Forget being a tool, Chuck was an entire tool box.  A goddamned Harbor Freight of bullshit.” Sighing deeply, the sturdy woman fell in step beside him, “So fucking what?  MTV’s gonna be running that shit for days, weeks even.  The least you could do is be, I don’t know, polite?” He barreled through a swinging door back first, Maggie dogging his steps, as he sassed, “I was polite, Magdelena.  I answered his questions.  What else do you want from me?” Eddie nodded at one of the road guys as they passed, the lull in this particular conversation more than welcome.  But of the many reasons he loved Maggie so much, this right here was the kicker; her determination.  That it was also the worst thing about being her friend was one of those unsolved mysteries of life since this dominant personality trait meant that their little moving conversation wasn’t over.  Not by a long shot. Turning down a narrow hall, they pushed into the green room together as she shrugged, “Maybe a little less attitude.  Maybe a little more gratitude.” “Are you a greeting card now, Mags?”  Eddie had flopped onto a sagging gray monstrosity of a couch, his legs kicked up over the arm, his back flat against the indeterminately stained cushion.    Maggie wasn’t looking in his direction.  Instead she was peeking around the corner, checking the exit and generally ensuring that no immediate risks to Eddie’s safety could be seen.  When she was satisfied that a crazy fan was not about to jump out of his closet, she planted her feet and crossed her arms, staring down at Eddie with an affectionate scowl, “No, but I do like my paycheck, so I need you to stay employed.” “Ha!  Honey, the lead singer of Corroded Coffin ain’t goin’ nowhere!” She pulled a plastic backed chair closer, eyeing him from the shadow of her ever present hat’s bill, “Well, that’s not entirely true, now is it?” His eyebrow raised again, curiosity clear on Eddie’s face, “You know something I don’t?” “Aren’t we going back to Indiana?  That Battle of the Bands thing after New Year’s?”  Settling back against the flimsy seat, her legs opened wide, Maggie ran her hands over her thighs, the rolled sleeve of her shirt showcasing her own inky designs.  The caged bird on her forearm always drew Eddie’s attention and even now he caught himself staring at the intricate ink instead of answering his friend and protector’s question.  “Fuck.  I had almost forgotten.” “Bullshit.”  Squinting at him, the same look she gave to overeager fans who lined up alongside the tour bus, the one that made them piss their pants in fright, the one he cherished, Maggie now used on Eddie to get at the truth. Feigning affront, he sat up on his elbows, hair long enough now to get caught underneath his shoulder and pulling, “Excuse me?” “Bullshit you forgot.  You’re going to judge the Battle of the Bands in your home state and you fucking forgot?  Nope.  No way.  And what’s with the song you brought up?  Someone to Watch Over Me?  A little, I don’t know, soft for you, ain’t it?” The blush of honesty scorched through him so fast, Eddie flopped back to the sofa with a soft whoosh sending a swirl of dust out of the ancient furniture.  How many sweaty asses have sat here, he wondered quickly.  A hundred?  More?  Gross. But then Mags cleared her throat, unimpressed by his delay tactics.  It chafed her charge and since Eddie was already feeling some kind of way, more defensive than he meant to be, he huffed, “Yea?  So?  It’s- it’s a great song.”  There were not a lot of secrets between Edward Munson and Magdelena Rios but Mandy?  Yea, that was definitely, absolutely a secret he kept close.  So, of course his bodyguard slash bulldog wouldn’t know about his affinity for Gershwin songs when they were sung into a perfect Indiana sunset.  And she wouldn’t know about the ache in his chest whenever he looked up at the sky and found the silent, silver full moon staring back down him.  Judging him.  Reminding him of regrets that ran deep- goblin green and moss covered, growing mushrooms in the dark.  Clever and always on alert, Maggie saw something cross his face because she nodded and then tipped her chair onto two legs, “Uh huh.  Right.”  “What are you trying to say, my darling Magdelena?”  Swinging his big black boots forward, Eddie pushed up so he was sitting almost normally.  He let his clasped hands hang between his knees as he lifted baleful brown eyes to Maggie’s steely ones. “I’m trying to say that you’re not using your head.”  Her chair clanged as she lowered it too fast making Eddie flinch, “I am saying, flat out, that you got so pissy with Chuck the Tool Box because you were a little too honest today, even if I don’t get why.  I guess-” she leaned forward now, encroaching on the rockstar’s space with a soul deep exhale, “-I’m saying I’m worried about you, my friend.” Twisting his lips into a devilish smirk, Eddie reached over and flicked at the brim of her hat, “Honey, sweetie, darling, Maggie… you got nothing to worry about.  I’m fine.”

They both knew he was lying.

It was during their condensed pre-show warm up that Eddie realized he was in trouble.  Naturally, his fingers felt along the frets of his acoustic Gibson, a melody in calloused pads playing without a lot of thought.  Behind him the other members of Corroded Coffin fooled around, checking levels and making weird noises into the mics, generally acting like the assholes he knew and loved.  Normally he’d be the one leading the rabble, causing trouble and wreaking havoc for the venue staff but there was a riff stuck in his brain.

“Earth to Eddie!  Helllooooo?  Anybody home?”

Without looking up, he rumbled, “Fuck off Jeff, I’m working here.” “Hear that fellas?  Eddie’s working while we’re just lazing around.” Yea, this was definitely a song, he could feel it vibrating in his bones.  Excited now, he flashed wide eyes at the boys in the band, “Pen!  Paper!” The dumb fuckers looked at each other with varying degrees of confusion on their faces.  Gareth, the bravest, ventured, “Uh, wh- what man?” “Something to write with- On!  I gotta get it outta me, Gare!” There was a manic energy filling the spaces between microphone stands and amplifiers that made Eddie itchy under the skin.  When the muse came she would not be denied and holy shit but she was coming hard right now.  He knew the grateful smile he flashed at the poor roadie responsible for dropping off a mechanical pencil and three white paper plates must have been terrifying to see, but giving birth was a messy process no matter what form the new life took. Pencil clamped between his teeth like one of his cherished cigarettes, Eddie moved his hands down the neck of the guitar and back up, picking a string or two along the way.  Using a cab for a table, he scribbled, paused to hum, then broadly grinned.  It was over in a matter of minutes. “Here.  New tune.”  Breathing harder than a marathon runner, he shoved the scalloped edged plates covered in gray looping letters at his friends and bandmates. Jumping off a riser, Gareth looked over his oldest friend’s work and nodded slowly, “Uh, ok, Eddie.  What do you want us to, uh, ya know, do with this?” “Play it?  I mean, we are a band, right?  And we make music, don’t we?” “It’s gibberish, man.” “Fuck you!  It’s good.  Great even.  I know it.” Waving Eddie closer, Gareth handed off the hastily scribed song to Jeff, before wrapping an arm around their front man, “Eddie.  My friend.  My musical partner in crime.  I ask with all due respect-” they had been walking towards the wings of the stage, Eddie following where he was led, “- But what the fuck is going on with you today?” Pulling back hard, Eddie’s hair swung at the force of his movement, “What’s wrong with me?  What’s wrong with you, man?  I come to you with a- a new tune and you- you call me out like this?” Revved up and idling, Eddie was a race car in the red.  Gareth recognized all the signs despite it being a long while since this particular engine had been torqued so high.  With hands raised in surrender, the curly blond conceded, “Hey, no one is calling you out man.  I’m telling you that it’s, I don’t know, weird?” “Weird?  What the hell, man.  Just say what you want to say and let me get back to the music for fuck’s sake.”  “Ok.  Ok.”  Eddie had to watch as his buddy rolled his shoulders back before taking a big breath in, “You were an asshole to the MTV guy, which, I get it man.  Guy’s a dick but this is a big deal, Eddie.  I know you know that, deep down, but you’re not acting like you do.”  Dropping his voice lower, Gareth added, “And you talked about- well, her.” The extra emphasis wasn’t needed.  All it did was needle under the thin skin that Eddie was sporting today, a suit that didn’t fit quite right, and he didn’t know why.  But here was friend number two mentioning erratic behavior and well, that sucked to hear. Deflating visibly, his security hair strand pulled over his face, Eddie countered weakly, “I didn’t say her name.” “You didn’t have to, pal" and having the decency to look embarrassed, he added, “You called your new hit ‘Watching the Moon’.” Huffing out a strained laugh, Eddie met his friend’s kind gaze with a grimace, “Not very subtle, huh?” “Naw, not really" was the half chuckled reply. Stretching his neck out, chin to the auditorium’s ceiling, an unhinged note in his voice, Eddie felt obligated to apologize, “I’m sorry, Gare.  Don’t know why but I’m spinning out a bit.” Really ribbing him now, Gareth bumped into his buddy’s side, “You don’t know why?  Gee, let’s see, you have huge rock show tonight, had an interview with MTV today, you’re writing music, touring, and being away from home, from Wayne, from people you lov-” the face Eddie flashed was all the warning he was going to give his oldest friend, and Gareth adjusted accordingly, “-care about sucks.  It’s- it’s a lot, man and you’re allowed to be overwhelmed.  But you’re not allowed to blow it all up because you’re missing your ex.” There it was.  Too honest to be denied, Eddie was caught.  Trapped like a bird in a cage and held hostage by the golden bars of memory. He had moved it past it, past her.  Truly!  There had been groupies in spandex skirts with hair teased higher than Mount Rushmore who took care of Eddie Munson with a reverence he did not deserve.  An actress with a chest so big it frightened him, really.  Plus a model who had the exact opposite problem- all skin and bones with no meat to feast on.  Not his flavor by any stretch of the imagination. So, Eddie had skimmed the oil slicked surface of available tail and was happy for the opportunity.  Appreciated every lovely lady and that one very handsome fella who made him feel worthy again.  Each new conquest a fresh layer of sediment, burying the idea of Amanda further and further down in the rock formation of his heart.

It worked.  Eddie had been every inch the wild child rock singer of his high school daydreams, until the Battle of the Bands was brought up.

The label had it all planned out- two shows in Indianapolis a Thursday night and then again on Saturday.  In between, Corroded Coffin's lead singer would help choose the 1991 Battle Champion, awarding a cash prize and the chance to open the second date's concert.  It was a huge opportunity for some local metal group, a chance Eddie would have loved to take advantage of only a few short years ago, and he was looking forward to it.  Except-

Hidden in the haystack of going back to Indiana was the needle named Amanda Patterson.  The odds of finding that needle at a Corroded Coffin show considering how things ended between them was minimal at best, but it wasn’t zero.  It was that one in a million chance which buzzed boldly between Eddie’s ears, making him think about moonlit nights and vanilla milkshakes and promises whispered under overworn sheets. The tune he’d quickly crafted came back to him now, ‘Watching the Moon’, and of course it was about her.  Them.  All the things he didn’t say and all the things she wouldn’t allow him to. It was absolutely a hit, even though it hadn't been played once and wasn’t recorded yet.  It was a hit because it came from that same well inside of Eddie where love and passion and music all swam together.  A tall tower still ruled by Mandy, despite years and tears and stand-in people.  

He was going to make this song a number one, getting it played on every single radio station from here to Toronto, knowing that if Gareth could see through the title that his Moon Goddess would too.  Maybe, then, his needle would find him.  Maybe going back to Indiana wasn’t the worst idea his management team had cobbled together.  Maybe it was all going to be ok.

Eddie Munson had a plan.  A campaign to make things right.  A strategy that was coming together almost as quickly as his song for Amanda.

Feeling lighter than he had all day, he clapped Gareth on the back and, yea, there might have been a bit too much force in his playful shove but he didn’t regret it.  Gare could take it, it was why they were so close.  So he spouted at his best friend, “You’re just jealous because I have an ex.  There’s no one missing you but the blow up doll you keep in your bunk.” “Jesus!  Shut up, Eddie!”

Craziness crowded into the overly expressive eyes of Eddie Munson as he darted back towards the other guys in the band, “Hey, did Gareth ever tell you about his Lady Latex?” —

1987

They made it to the front door, finally, after agreeing to a truce.  No more touching.  No teasing.  Not until they were inside someplace that wasn’t on four wheels. Now though, they were stopped in front of said door, nervous giggles bubbling free like champagne uncorked.  Cheeks hot from kissing too closely in the heated shelter of Eddie’s van before braving the nighttime’s frosty temperatures, their breaths mixed, making wispy clouds with every panted exhale.  Try as she might, Amanda couldn’t keep the excited tremble from her hands as she struggled to fit the key into her lock. It certainly didn’t help that the overly eager rocker couldn’t seem to keep his lips or his hands or even his hips to himself, “Truce schmuce” was all he said before enveloping her in his embrace.  And he was everywhere- each time the notches of her house key caught the lock, he would nibble on the fleshiest part of her earlobe making her shudder, deadbolt be damned.  

He was distracting in the best and most frustrating way.  Because really, all she wanted to do was get inside where she could return his touch.  Tease him back.  Taste him.  And go on to do all of the other tantalizing things they had been thinking about since their first blissful kiss over vanilla milkshakes. Another miss as the lock continued to do its job in spite of her efforts and she pouted, unable to keep the needy whine out of her voice, “Eddie!  Come on!”  “What?  What’d I do?”  Oh, he feigned innocence, but he knew.  Eddie knew that every sloppy press of his lips to her delicate neck, every roll of his pelvis, every graze of his fingers over her own was making Amanda feverish.  Flustered.  It was also keeping the pair of them on the wrong side of the door. Dropping her frigid hands with a frustrated growl after another failed attempt, Amanda stomped her foot before reaching up to try again.  Shifting away from the long legged leviathan behind her, prompting his dulcet demand, “Quit wiggling and open the door!” “I’m trying but-” “But what, huh?”  Wrapping over her back, the sharp bone of his chin hooked over her shoulder to watch her progress as Eddie’s red, raw fingers dragged strands of unruly hair behind her ear.  Breathing hotly against the golden hoop hanging there, he husked hoarsely, “Need some, ah, help, Mandy?” “Please?”  

Caving into the warmth behind her, Amanda nodded, her head rolling back against the denim vest over his torso, hair catching on his WASP pin causing her to moan pitifully.  That it gave Eddie the chance to litter her neck with wet, open mouthed kisses, his palms squishing against her jacket as he tried to touch more and more of her was just an added bonus.  Arms, creaking leather encased arms, reached around her, crowding her snuggly between the unopened door and his chest as the keys were plucked free from her grip, “Lemme try.”  With her mind and hands free, Amanda’s own fingers could wander and they did.  Quickly finding the dangling chain of Eddie’s wallet, she used the steel links to pull him tighter, earning a stuttered “Fuck.” from the guy at her back.  Now she got to listen as her house keys jangled noisily while he attempted to do what she could not.  Work them into the lock and open the fucking door. “I thought you were- uh, I thought you were supposed to be helping, Ed.”  God, but she sounded wrecked already, her round bottom rubbing him through layers of distancing denim, the hard and firm evidence of the effect she was having making itself known.

And maybe it wasn’t fair of her to grind the curve of her ass into the sharp angles of Eddie’s hip bones while he fumbled to open her front door.  Maybe.  But when Amanda felt the firm length of him straining and stuck in his jeans she didn’t feel bad.  Not even a little bit because that was proof.  Evidence of just how much Eddie wanted her. It made her bold.  Kissing the underside of his stubbled jaw as her keychain jingled in his giant hands, her lips smacked rudely over the sensitive skin at his throat forcing a croak out of him, “Trying, honey, but you’re kinda, Jesus-” She sucked harshly at the divot below his chapped ear, “-you’re, uh, distracting- there it is!”  Triumphantly turning the knob, Eddie shuffled in short steps behind Amanda, tucking her close as they crossed the threshold.  

With a satisfying snap, the door was shut behind them to keep the world out.  But who could worry about something like an open door when there was kissing to be done?  The heated sort of kisses which didn’t stop when Amanda ripped down the zipper of her jacket, shrugging her arms free before flinging it away into the abyss of the living room.  Kisses that went melty in the middle, stretching and stretching but never breaking even when she forced her way under the shoulders of his leather, pushing it to the floor with a satisfying thump. Her hands wasted no time.  Palms flat over the planes of his chest, she marveled for a moment at the solid strength hidden in Eddie’s trim physique.  The muscles that lugging amplifiers and tossing truck tires created, buried beneath bravado and cotton and tattoos, only seen in glimpses now tense and tight and touchable. Fisting into the soft t-shirt he wore, a secretive smile spreading across her face, “Hi.” “Hi yourself, Miss Mandy.”  Eddie’s paws spanned her ample waist, forcing her closer, his fingers tapping out an unfamiliar rhythm on the small of her back.  With his curls brushing over her scalding cheeks, she licked her lips in anticipation, ready for the next press of his mouth to her own.  And following the flick of her tongue, a hungry, haunted look on his face, he gritted out, “Where- shit, where’s your bedroom, Mandy?” Wordlessly she linked their hands together.  A shiver that started in the sacred space below her navel raced through her blood, her body.  Had it ever been like this before?  As if her physical self was running a race that her heart and mind would follow to the finish? No.  Never.  Not once. Tugging against a hand heavy with silver rings, insistent and eager, she led the way and he followed.  It wasn’t far.  A few short steps down a shaggy carpeted hallway then through a door, partially opened already.  

The room, Amanda’s room, was made of comfort- a brown corduroy bean bag sagged next to a record player being held up by two plastic milk crates crammed full of way too many records.  A double tape deck had carved out its place on her desk, a stack of cassette cases leaning precariously, a few already having tumbled to the floor nearby.  Her tawny acoustic guitar leaned against the wall, sheet music and notebook paper scattered around as if it had all been abandoned mid-session, frozen in time but waiting for her return.  Pegged to her cork board was a calendar marking out her work days, school schedule and band rehearsals.  Textbooks for her classes were stuffed into an unzipped backpack, and while the main floor was clear, it was scattered with little things like pencils and hair ties and stuffed mice and take-out forks.

He spied a knitted afghan in garish colors folded lovingly over a quilted brocade comforter and a stack of pillows, each with their own unstained case, piled against the rattan headboard.  Her closet door was hastily shut but the tell-tale bulge of a lot of clothes crammed into not enough space was obvious.  Photos and posters decorated the walls.  It surprised him to see so many band names that he recognized mixed with 70s folk artists and new wave performers. Eclectic.  Varied.  The space was mis-matched but all the better for it.  Personality, Amanda’s personality, wafted from every corner. This was her little nest, snuggled safely between these four walls, burrowed in like a happy mouse.  Surrounded with all the comforts a soft, cozy creature could ever need: books and music and light and sweet things.  Fuck, Eddie loved it. Probably, deep down in the dusky depths of his grimy gargoyle brain, he figured he shouldn’t.  Shouldn’t love the sheer ruffled curtains parted down the middle so that starlight was visible over the neighboring houses, soft and serene.  Definitely shouldn’t stoke the soft fabric with tentative fingers, rubbing the pristine veil between inside and out with thoughtful touches, careful not to stain it.  It was all too nice, everything around him.  Too pretty.  Too put together for a guy who ate cereal over the sink and considered ketchup a vegetable. “This is a real nice place.”  God, he sounded so stupid.  But, like, it really was a nice place. Comfortable and clean.  And quiet.  No noisy neighbors shouting out their frustrations into the cold night air or barking dogs or backfiring cars with tires bouncing over pebbled dirt roads. “Uh, thanks but you haven’t even seen it with the lights on.”  With a click, Amanda turned on the small bedside lamp that filled her space with a golden glow all at once.  She wasn’t surprised to find that Eddie had strayed to her make-shift music station, his eyes lighting up at the variety of singers and bands and artists with what she hoped was appreciation.  Taking a tentative step in his direction, talking with her hands, she edged nearer to the record player.  Keeping her voice small, as though she was afraid of ruining the simple silence between them, “Is it cool if I put something on?” “Yea, yes.  Of course.  It’s your room, right?” “Well, yea, I guess it is.  Uh, just-” and she moved to duck in front of him, already knowing which album to spin.  But he was almost definitely purposefully standing exactly where she needed to get.  “-Maybe you could, uh, let me in here?” Devilish now, an impish grin made his dimples pop, “Oh, am I in the way, Mandy?  Sorry ‘bout that.”  Only he didn’t sound very sorry at all.  And as she shifted nearer, he held his ground, settling his weight in his heels, his arms crossed over his narrow chest.  If she wanted to put on a record, she was going to have to squeeze next to him to do it and boy, did that idea light him up. Eddie was absolutely pushing his luck.  He knew it, but couldn’t help himself.  Blocking her path, planting his feet, he took up as much room as possible.  Call him curious, but he wanted to see what she would do.  Push him aside?  Press those luscious curves in tight?  Go back to kissing him so hard he felt like he was coming unglued?  God he fucking hoped so. Watching her closely, he saw that tattle-tale tilt of her head, the eyes he couldn’t forget reflecting his own mischief making energy as Amanda dropped to her knees.  Her tongue darted out from between her pillowy lips, spreading sweet saliva, shiny and slick in its wake.  Rounding now, he was locked in on the circle of her pout, his body kicking up a gear at the sinful suggestion of what was sitting so prettily in front of him.  Amanda, she knew what she was doing.  When she peered up at him from the floor, raking her gaze over his towering figure through the veil of her lashes, she had a good idea that he was going to take the bait.  So she reached out, not for the trim waist at eye level or for the hands fisted against denim wrapped thighs, but for her worn copy of Led Zeppelin IV sticking out from the bottom bin.

On an exhale through clenched teeth, a curse caught in his bone dry throat, “Sweet Jesus-” “Here.”  Shocked into silence, she handed over the faded cardboard, nodding towards the record player, “Side two, if you don’t mind.”

It was enough to knock him over.  How Amanda looked so innocent while making demands on her knees in front of him, resting back on her heels demurely, was a seismic shock to his system.  It made Eddie’s head go fuzzy, ears full of feedback like when his guitar was too close to his amp with the knobs turned all the way up.  He felt as though he was turned all the way up, cranked as high as possible, crackling explosively, dangerously near the limits of his control. Tacky sweat made his t-shirt cling in the warmth of Amanda’s room.  And if her magnetic eyes weren’t boring into him, waiting him out, then he probably would have shucked the offending layer without question.  As it was, she was too damn cute and too damn close for him to do much beyond blink away this latest round of pulsing need, which was the real problem here.  Somehow he obliged when she raised a hand, asking oh so politely, “Do you mind?” before he gently helped her up to her feet. Puffing out his held breath with a wry chuckle, he smoothly slipped her chosen record onto the turntable and lowered the needle’s arm.  Raising a cocky eyebrow when “Misty Mountain Hop” began to tumble from the speakers at a reasonably low volume, his swagger returned, “Ya know-” he paused to clear his throat, his voice already sounding too blown out, too rough, even to his own ears, “-I’ve seen Fast Times like twenty times.  Harrington loves that movie, so I, uh, know what you’re up to.” “Really?”  Her sweet voice was angel light from over his shoulder, as she spied on him slowly dropping the clear plastic lid on her stereo, “And what is that, Mr. Munson?  What, exactly, am I up to?” “I think you’re trying to get into my pants, Miss Patterson.”

Shrugging, she denied him an answer, her eye contact direct and unwavering.  Color, dusty pink and warm, spread over Eddie’s sharp cheekbones and under the smattering of freckles across his nose.  He made a choked sound, as though something had stolen his breath at the last second, when she finally replied, “And?  So, uh, so what if I am?” She sounded so much braver than she actually felt.  Flirting was the easy part.  The words between them holding added weight, spoken as they were, in the protective yellow glow of her table lamp, a comforting heaviness that was familiar and made the teasing effortless.  Easy.  

Just another stop on the tour.  Because there was a map for this journey and she knew where they were headed.  The terrain was well traveled.  She wasn’t naive.  The road forward was as clearly marked as Main Street, Hawkins, USA.  

And tonight Eddie was going to learn all about the sloping curves and high density areas that she wouldn’t be able to hide behind well draped skirts or shapeless sweaters.  She silently hoped that this pretty man with his broad smile and cocoa colored eyes still wanted to take the drive because Amanda wasn’t sure she could turn back now, even if she might wish for it later.  

Together they had started this engine, all he had to do now was push down on the pedal and off they’d go.  When they ran out of gas, if they sputtered out on the side of the road, and all she gained was the last two wonderful weeks and one night of lusty loving, the emotional equivalent of a “I humped Eddie Munson and all I got was this lousy t-shirt” souvenir, well, then she would learn to live with that.  

Was it ideal?  No.  But then, things seldom were.   And even though those three magic words had been said, had been kissed into her lips so many times since making their mutual confessions in the underused alcove at Steve’s house, it was still freaking her out.  Because hadn’t this all happened before?  Hadn’t she given so much of herself, of her heart, time and again, thinking that her feelings were returned- that this time it would be different, only to wind up disappointed? Tonight though, that kind of thinking had to be pushed aside.  There was no more room to be bashful.  To worry about what came next.  Not when the guy in question was trembling from the task of keeping himself civil, the tense set of his jaw giving him away as he kept a respectful distance.  Even still, the base maleness of him thrummed, vibrating the way guitar strings do when a chord is struck, the energy shimmering into sound. And Amanda had a great ear for that sort of music, too. At her taunting words Eddie’s mouth pulled to the right, a half smile making itself known as he crossed his arms over chest, “Hey, I’m not complaining, Mandy.” “Oh?  Good.  Yea, that’s good.”  And she danced away from him, hips swaying in time with the driving beat.  She stopped, popping the button on her dungarees with intention before shimmying them down her thick thighs, delighted by the pinch of Eddie’s teeth as he bit into his bottom lip.  He was going to draw blood.  The sweater she wore barely covered the swell of her hips but if he squinted, he was certain he could see the elastic of her panties.  White?  No, heather gray and spun out cotton.  Simple, straightforward and charming as hell.

Swallowing over the hard knot of want that pushed against his Adam’s Apple, barely managing to keep his grunting in check, “Damn, Mandy.” “Hmm?”  When she kicked her pants to the side he had to look away - at the ceiling, her wall, the mossy colored floor or risk cumming in his blue jeans. He slammed his eyes shut at the image in front of him.  It didn’t help.  Imprinted on the insides of his eyelids he could still see her.  Bare legged, her supple skin nearly glowing, practically begging for his touch.  Too sweet.  Too fucking precious.  Shit.  Fuck.  He wasn’t going to survive.  So close to short circuiting, Eddie dragged a hand across the back of his neck, going so far as to squeeze the skin there, just to bring himself off the edge because, holy shit, there was no way that she knew what she was doing to him. The song shifted and Amanda sat herself down on the edge of her bed before leaning back on her hands.  This new position thrust her chest forward, those smooth legs barely parted but making his gargoyle mind wander just the same.  It wanted… to bite, to suck, to mark and mar.  His goblin wanted to claim the fair maiden then lock her in the tallest tower, far away from anything or anyone harmful, except him, of course.  His first step was cautious, feeling his way forward with only Amanda’s signals to light his path.  The pull between them was undeniably strong, had been from the beginning, but he didn’t want to screw anything up now by being overeager.  And he sure as fuck didn’t want to scare his girl away by coming on too strong or making a wrong move.  Not when Robert Plant was singing and the room smelled like Avon lotion and lavender flowers and fabric softener, the expensive kind.  Not when his pulse ticked wildly, darkening his eyes and steeling his resolve.  Not when he could see a similar something simmering in Amanda’s expressive eyes. “You- you’re fucking gorgeous, Amanda.” “Eddie-” She let her head fall back, the tight tendons of her neck stretching, her rushed breathing making her chest rise and fall rapidly, the sound of argument loaded and ready. But he cut her off, moving a leg between both of hers, palms hovering over the width of her dimpled thighs, “-I wanna touch you.  Wanna, wanna feel you.  Can I?” “Can I?”  she parrotted sweetly, upending his advancement, deflecting a little.  And he must have nodded because then she was leaning towards him, gentle hands smoothing over his quads, her stare trained on his rapidly reddening face.  Roving, she touched him lightly, delicately, over the clothes he was still wearing.  Butterfly wings brushing over a flower's petals, never lingering before spreading goosebumps somewhere else, testing the waters of his tenacity.  When her clever fingers found his handcuff belt buckle, he stopped her, gathering her hands in his own, “It, uh, it catches.  Hang on.” He put a fraction of space between them, moving faster than she would have thought possible to catch up to her state of undress.  He toed out of his sneakers, shunting them out of the way as he huffed out a laugh, wrestling with his belt, “Fucking thing, I don’t know why I even-” “I like it.” Popping his head up, Eddie caught sight of Amanda’s playful smirk, “You do, huh?” Raising her chin so that she could spy on him through the fringe of her lashes, she nodded with a chuckle, voice sounding like spun sugar, “Yea, of course I do.  Goes with your whole bad boy image, ya know?” His fingers paused, the curtain of curls swinging while he asked, “Is that why you’re with me?  Because I’m a bad boy?” “Nope.”  She answered plainly, her focus never shifting, even though her hips did, thighs stopped from providing relieving friction by his knee, “I’m with you because of how you look at me, Eddie.  Me.  Like I’m something- someone worth looking at.” Pants forgotten, he traced a finger over the sweep of her cheek, “I love looking at you, you know that right?  It’s like you’re the fucking moon, Mandy.  Bright and, and beautiful and when you shine your light on me-” shaking his hair off his back, tone too earnest, voice too honest, “-it makes me forget about my darkness.” At the admission Eddie’s eyes drifted shut, his chin tipped skyward as he struggled to compose himself.  There was uncertainty shadowing his words, in the shape his lips made while speaking, entirely unsure if his mouth should be trusted to relay all of the things his heart felt to be true.  Because when he actually thought about it, three weeks ago he hadn’t known that there was a person named Amanda Patterson who even existed in this world.  Now?  Well, now she kind of was his world. And his world was reaching forward with tender, impatient hands, sliding his broken down leather belt free from the beloved buckle easily.  Nimble fingers making quick work of the rivet fastening his pants closed but she stalled there, blinking up at him with confusion clear in her eyes, “Did you call me the moon?” A wide thumb hooked under her chin, lifting those thoughtful peepers to his own, “Yea, Mandy.  The moon.  Like when it’s full and round and close and you can’t believe that it’s real, looking down on you all lit up and so-” her touch was so so so close to his throbbing hardness he grunted, “-fucking hell.  So ca-captivating.  Can’t take my eyes off you.” It happened again.  That thing where the world narrowed anytime she was with him, a hyper-focused momentary shift of time and place that made Amanda’s heart flutter wildly, blood roaring in her ears.  A second when everything else around her faded into the background leaving no one else but her and Eddie.  Together.  Alone. So she didn’t laugh at his poetic confession or joke about his Shakespearean ideals.  Instead, her pretty lips parted, mewling musically as his tongue licked into the honeyed cavern of her mouth.  Sharing each inhale and exhale, pressing his advantage and Amanda higher up the bedspread until she was flat against the mattress, caged between strong tattooed forearms. Breathing heavily, sitting back with a sigh, he traced a hand over the fuzz of her sweater, “Can you- can I take this off you?” Something about being compared to the moon freed her from whatever worries she carried about herself, her body, to fade into the ether.  When he asked to see her- all of her, her answer was a demanding, “God yes.” Eddie’s mouth fell hungrily to the newly exposed skin on her collarbone, hot and wet and needy.  A tiny whimper tumbled out of her panting mouth when he slurped over the slope of her bra covered breasts, his hands politely cupping the cotton covered flesh.  Desperately, her own hands clawed at his head, keeping his pursed lips tight to her body as he devoted himself to devouring her in bite-sized pieces. “Shit, h-hold on f’me.”  Stuttering, sitting up on his knees, Eddie took a second to rip his own shirt off, tossing it behind him without a second look.  His jeans were open, belt dangling loosely from the loops, the elastic waistband of his boxers low enough to display the cut of his hip bones.  There were silvery scars in concentric circles that didn’t look as purposeful as the tattoos she’d been dying to see, and before she could be told not to, she was tracing over the slightly raised skin with her index finger. Eddie let her touch.  Explore.  The graze of her hands was intentional, not teasing and not pitying either.  He would know because he’d been on the receiving end of both before.  More than that, he appreciated that she asked no questions about what had created the mottled pattern on his abdominals, just accepted that they existed and were part of him. If he wasn’t already in love with her, that alone would have surely cemented his fate.  Surging in his system like the first inhale of that kind bud Rick got from Canada, he relaxed into the feeling, letting it blossom while sampling the sensitive stretch of her neck, the ball of her shoulder, the space between her breasts.  A starving man facing a Golden Corral buffet table wouldn’t have sounded happier than he did at that moment. “God, look at you, Mandy.”  He hummed as he worked his way over her ribs,  “Moon goddess.  My moon goddess.”  Writhing beneath him, she folded towards him at the praise, little huffing sounds pushing over her lips, “You look so good right now.  So sweet.  So goddamn sweet for me.”  The words were honey hot, warm and sticky, and they chafed like his denim covered legs. rubbing deliciously against her naked ones.  The friction too much and not nearly enough for the pleasure taking root in the warm, moist soil of her center.  Even touch drunk on Eddie she bucked at the sentiment, practically pouting, “Hmm, I’m not-” she scrunched her eyes shut, tossing her head weakly against the blanket, “-I’m not that sweet.” Dropping down to his forearms, his nose nuzzled into hers as he chided tartly, “Maybe I should taste you again then and make sure?  Gonna let me?  Let me taste you and touch you and make you feel good?”   Nodding from beneath him, keen eyes locked on his, “Hmm- Yes, yes, uh huh.  I want that.  So bad.  Want you so bad.”  Shutting her eyes at the sensation, his calloused fingertips slid up the satin of her outer thighs, leaving shivery bumps in his wake .  He dug his fingertips into the pillowy softness there, loving the feel of her flesh under his touch, “I’m gonna give you everything you want, Mandy, don’t worry.  Gonna make you mine.  Keep you in bed until the sun don’t shine.” A sound then, half groan half giggle, floated between them, Amanda sighing through a playful smile, “Eddie Munson’s a- a poet.  Who knew?” “Credit where credit’s due, babe.  I’m a songwriter.  A lyricist, ya know?  Whoa!”  His answer was smug but faded fast when she yanked down on his jeans before brushing the pads of her fingers over the newly exposed tattoo on Eddie’s right hip.  

It was beautiful; a snake in black and gray, coiled around itself, the wide fanged mouth biting into the tail in an unending loop.  This piece was big.  Artistic and finely detailed.  Her open palm barely covered half of it when she reverently pressed against the permanent artwork.  “And, uh you just bring it out in me- Jesus Christ!  Your hands are freezing!” “Are they?”  with a tone turned thick with teasing, she widened her smirk before those frigid digits were skating over his pecs and poking into his ribs.  Like a startled grasshopper, he jumped back far enough to catch her tickling fingers, the grip on her wrists keeping her from reaching his more sensitive areas despite her wiggling attempts to get free. Leaning in closer, loopy laughing aside, he tsked, “Oh, bad move, Mandy!”  “Ah!  No, Eddie, please!  I’m really ticklish- Ah!”  She started to scoot away, further up the bed, side to side, trying to shimmy out of his hold, laughing the whole time.  Loudly.  Happy to be caught.  Using his teeth, feral and frolicking, Eddie bit into the roundness of Amanda’s shoulder, the small sharp pain widening her eyes, “Did you just bite me?” Flashing her his lady-killing grin, he clicked his tongue, “Told you I had to know how sweet you were, Mandy.  And-” settling his hips between her parted thighs, “-I gotta say, you’re pretty damn tasty.” An answering hum of appreciation met her ears as Eddie continued lower.  Without question or qualm, he nuzzled and nipped at her abundant flesh, his happy hands squeezing indulgently whenever she sighed out encouragement.  And all Amanda could manage was a continuous begging cry of “Please, please Eddie, don’t, don’t stop, ok?”  

Why would he?  There was some addictive element, a chemical, an additive that laid across every inch of her body and he craved it.  Couldn’t get enough.  Landing somewhere between cinnamon sugar coating and honeyed dust, the flavor of her skin was exactly the thing he had been ravenous for his whole life long.  There was no way in hell he’d stop searching it out, not when he found the source, “Not a chance, Mandy.” She felt his grip on the flimsy fabric of her panties, tense and twitchy.  Hands slipped under the legband, cupping the expanse of her bottom in two palms before digging into the meat of her ass as Eddie’s nose pressed against the soaking gusset.  His moan was the kind that shook mountains to their foundation.  It created tidal waves that ravaged cities.  For Amanda it twisted the knot of her need tight enough to snap, her thighs wanting desperately to slide shut, but falling further apart shamelessly, instead. There was no trepidation to the touches now.  With a rough pull the cheap drug store underwear disintegrated, the scraps unneeded and unwanted any longer.  Amanda didn’t have time to bother about it because Eddie’s hard working hands were parting her legs, holding her open and on display with the weight of his body. Chest heaving, he called to her, “Hey, look at me, baby.  At me, Mandy.” “Yea?”  She was a mess of lavender and lilac stains, streaked with spit and red wine colored bruises.  But she was smiling, half-cocked, when her stare met his blown out pupils. “If you want me to uh, to stop, you gotta say it now.” Amanda did not.  What she did was whine, low in her throat, as her cleft clenched around nothing, “Don’t stop.” “Just remember that I love you, yea?” Licking over her dry lips, rolling her hips under his strong hold, she nodded, “Love you too.  Only you-”

The rest of her sentence remained unsaid as Eddie’s tongue licked right over her juicy center, circling the swollen firmness of her clit with expert precision.  He wrapped his arms around her legs from beneath, keeping her parted for his pleasure as he lapped at the drooling opening between her lower lips.  He wasn’t gentle as he moved Amanda’s thicker body closer, jerking her down and onto his waiting tongue over and over and over again.    It was maddening to be pummeled by the slick wetness of his textured tongue, only deep enough to create more wanting, before he would flick the tip higher, aiming for the bull’s eye of her clitoris.  Sloppy from excitement he swapped light licks for sucking.  Drawing her pulsing pearl between his slick lips, eyes closed, enjoying the softer than silk sensation of her sweaty self, bow tight and at his mercy. He didn’t let up.  Couldn’t.  And when he felt the shaking in her muscles, Eddie took it as the invitation is it was, gliding two fingers into the pulsing tunnel of Amanda’s willing body.

She contracted around the invasion, her hands seeking a hold and finding it in the flowing strands of his mane.  Wrenching him snuggly between her parted knees, she was dangerously close to losing control.  Could already feel the tell-tale concentration of her energy drawing inward.  The wetness that sluiced down the crack of her ass, the hummingbird fluttering of the muscles in her pelvis, the sticky press of Eddie’s cheek to her inner thigh.  All of it webbing together, a thread winding tighter and tighter and tighter. And the rough texture of his fingers grazed her front wall exactly the right way.  And he hummed out a laugh which puffed over her swollen lips exactly the right way.  And the strings of her satisfaction snapped under the burden of his ceaseless passion. She must have made noise.  Had to have, since her mouth moved at least.  Falling open as the first flush of her orgasm gave way to a rolling tide of pleasure that broke through her in waves but she didn’t hear anything beyond the crashing pounding of her pulse.  Fists full of Eddie’s hair fell away as all of Amanda’s bones turned to jelly, her tendons to jam, while she melted into the bed beneath. Pulling away from her, panting hotly into her dampness, through slick shiny cheeks he grinned cockily, “Sweeter than candy, Mandy.  I knew you would be, fuck, and you-” he stopped talking to watch the way she accepted his intruding digits as deep as possible, bucking into the touch he offered wantonly despite just cumming, “-you just want more, don’t ya?” “Hmm, yea.  Want wha-whatever you’ll give me.”  Leaning up on her elbows she caught him licking her spend from his fingers before dipping right back into her, a devilish glint in his eyes. “Whatever I’ll give you, huh?”  Eddie curled his fingers inside of her quivering core, stretching apart, taking up space, as his smoky voice purred, “You asked for it.” There was a flurry of sudden movement; he stood up fast, wiggling his hips until the heavy denim of his jeans hit the floor with a satisfying thump.  His boxers dropped free in a flash.  The bed dipped under his weight and before she could react, Eddie clasped a firm hand around each ankle and forced her knees back, nearly bending her in half. For him, the view was spectacular.  The cro-magnon part of his brain flipped on, wanting only to take.  Conquer.  Consume. Who could blame him when he had his dream woman, his Moon Goddess, his Mandy, slick and spread out for him to feast on?  The now painful stiffness of his hard on trembled at the sight.  A patch of dark curls matted with pre-cum dotted his navel as the prolonged anticipation became too much to bear.  Gripping himself, squeezing really, Eddie stroked over his cock, trembling as he asked, “Do you have a- a rubber?” Tossing her head, hair in tangles around her face, Amanda reached for him, “I’m on the pill.” For a second the heat abated and Eddie met her eyes, “Yea?  That’s great fucking news.” “Have to be- Oh my GOD!”  Rubbing the head of his dick between her folds, he slapped it into her overstimulated clit, cackling at her startled reaction, “Aw sweetheart, you don’t have to call me God.  I’ll always answer to Ed-” But he bit off his sentence when he felt her hand glide over his shaft.  If he was going to tease, so was she, “Fine, Ed- don’t keep me waiting, alright?” “Wouldn’t dream of it, baby.  Wouldn’t dream of it.”  Amanda’s back arched violently as her tender flesh parted around the thickness of Eddie’s erection.  He notched into her slowly, rasping through held breaths, “You- you doing ok, Mandy?” Nodding was the only response she could give considering the ripples of pleasure already bubbling through her, but he pinched at the fat of her hip, “Need you to say it, Amanda.  Tell me.  Yea?” 

And the last note was pleading, tender, which brought her back into herself long enough to whimper, “I’m doing ok, Eddie.  Are- are you?”

He was struggling to be a gentleman, that was certainly true, and his gargoyle brain wanted to run amok but, “Yea, I’m fucking fantastic.” Laying her head back, exposing her neck, she managed to smile before sighing, “Good.  That’s so good.” He groaned then, deep and rumbling, before rocking his hips forward.  Seating himself down to the root, Amanda took everything he had inside her quaking core and damn, it was exquisite.  To be surrounded by the yielding silver softness of her body, cool and clean, when his own was made of hard angles and rigid lines made Eddie want to howl.  Wasn’t that what a wolf would do under the light of the full moon?    And what of the moon?  Did she reply to the lovesick creature, crying to the heavens?  

Digging her heels into the beloved bed clothes for more traction, driving herself along his length so that he could know just how incredible it felt to be joined with him in this way, Amanda met him thrust for thrust.  Ratcheting her own hips eagerly, moaning brokenly through every inhale, “More.  I can take it.  Please?  Please.”

Her wolfman didn’t need to be asked twice.  A hand palmed her thick ass, grinding her bones against his without withdrawing, seeking the untouched places deep inside with wet and warm and wild abandon.  Dropping over her, he used his tongue to find her nipple, sucking harshly as if there was a way to taste her heart, her veins, her muscle and fascia.  Lewdly.  Rudely.  

And she didn’t hold back.  Her nails, sharper and painted a rosy color, scratched along his forearms, his shoulders, his back.  Anywhere that could be reached, touched, marked as ruined by her hands as she struggled to hold fast through the pummeling, punishing pushes. Bejeweled rings snagged her hair as his hand curled around the nape of her neck, dragging his mouth to hers.  Their tongues mimicked the movement of their lower halves; pushing, pulling, tangling together.  And when the kiss became too much, the threatening rasp of teeth nipped at the bulge of his Adam’s Apple, his exposed throat too great a temptation to ignore.

For her effort, his moon was serenaded by a ceaseless chant of words such as “want” and “love” and “forever”.  That his every uttered syllable was met with the sounds of her surrender; of her body, her mind, her soul, was not lost in translation.  Eddie recognized what each utterance meant, a natural interpreter of the noises she emitted, and thought that a recording of her sexy sounds had the potential to climb the charts.  Top 100 for sure- if he was even remotely willing to let anyone else hear the concert of their lovemaking.  He wasn’t though.  Not just because of the intimate nature of this particular show but because he was a selfish, selfish man.  No one else should be allowed to hear the symphony that was their ode to an evening.     She was beaming, could feel the radiant heat off of her own skin in the swell of her cheeks and burning through in patches where a bite mark or bruise might show in tomorrow’s light.  Biting into her lip with a hum, she grinned, giddy and glowing under all the tender affection of being loved so well by Eddie.  He was thorough, kissing and clinging in random places at random moments and her sex drunk brain couldn’t be bothered to keep up.   Already pliant, no longer entirely in control of her movements, when the muscles of her right thigh let go, she didn’t fight it.  Catching on the jutting crest of his hip like it belonged there, curled naturally around his waist, it trapped him tightly to her.  The change in position was ruinous.  Overwrought and overworked, she was going to cum again, and harder than the first time.  When she spoke the words, punctuated by his quickening thrusts, his smile grew wolfishly wide.  Gleeful at her stuttered announcement, praising her, “You feel so good, M-Mandy.  S’ perfect.”

Amanda’s eyes rolled back in her skull, the powerful release pulling her under as her muscles stiffened, fighting against the rising tide before dropping into the pocket, waves of pleasure lapping against each other.  Gasping, his name the only sound filling the still of the night, an incantation recited over and over again until her lungs burned from want of oxygen.  Her’s wasn’t the scream of a porno actress from a secretly rented video, over dramatic and purposefully false.  And maybe that’s why it hit Eddie right in the darkest depth of his heart.  She wasn’t acting out her ecstasy.  She couldn’t be faking the erratic pulsing rhythm of her orgasm as it spurred on his own. Slippery.  Constricting.  Lake bottom deep, he sunk himself further into her silk and let go with a moan, “Amanda-” Her arms wrapped around him.  Legs too.  And as he shuddered, a ragged breath blowing the sweat stuck strands of hair off his forehead, he felt the smallest nudge along his jaw.  Tiny presses of her mouth, little mini kisses to his bicep, over his collar bone, and down the proud slope of his nose. “Hey you.” Giggling at the gangly guy situated between her knees, she bit her bottom lip, tilting her head in her signature sassy way, “Hey yourself.” Wiggling his hips slowly, still incredibly hard, he flashed Amanda a sheepish grin, “I’m almost afraid to, ya know, pull out.  I think I- I made a mess.” Now she was outright laughing, “Oh really?  You think so, huh?” “Shit, you have to stop that!”  His jaw was clenched tight despite the lighthearted way he spoke.  Every nerve ending was raw, receiving too much stimuli, but he wasn’t ready for it to end.  Didn’t really want to separate and go back to being two people, two bodies, two hearts.

Innocently asked, Amanda’s eyebrows crinkled in confusion, “What?” “Laughing!  You’re still- ah!  You’re still squeezing me!” But that only made her laugh harder, “I’m so sorry!  But, you’re pretty fucking funny after sex!” “Is that so, little missy?”  And that’s when Eddie leaned up, making to kiss her, but licking a thick stripe up her cheek at the last second that made her squirm and squeal in mock disgust.  Easing himself free, a trickle of wetness following, Eddie pressed his forehead to hers, “If I’m pretty fucking funny then you’re just fucking pretty.” If it hadn’t struck her before, it hit her with the force of a baseball bat now; her lover was beautiful.  Even with limited light illuminating his sweaty skin, he was glowing and her heart thumped at the image before her.  Eddie, her Eddie, with his bangs sticking to his forehead, tacky with sweat from the exertion of fucking her so hard, happy and melty at the edges like a really good grilled cheese sandwich. “I love you.” Laying his head on her chest, sighing like a young girl with a crush, he answered, “I love you.” He didn’t say “I love you, too.”  There was no “too” about it.  He knew how he felt, in his heart, in his body, in his mind.  And even with the cloudiness of a great orgasm hazing his thoughts, Eddie felt the truth in it. Groaning in protest, she made to move to get up, to leave the bed, but he stopped her, “Tell me where I can get a towel, alright?” “I can get up, Eddie.”

He shook his head sending his sweat soaked waves into the air, “Yea, you can, but I don’t want you to, ok?  So, bathroom?  Where can I find it?” She extended her hand lazily, pointing, “First door on the right.  It has a toilet and a tub, so you know, can’t miss it.” Pushing up on his hands and knees, Eddie thudded to the floor on heavy feet.  Turning to bow, naked as the day he was born, using a put on cockney accent, “Yes m’lady!  Right away!  Your faithful servant won’t let you down!” Her sparkling laugh chased him down the hallway.

Not much later, when water had been shared from a jelly glass with Tom & Jerry running around the rim and the damp, once warm towel used for cleaning up had been chucked into the hamper, Eddie thumped his head back against the headboard.  His body lax as he drew Amanda closer, “I gotta say, Mandy.  Thought you said you were new to all this, had me thinking I was going to need to show you how it’s done, but you just, ya know, rocked my world.”  His kiss was affectionate, playful even, without the fevered heat of desire burning it to ash.  Shifting up to her elbow, head in her hand, eyes heavy but watchful, “I’m not a virgin.  I’ve, ya know, had sex before.” That was news to him.  Not that he would stake his life on it, but there had been a conversation about experience over patty melts and paper napkins.  About newness.  About being without skill or practice.  “But-” Flopping forward, her head laid on his sweat cooled chest, cheek squished against his zombie tattoo, “I wasn’t lying to you, if that’s what you think.  I just- I haven’t dated much but, this-” she waved a hand taking in the bed, the room, the nakedness, “-I’ve done this a few times before.” He rolled onto his side, scooching lower so he could see her better, his warm hand finding a home along the expanse of Amanda’s ribs and rubbing continuously, “I know my head is still a little fuzzy after all the great lovin’ and all but, uh, I’m not sure I’m following.” Blowing out a breath that sounded something like frustration, she shrugged, “Guys take me to bed but not to dinner.  I’m not, ya know, girlfriend material, I suppose.  It’s like, I’m good enough to make out with, especially if it makes some other, prettier, thinner girl jealous.”  Her mouth twisted up, not really a frown but a far cry from the sweet smile Eddie had come to appreciate.  She was staring through him, seeing images made of memory, “Good enough to- to fool around with in the dark.  Places where no one would see, like under the bleachers or behind a dumpster.  But take me to a restaurant?  A movie?  Out with friends or family?  No way.  “And I’m always so-” she rolled her eyes, trying to find the right word, “-I don’t know, needy?  Desperate maybe?  That a guy pretending to be interested could offer me kisses in corners or bathroom stalls where no one would ever think to look and I do it.  Gladly.  Because even their half assed affection is better than nothing, right?”  But Amanda didn’t wait for Eddie to answer, carrying on with an edge in her voice, “If I touch them, let them touch me, then they’ll give me what I want.  Flowers and romance and, and-” he heard the way her throat caught, a strangled sound shaking through her as she finished, “-love.” Tossing her head, she banished a wayward tear, smiling thinly at her man’s silhouette in the muted light, “Now though, I’m here, with you.  A guy who sees me, all of me.  You see me and you don’t make me feel bad about who I am.  How I look.  You see me, and, and you like me even in broad daylight.  And no one’s ever done that before.  I mean, you already brought me around your friends.  Your family.”  Her emphasis on the last word not lost on him and neither was the twinge of pride in her voice at how she said it.  “Amanda-”  He wanted to reach out, reassure her, but she shook him off. There was more to say, more to tell and for the first time in a long time, she wanted to share her thoughts with someone.  Not someone.  Eddie.  

Swallowing, she looked up at him, comfortable and relaxed under her threadbare bedsheet, “You wanted to know what happened tonight?  When I was at practice?” Maybe there was something in her voice that gave her away.  He could tell that this was uncharted territory for his Moon woman, taking her out of her depth, a thing difficult to share.  Maybe he also realized that something was shifting, something important, so he bobbed his head, locking her fingers with his, “Yea, but only if you wanna tell me.  There’s no pressure, you know that, right?” Nodding, Amanda sat up now, pinning the sheet under her arms so that it covered most of her breasts.  Her hair was a knotted mess, wild and untamed, but she was lit from within.  Eddie felt as though she was worthy of sculpture, ready to be captured for all time in alabaster stone or graying quartz.  Some Italian master should be committing the image before him into marble.  The combination of fragility and strength on display was overwhelming even if the underlying hurt etched in her face made Eddie’s chest ache. “I know and that’s kind of why I want to tell you.”  It was an admission of trust, of respect, and another stunning example of how strong her feelings truly were.  With a small gesture encouraging her to go on, Amanda inhaled sharply, “Right.  So, tonight, at rehearsal?  Mark, you know my drummer- uh, the drummer?  He was being the biggest asshole.  To everyone, not just me.  Really picking on us all, which was weird.  ‘Cause normally he’s kinda, well-” Stepping on her sentence, Eddie finished with a shit eating grin, “Steady?”  “Oh, that was bad, even for you.”  She groaned at the ill timed, but sort of hilarious drumming joke.  Lifting his hands, signaling his apology, she tilted her head thoughtfully, “Anway, he said some stuff and-” That made Eddie sit up too, his legs folding and taking the blankets with them, “Wait, he said something about you or about me?” “Um-” her fingers fiddled with the fabric, eyes avoiding his baleful brown orbs for the first time all night.  Not a great sign. “If it’s about me, no problem.  I can handle that, Mandy.  Hell, I’ve been handling that shit my whole life.  But you?  Baby-” Eddie cupped her chin in his hand, forcing her to look at him, “-You don’t deserve that shit.” “About us both, I guess.”  Her shoulders lifted in a shrug, “Mark was, well, he was angry.  At me.  Said that I sounded ‘desperate’ when I was singing the other night, that I was ‘begging for a man’ like- like some kind of tramp or something when I was singing to you.” Holy shit, was he struggling right now.  With every other word Amanda uttered, Eddie’s blood ran like frigid November rain, in icy sheets that burned or in magma hot lava-like flows that scorched his heart from rage.  Luckily he was hiding it well.  

Going for cool, casual even, he cast about asking, “So, uh, what else did Mark have to say?” With a guilty gulp, she went on, “A lot.  And he kept running his mouth so much, too much, really.  It’s just- I thought he was my friend, you know?”  And honest to god, her chin shook as she held back the tears her emotional meridian begged to release, her voice going warbly with the effort, “But in the end, he was just like the guys at school, the boys back home.  Wanted the- the thrill of being with a girl like me, a big girl, and thought I should be-” in a barely heard whisper she trailed off,  “-grateful for his attention.” Now, young Mr. Munson had spent time as an angry juvenile.  The world and the way it worked had done its level best to beat him down over and over again.  Before the interdimensional trauma that left him scarred and scared, he had trained himself to live and let live, a philosophy that he was pretty certain had saved his life on more than one occasion. But hearing the way she spoke about Mark, a dude she knew and trusted, filled him with a furious anger so white hot that he almost could not believe that smoke wasn’t spilling out of his ears like in a Bugs Bunny cartoon.  It didn’t seem like the darling at his side noticed when his unoccupied hand closed in a tight fist that he was currently imagining ramming right through the skin of a bass drum directly into the sternum of Mark, as if he might bend the laws of physics and somehow be able to beat the shit out of this asshole from the safety of Amanda’s bed.  

Because, like, who the fuck did this guy think he was? She wasn’t crying, not outright, but was sad about the circumstances all the same.  And from the pure desire to make his woman feel better, he snorted hotly, “Fucking dipshit.  He’s the one that should be grateful.” “What?” “I said, this Mark person, he’s the one that should be grateful to even, ya know, know you” he added, tugging that self protective strand of hair down and over his mouth.  Starting at a mumble that grew stronger the longer he talked, Eddie’s stare locked on Amanda’s, “Look, I already told you how I feel.  And, even if we weren’t, ya know, together, I’d still be thankful that you’re in my life.  You are something special, Amanda Patterson.  Something-” and then he couldn’t resist any longer, dragging a finger down her cheek until he could tip her chin up, those bright eyes searching his own, “-out of this world.  A treasure.” Rewarded with a wry shake of head and rolled wet eyes, Eddie carried on, “Honestly, thank fuck.” She sniffled a bit, asking through a thick throat, “What’s that supposed to mean?” His pink lips screwed up in a crooked smirk that scrunched his nose cutely, “It means, sweetheart, that those-” rings glinting the gloom, his hand flailed dramatically, “-dumbasses didn’t know they had struck gold when they met you.  Lucky for you, I know the good shit when I see it.” Deflating visibly, she huffed, “Gold plated is probably more accurate.”  It was meant to be lighthearted.  A little self deprecating, sure, but wasn’t it easier to make the joke then become one? “Hey, don’t do that.”  He caught her cheeks in a grip which was firm while his voice cotton soft, “I’m not joking around.  Not about this.  Not about you.” She didn’t move, frozen in place by the sincerity he was forcing her to accept.  Whispering into the quiet night, a hardly spoken rush of words, but he heard them all the same, “I’m nothing special, Eddie.” A fever of frustration climbed through him at that midnight confession.  The worst part was how truly she believed what she said, that there was nothing special about her, no reason for Mark’s misplaced interest or his own adoration.  That somehow she didn’t deserve Eddie’s praise, his attention, even his love, was all layered into that one sentence. “Mandy, don’t you ever talk that way about the person I love.  Never again.”  It was his gently uttered warning. “But, Eddie-”  she wanted to argue the point, make a case for being less than. Shifting quickly, he caught her around the bare expanse of her shoulders, “If I have to say it everyday, for the rest of your life, I will Mandy.  You’re amazing.”  A kiss, hungry and scalding, melded their mouths together, “You are so fucking sexy.”  Lips traced the line of her jaw, moving upward, “And I haven’t felt, well, whatever this is, ever before.” Even if her mind wasn’t quite convinced, Eddie’s nearness coupled with the sultry kisses and his heartfelt words had made her body a believer.  She smoothed a hand along his straight spine, her forehead tapping his own, “I imagine you say that to all the ladies you take to bed.” A warm, happy laugh rumbled through Eddie at her smart ass comment.  Pulling back, needing to see her eyes, “I’m going to be real honest with you, alright?  Put it all on the line, k?”  When she agreed with a short nod, he continued, “You may think that I do this sorta thing all the time- pick up chicks and service them until the sun comes up, until they uh, scream my name into the night- but I don’t.”  Tilting her head, really looking him over, she shook her own, her teasing edged with something harder, “You’re telling me that you don’t seduce the housewives who bring their cars in for oil changes?  Or, or, um, bang groupies after a good show at The Hideout?” “Me?  No way.  Not a chance.  Reputation ruiner, remember?  So I can tell you with 100 percent certainty that you are in my, my top 3, all time.  Easy.”  Mindlessly, Eddie started tracing stars into the skin of her thighs, consciously avoiding her piercing stare. But now she was curious, a small smile pulling at the corners of her mouth, her eyebrows lifted, “Out of how many?” Yanking his hair forward, Eddie snickered, still bashful, “Um, out of three.  But, uh, out of those three, you’re my number one.  No question about it.”  The grin he flashed her was so deep, his cheeks aching from smiling so widely, that Amanda had no choice but to giggle too, “Number one, you said?” Reaching for her hand, linking their fingers together before nudging her closer, he corrected her gently, “Uh huh, you’re my number one.  Best I ever had.”  

“What are you doing to me, Eddie Munson?”  It was rhetorical, obviously, but it had to be asked even if she was unable to keep the tendril of truth out of her voice.  Because this conversation was powerful enough to capsize her, she realized too late to stop it from happening.  If he was going to sink her ship, she was going to have to grow gills or drown trying.  Otherwise she was never going to survive being cared for by the romantic rockstar in training who was taking up half her bedspread. Scrunching his eyes as he bit into his bottom lip, Eddie hemmed, “I’m uh, watching out for you.  Tryin’ to be a knight or a, a paladin.”  Rubbing his thumb in patient circles against the back of her hand, a little lost in his thoughts, “Want to be who and what you need, Mandy, because, yea, you deserve that.” “And what do you deserve?”  That drew him up short as she freed her hands so she could skate them over his exposed chest, “‘Cause I think you deserve things too.  Like someone to love you back.  Someone who hears you-” rising to her knees, she scooted a leg over his waist, bracketing his body between her dimpled thighs, “-and your terrible jokes but still laughs anyway.  Someone who appreciates you for all the wonderful and wild things that make you, well, you.”  She punctuated her sentence with a bop on the tip of his broad nose. His mouth was dry but his betraying eyes were damp as he cleared his throat roughly, hands already resting on the full rise of her hips, “Is uh, is that so, Miss Mandy?” “Totally.”  She pulled one of his hands away, the lined and creased side facing her before pressing her lips to its very center.  Covering it with her own she held it against the smooth expanse of her sternum, directly on top of her beating heart. Swallowing thickly, unable to look away, he asked, “Maybe I’ve found her?”  Bare and unashamed, leaning into his space, her sleek slit skimming his slowly solidifying length made his cheeks burn hotly as she rocked her hips back.  Nodding, she looked down at him, purring, “Maybe you have.”  Grinding down, her full weight holding him to the mattress, to the earth, he thanked whatever deity was closest for this brilliant, beautiful creature with the enchanting voice and bewitching eyes full of shining devotion.  Whatever she was before didn’t matter to him or the gargoyle who guarded his own thumping mess of a heart in its crumbling tower.  Amanda Patterson was his now, and he’d be damned before letting her go.  

—

1990 - Fall

“Let’s hear it once again for Mandy and the Maniacs!” All around her the crowd went ballistic.  Shouting, screaming, stomping, clapping noise filled the bar where the band, her band had taken the stage with the hope of making it through one more round.  One step closer to fortune and fame and everything that goes with it.  Based on the deafening roar of this particular crowd, Amanda had high hopes.  Fuck, but she wanted to win 1991’s Battle of the Bands.  Prove that she was good enough to make it on the strength of her own abilities, on the unflagging determination of her dream to sing for a living, and do it on her own. So she was smiling through the tears of happiness that filled her eyes, blinking rapidly as she committed the raucous riotous scene below her into her memory banks as the emcee was thrusting a plastic trophy complete with a fake gold guitar glued to the top into her sweaty hand, “Congratulations to our winners!  And don’t forget that you can see Mandy and the band here at Stingers every Friday night.  Doors open at 10pm!”

— “Good show tonight, Mandy.  You know, you guys are really going places.” Amanda toweled off the grimy sweat from being under too hot stage lights and the melted mascara that always found a way to slip down her face after a show, grinning broadly, “Thanks Davey.  We all appreciate your hosting and, of course, having us back week after week.” “Can’t have a rock bar with no music, that’d be like having a peanut butter sandwich without jelly.  Just doesn’t taste right, ya know?” Laughing politely, she nodded, “I think I get what you mean.”  And before he could ask again, Carly slid up to her side, “Ready to load in the gear?” A thankful expression crossed her face as she looked at her friend, still sweaty and streaked herself, “Yes ma’am.  Hey-” leaning in to shake Davey’s hand, Amanda’s black mesh fingerless glove pressing designs into his palm as she added, “-again, thank you for tonight.” “It’s always a pleasure, Mandy.  Uh, is there any chance you might wanna grab a dri-” Swinging a microphone case onto her shoulder, her back to the bar’s owner, Amanda answered swiftly, “Have a good night, Davey.” When they were in the chilly night air, sans jackets or even clothes that were close to appropriate for the weather in Indiana during an early cold snap, Carly lit up a cigarette, smirking, “He asked you again, huh?” Taking the flaming stick of death from her friend, Amanda took one, tiny puff, the smallest possible because her voice was still her best instrument, and lifted her heavily made-up eyes, “Was trying to, I think.” “Could it hurt?”  Carly ashed the butt quickly, staring at the bumper of the broken-in mini-van that they used to lug amps and instruments in, purposefully avoiding Amanda’s bewildered look. Toeing at the slushy puddle that gathered around the back tire, her big black boots with neon laces keeping her away from the muck, she considered it.  Would it hurt to let Davey buy her a drink?  No, probably not.  As a general rule, a single drink was not enough to hurt someone, but it was what came after that stalled her in her tracks. From under a jagged line of self cut bangs, Amanda tilted her head at her friend, one eye squeezed shut while the other stared dead on, “Eventually, yea.  Yes it could.  And not for nothing but I’m too toxic for anyone right now.” “That’s horseshit and you know it.”  Carly flicked the used filter of her cigarette with a flourish, her shirt sleeves swinging at the effort. Laying back against the frozen metal of the van, Amanda shivered, “Come on, don’t fuck with me, ok?  It’s been a good night.  Great even.  Let’s not fight about Davey and drinks that I’m not going to let him buy.” Kicking at the rims now, Carly grumbled, “You need to get laid.” “Fuck you, I do not!” This time her friend’s pretty pouting face found hers under the parking lot’s hazy yellow lights, “You do and so goddamn badly.  It’s been what, like two years since Ed-” “Don’t say it.” Exhaling wickedly, anger heating up her sigh, Carly jumped right into her diatribe, “I can’t even say his name, Amanda.  What is that about?  Are you ever gonna, I don’t know, get over him?  Go out with someone else?  Let another person stick their fucking tongue down your fucking throat?”  And when she didn’t reply, Carly pressed on, ranting into the empty night air, “Or are you going to die on this hill?  Because ‘I once loved Ed-” she shifted her focus to Amanda before softening up, “-a, a future rockstar who broke my heart when he left this town and me behind’ is not going to fit on your tombstone, sis.” Toying with the van keys, their metal ring going cold in her hands, Amanda shrugged.  She was tired all the way down to her soul.  Tired of being tired.  Tired of grinding so hard for the things she wanted.  Tired of Carly being mostly, sort of, almost totally right.  Tired of being alone.  Tired of missing a man with a name she couldn’t bear to hear. And yea, ok, she would absolutely own that her sad sack routine was going stale.  She bored herself most days, honestly.  But what was the point in letting Davey or any other person buy her a drink and think they stood any kind of chance when Amanda Patterson no longer had a heart to give? Nope.  Like the Tin-Man, she was kept alive by electrical impulses managed by some other organ because she’d lost her heart in 1988.  The year Corroded Coffin was discovered through Carly’s college radio station connections.  The same year a mid-western county fair tour was planned.  The year that took him away for the big life he was always supposed to lead.  The year that took her heart and never looked back. “Hell.  Give me a smoke, would ya?”

“‘Manda. You don’t like cigarettes.” Carly taunted in a sing-song voice. Shrugging, sad and cold, she waved her friend on with a uselessly gloved hand, “Maybe I do now.”  And when she took her first full inhalation a thought moved through the neural pathways of her brain.  It might kill her, in the end, smoking, drinking or whatever, but she then, had been dead inside for a lot longer.  Besides, there was no one watching out for her now.  No one to disappoint.  No one to worry.

Her lungs burned and the back of her throat protested, but Amanda smiled warmly in the cold night, “Thanks Carly.” Blowing out a held breath, the shorter girl rolled her eyes, “Fuck, you’re dramatic.  Just like him.  You know that right?” Her chuckle was hollow, raspy because of the smoking, “Uh huh.  I do.”  Dropping the burnt paper to the ground she stomped on it with the toe of her boot, unlocking the car, “Wanna get the fuck outta here?” “Yea.  Let’s go home.”

—

1987

Morning light cast the entire room in a golden glow that was entirely too ethereal to be real.  Only it was.  It had to be, because Amanda was laying on her side, the plush padding of her bum tucked against Eddie’s bare pelvis, as she slept peacefully in his arms.

Now that his eyes were open there were things he needed to do: take a piss, take a shower, get some food in his body that did not come out of a cardboard box and get to work.  Except he’d be  leaving this downy nest of a bed and the warmth of a very willing body to do any of it.  So, yea, Eddie didn’t want to do that, not even a little bit.

The alarm clock said seven thirty six, and if his bedtime math was accurate, he could stay until 8 o’clock.  Any later and he’d be in deep shit with, well, virtually everyone.  Why did it have to be Friday morning?  How come he had bedded his dream woman on a Thursday night, mid-week, knowing there were still responsibilities on the horizon?

As if she could sense that he was awake, she shifted her figure flush with his, and there was no way to hide his morning wood.  There was also no way she could not feel it pressing insistently at the small of her back.  He swallowed his spit, curling Amanda closer, and shut his eyes.  Eddie could manage the morning after.  He absolutely could.

“Mmm, morning.”  

Sleep stained and supple, Amanda started to roll his way but he stopped her with a kiss to her shoulder blade, “Uh, maybe don’t.” “Wha?  Oh.  Oh.”  And saucy minx that she was, she stretched her body so that his erection rubbed over the silken skin of her bottom. Groaning from way down deep in his chest, Eddie chided, “You’re a tease.” “You’re too easy.”   She was on her back now, head turned his way, outlined in the pale yellow rays of morning light.  His heartbeat sped up at the coy look she flashed from under her lashes.  Amanda wanted Eddie and in spite of the hard work he’d put in last night, he wanted her again too.  Dipping a hand under the filmy sheet, his fingernails scraped the swell of her hip, when the alarm clock clicked to 7:45 and began buzzing obnoxiously. “Shit!”  Scrambling up, Amanda hit the digital display’s off button, silencing the sound.  Slumping into herself, she looked his way with a frowny face, “I have class at 9.” “I’ve got work, myself.”  It was a guilty admission, no matter how true. Nodding, Amanda bit into her bottom lip, “Then I guess-” “We both have to go?”  They spoke over each other.  Whatever easy energy they had shared was taut now, stressed and strained but neither one moved.  Neither one really wanted to. Except a new day was started, one with expectations for Amanda and Eddie alone.  Still, she had to ask, hand twisting in the stray strands of her hair, “Will I, uh- um, maybe you can-” So Eddie took pity on his girl, lifting her hand to his lips chastely, “Are you trying to say that you wanna see me again?  Like, tonight?” “Do- uh, do you want that?”  She was barely suppressing her hope, struggling to keep her expectations of Eddie in check, regardless of all his pretty words when the lights were low. Thrusting out his little finger, Eddie wiggled it quickly, “Well, yea, of course I do.  Promise.” Linking them together, a chuffed out giggle escaped her pouty lips when he swung their hands like that, childlike and silly.  He used his leverage to drag her to his chest, a kiss landing on her nose, on each cheek, and finally her parted mouth.  They let go reluctantly when her alarm rang again, this time marking the hour as 8. “Shit.  I really, really, have to go.”  Eddie swung his leg over the side of the bed giving Amanda  a phenomenal view of his bare ass as he crisscrossed the room searching out his clothes.  Too easily the boy stepped into his jeans, forgoing his underwear, she noticed, and shrugging back into his tee. Hugging her knees, she could only watch, conflicting thoughts filling her head.  Her body was sore in the best possible way because of all that they had gotten up to last night.  She knew she’d be thinking of him all day, anytime she shifted in her seat or caught sight of the purple markings that littered her neck and chest. And she definitely wanted to do this- do him, again.  Without question, Eddie Munson was phenomenal in the sack.  But now he was leaving, and she understood it, alright?  She had shit to do herself.  Because it was a weekday and she paid so much for school and the music shop was letting her pick up a shift… Only, she wanted to linger in bed with her very cute and very sexy lover at her side.  Maybe get to lick his hardest parts, or, his softest.  Maybe get him to lick her again and again and again. “Don’t?”  Amanda hadn’t planned to say it out loud, but there it was, echoing around her quiet room.  A pleading question spoken from the depths of her heart, pushing pause on the guy in the middle of pulling up his socks, seated primly on the corner of her bed.  Shocked by her own actions, her eyes rounded as she backpedaled, “I mean, I know you have to and, and I have to, but that doesn’t mean I want you to- to go.  Ya know?  Last night was like-” she breathed out, willing herself not to get emotional even if she could feel the cold prickle of tears in the back of her throat, “-really special, for me at least.  And-” letting her eyes find Eddie’s coffee colored eyes, finished, “-I don’t want to say goodbye.” Blinking a couple of times, taking a beat, he wanted to get his answer right.  “Who says we have to say goodbye?” “You’re leaving.” Reaching for his boots, smile wide and shining under his mass of waves, “Uh huh.  But-” yanking the laces hard, he grinned her way, “-I’m coming back.”  “Are you though?”  

He cut off any other protests, standing quickly and walking around to her side of the bed.  Amanda had her feet planted on the floor, her sheet barely covering her most private of places, as she lifted her fretful face in his direction. Voice tighter than he wanted, shoulders tenser than they should be, Eddie looked down at this woman who had come to mean so much to him so quickly.  One ring clad finger tripped down the hill of her nose, “Shit, Mandy, I’m probably losing all my cool guy street credit when I say this, but, uh, this thing-” using his thumb under her chin, the skin there yielding to his even pressure, “-You and me?  This.  It fucking scares me-” She had the audacity to look surprised, those beguiling eyes going wide from the raw honesty he was showing, that tilt to her head more pronounced as she nervously whispered, “I- I scare you?” “No!  Shit, that’s not- I meant-” recovering quickly but feeling much shyer now, he tried to explain, “How I feel about you, I mean.  How much I care- it’s a lot.  For me, it’s everything.”  With the sound of knees cracking, he dropped into a squat so that he was looking up at Amanda’s face, not the other way around.   

“Oh.” her gaze softened shifting her focus until it landed on something far away, her mind working fast.  Loving her was already a burden.  Already too much to ask of a guy like Eddie, so wild and carefree.  And the realizations stung.  Maybe she didn't have a night to remember after all.  Maybe her knight in shining armor didn’t see her the way she imagined.  Maybe he wasn’t who she thought he was, after all. And her brain would have kept on running in ragged circles of self doubt if Eddie hadn’t nudged against her parted thighs, “Hey, Mandy?  Come back to me, yea?” “Sorry, I- uh-” steeling herself, her back stiffened, her smile slipping, “-Look.  We don’t have to do this.  I get it, Eddie.  And, ya know-” those eyes were back on him, sadder now, holding him still, “-we don’t have to do whatever this is.  Not now.  Not, ya know, ever.  I understand how this works, ok?” Despite his nearness she started to push off the mattress.  It was too difficult to sit there thinking he was afraid of her, of having feelings for her, of being with her.  Convinced that he probably wasn’t going to touch her again, that she couldn’t have him or his love for more than one night, no matter what he said or what promises were left unfulfilled was a punch in the gut- leveling.  

Shame burned through her because she should have known better.  It was all too good to be true like any other fairytale.  A story.  A fantasy. And she had to go, right now, because she wasn’t going to allow him to see so down and out.  Straightening her arms, rocking forward, she was ready to get away, to bolt.  But she didn’t get far.  Fingers dug into her leg, holding her fast, delaying her escape, “Damn it.  That isn’t- that isn’t what I said, Amanda.”  Eddie’s voice was pitched low- dark and rumbling like the growing thunder of a terrible storm.  It locked her in place even if she couldn’t bear to meet his eyes, terrified that she’d find pity or some other weakening emotion on his stupid, loving, handsome face.  A violent vermillion flash of fury surged through her, spewing caustic, cutting sarcasm from her pursed lips, “No?  Because that’s what I heard, Eddie.  I heard you say that you’re scared to- to, to be with me.” 

“Wrong.”  “Excuse me?” “I said that you’re wrong.  Even though you are so smart, right now?  Sweetheart, you are 100 percent, entirely and utterly wrong here.  What frightens me, Mandy-” his hands slipped around her waist as, falling to his knees in front of her, he carried on, “isn’t that I’m afraid to be with you.  I’m afraid to be without you.  I’m terrified that you won’t want to be with me.” Holding onto to her steely edge, glaring now, she swung another verbal dagger, “Why wouldn’t I want to be with you?” “Fuck, Mandy.  Take your pick-”  Counting on his fingers, the list started, “-former mega-nerd with a talent for collecting little lost souls and ensuring their survival through high school.”  A second finger went up, “Uh, lead singer of a regionally successful rock band full of said misfits that hasn’t had its big break yet.”   A third, “The best damn Dungeon Master in the state of Indiana, if I say so myself.”  Little finger, number four bent slightly, “Oh, not to mention I’m crisscrossed with scars from North to South no matter how great the tattys look and-” his thumb jumped, spreading his palm open wide, “-not that many years ago I watched a person I cared about get murdered which, ya know, messes a guy up pretty damn good. “On the plus side?  Let’s see, I’ve got great friends, my totally bitchin’ guitar, a halfway decent van, and I’ve finally met a girl that I fucking love.  But, shit, maybe she doesn’t feel like I do?”  And now he let his cinnamon eyes burn into hers, really revved up and showing no signs of stopping, “Maybe she just says pretty things when I’m making her cum and afterwards, well, she wants to be with some other dude.  Someone like Mark who’s gonna make something of himself?  Steady as fuck and boring to boot.  Someone who doesn’t love her like I do, because they don’t get it, they can’t love her like me.  How could they when they don’t get how my world spun off its axis when she jumped into my arms at the goddamned music shop.  Or how-” Her cheeks flushed at the memory, the moment when this love affair began, and she felt herself smiling wide, the momentary rage ebbing almost as quickly as it started.  Cutting him off, she cupped his jaw with firm fingers, “I do!  I promise you, I-I understand.  And, and I feel the same way.  Haven’t been able to get you out of my head since you seduced me into a dance in the sheet music aisle.”

“You’re the one who fell into me, Mandy.” Airy like a summer’s breeze, Amanda countered, “You tripped me.” Scoffing, he settled his weight on the balls of his feet, “So you do remember then?” “Of course I do.  And that’s why I didn’t want you to go.  If- if you leave today and never come back, what’ll I do, Eddie?”  She had nuzzled into the unshaven haven of his neck, just below his ear, and was keening like a fitful kitten, “Now that I have you, I don’t want anybody else.  I only want to be with you.  Only you.” Exhaling harshly, pulling her forehead to his, he husked, “Sad to say, darling, but you may be stuck with me.” Only he didn’t sound sad at all.  Neither did she when she moved a hand to either cheek, a dreamy smile on her face, “Yea?  You mean it?”  “Of fucking course I do.  And to prove it, come to my show tonight?” “Like, seriously?  Because I would really love to see you play.” The alarm toned again, 8:15am.  But fuck it, he could be late to the garage if meant seeing Amanda grin at him like this- all excited and eager, “Hell yea!  You can meet the guys and see what all the fuss is about when Corroded Coffin hits the stage.” Nerves jangled, she bit into her lip, worry creeping into her tone, “And you wouldn’t mind me being there?  Like, that wouldn’t be, I don’t know, embarrassing for you?”

His head fell back far enough for the tendons of his neck to stretch, the bulge of his Adam’s apple tantalizingly close, while his stare locked on hers, “Embarrassing?  No.  Hell no.  I’d be honored to have you there, cheering me on.”

“You’re not messing with me, are you?”  She raised her eyebrows playfully, giving him the out if he wanted to take it. And that same anger at Mark, at all the idiot guys who had hurt her flared up briefly, but he tramped it down like a lid on a grease fire, reassuring her again, “No way.  I want you there.  Need you there, Mandy.  Besides-” that impish grin was back, “-it’s only fair.  I saw you perform, now I get to return the favor.” Her mind was working, spinning his words around in her head faster than an unbalanced washing machine, as she processed what Eddie was saying.  When she finally came to a conclusion, Amanda nodded decisively, “Yea, ok.  I’ll come.  I-I’ll be there.” Pressing up to his feet, Eddie beamed down at her, “Sweet.  But, now I really gotta split, ok?”  She raised her chin, the permission for a kiss implicit in the action and he took advantage.  It was so easy to get lost in the flavor and feeling of her lips under his or the slide of his tongue over her own.  In the end, she had to push him away, breathless and begging, “Yea, go on.  Get lost, Munson.”

Groaning, he stomped towards her door, “Fine.  Fine.  I’m going.” Pleased and purring, Amanda stretched out along her bed, her head already thinking of the night to come when Eddie’s face appeared in her doorway again, “Oh, hey.  Don’t forget that you’re banging the lead guitarist and front man of the band, k?  You gotta look the part so uh-” he took in the room at a glance, “-no pretty flower prints or whatever.” “You came back just to tell me that?” His hands rested against the pale wooden door frame as he stepped back through it, “Yes.  And this-” it took three running steps before he launched himself onto the mattress and landed as gently as he could with her pinned underneath him.  Her hands caught on the tangles still knotting his hair, dragging his mouth to hers, whimpering into the wet cave of his mouth. So Eddie was an hour late to work and Amanda missed her first class.  Worse things had happened in the name of new love.

—

1990 - Winter

“Well, it was a great night!  To Mandy and the Maniacs-”  The ladies clinked their bottles together in celebration, stilted happiness filling the air around them.  The founding members of their female fronted metal band had come home exhilarated and exhausted, ready to unwind, share post-show snacks and celebrate their advancement to the Battle of the Bands finals.  It had been another grueling show but they had done what they meant to: melt the faces off the audience and get another step closer to that Big Win in the new year. 

MTV was on in the background, as it always was when they weren’t practicing or writing or recording, and the videos on Headbangers Ball were always welcome at the end of a long Saturday filled with rocking.  Rick Rachtman was talking about some up and coming band as Amanda crunched on a cheese ball, barely listening.  

If Carly was tired, Amanda was wired, her mind still on tonight’s crowd and what it was going to take to win it all in a few weeks.  Already she was in her head, planning what their set was going to be, which songs were the most likely to sway the ever growing swell of music lovers standing shoulder to shoulder when they played.  

That's when she heard a ghost, a breathing memory of the apparition who haunted her still.  His familiar cadence filtering through her television speakers jerked her from her thoughts, a voice she knew better than her own- “Holy shit.  Is that- Is that Eddie?  Your Eddie?”  Carly sat forward, the electric blue glow of the set outlining the surprise on her face.  The banishment of a certain man’s name forgotten in the excitement of said man’s picture on the television. Her beer bottle thunked to the table clumsily, “What?  Eddie?”  Amanda hadn’t said his name in over two years.  Around the time when the walls around her head and heart had gone up, and thankfully all of her friends knew better than to bring up that sensitive subject.  Or at least were willing to honor her wishes that the rocker in question never be spoken of in her presence. But fucking hell if Carly wasn’t right.  There on the illuminated idiot box that was her twenty inch screen was Eddie Fucking Munson himself and the rest of Corroded Coffin, talking to Chuck Stillman about their tour.  Answering questions for the fans to get to know them better and helping sell their metal image.  “Did you know about this?”  It was shock which filled Carly’s tone and Amanda felt a little bit guilty because of course she did.  She still talked to Steve, saw Robin from time to time, and even taught Mike Wheeler some guitar basics a year or so ago.  

When she didn’t answer, her very best good friend Carly leveled her with a sideways glance, “You did, didn’t you?” Shrugging, her go-to move these days, she grabbed the cable box’s remote and goosed up the volume.  It really fucking sucked to see how good Eddie looked, all in black leather and mesh lace, with his guitar pick necklace centered on his bare chest, tattoos barely visible but she knew they were there.  Could draw them from memory, if she really wanted to.  And his curls!  They were styled expertly, shiny and bouncy, making Amanda’s hands itch at the memory of them clutched between her fingers. Through the tinny speakers they heard Chuck’s question, “So, the people want to know, what is Eddie Munson’s favorite song?” There was a pause and if she didn’t know Eddie so well, she wouldn’t have seen it, but his eyes lost their twinkle for a second and his smile dropped the teensiest bit as he replied, “My favorite song?  That’s a great question, man.  And, uh, ya know, I wanna say something hard rocking and fast.  But honestly?  Someone to Watch Over Me by the Gershwin brothers.”

“SHUT UP!”  Carly smacked a hand into her arm, “He’s talking about you!  That night, in the park!  Holy shit, Eddie Munson, rock star rising, is talking about you, 'Manda!  On MTV!” And wouldn’t that be something, she thought, sinking back into her second hand sofa.  Him sparing the time to think about her at all these days seemed like such a shot in the dark, such a foreign concept, that she reckoned it wasn’t even a possibility.  There was no way he gave as much of his day to thoughts of her, to their time together as she did, right?  

No.  Not possible.  That he answered the basic question with the title of her favorite song, the song that meant so much to them both, didn’t mean a goddamned thing.  Not anymore. “I don’t think so, Carl.  I think you’re reading too much into things.” Sitting back, her own beer held tight, Carly rolled her eyes at friend, prickly at having her fun ruined, “What if he was?” “Huh?” “What if Eddie was thinking about you?  After these last couple of years, what if he- what if he misses you too?  It is possible.” Huffing out a derisive laugh, she tapped a finger against the nearly empty bottle of Budweiser, using the sassiest tone of voice she could wrangle when she answered, “Right.  He misses me when he’s out at nightclubs surrounded by strippers and groupies and backup dancers.  I’m sure all Eddie wonders about is little old me, back in Hawkins, when he’s walking red carpets and taking movie stars out to dinner in New York City and LA.” “You’re doing it again.”  Carly was focused on the screen but talking to Amanda, frustration thick in her tone. Equally riled up, Amanda chirped, “Yea?  What’s that?” Unblinking, Carly stared at her best friend, band mate, and roommate, “Selling yourself short.  You should really watch out for that.” Her friend meant well, she knew that, had proof of it all around her, but because her brain was fickle and memories were monsters, she found herself whispering, “Eddie said he would.  He promised me.  Said he was always gonna look out for me.” Staring down at her pinky finger, she would swear she felt his littlest digit wrapped around her own, the supposedly iron-clad arrangement made in a post-sex haze of brightly burning new love too long ago to hurt so freshly but so recently it still might bleed.  He had promised to watch over her, to change her mind and love her through it all. But when the man you loved had the chance to make his dreams a reality, you couldn’t stand in his way, right?  At least that was what she told herself late at night when sleep wouldn’t come and the moon was high above, laughing at her.  So, she watched, unflinching, as Eddie talked about burning grilled cheese sandwiches in a shitty hotel and the possibility of coming back to Indiana with the tour. She watched every shake of his head and every movement of his hands, taking them in like physical blows, wounds that would need cream and bandages and pain medication to heal up properly.  And she drank another beer, going silent since her mind refused to do the same, replaying the sentences from the tv interview on an endless looping track, trying to work out any hidden meaning that proved Carly right and her own sense of self wrong. When the programming shifted, some early morning sketch show or something, Carly said goodnight and moved off to her room but still Amanda sat there.  Was it fair to be so mad at Eddie?  Did she really have a right to the hurt and anger she was holding onto with an iron grip? As the sun climbed through the window above her record player, Armando the Wonder Cat jumped into her lap for pets.  Between scratching behind his pointy ears and patting down his back, she realized she was crying.  Sure, she was disappointed in Eddie.  In the promises he had never seen to fruition, but that wasn’t the only reason to be so upset. Because hadn’t she made promises too?  And hadn’t she broken them all?

---

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a little doodle inspired by @stevethehairington ‘s fic come and rest your bones with me 🧡 I love them building a little fort together (on a rainy day✨). they deserve some cute quality time!

when you know, you know. (e.m.)

summary: air hockey has never been so romantic.

warnings: it's alluded to that reader is wearing red lipstick. not edited.

pairing: eddie munson x reader

wc: 1.8k+

a/n: a very late valentine's day gift for you all (and eddie). also, the fact i've never written proper mechanic eddie... what a shame.

“Yes!” 

If any of the nearby children flinched, you didn’t notice. You were too wrapped up in your victory, going as far as to partake in a terribly embarrassing dance on your end of the air hockey table as Eddie shakes his head slowly. 

“You definitely cheated,” he deadpans, a twitch of a smile nearly giving him away as he leans down to pick the puck out of the slot below on his end, “There’s no way you’re about to beat me in under five minutes, again.” 

You smile, lips painted red under the lowlights of the arcade as you lean over the table and taunt him, “Or maybe it’s just a skill issue. I wouldn’t keep beating you if you were actually a professional in air hockey like you’d claimed, Munson.” 

Three dates – tonight makes four – and you still hadn’t quite worked out how you’d managed to capture the attention of the boy before you. When he’d originally asked you out to coffee, you’d swallowed down all your excessive excitement just to answer him. The local mechanic that you’d been making heart eyes at every few months when you’d go in for an oil check, the one who hadn’t allowed the others at the shop to oversell you on a damn thing when you’d get your tires rotated. Who always smiled shyly as he’d bring you back your keys.

You’d figured the coffee date would last an hour if you were lucky. The two of you would spend more than five minutes in the same room together, he’d realize how overbearing you were, and that would be the end of it. Ridiculous crush effectively squashed. 

But it hadn’t. 

It had lasted hours, plural. Coffees finished and second lattes nursed until they’d gone cold, the outcome had been the exact opposite of your expectations. Your conversation had flowed effortlessly, common ground and common interests found with ease, and suddenly, Eddie was more than just some cute mechanic for your friends to tease you over. 

The first date had only ended due to his shift at the shop that afternoon. 

The subsequent sushi dinner date, and then the movie night the next week, had also lasted hours. 

“For someone who works on cars, you should be a lot better with your hands,” you poke gentle fun at him as he makes the first hit against the puck this time, far more careful than you had been when serving. 

“Or maybe I’m just determined to keep letting my pretty date win.” 

“And why would you ever do that?” 

Another hit from your mallet, the sharp tapping of your aggressive push ringing out over the sound of nearby machines. You don’t dare to glance in the direction of the ruckus, but you’re pretty sure someone has just won an exciting amount of tickets based on the squeals of glee. 

“I dunno,” Eddie pauses to shrug after he hits the puck once more, his guard dropping. You’re ruthless as you take the opportunity to shoot the puck straight into ‘goal’ on his side of the table. A straight shot, far too easy for your liking, but you still celebrate the victory with another embarrassing dance, “Maybe it’s because I’m into that ridiculous dance they keep doing whenever they score.” 

You immediately stop your little jumps, eyes widening, a rush of embarrassment heating you up from the inside out as Eddie’s eyes stay glued on you. The table powers down as he makes his way around it, feet bringing him right to you. 

You’d always thought Eddie would find you weird, or odd, or unappealing after that coffee date, but the outcome had been better than you could have possibly conceived.

He was an absolute weirdo as well. 

Fondness overtakes his features just like it had on that coffee date when you’d accidentally snorted at one of his jokes, and your heart flutters eagerly. You can’t believe there had been a time you’d only watch him from behind glass, trying to not get caught as you would blatantly stare at him as he’d work on your car. A time when you’d only see his curls up in loose buns rather than framing his face as they were now, a time when you couldn’t even shake his hand due to it being covered in oil. 

That had all only been a month ago, but you already couldn’t imagine your life without Eddie Munson in it. 

“Don’t go shy on me now,” he chuckles as he stops in front of you, smirk deepening the dimples you’d only noticed on your second date with him. He’d been too bashful the first date, ducking whenever his grin would grow too wide on you, biting his tongue on half the flirtatious remarks you wished he would have said. “You won, fair and square, so what’s your prize gonna be, valentine?” 

He also waited until the second date to kiss you. That had nearly killed you. 

“It’s not very fair if you let me win,” you whisper, unable to look away from his eyes. They’re a soft brown, a smooth honey, a nice sight for sore eyes. You kind of like the crinkles beside them, too. Kind of wonder what it would be like to wake up beside him, roll over, and kiss them – all before the sun ever rose. 

He reaches out and gingerly grabs your hand, calloused fingertips brushing your knuckles before he entangles your fingers with his. “Psh, who said I let you win? Maybe I just really suck at air hockey.”

“You just-”

You never get to finish your argument. He’s quick to swoop down, capturing your lips in his. The rudest of interruptions, and it still manages to weaken your knees. 

Each kiss only grows sweeter. And more confident, more sure. The first one had been timid, exchanged on your doorstep with boyish hesitation and meek desperation. But now, several kisses experienced since that night, all apprehension has melted. He lets his lips meld to yours, captures your bottom lip just tightly enough to give it a brief tug when he pulls away. Still soft, ever so sweet, and leaving you wanting for more. 

Four dates. All it took was four dates for him to make you a goner. 

“Now, that wasn’t fair,” you breathe out, betrayed by the smile that you wear. Your chest feels shaken up, impending explosion of mushiness and flowers and hearts and every single cliche the love songs on the radio could squeeze out.

“It was your prize.”

“I never said I wanted a kiss for my prize.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he puts a dramatic hand up to his chest, leaning back so dramatically that your hand instinctively reaches out to loop a finger in his jean pocket to keep him upright, “Would you like me to take it back, my fair maiden?” 

Four dates, and he makes it impossible to not imagine a future of this. Of silly banter, of gentle mornings spent kissing away crows feet, of cutting one another off with the most infuriating of methods. You’re starting to believe you’re just a hopeless romantic, and he’d spotted that from a mile away – he knew every single button to press to have you putty in his hands, and he was taking full advantage of it. 

You giggle, an honest to God giggle, as you say, “Hm, I’m not sure. I heard the return policies on those are a bit wonky.” 

If your friends thought you were insufferable when he was some stranger you just had a crush on, they would be vomiting at the sight of this. 

He leans into your space, close enough to smell his faint cologne and mint on his breath, “Are they? Well, lucky for you, I’m friends with the shop owner. Can definitely accept the return without a receipt. It won’t be a problem, ma’am. I swear it.”

He’s weird. He’s goofier than you could have imagined, snarkier than you could have dreamed, and more romantic than you had yet to uncover. He’s kind of perfect, but you wouldn’t dare say that to his face. Not yet, at least. 

You’re glad you had said yes when he’d asked days prior for you to be his Valentine. And you’re glad he hadn’t gone the boring route, showing up with just chocolates and flowers and calling it a day, but had instead dragged you out to this arcade for a night of adventures as he claimed. 

“And how would one go about returning a kiss, kind sir?” 

He answers wordlessly, bringing up a finger to tap on his lips. He goes as far as pouting them dramatically. 

He wants you to kiss him. 

Lucky for him, you want to kiss him, too. 

Your kiss is more chaste. Teasing as you lift up onto your tippy toes and only press your lips to his for a brief second before falling back. You leave him wanting more – it’s written all over his face, along with a blush that races right over the bridge of his nose. 

He’s cute. He’s cute, and he’s weird, and you really fucking like him. 

“Now that that’s over with,” you have to change the topic, move right along before your heart truly bursts from your chest, “I know what I want my prize to be.” 

He takes a moment to recover, pupils almost resembling hearts as he stares down at you. Eventually he pulls himself from your trance, shaking his head as he asks, “And what would that be?”

You’re the one taking his hand this time. If he gave you the time, you’d like to learn each callous and scar by heart. Trace over them in the middle of night, when it’s just you and him in the darkness beneath your sheets. Memorize the way they feel as he explores every curvature of your body and figure out which of the roughest patches would brush against your most sensitive bits in a way that would make you arch your back right into him. 

The two of you haven’t even discussed if that’s where the night might lead, but you’re sort of hoping the luck in the air doesn’t run out. 

“There’s an awfully pretty ring in the case up at the ticket counter,” you muse, knowing damn well the ring was the ugliest thing either of you had ever seen in your lives, “Think you’ve got the tickets to spare?” 

His hand gives you a squeeze. Something not too tight, something perfectly comfortable. It’s only the fourth date, it’s only the first month – it’s only the beginning. 

“Anything for you, sweetheart,” he says, more earnestly than you’d expected, as he steals another kiss. 

You let him. You have this aching feeling in your chest that you’ll probably let him steal an endless amount from you for the rest of your life. 

When you know, you know. Or whatever the poets say.

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Eddie looks at the empty fridge. Then his laundry. Back to the fridge.

Eddie’s brain’s been swimming in fog all night. The bites have been itchy, the nightmares had kept him up until he’d not bothered trying to sleep at all, and he feels like he’s gonna cry and for what. Just a basket of laundry and a near empty fridge.

It dawns on him that Wayne hasn’t left the factory yet, that Eddie could call him and ask him to get groceries on his way home. But Wayne’ been working longer shifts for a couple months now, to make up for the time he spent with Eddie in the hospital those first two weeks when no one was sure what was going to happen. Eddie’s been trying to do things on his own when Wayne isn’t there, to let him help when he is, to balance physical recovery and mental trauma and school and the bills sitting on the kitchen table.

Eddie won’t call Wayne.

He looks at the phone on the wall, weighs the pros and cons, tries to imagine himself getting into his van and driving all the way to the laundromat and then the grocery store by himself and already feels tired by it.

“Hello?”

“Hey Steve, it’s me.”

“Eddie, you ok?”

Eddie wraps the phone cord around his finger, grimacing at the worry he can practically see emanating from Steve.

“Yeah man, I’m uh, I’m like, fine? But could you help me do some, some errands?”

Eddie holds his breath, pulls the cord tight around his pinky finger.

“I’m on my way, Eddie. See you soon.”

And that’s that. Eddie hangs up, sliding his fingers from the cord and sits down on the couch, knee bouncing, until he hears the Beemer roll up onto the gravel drive. Steve let’s himself in and Eddie’s heart jumps into his throat when he realizes he’s left the door open this whole time and anything could have happened and—

“Hey Eddie,” Steve says, sliding onto the couch right next to Eddie, knee bumping bouncing knee.

“Hey.”

Steve presses his hand, just for a second, to Eddie’s knee. Eddie stills his knees but pulls a lock of hair into his mouth, can’t stop himself from doing it even as the voice that’s always in his head tells him to just stop.

Steve squeezes, then lets go. He stares at Eddie for a second more, then smiles softly and grabs the basket of laundry.

“Ok man, let’s go.”

“Can we, uh, run to the grocery store too?”

“Sure. Anywhere else?”

“No,” Eddie starts to lever himself up off the couch. “Thank you, Steve.”

Steve is already at the door, holding it open for Eddie as he props the basket up against his hip.

“No problem, man.”

His smile is soft, and Eddie feels his own lips curl up and knows Steve can see his eyes crinkle.

The early dawn of the morning is beautiful, promising. Eddie feels the anxiety of the night still gripping onto him, but it’s moved from his chest to his legs, which is better but still not best. Steve doesn’t try to make conversation as he sets the Beemer in motion, letting Eddie watch the passing trees to the tune of Tears for Fears. Maybe it’s because Eddie doesn’t even reach for the dial that Steve keeps quiet, or maybe it’s the gentle morning still making its way over the horizon, still burning off the last dredges of sleep.

Glancing at Steve, Eddie doesn’t think he got much sleep either.

The laundromat is on Eddie’s side of town, close enough to downtown that they’ll probably just walk to get groceries once the clothes are in the dryer. There’s no one else there, though a machine is running in the corner. Steve starts setting up the machine immediately, and Eddie suppresses his surprise behind a lock of hair. He wouldn’t have thought that Steve would know how to work the machine but wonders never cease. It lets Eddie sit down gingerly on chair by the window.

The restlessness in his legs has turned into an ache. Steve glances at him as he put the clothes in, separating lights and darks into two different machines. Eddie starts to push his hand into his pocket for change, but Steve, facing away from him, not even realizing, takes nickels and dime from his own pocket and pops them into both machines, setting them running.

“Here, I grabbed this for you,” Steve says, book in hand. It’s an old, tattered copy of a collection of science fiction Wayne had given him. It’d been sitting next to him on the couch, Eddie realized, and he takes it from Steve’s outstretched hand with a grin he can’t help.

“Thanks, Steve-o.”

Steve’s own grin breaks out. He pulls out his own book, which was in his back pocket, for whatever reason, and Eddie tries (and fails) to hold back the look of utter confusion that crosses his face. He swears Steve did that on purpose.

“Anytime, Ed.”

They sit in the loud-quiet, the clunking machine and soft sound of each other’s breaths, and for a little while, they just are.

He knew he would have to apologize to his own body every day for the rest of his life if he kept using it as a prison for all the love he had stored for Steve. All those brand new, unused kisses, rotting in his lips. All those unspoken words, with no air in his lungs to be shared. All those itching caresses, locked in his skin, with nowhere to go. Eddie was a cursed temple. A graveyard of love. Unfit for the living. God, he needed to tell him.

❄️❄️❄️

In the process we trust.

Um, that snippet over there? Yeah, that's from one of my own fics. First time to draw something based on my words.