#Turns Out, Robin Is Friend With A Child Too
#Turns out, Robin is friend with a child too
More Posts from Alexy-scott and Others
I KNEW IT ! I wasn't ready for this chapter...
But girl what a chapter! I was soooo stressed gosh. It drives me insane, was the hardest chapter to read. I'm used to read your chapter in one shot, but this one...
Now, Eddie, honey you need to show to this piece of trash who is the Master ! Destroy him and go back to your Monster Slayer !
And you Monster Salayer burn the Upside Down to the ground! POWER COUPLE COME ONNNNN
I'm so excited for chapter 15 even if it's the last one. But god do they need their happy ever after.
Kiki, love you girl. Thank you for this master piece 😘
𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝𝐬 𝐀𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟒
▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏 ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐 ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑
▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟒 ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟓 ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟔
▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟕 ▹ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟖 ▹ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟗
▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟎 ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟏 ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟐
▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟑
Thank you so much for all the support on this series so far and your patience; all the lovely comments and reblogs and asks are making my days and I’m so happy about every single one of them🖤 I hope you enjoy this chapter! - Love, Kiki 🖤
𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Eddie Munson x female reader
𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | THEN. You’re the only survivor among the Mind Flayer’s victims, thanks to your friends - but after the Battle of Starcourt, you find yourself adrift in a sea of nightmares. Until an encounter in the woods with Eddie The Freak Munson offers an unexpected life line and turns your world upside down. NOW. Four months have passed since the winter night you walked out of Eddie’s trailer and his life for good. But when the mysterious headaches and nightmares return full-force and something wicked stirs in sleepy Hawkins, starting a witch hunt against Eddie, you realize that there are two things in this world that might be more persistent than you’d thought: Evil…and love. The story is told in two timelines: the past (after the Battle of Starcourt) and the present (during the events of season 4).
𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭 | angst with a happy ending (I PROMISE!!!), fluff, smut, it turned into a fix it fic for ST4
𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | SMUT (you need to be 18+ to read this story!), angst with a happy ending, attempted assault, bullying, canon-typical violence
𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 | ~1 hour
𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | mentions of attempted assault, canon-typical gore & violence, blood
𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭.
𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 & 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝, 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 ♡
▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏 ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐 ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑
▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟒 ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟓 ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟔
▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟕 ▹ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟖 ▹ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟗
▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟎 ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟏 ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟐
▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟑
[Wednesday, March 27th, 1986.
MIDNIGHT.]
Life’s not a game of D&D.
That’s what Wayne Munson used to tell Eddie. He’d said it when the cops had escorted a distraught sixteen-years-old Eddie back home because they’d caught him drinking a beer. He’d said it again when he’d picked up Eddie at the police station two years later because Andy Warren had snitched on Eddie’s drug dealing, and he’d said it when, a few weeks later, a letter from school had informed him that Eddie wouldn’t graduate. And the year after that, when a similar letter had found its way to the Munson trailer.
Wayne had never been one to get angry at Eddie, though.
He’d shouted at him once, when Eddie had still been a kid and he’d accidentally smashed the pane of the kitchen window with a baseball bat – but the way Eddie had flinched and shied away in response had stuck with Wayne Munson, and he’d never again raised his voice at his nephew.
It was the disappointment which stung, probably more than the words warning him not to veer off the right path even though Wayne knew, with all his heart, that Eddie would never wind up like the older Munson brother had.
It were those words, though, that came to Eddie’s mind now.
They were true.
While, as in life, D&D was an intricate pattern of choices following each other, tipping into each other like domino stones, the throw of the dice guided by the hands of luck determining the outcome as much as the player’s choice…some choices were a gamble.
You rolled the dice and hoped for the best, hoped luck would make you stronger than the monsters.
Sometimes you were lucky and landed a Crit Hit, a natural twenty defeating evil.
Sometimes, you weren’t, and the dice sealed your fate.
But Wayne had been right when it came to one crucial point.
When you died at the gaming table, there would be other games, other campaigns.
In life, there was only one campaign.
And no way to get back in once the dice had kicked you out.
Afficher davantage
𝐭𝐡𝐞 "𝐲𝐞𝐬" 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐲.
singledad!mechanic!eddie x fem!reader
✶On Monday, he was a ghost. By Friday, he was a man. Saturday night? He was the unintentional third wheel to your and Adrie's Trick-or-Treating antics.✶
NSFW — slow burn, fluff, flirting, mutual pining, reader wears eddie's jacket, light angst, 18+ overall for eventual smut, drug/alcohol mention/use
chapter: 4/? [wc: 10.8k]
↳ part 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 / 09
AO3
Chapter 4: Ghost Days
Eddie went through Monday like a ghost.
A spectacle in his youth, now a specter. A phantasm phasing through walls. Not a hello, nor a goodbye. Existing in the corners of the room, watching. No attention on him, just working, and thinking. Tending to his dying garden of thoughts when the sun didn’t shine. Moving around you, and the tug of your gravitational pull, with your gaze firm on the desk in front of you, not on the haunt who brought this upon himself, and hurt you in the process.
“You okay, Eddie?” his uncle asked, running a hand up and down his back. “You’ve been staring at that pot of boiling water for ten minutes.”
Eddie fluttered his lashes at the bubbles bursting on the surface. “Sorry, got a lot on my mind.”
————
Tuesday, Wednesday he was a full-body apparition.
No morning smiles, no afternoon laughter, but a single sentence.
“Oh!” You hugged the files to your chest, not knowing Eddie was passing in the hallway to break room right as you were leaving Mr. Moore’s office. Several of the papers crinkled from running into him. Your eyes were screwed shut, expecting an impact. All signs Eddie was real; a thing of worth, a precious brick wall who cupped your arm when you stumbled, who slotted his thumb in the crease of your inner elbow. A chest to brace your hand against. Fingers grasping his dirty coveralls. He was there. He caught you.
And the next day–
“Eddie?”
Your sudden presence scared him. He slammed his black spiral-bound notebook shut and kept his palm over the devil-horned skull he drew on the front.
Sat alone at the table to eat his lunch, the low drone of the vending machines camouflaged the sound of you approaching, and he was too absorbed bin what he was writing down to notice you had entered the break room. Did not realize how close you had gotten until the heel of your palm pressed into a particularly sore muscle in his back from how you steadied yourself on his chair as you bent over.
You picked your gaze up from the notebook, and landed on his eyes. Even if you didn’t mean to, the knot between your brows relaxed the smallest degree–a nearly imperceptible amount–but with how he drank in your appearance, he detected it.
“You wrote O2 for this part here, did you mean X2?” you asked, referring to the invoice in your hand. He watched you bring the question to life. Voice and lips working together to create a lullaby for the unrest in his head. Breath cooling the wet trace of his tongue on his lips.
He was desperate for interaction. He knew. You were too. You just hid it better.
“Eddie,” you reminded him, keen on the five-o’clock-shadow peppering his cheek from neglecting a shave.
If things were different, would you have caressed your thumb along the grain? Would you have pushed his bangs off his forehead, run your fingers through his hair, and pressed your lips to the delicate curve of his temple? Would you tell him he was a good dad for fixing the water heater again, and getting his daughter to school on time, even when he wanted to do nothing more than lay on the couch and cry?
“X2,” he confirmed, “Yeah, I meant X2. Sorry.”
————
Thursday? He was corporeal.
Carl returned from his stay-cation. Stay-at-home-vacation, also known as his wife’s birthday.
He was taking a break in his story to microwave his lasagna when the fading voice of a customer went out the front door, ringing its chime. There was shuffling in the lobby. A backpack being unzipped.
The microwave beeped, and Carl picked up his container with the tips of his fingers, bringing it over to the table, where he sat in the chair facing the hallway.
You walked in with your lunch container, saw the back of Eddie’s head, and walked out.
Carl watched Eddie’s demeanor wilt at the swift exit, gaze falling to the corner of his eyes in acknowledgement of where you were just standing. Face blank, except for the heavy depression drifting his eyelids half-closed. Posture sagged more than normal.
“Is Adrie excited for Saturday?” Carl asked, keeping the conversation light, because boy, did he know that heartbroken look.
“Mm?” Eddie jerked his head up, attentive. He processed the question, and crowded his packed mish-mash of leftovers to his chest, chewing his horrible attempt at replicating Wayne’s pork chop supper as he talked, “Oh, yeah, yeah. Free candy and seeing her friends? She’s been bouncing off the walls all week.” He stabbed an undercooked carrot and brandished it with the same motion he rolled his eyes. “But,” he drew out for comedic effect, “She wanted to dress up as a bat again. Great! Same as last year. No problem, right? So, I take out her costume from the closet, have her try it on, and you know what she says?”
Carl shook his head with a slow grin stretching across his face.
“It’s not pretty enough!” Eddie ate the carrot. “She never wants to be a princess, but all her friends do, and now she’s gotten it in her head that if her costume doesn’t have the same glitter and pizzazz theirs does, it’s not good enough.”
He laughed, “My boys were easier. When they fought over who got to be Donatello, and who got to be Michaelangelo, all we had to do was switch mask colors and weapons.”
“See, they knew what they were doing with the Ninja Turtles, man. Easiest costumes to reuse.”
“Exactly.”
“Now I gotta figure out how to navigate telling her most of the stores are sold out of everything.”
“It’s a toughie, that’s for sure.”
The conversation ended with two knowing nods, sharing the same shallow gripes about parenthood. Carl finished his meal first, and left the table to return to work, while Eddie picked away at his, submerging himself in his thoughts.
A recent drizzle cast Hawkins in a misty haze. The drink machine clicked, and the steady hum rose to a higher frequency. Footsteps squeaked down the hallway. The nervous hand of a once confident woman gripped the doorframe, and she leaned into the room, speaking in a small voice, “I can help.”
Eddie perked up. Head visibly lifting, shoulders drawn back and down. He didn’t respond. Not until he turned around in his chair, and you persevered through the awkward amount of eye contact; wide and unblinking.
You reiterated, “I can help fix up Adrie’s costume so it’s glittery.. Or whatever you said.” Totally not eavesdropping. You waited for a response. “More her style,” you mumbled, filling the void when he forgot what words were.
“Y-Yeah! That–Uhm.. Yeah, you have that kind of stuff?” He clutched onto the back of his chair, knuckles white, bending the plastic from the weight he leaned on it. His face was of equal intrigue, eyes pleading for more interaction, lips parted for more questions, eyebrows pinched in and upwards to show his humility. His thanks.
In a valiant effort for normalcy, you started with a self-deprecating comment, “I mean, it’s not like I was performing on Broadway with a whole costuming department’s worth of tailors, you know. Bobbie and I had to pull all-nighters to finish our own shitty ensembles, so I’m pretty handy with a glue gun, and my sewing skills are serviceable, if I do say so myself.” You stepped further into the break room to put your unfinished lunch in the fridge. “I have tons of fabric and crafting supplies left over. Seriously, I don’t mind spicing up her costume if you wanna bring it by tomorrow. I think I can make something she likes.”
“Are you sure? You don’t have to–”
His mouth sealed itself shut at the incremental smirk sneaking its way across your face.
“Well, you see,” you said, exuding pure charisma, “Now you’ve gone and phrased it in a way which enacts my policy. I have to say ‘yes.’”
Given his current state, Eddie was little more than a mess of nerves; sleeping in uncomfortable positions that had his bones aching due to Adrie’s fear of monsters under her bed sending her to sleep with him on the couch; along with the general up-and-down rush of stress when he passed by your desk, and nothing came of his sad glance in your direction.
Unfiltered relief slipped past his chapped lips as he looked up at you, “Thank you.”
————
By Friday, he was a man.
Eddie skipped his morning cigarette. He wore his lucky Metallica t-shirt under his coveralls. Adrie had to beg him to release her from his powerful hug this morning, flailing her arms and pretending to choke, until the other parents in the carpool lane stared, and he relented.
He walked into the garage’s lobby with sure steps, making a quick stop behind the receptionist desk to drop off a neatly folded pile of black fabric. Then, he looked down the shadowed hallway leading to the lively break room, and he breathed deep.
You were framed by the doorway. Your back was to him, bent over the sink, just beginning to wash the coffee pot.
One thing was for certain.
If anything ever happened between you two and it didn’t pan out, work would be weird. That much he learned this week. And that was just another reason to keep his boundaries up. Another good fucking reason to apologize, turn around, and go back to being cordial work buddies, and have that be the extent of your relationship.
And yet, here he was, flirting with the ring of fire he lit himself.
Crossing his arms, he squeezed his biceps, and leaned his shoulder on the wall outside the room, mind racing as he organized the same speech he rehearsed hundreds of times this morning. “Can we talk?”
Now, the unfortunate thing about rehearsing one-sided speeches was the unpredictability of which you’d follow the script.
“If you’re here to apologize–again–for spending a runtime of 83 minutes with me because it was just that awful, I’ll scream.”
Eddie had to manually force himself to relax out of his wince. “I deserved that,” he exhaled, speaking to himself only. He deserved your stern tone, your angry way of scrubbing the pot. The stiffness between your bunched shoulders. The tight annoyance in your throat from the way he treated you.
Yesterday was a nice break from the tension, but he hadn’t yet made amends, despite the olive branch you extended to him in the form of fixing up his daughter’s costume. “What if I apologized for something else?”
“The jury’s still out on that one.”
“Good enough,” he said. “Listen, ah, I’ve been reflecting on what happened Friday, and I realized I came across like an asshole,” –He shut his eyes, and shook his head– “I was an asshole, whether I meant to be, or not. I mean, yeah, I had a lot on my mind, but that doesn’t justify my behavior in blowing you off like that, especially when you were nothing but nice to me when you saw they set us up together, and you just wanted us to have a good time.. I can tell I hurt your feelings. I’m sorry.”
You rinsed out the soap suds and filled the pot with water, turning off the sink.
There, he apologized, now he should turn around, and go back to being cordial work buddies.
But he was so fucking stupid.
Committing to something he may come to regret, he entered the break room and stopped when he came to the counter beside the sink, bending sideways to rest his arm there, and kicking out his hip. “I didn’t even get to tell you how pretty you were.”
Immediately, you angled yourself away to pull the coffee machine towards you, and poured water into the reservoir.
Eddie let out a groan as his brain caught up with his mouth. “I meant are. How pretty you are..” he spoke at your back while you still refused to acknowledge him. “I meant to say how pretty you are.”
His stomach seized. None of this was going how he planned, so.. fuck it. “I think you’re really pretty right now, actually.”
Nothing seemed louder than his quick breaths, and heart beating in his throat.
The longer you went silent, he considered getting a new job bagging groceries for the supermarket they built on Cherry Street last year.
You slotted the pot onto the hot plate, and opened the cabinet in front of you, blocking his view of you as you reached for the coffee container. But when you closed the door, he had to clench the tremble of annoyance out of his hands.
Try as you might–lips scrunched to the side, cheeks sucked in, making a big production of counting the spoonfuls of grounds you scooped into the filter basket–your smile was obvious. Obvious, and irritating; leading him on as if his advances were a worse offense than his attitude after your date.
“Fine, fine,” you sighed like you were doing him a favor. “I guess you’ve appealed to my ego enough for me to forgive you.”
“You’re the absolute worst person I’ve ever–”
“Yeah. But you think I’m pretty.”
“Whatever,” Eddie grunted, tugging a strand of hair over his mouth, embarrassed to hear his own honesty repeated back at him. “So we’re good?”
You had a sarcastic statement ready on your tongue–he saw it in how you narrowed your eyes, and tipped your head. A loftiness to the way you regarded him; all pompous and teasing and so sure he was being silly and asking questions for the sake of bothering you.
Then, you witnessed his shy quirk, and were instantly disarmed.
“Yes, Eddie, we’re good. The best of friends.. And are you sure you weren’t disappoint–”
“If you’re about to ask me if I was disappointed that you were my date for the third time, I’ll scream.”
You laughed. You tore your gaze from his fingers playing with his curls, and closed the lid of the coffee machine, but in doing so, you turned away, and you both discovered a subtle truth about him.
Eddie was the type who wanted to witness the full scope of the joy he brought on others. When he made someone laugh, he wanted to drink it all in. He wanted to observe the exact way they smiled, how far back they threw their head, if their eyes closed with mirth, if tears sprang, if they giggled to appease him, or if they were expelling a cathartic release. When he made someone happy, he leaned in to hoard the revelry, collect it, and share it. Seeking out their gaze, mirroring them to experience their pleasure first-hand. It’s what made him happy.
It caused him to encroach on their personal space subconsciously, pursuing the pride, and sense of achievement he felt when he accomplished making someone else feel good.
He stood close to you. Very close to you, studying you unabashedly, basking the pure unadulterated validation of making you smile.
You idly scratched your thumbnail over a stain on the counter. “Pretty, huh?” you mused quietly. “Is the hoodie really doin’ it for ya?” It was once black, now sun-faded and overwashed. There was a logo on the front for a random high school. Your high school, Eddie assumed. Clearly, a beloved item, and one you wore when doing craft projects, as indicated by the layers of glitter, dried paint, and burn marks from a hot glue gun marring the sleeves.
Still leaned over, he dropped his hand from his mouth, and swept his hair to one side, exposing the length of his throat. “Maybe it is.”
“Shut up,” you snorted.
“The frumpy ‘just rolled out of bed at noon and forgot to get milk at the grocery store’ look really gets me going.”
“Frumpy–?” In the middle of pressing the ON button and shoving the coffee machine into its place on the counter, you went to pin Eddie with a glare for laying the teasing remarks on thick today, but your attention drifted. Your focus found his eyes shining with slyness, and dropped your gaze to the crook of his neck, where you spied something dastardly. “How does this keep happening? Do you not look in a mirror?”
As you nagged him, you reached for his coveralls. Somehow, the collar kept managing to tuck itself on the inside, and you were at its beck and call, slipping two fingers underneath to unfurl it, coaxing it out in a long stroke over the peak of his collarbone, and down the slope of his chest, over his heart. Longer than two beats worth. The fabric was quite rolled up today. You had to slide along his lucky shirt to find the pointed end, and pull it out, laying it flat. Smoothing down the edges, and securing his tan work jacket over it. Patting them both to seal the kind gesture.
From his periphery, he watched you tend to him, and his smirk grew.
Fell for it hook, line, and sinker.
“Guess I don’t look at myself too often,” he said, eyeing your hands lingering on his person–flattening your palms over his pec for a prolonged moment before retreating–and he nodded for you to follow him out of the room to your desk. He needed the extra seconds away from you to rid himself of his smugness.
Talking about the costume, he rounded to the taller side of your desk, while you sat opposite him in your chair, “Luckily it was big on her last year, so it still fits. It’s just a little short in the legs.”
“Gotcha.” You shook out the bat wings and rubbed the fuzzy material of the suit between your fingers. “Does she have room for another layer underneath? Warm pajamas, or something? The temperature’s supposed to drop tonight. I think a cold front is coming in.”
“Yeah, there’s room.”
“Okie dokie.” You cracked your knuckles and looked at him expectantly. He raised his eyebrows. You raised yours higher. You made a more obvious face. He made a confused one back at you. “Dude, leave. I can’t work with you watching me.”
He curled his lip in a mocking sneer, and went to work in the garage, where–ironically–you could watch him.
~~~
Turns out, you were serious about the double standards of your relationship.
Eddie caught you sneaking glances in his direction whenever he’d wheel out from underneath a car, or when he was bent over the engine of a truck, but as soon as he took his sweet time locating his favorite socket wrench from the tool cabinet (that most definitely wasn’t already in his back pocket), you blocked your project with your body and moved your lips like you were telling him off.
And when he knocked on the glass to gesture for more clean rags from the supply closet, you scrambled to hide the felt shapes you were cutting out, and sent a tube of glitter paint rolling across the lobby.
Even as he relaxed into the plush seat of his car after a long day of work, and the rumble of the engine soothed his mind from exterior worries, his eyes traveled from the bright red stop light swaying in the wind, to the custom crimson interior of his Dodge Omni Shelby, to the pile of black fabric next to him.
He drove with one hand on the wheel. He could just.. take a peek at what the hell you were doing all day.
“Don’t even think about peeking! It’s a surprise. I want Adrie to see it first, and then you can look when she’s trying it on.”
He snatched his wandering fingers away from the bat wing and cupped them around his inner thigh–his usual place for resting them.
~~~
When he opened the door to his trailer, the little lady of the hour came running at him full-speed.
“There’s my facehugger!” Eddie announced through his laugh, stepping backwards to soften the blow of her enthusiasm. And yeah, maybe he shouldn’t refer to his daughter as a parasitic alien from a horror franchise, but the clinginess comparison was accurate.
Adrienne made her immediate attempt to climb him known–clutching onto the hem of his work jacket, and shaking it. “Daddy!” she demanded, making grabby hands at him.
“Hold on, hold on.” He knelt to her level, and promised to pick her up in a few minutes if she exhibited an ounce of patience. “You remember that nice lady from work you drew pictures with?” Thinking about it, she twisted back and forth with excess energy, and gave a big nod, pressing her fingers along her smile. “Well, she heard your costume wasn’t up to your standards, so she wanted to make your Halloween extra special this year. She worked on this all day..” he said slowly, drawing out the grand reveal.
True to his word, Eddie unfolded the outfit he had clutched under his arm, and held it out in front of him, showing it to her first and watching her reaction.
Uncle Wayne opened the bathroom door in the midst of tidying up his beard, dragging a towel around his neck to wipe away the excess shaving cream. Interested in the commotion, and especially curious as to why the person he referred to as his own granddaughter was currently running around the coffee table screaming at the top of her lungs, he questioned anyone who could hear him, “What’s all this goin’ on?”
“The lady at work made my bat costume pretty–Look!” Adrie tugged on the bottom of Wayne’s flannel.
“I see,” he said, vaguely recalling the young receptionist she was referring to. He raised his eyebrows at Eddie. “She did all that?”
He shrugged. “She’s nice.”
Too excited, Adrie unzipped the back of the jumpsuit and climbed in while Eddie held it open. Still, he did not peep at the finished product. Not until every foot wiggled out of the appropriate amount of leg holes, and every sleeve found a hand.
Adrienne walked backwards into the living room and struck a pose with her arms out, flapping them.
Wayne ‘aww’d and clapped.
Eddie sat back on his calves, mouth slightly agape.
You really were nice.
The costume was magnificent. The black fleece was painted with thin strokes of white paint to give the illusion of hair, with special attention around the turtleneck collar where you glued white faux fur into a short mane. Cleverly, the pants were extended with layers of iridescent tulle that caught the light in shimmery rainbows, disguising how short they were on her.
The wings themselves were works of art. Showstoppers. Instead of hanging limp from under her arms, you had used flexible plastic to create bones, giving them some structure.
They were exactly what Adrie wanted. Silver glitter served as a mere backdrop to the myriad of foil stars glued to the fabric. As one’s attention panned downwards, they grew in size and frequency, until there was a disco ball amount of flash and pizzazz. To top it all off, there were felt clouds and crescent moons dangling on strings from the bottom. The stuffed and stitched celestial motifs swung with Adrie’s grand gestures.
And as if that wasn’t enough, Wayne picked up two little black triangles that bounced onto the carpet when Eddie revealed the costume. “C’mere, Adrie,” he said, holding them up to her head. “You’ve got two little ears on barrettes, too.”
“Jesus,” Eddie exhaled.
His next breath caught in his throat. He discovered why you snipped the fabric where it was previously attached to the suit, and gave it an extra bone structure to wrap around.
It was so he could slip his arms around his daughter, and hug her tight without any impediments. “You like it, yeah?”
She threw her arms around his neck, and imbued all her surprise into her little voice, “Are you kidding me? It’s my favorite–the best costume ever! I love it.”
“We’ll have to find a way to thank her when I see her on Monday.”
The hug lasted until Eddie’s knees ached. Still, he clung to her as one clung to a lifesaver. He passed his palm over her hair. He stroked his thumb on the back of her head. He pressed her into the darkness against his throat. He squeezed her to conceal the way he shook. If anyone were to notice the secret of his actions, it would be the person who raised him as one would raise their own son.
Wayne walked over and ruffled his nephew’s hair.
~~~
Later, after Adrie had gone to bed, Eddie confessed, “That took me so off guard, I almost cried. That’s the nicest thing anyone’s done for me, or Adrie, in years.. I mean, outside of everything you do for us. And Steve, too. I just didn’t expect her to put that much effort into a costume.. Or to care that much.”
“I know, son,” Wayne said, patting him on the knee as they sat on the couch, lit by the muted earthy tones of the local news channel. “She seems real nice.”
————
It was a howling Halloween night.
Eddie pulled off the main road into the nice neighborhood on the west side of Hawkins. Everyone knew you went to the rich houses on Halloween, as evident by the agonizing minutes it took to find a place to park, while Adrie was oblivious and just wanted out of her car seat.
Crowds swarmed the doors handing out the best candy. Groups of friends gathered in the streets. Kids ran down the sidewalk to ogle the elaborate decorations. “Is the entire population here, or somethin’?” Eddie grumbled, shifting the gear stick into park.
Once Adrie was out, he asked her, “Do you wanna stop by a few houses on the way to Steve’s?” She eyed the rowdy bigger kids pushing each other on their way up the driveway next to her, and she held out her hand for Eddie to take as a silent answer.
When she was with her friends, she was outgoing, but in this unfamiliar place, surrounded by strangers in the dark, she needed her dad to guide her.
“You’ll feel better once we have some candy in your bucket,” he promised, swinging the orange jack-o-lantern pail back and forth.
In reality, Eddie dreaded this part. Hated it. Going up to houses, knocking on doors, glancing away the second they were answered. He dressed differently. Tried to blend into the back of a big group. Kept his gaze on his daughter shying behind his legs, speaking for her, and hoping her cuteness distracted the adults from taking too close of a look at him. Shuffling away before they could recognize him, remember his last name, and make that same face they always did:
Barely concealed disgust.
Eddie held her hand for several streets until she felt comfortable going up to doors without him, thanks to finding a friend or two from preschool. Those parents were easier. Some he’d gotten to know over the last two years due to birthday parties and school events. Yet, they returned his greeting out of politeness. Waited on the sidewalk like him, but at a distance; in a circle, not inviting him to their grown-up talk.
That’s okay. He felt less alone when Adrie came jogging back to show him her candy. And although she insisted she was a big girl and didn’t need to hold his hand anymore, she walked as if she were glued to his side, three steps to his one stride.
“I don’t need you, Daddy.”
“Yeah, you do.”
On and on, they made their way up the streets, and came upon a white-picket fence dwelling sat modestly between two larger statements, right as the porch light turned off and a group of people left the home.
Fate was a funny thing.
Steve held the gate open for Nancy and whispered something in her ear as she passed, earning a withered glare before she turned and the moon caught the smile flitting across her lips. Behind her, dashing from the shadows, was their son. He held his plastic sword high above his head, and gave a brave battle cry against the person who emerged next.
Robin, also dressed as a pirate, jumped from the top of the stairs and clashed her sword with his. They tussled on their way to the fence, stopping when she feigned a dramatic death, and had to chase down her tricorn hat from rolling into the street.
Eddie’s hand was sweating–Adrie said so with a yuckiness to her words as she ran to join Steve’s son and their group of trick-or-treaters, leaving him behind to stare. And stare. And stare. And try not to burst into a grin.
He wouldn’t have to wait ‘til Monday to thank you.
Step by step, you helped their daughter teeter down the stairs. Patiently holding her hand, encouraging her to the bottom, and brought her to Steve, who was getting out the stroller from the trunk of his car.
“No! I’m–I.. Will walk,” their little girl finished in a disjointed manner, engrossed by the array of bedsheet ghosts, lispy vampires, and corn-syrup-blood-covered werewolves moving around her.
“Yeah, okay, kid,” Steve said sarcastically. “You wanna be a big girl and walk on your own, but we both know after two houses you’re gonna be begging for the stroller.”
Like most girls, she brushed him off, and turned to you for assistance with her jacket. The puffy orange snow suit hindered her movements; her walk was a waddle, and her arms stuck out from her sides helplessly. She was warm, though.
You, on the other hand, were dressed in what Eddie could only call an adult onesie. A fitted one; hugging you in places he shouldn’t notice it hugging you while you were squatting down to zip up her jacket, but a onesie, nonetheless.
“There we go.” He heard you say from where he stood, roughly a car-length away, lurking in the darkness like a creep.
But he’d have to find a way to repent later. His fate tapped you on the shoulder, and his heart set the tempo for his plucky courage’s passion.
“Adrie!” you squealed at her. She greeted you with equal fervor. “Your costume is so, so pretty!” Without a second thought, you bent over, put your hands on your thighs, and asked while waggling your eyebrows, “Wanna fly?”
“Yeah!”
Adrie unveiled her full glittery wingspan, and you clasped her under her arms, instructing her to jump. Up she went. You raised her above you to your full extent and spun in circles. Giggly, messy circles. Showing her off for everyone to see. Parading her for the slew of compliments coming from onlookers. And when your strength tired, you brought her to your hip, and held her tight, still spinning. Dizzy, silly twirls. Savoring the closeness of your foreheads almost touching.
You slowed to stop to scan the scene around you, searching the shapeless night. “Where’s your dad, hmm?”
She pointed behind you.
Over your shoulder, your gazes connected in between a family dressed as Peanuts characters.
Eddie raised his hand, but forgot to move it back and forth.
Your face brightened. The love you showed Adrie reflected in your eyes when you found him. Smiling bigger, somehow, at his stupid wave when he remembered how to perform one.
“Nice costume,” you teased, sauntering up to him with a swagger. “Light-wash blue jeans instead of black. How different.”
“Yeah, and what are you? A cat? So creative.” He meant it as an insult to your gray onesie with a tan belly, but he was the one who followed your quick glance at his stupid hand still waving like an utter moron, and he stuffed his fists in his pockets, wondering if he’d ever recover his dignity after this encounter.
“Uh, I’m clearly a mouse,” you drawled, inclining your head to show off your rounded mouse ears on your headband.
Adrie copied your exact tone and inflection to serve as a gut punch, “Yeah, Daddy, she’s clearly a mouse.”
His greatest fear mocked him. With Adrie on your hip, and your two matching smirks taunting him with your cheeks pressed to one another, he shook his head, and pinched his eyebrows up in worried exasperation. “I don’t need two of you.” A revelation he should take more seriously as you looked at Adrie, and you both giggled. Tips of your noses grazing. Hugging you around your neck. Touching your animal ears and calling you ‘Miss Mouse.’ Thanking you for her costume, and you asked, seeking her genuine approval as you fitted one of her tiny hands in yours to stretch a wing out.
“You like it?”
“I love it!”
You swayed with her in the new position, resembling two people slow dancing despite there being no background music other than shrieks of laughter, and a chorus of “trick-or-treat!”
Yeah, this feeling in his chest was evolving past the boundaries.
Shit.
Eventually you had to support her with two arms again, thus ending your waltz, and you remembered Eddie was there, and Eddie remembered to direct his tender expression at his daughter.
“So, really,” you said, nudging his white tennis shoes and giving him a once-over, “Who’re you supposed to be? A grumpy guy who couldn’t be bothered? A wet blanket?” You leaned in. “Don’t tell me you’re dressed as a stick in the mud for the second week in a row. That’s just gauche, Eddie.”
Adrie latched onto one word specifically. She pointed at him with all her might, and declared, “Grumpy! You’re Grumpy.”
“Great,” he groaned. Yet, there was not a trace of annoyance tugging at his lips–just his tongue poking through as his daughter reduced him to an unpleasant character. “Tell her what movie you watched this morning.”
“I watched Snow White with grandpa,” she said. You gave an understanding ‘ahh.’ “Grandpa is Sneezy. Daddy is Grumpy. You can be..”
“I’ll be Dopey.”
Eddie snorted, “Fitting.” You cut him a soft frown, and he shifted his focus back to his daughter. Eye contact with you was too difficult. He felt exposed. Vulnerable. A single longing look gave away too much, he had to put an end to them. “You think I’m Grumpy, huh?”
She jabbed her finger at him again. “You! Most definitely are.”
The immediate flash of devilry in his eyes was her only warning. “What’d I tell you about pointing at people?” He snatched her wrist in a weak grasp, and lunged at her, snapping his teeth, pretending to bite her finger off with a smile. She scream-laughed and buried her face in your shoulder.
“Aw, it’s okay, Adrie,” you consoled her, “I always knew he was a biter. Lemme count your fingers, ‘nd make sure you have all six.”
“Six?” she cried.
Besotted by your willingness to indulge his humor, Eddie lost track of his inhibitions, and acted on a deep-rooted impulse from his youth, when he was more expressive of his urges. He crept in close while you were busy doting over Adrie, and lowered his face to where he was allowed to whisper in a deeper register, “Hey, no picking on my kid. That’s my job.” To make matters worse, he reached for your side, aimed for your ribs through the single layer of fleece, and prodded. It was a success. You yelped. You were ticklish. Another trait to add to the list of things he shouldn’t know about you.
Steve’s bafflement pierced the rambunctious Jedi fight happening in the middle of the road, “Are you three gonna catch up, or do I need to make you get in the wagon?” he threatened. Sure enough, he was hauling a red wagon of someone else’s kids behind him dressed as various dinosaurs, complete with masks.
More parents had joined the trick-or-treat cavalry, milling about on the sidewalk, waiting for Adrie before they knocked on the next house. You recognized this quicker than Eddie, and offered to take her by, well, simply walking off with her in your arms.
For the first block he was alone with his thoughts. Watching you go from house to house holding his daughter’s hand. Sitting back while you took over for him, and lessened his burdens. When it was you crouched next to Adrie, smiling up at the adults with buckets of candy, they didn’t see Munson. They saw a cute little girl and her supposed mom participating in innocent fun.
“Hey, bud,” Steve said, swinging around to his side, tossing an arm around his shoulders, and shaking him. Eddie could sense the subject he was about to bring up from his consoling squeeze alone. “So, how goes the whole ‘not falling in love’ thing?”
Eddie had his correction at the ready, “I said ‘attached,’ not ‘fall in love.’”
Steve gave him a long, hard stare.
“And I said it was Adrie I was worried about getting attached.”
Steve deepened his stare.
Eddie looked away, then back, then away again. He was quiet for a few strained moments, shuffling his feet while the kids thanked a woman dressed as a witch for her cauldron of candy, and his passing gaze lingered on the Mouse holding his daughter’s hand.
You glanced in his direction, where he stayed on the outskirts of the group, and suppressed a giggle. You were listening to Adrie and her friend’s story about mermaids with full interest, asking questions, and gasping at the information they were disclosing, acting as if they knew the world’s secrets and deemed you worthy of its knowledge.
It was sweet. Endearing, adorable, attractive in the worst ways, and exactly the sort of fun Adrie craved that he couldn’t provide when he was overworked, tired, and stressed to the point of crying frustrated tears.
Except, of course, those bad days had become less and less since you started working at the auto shop..
Eddie surrendered. “How does it look like it’s going?”
“Like you're happier when she’s around,” Steve replied.
“Real good that’s doin’ me.”
They had reached the end of the street, and waited to cross at the stop sign.
Steve shrugged, and said, “I think it’s cute you finally found someone to have a crush on–Ow!” He clutched his side where Eddie elbowed him.
He hissed, “Not so loud,” even though you were several feet away, and talking animatedly with Robin.
“Oh, c’mon, it’s precious.” Lifting his chin, Steve alluded to the way you picked up Adrie and herded the other children across the road like sheep. “Y’know, you were right about her saying ‘yes’ to everything. Her and Robin have some wild stories. Did you know someone came up to them at one of those sleazy hole-in-the-wall bars and asked them to perform on stage–like, obviously meaning you know, stripping–but she accepted his offer, and that’s how they started doing stand up together? Yeah, they just went up there and started shouting jokes at all the drunks. Dodging beer being thrown at them, and whatever. Sounds fun.”
“Yeah, real fun,” Eddie muttered with a horrified expression, wondering how you managed to survive this long with your absurd policy.
“Anyway,” Steve surmised. “I think you should go for it.”
The mood shifted instantly. Eddie’s face went lax, aside from his flared nostrils. He spoke firmly, “I can’t do that, man.”
“Why not?” When Eddie refused to elaborate with a scornful shake of his head, and sudden tenseness to his jaw, Steve softened his nature. He tightened his hold on him in a make-shift hug, and requested, “Talk it out with me. Tell me what you’re going through, and what you want out of this, because you sure do flirt a lot for someone who keeps denying themselves a real relationship.”
“I don’t know what the fuck I want anymore,” he exhaled in mind, body, and spirit. Just a complete depletion of all his anxieties under the weight of Steve’s arm.
Eddie ran his tongue along the back of his bottom teeth while he observed you crouch in someone’s driveway to make a case for Halloween themed pencils, and how they may not be exciting as candy, but there were bats on them, and Adrienne liked bats, therefore, the pencils were cool.
The anxieties were replaced with the blooming realization of how deep his crush went, and the stab of reality pierced the good feelings.
“There’s a million reasons why it’s a bad idea,” Eddie sighed, and gathered his thoughts to list them out as succinctly as possible. “Uh, let’s see. First of all, we’re coworkers, and this week has already been a real glimpse into how this would all pan out if I took the risk and things didn’t work out.”
Steve rocked his head to the side. “Fair, but it’s pretty obvious she likes you too, with how she flirts back.”
“Perfect segue. Okay, so maybe she does like me. But does she like me? And does she like Adrie? Can’t have one without the other. And, man, she made it clear at the movies that she doesn’t even ask if her dates have kids, because there’s never been a second one–a second date, I mean. She’s that casual about it.”
“Why not try something casual, then?”
“When have I ever approached anything casually in my life?”
“You raise a good point there,” Steve answered, shivering at the sudden uptick in frigid gusts biting through his thick jacket.
You and Robin pulled off to the side so your gaggle of kids could take turns stomping on crunchy brown leaves before they blew away.
Ensuring they were at a good distance to watch, but not be overheard, Steve kept his voice low, “What else?”
Eddie rolled his eyes. “Gee, I dunno, how about the fact she hates this place, and is going to leave eventually? Hate to break it to you, but even if she likes me like that, and even if things worked out for a while, I’m not ready to explain to Adrie why the nice lady she loves so much doesn’t come around anymore.”
“So make her stay around.”
“What?”
Shrugging with that stupid grin of his, Steve explained, nonchalant and lackadaisical, “You said she says ‘yes’ to everything. So just ask her to stay.”
Leaning into it, Eddie pulled an overjoyed face, and threw his arms up, gesticulating overdramatically. “Okay! Yeah, you’re right. I’ll just ask her to marry me, then she’ll be forced to stay in this hellhole with me forever. What a grand idea!”
Steve’s full-bodied laugh sent them both doubling over. “Okay, stud, going straight for marriage. It was just a suggestion that maybe she’s over the crazy party-til-dawn city life, and is looking for.. whatever it is you’ve got.”
“Thanks for the pep talk,” he said with more than a hint of sarcasm. Easing out of his glare, he broke himself out of considering Steve’s validation as anything more than an audible feedback loop of the things he wanted to hear, and not the facts he needed to hear. “Doesn’t matter. She could like me, she could not. She could want kids, she could not. She could stay, she could not. I still have to see her every day, regardless. There’s not a lot of other options out there for me, and even if she didn’t want the city life anymore, I don’t think she’s gunning for the single dad whose biggest aspiration is getting a trailer of his own, so his uncle can have his room back.”
Cynicism, cynicism, cynicism. Denial.
Steve’s mouth twisted, and he became serious. “Don’t talk about yourself like that.”
“It’s true, though.”
Ahead, a guy caught Steve’s attention and signaled that it was his turn again on wagon duty, which was the perfect excuse to make his exit because you were standing on your tip-toes, seeking out Eddie in the sea of Stormtroopers. You spotted him and waved with childlike glee, making your way over.
Steve’s hair fell into his eyes as he drew Eddie in. “One last piece of advice,” he began, gaze set on the side of his friend’s face, accepting not even he could win over his attention when it came to existing in the same universe as you. “If you’re serious about not pursuing her, maybe stop looking like you’re gonna blow your load every time she smiles at you.”
Eddie sputtered, “Jesus Christ, dude.”
With that last remark to recover from, Eddie was forced to rearrange his pale face into anything remotely appropriate while Steve got to stroll away as if nothing happened.
“Uh, hey,” he said, eyes scared wide, and showing too many teeth in his tight smile under your scrutiny.
You brought your hand up, and stepped into him until your chests were nearly together. Cocking your head, you pointed at something over yonder, and slowly, unwillingly, he stopped analyzing the nuances of your face to look at the group of kids at the house across the street. One kid in particular. Dressed in black, and with six additional arms dangling from his two human ones.
You couldn’t keep the sheer triumph out of your voice, “That spider is certainly bigger than your palm.”
He winced as if your joke physically pained him. He curled in on himself, and depleted himself of oxygen to groan a long, contemptuous, “So lame,” stressing both words to exaggerate his misery. Shaking his head as if his grievance was anything other than a ploy to discover what it felt like to reject reality, and satiate the envy he felt when Adrie got to be this close to you. Foreheads almost together. Noses almost grazing.
As if your hand trapped between your bodies was anything other than a ploy to rest the backs of your fingers on his chest as you laughed. As you leaned into him. As you tugged on his sweatshirt underneath his leather jacket, begging him to give in until, at last, he broke.
Eddie laughed with you, recklessly.
“Did you really abandon my kid to run over here and tell me that?”
“She’s safe with Bobbie,” you promised in a whisper. “And yes, I did.”
Leaf-shaped shadows danced across you both, cast from the orange glow of the streetlamp above. Autumnal bare branches, electric wires, swaying in the wind, revealing your faces in quick pieces; a wrinkled forehead here, contours of a nose there. Flashes of a puzzle you both collected and assembled in the scarce seconds before it was time to move on to the next house.
You crossed your arms tight over yourself and walked beside him, smiling at the ground.
“How’ve you enjoyed your Halloween experience?” he asked, swinging his arms wide to gesture at Hawkins in general. “I’m sure it’s a lot different than what you’re used to.”
“Oh, I love it!” you said in earnest, surrounded by all the things you’d only seen on screen before. “It’s just like the movies. Trick-or-treating, little kids running around in costumes, the weather, the decorations. It’s surreal. Usually I’d be drunk in a nightclub by now.”
Furrowing his brow, he looked upwards as if he were reading a nonexistent clock, and asked with a twinge of parental disapproval, “Isn’t it, like, 8PM?”
“Yeah,” you admitted, unperturbed. Too impassive to put him at ease. Like you were lording a secret over him. “Don’t act like you weren’t the same before you had Adrie.”
“And what does that mean?”
“Harrington’s been telling me stories about you,” you informed him, and rolled your bottom lip inward, biting it as he zeroed in on your cheeky grin getting a rise out of him.
He squinted at you. “Calling him Harrington, huh? Well, aren’t you two chummy.” Mentally rolling a Nat 20 for Stealth, he lifted his hand to your side without you noticing. “What’d he tell you?”
You made an ‘X’ over your mouth with your fingers.
The perfect position to leave yourself open for attack. I mean, the opportunity presented itself so splendidly, how could he not? How could he resist the greatest temptation?
His impending threat continued to go undetected. Giving you one last chance, he dipped his face to yours–relishing how the apples of your cheeks intruded on your eyes when you smiled this hard, forcing them to scrunch closed–and he asked, “What did he tell you?”
“I’m not repeating!” you giggled.
Oh, you were giggling all right. And in the next gasp, you were squealing, jerking away from him.
Eddie was merciless. His large hands proved too difficult to escape. He poked, prodded. Tickled you until his every, “Tell me, tell me, tell me,” was met with your, “Stop, stop, stop, please!” You fought him fruitlessly, grappling at his forearms, and failing to do little more than slip against his sleeves. He cackled at you. Mocked you with the tip of his tongue to his teeth each time you thought you got away, only to be caught again. You resisted. Resisted. Persevered in the face of evil–knocking your forehead into his chin on accident. Eddie thought you would’ve caved by now, but it was him who stopped; and not because of the unwanted attention your antics drew.
You pried him away from your ribs.
“You’re freezing!” Eddie’s mood changed on a dime at feeling your frigid fingers on top of his. He shifted so that he was enveloping your hands, encasing you in his warmth in exchange for the cold seeping to his bones.
“Yeah,” you answered sheepishly.
“You made a fuss about reminding me to put Adrie in extra layers, but you’re not wearing a jacket?”
You chewed on the inside of your cheek, distorting your grin. “Yeah.”
“You’re irresponsible, you know that?”
“Yeah.”
“A real bad example.”
“Yeah.”
“An absolute pain in my ass.” Eddie grinned with you. Eyelids falling half-closed. Searing your skin with his heat. Enacting the subtle art of asking questions for the sake of prolonging the moment. Not like it was obvious, given you readily accepted his fingers curled around yours with a coy glint to your gaze. Totally discreet as he let go to shrug off his jacket and hand it over.
Obliging him, you raised your eyebrows. “What a gentleman.” You slid your arms into the sleeves, snuggled into his blanketing warmth, and tugged the collar over your mouth, rendering yourself to a pair of pretty eyes.
He was a goner.
“Tell me what Harrington said.”
“Okay,” you indulged him, breath coming out as a fog. “He said..” You were back to giggling behind the collar, remembering the story. “He said one time at a party there was this big watermelon keg he spent all day working on.” Eddie pressed his lips into a line, knowing where this was going. “He scooped out the innards. Spent painstaking hours cutting up fruit to put inside it and soak up all the rum. And then you wandered in. Already hammered, and you, you–” You snickered and peeled back the collar. “You knocked it over within ten seconds of walking in the kitchen, smashing it everywhere like a crime scene.” You hid behind the collar again, then opened it, voice gone high-pitched with suppressed laughter. “And he said you panicked, and tried to scoop it up in your hands and put it in people’s cups!” More laughter. “And when they said ‘no’ because it was fucking gross floor juice, you tried eating all the fruit yourself.” One more hide and seek of the collar as you lost it in a final squeak, “And you cried!”
He waited until you calmed down to show how thrilled he was in a deadpan tone, “Great, great. I’m so glad he told you that one.”
“It certainly conjures an image.”
Thinking the conversation was over, you took a step in the direction of your trick-or-treat group, but something caught your eye. You tilted your head. He mirrored you, tilting it the same way. You shuffled to the side. He turned with you, more, more towards the streetlamp. Curious as to what you were doing, and why you were staring at his chest, mouthing something.
“What’s Corroded Coffin?”
“Uh–It’s–It’s nothing,” Eddie said a bit too loud, wiping at his sweatshirt like the self-printed logo was a crumb he could discard himself of.
Fortunately, a wild Adrienne appeared, interrupting him from making a bigger fool of himself. “My hands are cold. Can I have my gloves?”
Eddie glided his hands over his stomach out of habit, and realized his pockets weren’t there. Without warning, he grabbed a fistful of his jacket, and yanked you to him, spinning you, manhandling you. Forcing you to catch yourself on his braced muscles–shoulder to his chest, hip to a place he’d rather not dwell on. Not gentlemanly at all.
You released a string of flustered remarks, and pushed away from him, making it appear to be a benign accident in front of his daughter.
“Here,” he said to Adrie, holding the black mittens above her head, out of her reach.
She jumped, and jumped, and stomped. “Daddy,” she whined.
Dusting yourself off from the previous encounter, you agreed, “You’re so cruel, bullying your own child.”
“She knows the magic words,” he led on.
“Please!” She jumped higher, huffing and puffing.
“And?”
“And thank you!”
He relented. His evil reign came to an end. First, the tickling, now, the height advantage over a little girl. He gave Adrie the mittens and she stuck her tongue out at him before bolting off faster than lightning.
It was you turn to poke a stern finger into his ribs. “Awful, awful man,” you scolded him. Unlucky for you, he wasn’t ticklish there, nor was he ashamed of any of his actions these past few minutes. He might come to regret them when you move back to New York and these were the memories he was left with, but he wasn’t ashamed.
No, not ashamed to overstep the boundaries he resurrected in pursuit of happiness. If only a little. Enough to feel the thrill of danger, but remain safe inside his walls.
Casual.
You liked casual.
Fuck what he said earlier. He could keep it casual. He could handle innocent flirting without it getting out of hand.
“We should probably catch up with everyone before they send Scooby and the gang to search for us,” you said, walking backwards, throwing your thumb over your shoulder.
He snorted. “Terrible joke. Are you sure you were a comedian?”
You answered him with two middle fingers, which you promptly put away. Adrie came running back after just one house, hunched over, dragging her feet; hair a loose mess, barrettes dangling. Displaying all the theatrics of her father.
She made grabby hands at you. Not him. And before he could voice his hurt, you scooped her into your arms, and she rested her chin on your shoulder.
“Hey,” he complained weakly, walking up to you from behind so he could take the treat bucket before it spilled, and talk to Adrie directly. “You told me you were a big girl who could walk on her own, and didn’t need to be held.” Her refute was a babbling grumble laced with fatigue.
Speaking to you, he said, “You don’t have to carry her.”
“I don’t mind. I think they only want to do a few more houses before we head back. Do you wanna join?”
At first, Eddie was quiet, and you spun in a slow circle to see him, catching the end of his wistful expression at the rich neighborhood and its opulent houses owned by affluent people who heard a rumor or two about Munson, and decided he wasn’t worth more than their wary glances when his kid played with theirs.
“Nah, I’m good over here.” He ran his hand over the back of Adrie’s head, and relaxed his stance, staying put.
“Let me help ya out there, Cool Guy,” you said, motioning for him to bend to you. You picked a narrow, apple-red leaf out of his tangled hair, and flicked it away.
“How long has that been there?”
Shrugging your mouth to disguise your beaming grin, you feigned ignorance while walking away. “Who’s to say?”
To further exacerbate his embarrassment into genuine distress, after two Mummies answered the door, and you were coming down the sidewalk, he saw you pull off the side for Steve to pass with the stroller, and you laid your cheek on the top of Adrie’s head. You whispered something in her ear. Something most intriguing, on account of her coming to life, no longer sleepy. The exchange was short; her asking a question, and you answering. But as you nodded with heavy-lidded eyes, and she pressed her fingers to her smile, you both turned, looked at him, and giggled.
Eddie gulped.
He didn’t like this new feeling of you two sharing secrets about him. Especially ones he couldn’t threaten out of you, no matter how many times he put his hands on your ribs.
~~~
As the evening came to a close, Eddie carried Adrie on his hip while you lugged her bucket of sweets. The plastic handle bowed from the weight of the candy, and your fingertips went numb from the burden. And maybe for your troubles, you took a piece. Or two.
The group petered out until it was left to the core of you returning to Steve’s house. The goodbyes were truncated due to the three sleepy kids in tow. You handed off the bucket to Eddie, first asking if he was sure he didn’t need help getting to his car, and when he assured you he was fine, you squeezed Adrie’s ankle and whispered a goodbye she didn’t hear, too lost in Dreamland and drooling on her dad’s shoulder to know the night was over.
He said he’d see you Monday and parted ways, walking in the opposite direction, and you waited at the white-picket fence gate for Robin to stop swapping sneaky peeks at Steve and Nancy to join you.
“Bobbie, I know you don’t want me driving.”
She made eyes at Nancy one last time, and descended the porch stairs at a leisurely pace. “Yeah, we can leave.”
~~~
The drive home was a welcomed respite after the constant overstimulation. The radio was set to low, the heater caressed warmth along your wind-burnt cheeks, the headlights spotlighted deer grazing on the sides of the lonely road. Robin kept lofting soft smiles in your direction, which you returned.
Parking at her parent’s house, you closed the car door behind you, hearing it echo off the forest. The rocky driveway crunched under your shoes on your way to the door. The porch light was on, elongating your shadows across the ground, following you step by step.
“So, you and Eddie, huh?” Robin asked, turning the key in the lock.
You snapped to attention, schooling your features from giving you away. “Just friends,” you reiterated at her suggestive tone. “Just friends and coworkers. He’s dropped more than enough hints that he’s not looking for more.” You finished in more of a sigh, “Not with me, anyway.”
“Is that so?”
Her lopsided smirk struck undesired hope in your heart.
Robin pushed open the door, and curled in her forefinger to tap her knuckle on her upper lip. She dropped her gaze to your general upper body, and hummed, “You, uh.. forget something?”
You looked down at yourself. “Oh–”
————
Eddie dropped his shoulders back expecting to feel something slide down his arms. Then, he patted his chest, and realized. “–Shit.” He stared at his coat hook next to the front door where his leather jacket usually hung, and reprimanded himself in a soft laugh. “Guess I’ll have to get it back on Monday.”
“How much candy can I have?” Adrienne asked, dumping out her bucket on the coffee table, and scrambling to pick up the Tootsie Rolls that fell on the floor. She began sorting into piles of most favorite to least favorite.
“One,” Eddie stated sternly.
He turned on the TV and sat on the couch, decompressing while Adrie cackled over her hoard like Smaug. He should’ve known something was up when she wouldn’t stop giggling to herself.
His suspicions were answered when she turned around to show him the one piece she picked out–perfectly following his rules.
“Uh, absolutely not!” Eddie swiped it from her. “Seriously, who gives out full size Snickers bars on Halloween?”
“But, Daddy, you said!”
Leaning forward to rest his arms on his thighs, he demanded her attention before the pitiful crocodile tears started. “I’ll make you a deal,” he said, and reached past her for a mini Musketeers to compare. “You can have the Snickers, but you have to share half with me. See, half is still bigger than one of these little ones, so you’ll still be coming out of this a winner. ‘Kay?” She nodded and went to grab it. “But! I don’t want any tantrums when I tell you it’s bath time.” Again, she agreed and he reeled the candybar back into himself, away from her quick fingers. “And! You have to brush your teeth after.”
“I will,” she promised with a deep frown.
“And you still have to go to bed at the normal time.”
Pushing her hair out of her face, she dropped her head in another big nod.
Eddie was satisfied and went to give it to her. But another thought crossed his mind–one of true luxury–and the allure of the idea proved too good to ignore.
Much to her dismay, he snatched the candybar away before she could get a good grasp on it, and he deepened his voice to show he was serious, “And I want to shower. Ten minutes. Uninterrupted.”
She groaned at the ceiling at his never ending list of rules. “Fine!”
~~~
Riding his tingly feel-good high, Eddie opened the bathroom door to let the steam out, and toweled off the fog on the medicine cabinet mirror. He took out his comb and scissors, and sectioned out his bangs.
Brunette snips of wet hair fell in triangles onto his white tank top and around the sink. It wasn’t a noticeable trim, just enough to get them off his eyebrows when dried.
With some amount of clarity, he looked his reflection in the eye as he evened out the cut, and didn’t know if he should be wearing the faint smile he did, or if he should listen to his better judgment, and stop making modifications to his barriers.
He knew you deserved a better life than what Hawkins could offer, but he could enjoy the innocent workplace flirtations, right? They were harmless. Little compliments here and there to boost his confidence. That’s all it was. It’s not like you actually found him attractive, right? You’d been on enough dates to know what to say to a guy. That’s all.
Though, he did need to remember to have a talk with Adrie about setting her expectations and understanding Daddy could have friends without it leading anywhere, and that was okay.
“–some.”
Jumping, Eddie said a prayer that was not righteous, and thanked the stars he was not trimming closer to his eyes when his daughter scared him. “Jesus Christ, kid,” he exhaled.
“Handsome,” she said again.
Taken aback, he let the flattery sink in. Besides last week at the movies, he didn’t get compliments often, or at all, and to receive one now while his thoughts circled back to that familiar sting of ugliness with the way other parents looked at him tonight, Adrie’s kindness matured his grin into a real smile.
“You think I’m handsome?” he asked in a mild, quick laugh. “That’s sweet.” He leaned over the sink and worked on his bangs again, snipping up into the strands between his fingers.
“Miss–ouse does.”
“What–?” Her words were incoherent from her fingers stuffed in her mouth. “Did you say..?” He dropped the comb and scissors, and spun around, eyes set on her. Adrie released a high-pitched shriek and ran from the doorway. “Wait! Adrie! She said that? She said that about me?” He chased her into the living room, dodging back and forth around the coffee table. Duping left, right. Catching her as she made a quick escape to her bedroom. “Tell me what you said? Did Miss Mouse say that about me? Did she call me handsome?”
Try as he might, threatening to tickle her until she repeated herself, Adrienne refused to tell him the secret you whispered in her ear.
𝐭𝐡𝐞 "𝐲𝐞𝐬" 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐲.
singledad!mechanic!eddie x fem!reader
✶Surely, when two friends set up their two friends on a blind date in the very small town of Hawkins, they make sure those two people don't know each other beforehand, right? And, more importantly, aren't coworkers, right?✶
NSFW — slow burn, fluff, flirting, mutual pining, angst towards the end, drug/alcohol mention/use, 18+ overall for eventual smut
chapter: 3/? [wc: 6.1k]
↳ part 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 / 09
AO3
Chapter 3: The Accidental First Date
“Is this too much?” you asked, yanking down the visor and checking yourself in the small mirror.
Sitting in the back parking lot of the movie theater, you went through your purse for the finishing touches on your look. Doing your last paranoia check for anything in your teeth, turning your head this way and that to zhuzh your hair, and most importantly, preening your oxymoron of a sweater to show a decent amount of cleavage without flashing the cups of your push-up bra.
Truly a walking contradiction of a top. Cable knit and warm, but with a plunging neckline, to where the top button started at your sternum.
“No, you look hot,” Robin assured with her goofy smile. “New York modest is Hawkins slutty. He’s gonna love you.”
You shrank into your girlish giggle. “Good, I want my dating debut in this little town to be a statement. Set the stage for future escapades.. Until I run out of men, I guess. Seriously, how many bachelors live here and aren’t total hicks? Four?” Robin laughed.
“Could be worse. You could be a lesbian.”
“True,” you concurred. “Good thing you have Vickie. Sucks she couldn’t come tonight.” Robin made a sad huff of agreement, working a mascara wand through her lashes. “Hey, I know I said ‘yes’ without asking, but is this guy you set me up with even my type? Not that I care, obviously; a good story is a good story, but I’m just trying to set my expectations here.”
She furrowed her eyebrows dramatically, and paused unscrewing her lip gloss to rock her entire body into a positive affirmation–almost bumping her forehead on the steering wheel from the force of her nodding. “Oh, absolutely,” she said emphatically. “Looks scary on the outside, but is a total sweetheart on the inside. Overconfident, and obnoxious, but in that charming, swoony way.”
“Perfect!” You clasped your hands together.
Stepping out of the car, she waited for you so you could walk with your arms linked together, and she continued, “I haven’t seen him in years, but Steve was telling me over the phone that he’s been going through a tough time, and hasn’t been on a date in a while.”
“Aw, poor guy.”
There was a beat of silence where both of your faces twisted into knowing smiles.
“I know what that look means..” Robin led, canting her head to you.
Innocent, you lifted your shoulder in a coy shrug, bringing a collection of her soft hair up to your chin. “No idea what you’re talking about. I was just thinking, if he hasn’t been on a date in a while.. Why not make it memorable for him?”
You laughed together, rounding the sidewalk to the front entrance of the theater where the glamorous marquee shined gentle daylight upon the darkened street. Romantic and intimate, with a crowd of people standing in vague suggestions of lines; some broken off, gossiping, smoking.
“There they are,” Robin whispered, letting go of your upper arm to wave at Nancy–who you had met at the grocery store last week. She saw you approaching, and tapped her hand on the chest of the man beside her.
Still a considerable distance away, you peered at him, and placed his luscious hair in your memory. “Oh, that’s the guy who came to the shop today.”
“Steve?”
“Yeah, he was talking to the annoying mechanic I’m always telling you about.”
“The one you have a crush on?”
“Shush,” you bristled at the mention of your not-so-secret. “I do not have a crush on Eddie. Anyway! Did I tell you what he did this morning? He fuckin’ stood outside the window next to my desk, just out of my view for like, full on minutes, waiting for me to look at him. Like Michael Myers or some shit. Scared me half to death.”
Robin, still caught on one detail you had somehow failed to mention in the month you worked at the auto body shop, quietly asked, “..Eddie?”
“Yeah, my coworker,” you answered, not looking at her when she fell a step behind, since you were too focused on greeting Nancy, and introducing yourself to Steve to notice her sudden jog up behind you. Too fixated on complimenting Nancy’s skirt to witness the way Steve aimed his confused frown just past your shoulder. Missed his dismissive hand gestures, and Robin’s panic as she tried to wordlessly communicate something dire to him.
You were too busy listening to the cars cruise by on the street, and chatting casually, and savoring the warmth of a new friendship to scrutinize the sound of quick footsteps from the other direction, or the jangle of metal chains attached to their presence, or Robin’s damning groan.
“Sorry, I’m–” a familiar voice said. A bit nasally and on the higher side. Mirthful, awake with youth, and excited to make a good first impression.
You turned to them. Your date.
“..Late,” they trailed off.
Deer in headlights. Big, brown doe-eyes wide with surprise, framed by beautiful black lashes.
He stared at you.
His stomach sank.
You stared at him.
Your heart raced.
Eddie had stopped mid-step with his hand raised in greeting. The chains on his leather jacket tinkered until they stilled. Kind smile frozen from a better time. Chest filled with a held breath. Presenting himself with his best foot forward, and now his ears were tinted with the embarrassment of trying too hard to impress.
Oh, God.
You blinked away, and were intentional to accept the situation for what it was without showing your surprise, opting for a simple, timid, awkward, shaky, exhaled, “Hey, Eddie.”
He wasn’t so poised.
Shutting his eyes, he allowed the realization to wash over him, scrunching his face in a pained expression as the puzzle pieces slotted into place. He hung his head, and released his breath through his nose. “Your roommate is Robin,” he stated, pointing at her to punctuate his sentence. “And you call her Bobbie.”
“Yeah..” It was an apology as much as it was a confirmation.
“You still call me Bobbie?” Robin asked, tugging on your sleeve, forgetting the tense air surrounding the group for the moment. “I haven’t used that stage name in years.”
“Guess it stuck with me..”
Thankfully, someone else added to the conversation. Unfortunately, that person was Steve addressing the elephant outside the ticket booth.
“So, I take it you two know each other,” he deduced, looking from Eddie’s dejected gaze at the ground, to you wringing your purse strap over your chest.
Eddie enlightened him in a solemn tone, sparing a single glance at his friend, “She’s the receptionist at work.”
“Ah.” He turned his attention to Robin. “You set up two people who work together.”
She threw her hands up and blamed him, “Uh! No way, dunce, don’t put this on me. This whole thing was your idea, and at no point in the conversation did you tell me Eddie was a mechanic! If you had told me he was a mechanic I probably could’ve put two-and-two together myself, and avoided setting up people who see each other every day.”
Increasingly red-faced, Steve very pointedly avoided Eddie’s suspicious squint after being outed as the one who set up the date, not Nancy. “You’re the one who lives with her, how could you not–?”
“Okay!” You clapped once to end their bickering. “Then it’s not a date.”
Nancy, bless her, picked up her improv skills fast. “Yeah! Not a date. Just a casual outing between friends. Steve, get the tickets ready so we can get popcorn before the line gets too long.” There was a ripple of unanimous murmurs, followed by shuffling to the entrance.
“Silver lining,” Nancy muttered out the side of her mouth to Steve, “It’s a movie date, so it’s not like they have to talk to, or look at each other.”
Steve tempered his laugh to a hiss and held the door for Robin, who in turn kept the it ajar behind her for you, but as you went to catch it, it was opened for you.
Clack- clack- clack. You’d heard the sound every morning; his distinct rings on the metal frame of the glass door beside your desk, followed by his soft grunt when pulling it open. But whereas his whispered ‘morning’ normally echoed in the tiled lobby, it was now on the back of your neck, fanning your skin, and it wasn’t a sweet greeting, but a reserved, solemn, regretful, sad, “Sorry for.. yeah.” That’s how he started your date that wasn’t a date. With an apology. And still, as the crisp autumn air was replaced by the humid waft of buttery popcorn, your brain was stuck at the garage, filling in the drag of his heavy work boots on the way to the breakroom for coffee, and the lingering scent of cigarette smoke trailing his stride.
Except, as you were jolted back to reality, you came to know he didn’t present himself so generically outside the context of motor oil. Due to the traffic clogging around the ticket ripper, Eddie ran into you and you discovered the nuances of what he smelled like when not at work, with the added intimacy of his chest pressed to your back.
Worn leather enveloped by notes of vanilla musk cologne. Spicy deodorant carried by the sweet earthy tang of tobacco. Dove White on his heated skin, and Dawn on his hands.
A symphony you could immerse yourself in learning for hours if it wasn’t for the crime of your group moving forward.
“Did you want anything?” Eddie asked you, pointing at the concessions.
“Oh, no, I’m good.” You made a clawing gesture at your mouth. “Eating popcorn before the movie even starts because I have no self control and then being forced to sit there with kernels in my teeth drives me nuts.”
Not finding you as endearing as you intended, he slipped his hands into his pockets, and motioned for both of you to stand off to the side, out of the way while you waited for the others to get their snacks. And he just stood there. Not saying anything. You were turned to him as if to carry a conversation, but his gaze was set ahead; not on anything in particular, just away from you.
Rarely had his face been this slack, this devoid of emotion. Even when doing menial work like filling out invoices for parts you would need to order, there was activity. Liveliness in the tic of his eyes reading lines on the paper. Movement of his tongue sliding across his top lip. A subtle crease between his brows. Something. Anything.
You spoke above the giggly teenagers sneaking into the film next door, “For a stick in the mud, you look nice.” He really did, in his well-loved jacket draping his frame after years of being broken in to perfection. Tight black jeans. Sensible boots. More accessories than just his rings.
Try as he might to cut you an unamused look, his freshly washed hair bounced in immaculate waves around his face, catching the low mood lighting like a messy halo.
“Thanks,” he said, not meaning it.
“I can see why you don’t get many dates if you always look this miserable.”
“I’m not miserable.”
“Glum, then? Woebegone? Hapless? Crestfallen?” When he seemed hellbent on wishing he were anywhere else, you eased up on your act. Harboring the pit of rejection eating away at your stomach, you pried, “Disappointed?”
The glimpse of vulnerability in your words was not lost on him.
He snapped to, shaking himself out of his funk to reassure you in his gentle timbre amongst the chaos of someone beating the top score on the pinball machine, “I’m not disappointed to be here with you.”
“Then what are you?”
“Sorry,” he guessed, shrugging. He was the type to speak with his hands, moving them despite being confined to his pockets. “I’m sorry our friends suck at communicating and this is how your night turned out; you being here with me when you were clearly expecting someone else.” His gaze didn’t dare dip lower than your nose, but the effort you put into your appearance did not go unnoticed. It wasn't the first time he stared a little too directly into your eyes after you decided to stop covering yourself up.
“I don’t go on dates intending to find my one true love or anything lame like that,” you said, honestly. “I go on them to have fun, and I think we can still have fun, even if we have to share the same tiny lunch table come Monday, and we side-eye Carl for bringing tuna again.” He almost smiled at that.
Sensing he needed another boost of confidence, you kept going, “Before I knew it was you, Robin was talking you up in the car. Going on about how my date was some sweet guy, super handsome, and with a heart of gold. You know, the Prince Charming type. Oh, and totally obnoxious too. Real loudmouth who never shuts up.”
Okay, maybe some of that was ad libbed, but you wanted to know how much of it was true.
Eddie shifted from foot to foot, subduing his grin by biting his tongue, literally. “That’s a pretty apt way to describe me back in high school, yeah, especially with how I’m dressed.”
“What changed?”
“Uh, I had a kid,” he laughed. “She stole all my charm. I swear Adrie can talk me into anything.”
“I think you’re just a pushover.”
“Probably,” he surrendered. Raising his brows, he mused aloud one of the many things on his mind, “Do you not agree that she described me accurately? Sweet Prince Charming guy, all that?”
There was no way in hell you were going to speak your truth. Instead, you smirked. “I don’t think you want to know what adjectives I’d use to describe you.” They were far too vulgar to utter in a crowded room. Hot in the most annoying way. Absolute pain in my ass. Just the worst, especially when I don’t hear you sneak up behind me in the kitchen, and you think it’s funny to scare me right as I open my drink from the Coke machine, and you laugh your stupid laugh when I drop it. An absolute eye-sore when you look up at me while you're on your hands and knees cleaning up the mess you created. Irritatingly handsome when you grin and buy me another one.
Ignorant to your private thoughts, he swung his elbow out to push you, and smiled.
Relaxing into the natural lull in conversation, you both watched your friends make it to the front of the line and order their food. They waited at the counter, starting the clock on when they would inevitably make it back to the two of you, and cease your alone time with Eddie. (Although, first, they’d have to traverse an entire bucket of dropped popcorn, and navigate around more than one group of children reenacting a fight scene they just watched on the big screen.)
“Were you disappointed I was your date?” you asked.
Robin was right. Eddie was a sweetheart. As soon as he detected an inkling of insecurity–whether it be in your strained voice, or etched into your face, or imbued in the question itself–he was quick to absolve your worry.
“No, no,” he said. “Relieved, if I’m being honest.”
“Relieved?” You weren’t expecting that.
“There’s a reason I haven’t dated since having Adrie. It didn’t sound like Steve made it clear to.. you, well, my anonymous date which happened to be you. Jesus, this is confusing. Whatever, you know what I mean, he didn’t say if he told my would-be date that I’m a dad, and I was afraid of coming here and having to tell them myself. Even if we hit it off, it’s a deal breaker for some people, y’know? Not that I blame them. I would’ve said the same thing five years ago.”
You nodded as you listened to him. “Never thought about it from that perspective. All my dates have been one-and-dones. Super casual. Kids were never really brought up.”
“Yeah, the dating world isn’t always so gracious. I’m kinda glad I’m here with you–someone who knows me, at least.”
Out of the corner of your eye, you spied Steve raising his sodas above his head as two boys ran past him, pretending they were in a shootout.
Knowing he wouldn’t have time to respond, you informed Eddie, “You’re worrying about the wrong thing. Adrie’s an angel. You should be more concerned about your curmudgeonly attitude being a deal breaker.” His narrowed-eye glare had never felt so sweet.
Robin’s giddy presence became known. She dropped her chin to your shoulder with a satisfied hum, and wrapped her arm around your waist to hug you snug to her body. You laid your head on top of hers, swaying with her.
She must’ve made a face at Eddie, because a different emotion flinched across his features, and he was back to avoiding making eye contact.
You, however, were more enticed by the drink in her hand than analyzing his change in demeanor. “Shit, now I want an Icee.”
“Yeah, I got cherry,” she said, angling the straw towards you. “They have Coke too–Okay, bye, dork,” she giggled after you.
“Go ahead and sit without me! I want an Icee.” Nancy clutched the largest size of popcorn to her chest to avoid spilling it as you stumbled out of Robin’s hold and darted for the concession stand.
Eddie raised his voice, “You couldn’t have decided that five minutes ago when I asked?”
“Nope!”
————
The theater for the low budget horror flick reflected the town’s perception of it. As soon as the heavy door closed behind you, your footsteps on the dense carpet echoed around the empty room. Your group was sitting in the back row, and their murmurs could be heard from the bottom.
You climbed up to them and flumped into the seat next to Eddie. “We can share,” you said excitedly, shaking the drink at him before placing it in the cupholder at the end of the single armrest.
When the subtle pinch of concern around his eyes remained, you promised him you didn’t have cooties.
He played with his rings, pulling them down the length of his fingers and spinning them while he worked through his confusion. “You don’t have to sit next to me.. You can sit next to Robin.” He motioned beside him, to Steve munching on his popcorn while Nancy held it, and Robin whispering on the end, rolling her eyes at something Nancy said.
“Why wouldn’t I sit next to you?”
Eddie’s mouth opened and closed, struggling to settle on what he wanted to say, and finishing with a submissive shrug, leather jacket groaning at the act. He bounced his foot quicker, shaking the aglets on his laces against his boot in a chaotic rhythm. “Dunno..”
“You’re silly. I’d pinch your cheek if I didn’t think you’d bite me.” He reeled at that, and you giggled. You didn’t mind making him balk at your weird quirks; whatever put him at ease. Rather, whatever made him stop rubbing his knee against yours, because you were certain the friction was about to cause a fire.
Digging through your purse, you took out a rectangular box and slid your finger under the flap, popping it open and dumping a handful of candy into your palm. You threw it back into your mouth. “Want sh-ome?” you chewed, offering the box to him.
“Who the hell eats Mike and Ikes?”
“Uh, me, jerk.” Right as the lights dimmed to pitch black, and the curtains drew back from the screen, you hit him with the most exaggerated pout. “I only eat them at the movies. They’re a ritual, and you’re rude.” The shadows lining his face twisted into a deeper grin. “Are you more of a chocolate guy?”
“Maybe,” he answered like he was suspicious of your motives.
And maybe he should be. Afterall, you committed the number one sin when it came to cinemas.
“Looks like I chose right,” you said, reaching into your purse and pulling out a Kit Kat. “I was hoping my date would be a chocolate sorta guy–” You went quiet seeing his eyes widen a touch. “I mean, not date. Begrudging coworker? Tentative acquaintance?”
“Reluctant friend,” he answered smoothly, taking the package from you and ripping it open with his teeth.
~~~
Trailers for other films played, bathing the room in flickers of light interrupting the darkness. The opening credits began. Your candy was half-eaten. His was devoured. You took a sip of your Icee, and from the vantage point of pressing your back into the cheap theater seat, you observed him in your periphery.
His gaze hardly left the drink. Your offer to share it gnawed at him in a visible way. Scoping out the straw, the possible trace of spit you left behind, the possible trace of spit he’d leave behind. He peered at the screen to acknowledge the intro, and then back down it was, boring holes into the Icee.
You were no better, nibbling at your lips when he finally caved and took a sip–all too quick, and clumsy, almost missing the cup holder when he put it back down with lightning speed.
The edge of your thighs touched under the arm rest; worse so, when you folded one leg under you, and leaned into him. “Do you hate it when people talk during movies?”
“Not these kind.” He meant the genre in general, which made for great fodder for ripping apart in friend groups, but another popular trope among this realm of fiction became apparent. The first set of tits flashed on screen, and you both found yourselves lacking in the commentary department.
After a moment, you tilted your head. “That actress looks familiar..”
“She’s been in other cult classics. Always acts with her eyebrows.” He turned to you and nudged your shoulder, vying for your full attention. He emphasized the end of each word with an inflection as if it were a question, and raised his eyebrows in every way possible, mocking her slowly, “She’s the one who always talks like this–!” He looked crazy contorting his face to make his point.
“That’s it!” You snapped. “Her wearing glasses really threw me off.”
“Mhm.” His hum vibrated along your upper arm pressed to his, and he asked quietly under the screams of the first gorey death, “Do you like B movies?”
“Hell yeah. Back home they would play them at this rooftop drive in place. I rarely paid to watch them, though. The next building over had a good view of the projector screen.”
His banter dropped in favor of chewing on the corner of his thumb. If it wasn’t for the wild change in scenery cast across his face, you could’ve sworn his faint smile faltered into inscrutability.
Did you say something wrong?
————
“Damn, that was a cool practical effect,” Eddie complimented the purplish fizzing ooze that once was a person.
“I know, right? That’s why I love these bad movies. There’s no budget for good CGI, so they have to do creative stuff like that.”
It was inevitable. Bound to happen. A mere act of fate. Stars aligning in the close knit group leaning forward to exchange witty quips about the hare-brained plot holes in the movie, and not minding their surroundings except to receive everyone’s laughter, making jokes at the expense of the bad acting.
Steve was asking a question that was technically answered by the movie’s lore if he’d paid attention to the dialogue during the second gratuitous stripping scene. You or Eddie could have answered, but Robin took it upon herself to explain, and you two nodded along.
Absentminded, you reached for the Icee.
Distracted, Eddie reached for the Icee.
The waxed paper cup was cold under your fingers, but your hand was blanketed by warmth.
Slow to process, you both glanced down at the reason why neither of you were achieving your goal, and the overload of sensory inputs faded away to one: touch.
Your thumb was trapped under his palm, and his fingers stretched around the cup, meeting yours on the other side and housing them beneath his in a steady amount of pressure. They were almost interlocking. Holding. Wrist on top of wrist–his with the extra harshness of his leather and chain bracelet on your skin. The heaviness of his forearm resting on yours.
Truly, the accident lasted all of two pumps of your heart, but it felt like more when he stroked his calloused fingertips over your knuckles as he let go.
“Sorry!” he blurted.
“S-Sorry,” you laughed, jittery from the encounter.
Your cheeks were hot. His were flushed red. The lewd moaning of a woman feigning to orgasm just from the male lead removing her bra alone played in the background. Neither of you could decide which plan of escape was less embarrassing: continuing to stare like idiots at each other, or watch the actress’ ginormous boobs bounce as she faked riding a guy.
You blinked. His eyebrows ticced up.
Boobs it was.
He adjusted how he sat, tugging his jeans down his legs a little, and crossing his arms. Eyes laser focused on the woman’s face. The why was obvious, and you couldn’t help but tease him for pretending to be a gentleman in your company when you held no such modesty when it came to ogling her tits.
“Thinking about how much Aquanet she uses?”
“Shut up.”
————
Later into the film, after the plot circled back to the juicy gore, you leaned into Eddie to ask him a question.
What that question was, you couldn’t remember.
As soon as you placed your elbow on the armrest and used the back of your hand to tap his shoulder, he dipped his head to hear you. It was an automatic thing starting from the moment you slouched in your seat. That’s all. A shift in your sitting position and intake of breath, and he knew you were going to speak, and he wanted to listen. He cared about what you had to say. He leaned into you as well, because listening to you took priority over the movie.
“Eddie?” You sought any words. Any words at all. Any would do. Any question, even if you knew the answer. “Uhm. The music sounds really familiar. Do you recognize it?”
“It’s the same composer as Chopping Mall and Deathstalker II.”
“Ah.”
Ah. All you could muster when you were charmed by the silhouette of his lips moving. Watching them form letters, pout on the plosives, press into a line on his thick swallow.
Ah. All you could say when his hair brushed over your fingers. Dry, in need of a deep conditioning. Curling around your forefinger. Tickling your palm.
Ah. All you could respond with when you lifted your gaze, and caught him staring at you like you stared at him.
————
As predicted, the filmmakers padded the runtime with another topless scene, and the movie ended on a witty one liner that included not one, but two puns, and no resolution to the numerous plot threads left hanging.
“That was.. certainly something!” Robin summed up, holding the doors open to the subdued hours of the night.
Once outside in the fresh air, the dynamic reverted back to its original status.
Your friends made themselves scarce in the worst way; whistling, shuffling to the side as they found asinine things to comment on, leaving you and Eddie alone. Their intentions were pure, but reality was not so kind.
Eddie cemented his gaze on the sidewalk as he picked at his callouses, and apologized for the mistake of going out with you. Again. “Sorry about all this.”
Itchy sweat broke out across your back. It sucked he was so brazen about rejecting you. You had hoped some of the tender crush you had on him extended past the armrest you shared, the looks you shared, the touches you shared; but maybe you were just tricking yourself into finding things that weren’t there.
Wanting to end on a better note, you appealed to him in a last ditch effort to smooth over the situation, “I meant it when I said you looked good tonight. It’s nice to see you outside of your work clothes.”
“Thanks.”
That’s all. Thanks. A shy glance from beneath his curtain of messy hair, and a somber tone to maximize the awkwardness of the not-date with your coworker.
You needed to get the hell out of there. “See you Monday?”
“Yeah, see you Monday.”
The group winced in unison when they saw the way you two departed.
Robin was quick to link her arm with yours and gather you closer, bringing your heads together to gossip as you walked back to her car. “That bad, huh?”
Around the corner and out of sight, you gave her half a smile, trying to appear in better spirits. “Well, I don’t think he likes me. He didn’t return any of my compliments, and he apologized for being on a date with me no less than four times over the course of the evening.”
She cringed for you. “That’s worse than Balloon Guy, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” you said, remembering what would go down in history as the shittiest date you’d been on. “Yeah, that’s more times than Balloon Guy.” Robin hugged you tighter, making your steps go clumsy. She apologized for Eddie’s weirdness, but you shrugged. Maybe you were supposed to find it weird, too. Maybe you were supposed to disapprove of the idea of romantic feelings for your coworker, too. Maybe you were supposed to have no expectations for it to lead anywhere, too.
Maybe you were supposed to reject him, too.
————
Still loitering outside the theater, Steve exchanged a look with Nancy, and jogged to catch up with Eddie before he made it too far in the opposite direction.
“Uh, hey buddy!” Steve clapped him on the shoulder to stop him. “It sounded like you two were hitting it off during the movie, what happened?”
Eddie sulked under the question. His chest fell with a surrendering sigh, and his boots scraped the concrete as he turned to him, not bothering to mask the dullness in his slack expression. Everything about him was tired, including his voice when he slipped into a lower, raspy octave. “She’s nice, but..”
“But what?” Nancy asked, searching his face.
Bottling his burdens, he clenched his teeth, and worked his jaw as he contemplated evading their insistent prying; but after ruminating on it, he explained the source of his problems, “She lives a very.. whimsy life.” He fluttered his hand like a bird flapping its wings, or a butterfly. “She does this thing where she says ‘yes’ to anything anyone asks her; it’s why she moved to Hawkins, and why she ended up on this date to begin with. Y’know, just doing whatever seems like fun. It’s cute, in a way, and obviously I.. feel a way towards her, but this place isn’t where she’s looking to lay down roots. New York is her home.”
Steve squeezed his shoulder, knowing what was about to come.
“I’ve already been left for someone better.. I can’t go through that again.” Eddie’s eyes begged them to understand. “I don’t want Adrie to get attached to someone who’s just gonna leave.”
Nancy started, “Eddie–You don’t know if she’d leave.”
He shook his head, and pulled away from Steve’s lingering grasp. Shushed his friend’s well-meaning words about him being valued, and to forget his insecurities about not being good enough.
“A girl like that doesn’t need me weighing her down,” Eddie said, imparting the wisdom he’d come to accept since you made a mark on his life weeks ago, when it became your mission to befriend him. “I’ll pick up Adrie in the morning. Thanks for watching her.”
The night got darker as he left.
Darker still, when Steve waved at his back, and Nancy played with the locket around her neck, and her goodbye went disregarded.
————
Silence.
It surrounded him. Blood pulsing in his ears, his heart beat, the refrigerator hum, the tink of glass bottles as he grabbed the full six pack and brought it to the couch, springs squeaking under his weight.
Utter emptiness welcomed him.
Not a sound in his home. Not a giggle from his daughter, or scrape of a skillet from Wayne’s makeshift breakfast-dinner before he went to work. Even the dogs around the trailer park were quiet.
Just.. nothing.
It was what he wanted, right? A night to himself; a break from the chores, the questions, the food making, the taking care of a tiny human being who made everything tougher than it needed to be.
He got his wish.
Two beers down in peace, he got his wish.
Eddie looked around his trailer lit by the single lamp beside him.
Quiet, empty, nothing.
Dark silence.
The jolt of his sob startled him. It erupted from his chest so suddenly. Ripped from the tightness of repressed emotions; the things he tried to deny, to feel and then lock away. To keep safe, buried down deep where he could manage them from progressing past the boundaries he created for his own good, and Adrie’s. He felt the agony of them all at once. The morning smiles, the afternoon laughs, the evenings of pretending you didn’t plan to bump into each other in the doorway to the lobby. The game of seeing how long he could watch you twirl the phone cord around your finger before you looked up from your desk. Your sweet way of comforting him after the hard nights of Adrie’s sleep regression by taking his tan work jacket and draping it over his shoulders while he slept at the lunch table in the break room. Your gentle method of fixing his collar when it was tucked on the inside of his coveralls.
The date was too good to be true.
In fact, the truth itself was far more painful.
The date was amazing. He couldn’t remember a time in his life when he had more fun. More thrills, sure. But not more fun. There wasn’t a day in his youth where he experienced more of the flirty thrum in his veins than when he committed himself to learning the way your lips moved when saying his name in the darkened theater.
The date was perfect. He was happy. And he couldn’t have it again. Shouldn’t have it again. Wouldn’t have these feelings again.
Eddie doubled over and put his third beer on the floor before he spilled it. Nothing was discernible beyond the water invading his ability to see, to fathom his reflection in the old TV. Sad, miserable, and lonely. An idiot for finally getting attached to someone, and it was someone he wasn’t supposed to.
Tears slipped from between his lashes. He smeared them on his cheeks, covering his sweaty face from his possessions bearing witness to his stupidity.
It was in his best interest to reject you–reject your casual stance on dating, and relationships, and people with kids–but the face you made when your advances went underappreciated churned his stomach.
He needed to be stronger. But he was weak.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he sighed into the stale air. Opening another beer, he nursed it as he huddled into the corner of the couch, and searched for Adrie’s quilt to soothe him. But of course, he sent it with her when he dropped her off at Steve’s.
No baby blanket to hold onto. No Adrienne to sleep on his chest to ease the pain of loneliness. No reason to look forward to Monday after he royally screwed everything up.
“Goddamnit,” he groaned.
Maybe, if he apologized enough, there was a chance you wouldn’t hate him.
Maybe, if you forgave him, you’d go back to the morning smiles, and the afternoon laughs.
And maybe, if he was enough of a masochist, he’d let you gently ease past those boundaries meant to keep you, and your kindness out. If you wanted to trespass, that is. He didn’t know. He was an idiot.
NATALIA DYER as NANCY WHEELER, Stranger Things (2016 –)
So, Nancy’s a genius. Her shot in the dark was a bull’s-eye.
EDDIE MUNSON APPRECIATION WEEK Day 1: Favorite Scene ⬩ The Cult of Vecna campaign
That’s why we play!
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