HE'S SO UNSERIOUS I CAN'T

this just unlocked something truly feral in me

I haven't posted an edit in forever. I hope you all like this one.

About You

Masterlist 

Eddie Munson x female!Harrington!reader (Y/N used)

Series TW: panic attacks, 18+ generally mature content, trauma, angst, partying, smoking (cigarettes), drinking, (in editing in case I missed anything)

In the aftermath of the events of season 2, Eddie confronts you about why you ignored him for a week and basically went missing.  You can’t tell him to protect him.  Angst ensues. 

*Eddie is not very understanding at first, but rightfully so and I feel it’s in character so... 

Prologue: The Split 

Chapter 1: The Car Ride

Chapter 2: The Dance 

Chapter 3: The Party 

Chapter 4: The Rift

Chapter 5: (in progress)

Chapter 6: (in progress)

~This is my first story so be kind to it!  I just love writing as a hobby and stranger things (*cough Eddie cough*) and thought I’d take a try.  :)))))~

About You

(Late December 1984- Early January 1985)

Chapter 3: The Party

Eddie Munson x female!harrington!reader

Chapter summary: You find it harder and harder still to resist the temptation that is Eddie.  Eventually, you let yourself take the leap, but will the plan be executed according to design...? 

Word Count: 7k

series masterlist here

Chapter warnings: +18 mature themes, panic attacks, angst, light fluff, mature language, mentions of sex, mentions of drugs and smoking (weed and cigarettes), partying, drinking (reader being heavily intoxicated), 

If you were in a staring contest with the trees in your backyard, it’s safe to say you won.  Your eyes had been glued on the foreboding lumber for 5 minutes now, daring anything in the tree line to move. Within the trees you saw yourself, weaving in and out of them with Nance, the two of you willing Barb to return with the power of your thoughts and sheer desperation.  

Your hands unconsciously bawled at your sheets, anchoring yourself to your bed- reminding you of your reality.  You are here. In bed.  At home.  Not under the ground or in a cloud of toxic particles or being chased by one of those… things.  You refused to say their names.  You refused to give them power. However, every once and a while, you would find yourself trapped in a feeling- unable to shake the notion that something bad was about to happen.  

That’s how you found yourself frozen in bed, deep in surveillance of your backyard, and on the verge of a panic attack.  

That is also how your brother found you.

Steve rapped at your bedroom door, “Y/n, you up-“

He stopped as soon as he ingested your state. Eyes glassy and panicked, trembling fists- white knuckled on your comforter-, and battling a waking nightmare.  

Your brother rushed to your bed and pried your eyes away from the window, taking your head in his hands and angling your face towards his.  His eyes searched frantically for any sign of consciousness in your eyes, drowning in a memory and needing a lifejacket.

“Y/n! Hey y/n, it’s okay. You’re home.  I’m here.  It’s okay.”

The dam finally burst, and the tears began the trek down your cheeks.  You transferred your grip from your sheets to Steve’s white sleep shirt and collapsed into his chest, a warm embrace waiting for you.  He held you as your body wracked in sobs.  “I know,” he cooed.  “I get them too.  It’s okay. You’re safe.”

He understood, so he just helped you ride out the wave of emotions.  Once your cries had died down, you removed yourself from the safety of his hug and he confronted you, “That was a bad one.”

You just nodded, unable to articulate the severity of the trance you were held in moments before.

“Do you wanna come up town with me?  Mom left a list of errands to run.  Maybe it’ll distract you? Take your mind off everything?” he offered.  You pondered the proposition, eyes darting to the window.  You heart leap at the thought of escaping the forest that threatened to consume you and nodded your head yet again in agreeance.

“Okay.  Take your time and calm down.  Come get me when you’re ready.”  He smiled and patted your shoulder.  Standing up from your bed, Steve made his way to your bedroom door, closing it on the way out.  

Your gaze shifted from your doorway to the phone that sat on your bedside table.  Your fingers almost physically itched to dial the sequence of numbers you knew all too well.  You yearned to hear a voice that would clam you down in seconds and soothe your jangled nerves.  You were almost desperate enough to call him, just to hear him say “Hello?” into the receiver- then hang up.  Almost.

You were desperate.  Not psychotic. So, you removed your gaze from the phone to squash the temptation and began about your morning slowly, still recovering from the involuntary emotional outburst.

________________________________________________________________

This was the best part of Winter Break in your opinion.  Getting to do activities during the day rather than being trapped in a depressing school building for 6 hours.  

What made it extra perfect was the after Christmas calm.  People were no longer making mad dashes from store to store to buy presents for loved ones, traffic calmed down, and there is no longer the crackle of anticipation in the air. The atmosphere of the tiny town was peaceful and content, like taking a nap with a full belly after a satisfying meal.  

You and Steve made your way downtown silently, the only noise filling the cabin of the car was the low drill of the Christmas music that would continue to haunt radio stations until late January.  You still needed time to recover from your meltdown that morning, and Steve understood, so he allowed the silence to swallow you both whole.  

As you reached the outskirts of the town square, Steve informed you of your tasks for the day. “Alright, so I’ve got to get an oil change on the car and pick up some stuff from Mel’s.  How about you wander around for an hour while I get the car taken care of and then we can head to the store together?”

“Sounds good.”  You softly smiled at your older brother.  You instructed him to drop you off in front of the local coffee shop, swiftly exiting the car with your pocketbook in hand and long plaid skirt swooshing around your knees.  The minute you stepped out of the car, a cloud of cold enveloped you- causing you to zip up your jacket over your large sweater and quickly make your way into the store.

The smell of the brewing coffee welcomed you like an old friend.  And so did Dina.  But that was because she was an old friend.  She worked behind the counter and was instructed to greet everyone who passed through the doorway.

“Welcome to Indiana Brew!” Her voice bounced around the nearly empty café, echoing off the black and while tiled floor.  “It’s Y/n, D!” you alerted her.

A crisp chuckled broke from your lips as her head emerged from below the counter, like an animal peeking out of their hiding spot.  Dina had always been what her mother liked to call a “wild-child”, her mannerisms proving the nickname correct. “Oh, thank God!  I’m so bored!” she rolled her eyes in relief.  

A man sitting a few tables away from the counter eyed the pair of girls.  Dina took notice, “No offense.  Sorry… It’s been truly a pleasure serving you.”  She gave an awkward smile, and the man returned it by scoffing and quickly leaving the two of you alone in the coffee scented shop. “Well fuck you too then.”  Dina muttered to herself as the bell above the door sounded on its journey back closed.  

“Is there buried treasure back there?”  You question leaning over the counter to inspect what your friend hand been doing on the floor before you’d arrived.  “I wish.  Unfortunately, it’s about half a pound of coffee beans I knocked over and proceeded to step on.”  She chuckled and moved into a sweeping curtsey, ducking her head, and raising her apron like a beautiful ballgown.  “The luxurious life of a barista.”  

And the wild child strikes again. 

“Sometimes your innate gift to make every job harder than it needs to be astounds me.”

“I know.  I amaze myself sometimes!”

You both giggled and you proceed to order yourself a large, warm coffee to keep you company on the cold winter day.  You bid your friend a good day and wandered out into the main street of Hawkins, looking for something to keep you occupied while you waited on Steve.  

You passed by the record store and decided the final feat to lift your spirits would be some music. So, you entered the shop hastily and dove into the rows of records closest to the door.  The sound of The Smiths drifted through the body of the store and into your ears, making you tap your foot in time with the song.

A familiar voice emerged from behind you, sounding only a few steps away. “Well, look who the cat dragged in!”

A smile cracked on your face before you even turned around.  “Hey Eds.”

You clutched your coffee to your chest as you faced the brown eyed boy, who was gleaming down at you like you’d just given him a million dollars.  His hands were shoved in the pockets of his signature leather jacket that was thrown over a thin, deep red sweater.  Eddie always ran warm, never needing many layers to protect him from the cold.

“How are you?  How was your holiday?” He questioned, eager to strike up a conversation with you.

“Real good.  Nothing too eventful happened.  It’s just been a nice break from school, especially for Steve.  How was yours?”

“Honestly, it was pretty nice.  I got Wayne a mug as always, and like every year he acted as he had no idea that’s what he would get.  He gave me a few bucks to pick out a new record. So, I’m currently searching for my new addition.  Any suggestions?”

You feigned thought for a moment. “Ever heard of Madonna?  She’s got a bitchin sound I know you’d be into!”

Eddie tossed his head back in boyish laughter, the noise better than any record in the shop you both stood in.  

You then feigned annoyance. “I’m serious!  You gotta get some variety in your collection.  If you keep listening to only metal, your brain is gonna melt out of your ears- and chicks don’t dig that.”

Eddies dimples highlighted his charming smile as we pulled his hands out of his pockets and raised them by his shoulders in defeat.  The silver chain bracelet that sat upon his wrist clanked against the safety pins on his sleeves at the movement; this caught your attention because you had given that to him for his birthday.  It warmed your frozen heart to see it still in his possession.  “Fine! You win. I will spend my Christmas money on an album of your choosing.”  

Eddie was nervous to give you such power.  The boy didn’t come by money like Wayne’s Christmas cash easily, and he knew you were aware of that.  It was quite the sacrifice to turn over his gift to you and for a split second as he proposed the idea, he wondered if he would make you uncomfortable.  

Giving you free reign to a gift like that was something he wouldn’t have thought twice about a few months ago, but now?  Now, things were different.  Would you shirk away from the bold gesture? 

Eddies brain thought up a million different disastrous reactions that could occur in a millisecond.  In even less time, you erased his worries. 

Your eyes lit up and a smile expanded on your face, almost spilling the coffee cup in your hand as you bounced up and down in excitement at Eddie relenting. “Really?  Yes!” you praised ad you skipped off further into the store, in search of the perfect record.  

“Hey, go easy on me okay?” the curly haired boy called from behind you.  “I can do Bowie or the Beatles, but I draw the line at Blondie, okay?”

“Well, you agreed to an album of MY choosing. You really shouldn’t just toss your Christmas money around that carelessly!” you rebutted over your shoulder, finding a shelf to place your cup on and take your large overcoat off.  

A small snort came from the blushing boy, a habit of his that would always come out when it was just the two of you- letting all your guards down.  A habit you found intoxicatingly endearing.  

There were only a few souls in the store, so you placed your jacket and pocketbook on top of a box of records without worry.  

Eddie groaned as he finally caught up with your energetic figure, flittering like a pixie in and out of shelves of music and waist high rows of records.  “Fine, I’m upping the ante then!”  

You eyed him suspiciously, hands dancing across the tops of records, and you listened to his stipulation.

“You only have 3 minutes to pick it out.”  

Your ears perked up. “Wait, what?”  

He gathered the sleeve of his jacket farther up his forearm to reveal is watch, studying it for a split second.  “Yep! And your time starts…”

“Don’t you dare!”  you cautioned.  

“Now!”

“Damn you!”  you cursed, taking off like a bat out of hell, shifting through as much music as you possibly could in your time limit.  

Eddie stood in place amused with his arms crossed over his lean chest, watching you dart around the store as he monitored the time.  “A minute thirty!”

You huffed dramatically and you froze in your tracks, willing yourself to concentrate.  

In the silence of your pause, you caught a melody in your ear that emerged from the record that had been playing when you first arrived in the store. “Ah ha!”

You raced passed Eddie as he counted down from thirty.  A flash of blue caught your peripheral vision.  You turned and spotted the record you needed.  You grabbed it and dashed back to Eddie just as your time ran out.

“And what shall you present me with?”  he cautiously questioned you, holding his palms out flat in front of him.  You pulled the record from behind your back and placed it in his hands, allowing him to carefully study it.  

“Hatful of Hollow?”

“Yep.  The Smiths is like my new favorite band. This is a compilation album of a bunch of their singles and B-sides.  It’s pretty life changing.”  

Eddie admired you as you gushed about the band, waving your hands animatedly around your body as your articulated their impact on you.  His hands itched to wind themselves around your waist and pull you close, and his lips tingled to have them pressed against yours.  He felt himself unconsciously drawing nearer to you as you continued to ramble, beginning to close the gap in between the two of you slowly.

You, however, did notice his drifting, and while this would be welcomed at any other time, you were still too emotionally raw from this morning to try to participate in the dance you and Eddie find yourselves performing every time you interacted.  So, you snatched the record out of his hands and dashed towards the checkout counter to put some space in between you both.

Super smooth Y/n. Totally rad when you run away from the boy you’re in love with like you’re in the first grade.  Not immature at all.

Eddie trailed after you and bought the record, while you beamed behind him at his surrender to widen his tastes.  While he finished the check out, you returned to the shelf and stack of records to retrieve your long-forgotten coffee cup and jacket.  You approached Eddie as he grabbed the bag from the counter and the both of you exited the store.  

“Hey what time is it?”

“Almost 11.”

“I should probably head over to the auto shop, Steve’s waiting for me there.”

“The prince is fixing carriages now?”

You chuckled at his mocking. “Very funny.  The tin bucket needed some oil.  I was just wasting time.”

“You want me to walk you there?”

Your heart hammered in your chest.  The thought of a public outing with your ex-boyfriend, even something as small as walking you across the square, is enough to set your nerves on edge.

This is what you want Y/n.  You’ll never get him back if you don’t get close to him again.  Don’t be a pussy.

“Sure. I’d like that a lot.”  

“Cool. Oh shit, I left my wallet inside. Wait right here.”

Eddie dashed back through the glass door and into the store, leaving you cold on the sidewalk.  

In that instance, a deafening sound invaded your space- contrasting harshly with the smooth voice of Morrissey that was in your ears only moments before. Suddenly, a flash of blue crossed your vision, and just as quickly left it, as Billy Hargrove’s muscle car raced by.  

You hadn’t seen, more like heard, that car since that night.  The night of the tunnels.  And just like that, you were sucked back into another memory- mirroring the state you were in this morning.  You gazed down the street, long after the car had turned off and out of sight- gaze unfocused and mind lost in thoughts of when you were a passenger in that car. Your beaten brother cradled in your arms as Max drove like a maniac, truly earning her nickname.  

Thoughts of your bloodied brother, of Billy's shouting, of the kids screaming, of the roaring engine, of the chaos of the events in the tunnels, all flooded your mind.  It was a noose of memories and dread, slowly getting tighter, choking you and constricting your airways- suffocating you under the gravity of what happened.  

Eddie reemerged from the music store, wallet in his pocket and bag in hand, when he stumbled upon you in a state, he hadn’t left you in.  

He had been working up enough confidence in the store to proposition you.  “So, I was thinking maybe you’d wanna come listen to this with me. I mean just to make sure I appreciate it correctly...” he trailed off at the sight of you.  When he left you, you were smiling up at him, sheepishly accepting his offer.  Your cheeks had been a shade of pink from blushing and the cold air, but now you face lacked any life- void of expression as you stared down the street.  Your body was tensed up and you seemed on high alert, yet at the same time completely unaware of your surroundings.  He’d never seen you like this before, and he never, ever, wanted to see you like this again.

“Y/n?” he called.

No reply.  Just staring.

“Y/n?” he tried again, moving closer to you.  

More staring.

“Sweetheart?” he reached his arm out to rest of your shoulder, and your face immediately snapped towards the intrusion on your personal space.  However, after snaking your gaze upwards to identify the perpetrator, your gaze softened to find the metal head you loved.  

“Oh, hey.”  You muttered, shifting your weight from foot to foot and readjusting your pocketbook onto your shoulder.

“Are you alright?  I just called your name like 3 times, and you didn’t reply.  You were just staring off…” he spoke to you as if you were a frightened deer, and it irritated you.  

“Yea, I was just lost in thought, I guess.  I’ve been a total space cadet lately.”

“That’s okay.  You ready to go?”

“Um yea, I think I better head over alone.  I just…” you began to tear up again.

Dammit.  This is so embarrassing.

The emotions of the onset of memories hit you like a freight train causing you to well up.  Eddie went to speak but you cut him off.

“Don’t.  Just… it’s okay.” You told him, darting off. You pushed past him, but your arm was caught in a steel grip.  In a moment of instinct, Eddie decided he couldn’t let you leave him like this. Not in distress.  Not in tears.  He wouldn’t allow you to be in agony for some unknown reason and let you go through it alone.  He wouldn’t allow you to be in pain and not do something about it.  So, he did the only thing he could think of.  

His arm shot out and grabbed your wrist, twisting your body back around to his before you could take off. He reached his other arm around to your shoulder and brought you into a bone crushing hug.  This hug felt like a thousand’s words, a million kisses, a hundred lifetimes together, all rolled up into one.  If soulmates existed, the power of this hug proved it.  One of his arms wrapped around your middle like he had been so desperate to do in the store and the other held your head to his chest, while both of your arms reached to secure themselves around his torso.

This was the first true physical contact between the two of you in months and it felt like an explosion had gone off in your chests.  There was no space between your bodies, and you both took the moment to soak up each other. There, in the middle of the street, Eddie held you for the first time in a long time, and he consoled you as he should have done that cold November night. That night when you came to him for support and comfort, and he returned your wish with heartbreak and misery for the both of you.

Eddie might be on his second try of senior year, but he is not dumb.  He learns from his mistakes. So, he just held you.  And you didn’t weep like you both thought you would.  The minute you were wrapped in his embrace, the tears dissipated and only warmth remained.  The blanket of warmth that appeared whenever you two were together was now encompassing you both, wrapping around you like the coverings of a mummy- entombing you both in warmth and emotion.  

A few moments passed before the intimacy of the moment became too inappropriate for the open street, where people were walking by.  You felt the action overwhelm you, and you became flustered again.  You muttered a soft “thank you” into the soft of his sweater and you removed yourself from his embrace, making the journey to find Steve- without looking back.  

Eddie watched you walk away until you disappeared down the street and around a corner. But he didn’t feel lonely.  You had left the warm blanket with him, a parting gift.  It hugged him and kept him full of love and hope. Eddie clutched the warm spot on his sweater by his collarbone where your head had heated the fabric up with your breath. A remnant of you.  A reminder that he made progress.  

He smiled to himself, proud at his achievement of not only making physical contact with you but cheering you up from your distressed state and sauntered off to his van- feeling like the king of Hawkins.

________________________________________________________________

The shrill ring of the telephone on your bedside table startled you out of concentration.  You had, only moments before, been deeply engrossed in your book- traveling across seas, battling monsters, and saving the world all within the confines of your mind.  

A thought crossed your mind as you lived vicariously through the protagonist. While most people would never know of fighting monsters besides in books and movies, you knew what it was to battle them in real life.  And reality was much less selfless and courageous as the stories portrayed it to be.  You knew what it was like to fight, not because it was the right thing to do, but because it was the only thing to do.  You’ve been presented situations before in which your only option was to fight or die.  

The sound of the phone pulled you from your intense thoughts, grounding you back in reality. The pink device screamed only a few feet away from you, so you discarded your book on the opposite side of your bed and grabbed the receiver.  

“Hello?” you heard your brother say into the receiver.

“Oh, hey Steve!  It’s Tammy.  Is y/n there?”

“Yea, I’m here Tam.”

“I’ll leave you guys to it then.”  Your brother huffed, the receiver clicking as he hung up his line.

“What’s up Tam?” you questioned, twirling the coiled cord of the phone around your index finger.

“Could you do me a favor?  I’m in a bit of a jam here.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Well, I’m finally going steady with Brad, and he was mentioning how he wanted to go to like a real rager of a New Year’s party. And I was like ‘Well you know I throw one every year right?  Everyone comes to it!’ And he asked me ‘Will there be booze?’ And I was like ‘Um, yea, this is a party not a playdate.’ And he was like ‘Will you have grass?’ And of course I said yes like an idiot knowing damn well I don’t have any grass for the party-“

“Tammy!  Get to the point!” you chuckled as she rambled on in that faux valley girl way of hers.

“Yesh, okay!  Point being, I don’t have Eddie’s number so could you call him up and ask him to come to the party?”

You paused.  

“Y/n?  You there?”

“Yea, I’m here.  I hear you.  May I ask why I can’t just give you his number and you ask him?  It is your party.”

“Let me rephrase.  I don’t want to talk to Eddie after what happened last year. But I’m willing to put it aside because I need grass for Brad.  I need you to ask him for me because he won’t do it if I ask him.”

You rolled your eyes at the thought of the events of last year’s party.  A shiver rolled down your spine as you thought about the feeling of water from your soaked hair rolling down your back- making your shirt stick to your skin- and vomit-soaked carpet underneath your bare feet.  

That was an absolute shit-show.  Never again will I mix beer and vodka.

“What makes you think me asking him will make him do it?”  

“Aren’t you his girlfriend?”

“Tammy, we haven’t been dating for like 2 months now!” 

“Well excuse me!  I have my own things going on, sorry I don’t have time to stalk you!”

“I’m hanging up now Tam.” 

“No, no, no! Okay!  I’m sorry that was like way harsh of me.  But seriously, please?  Can you do this for me?”  

You paused again and sighed into the receiver. You had shifted yourself upside down on your bed, feet resting in the air against your headboard as your hair splayed out around your head at the end of the bed.  You wiggled your toes in contemplation and stared up at your ceiling- finding shapes and patterns on the popcorn ceiling above you.  

“Fine.  But you owe me.”

“Yes!  Thank you so much y/n!  Brad is so gonna have sex with me now!” Tammy gushed as she dragged out the “so” in emphasis.

You gave a hardy laugh at her questionable morals, said goodbye, and hung up the phone.

Suddenly, the aura in your room shifted.  Now, you had a task, and you didn’t know if you had the will power to complete it.  The hour was late, and you were unsure if he would even answer the phone- but in your heart you knew that was just an excuse.  You always used to call Ed’s at this hour and were certain he would answer.

What you were unsure of was if you could handle the intimacy of it.  His gruff late-night voice, the sound of his voice against your ear, the memory of all the nightly phone calls that had come before this one.  

You needed something to anchor you, so you wrapped a quilt around your body, sat up against your headboard, and settled your telephone in front of you. Slowly, you picked up the receiver and let muscle memory take over, using your pointer finger to wind the dial in the order of numbers that you used to every night.

Funny, the first time I work up the nerve to call him is when it’s out of obligation. How disappointing.  

You took deep, steady breathes as the phone rang.

Ring, ring, ring.

Inhale.  Exhale.

Ring, Ring, Ring.

Inhale.  Exhale.

Ring, Ring, - “Hello?”

Your heart pounded so hard you swore Eddie must have been able to hear it through the receiver.  

“Eds?”

It was now his turn to pause.  Eddie couldn’t believe his ears as your voice invaded them.  He must have done something right that day to earn such a karmic reward as this.

“Y/n?”

“Hey there!  Sorry, I know it’s late- “

“No!  You’re fine! What’s up?” he interjected- quick to dispel any worries you had.

“Well, I’d love to say this call is for pleasure, but I’ve been sent here on business.”

“Business?  What kind of business?”

“Your only kind of business Eds.”

His smooth chuckled echoed into the receiver.

“Right.  Stupid question.  So, who needs what and when?”

“Well… you’re not gonna love it…” you trailed off, anxious to ask him the favor.

“Y/n…”

“Dingbat needs you to work her New Years party.”

“What?”

He took a minute to comprehend.  Then he realized, “No!  No way, tell Tammy to find another guy.  Not after last year.”

“Eddie please, I promised her you’d come.”

“Darren can do what exactly what I do.”  

“You know he only does hard shit, and I’m not trying to kill a house full of high schoolers.  Come on, it’ll be different this time!”

“That’s such bullshit y/n and you know it!  I’ll get there, sell for maybe 30 minutes before something goes terribly wrong or somebody starts calling me a freak and tries to kick me out!  It’s not worth the headache.”

You rubbed the skin in the between your eyebrows and slid down to the bridge of your nose, pinching it between your thumb and index to provide relief.

“Eddie I promise you that won’t happen.  I will personally see to it that nobody will bother you.  Andy owes me a favor- he’ll keep an eye on the table!”

“I don’t need a babysitter Y/n.”

You sighed.  “It’s not a babysitter Ed.  It’s backup.”

“Y/n…” Eddie groaned into the receiver.  

“Come on, please?  For me?  Tammy will be a bitch to me all night if you don’t do it.”  You shakily pleaded.  

“Oh, you’re going, too?” 

“Well, yeah.  I wouldn’t be asking you to come to this if I wasn’t going.”

“Fine.”

A pause.

“Wait what? You’ll do it?”

“Yes, but because you want me to do it.  NOT for Dingbat.”

You chuckled, relieved you wouldn’t have to call Tammy back with bad news.

“You are truly a selfless man Eddie.  A saint in your own right.”  

“Yea, yea, keep sweet talking me.  It’s working.  So same time and place as last year?”

“Yep!  God, thank you again Ed’s you’re a life saver.  I did not want to try to find another guy.”

“It’s fine, but you owe me now.  I can cash in one favor at any time I please.”

“Alright, I promise.  Now Tammy can get laid.  Thanks a bunch!”

“Pardon?”

“Yea, don’t think about it too hard.”

________________________________________________________________

The music thumped in time like a jackhammer, slowly splitting Eddies skull in two halves.  

He swore no amount of money was worth working a New Years Eve party, he’d learned a hard lesson last year that involved vomit, a quick brush with the law, and Tammy Thompsons pet rabbit.  Yet, here he was, for the second year in a row, sitting at her laminated mahogany wood dining table with his black, metal lunch box, a solo cup of some drink he had been nursing for the past hour, and a headache to end all headaches.  

Eddie hadn’t been sleeping well lately, his dreams plagued with nightmares of you breaking his heart over and over again, and his late nights seemed to be catching up to him.  

But, he had promised you he’d come.  And a promise to you was like a blood-oath- something he wouldn’t dare to break.

Eddie had been having a pretty successful night, selling more than enough to make up for the pain of being present.  He’d had the pleasure of meeting Brad- a jock type that wore Tammy on his arm like a drunk monkey.  

“See Brad! Grass!  Like I promised!”  Tammy slurred into Brads face- more like smushed into his cheek.  The towering boy eyed Eddie for a moment before reaching in his wallet and asking about prices.  He forked over some cash and pocketed the baggie of blunts.  

Before they could stumble away, Eddie grabbed the neon pink sleeve of Tammy’s blazer, anchoring her for a moment to pose a question.  “Have you seen Y/n yet?”

The fluffy haired blonde flipped her locks over her shoulder as she rolled her eyes curtly.  “No, I haven’t.  She said she’d get here at like 11.”  She stomped off, annoyed to be talking to the metal head.

He gathered his jacket up his arm and peered at his watch, clocking the time at 5 till 11.  You would be joining the party in mere moments, and Eddie felt a flurry of nerves brew in his stomach.  In an attempt to settle his nerves, he knocked back the rest of his drink in one go- only aggravating his headache with the sudden jerk of his head at downing the liquid courage.  

******

Your heart had been racing and your mind reeling all day- anxious to attend the party and see Eddie. You were determined to make a move tonight, to try and bridge the gap between you two and rekindle your romance.

Only one problem. Your nerves got the better of you and you pre-gamed like a maniac at your house with Dina.  So now you stumbled into the threshold of the Thompson residence, arm slung around Dina as Steve herded you both through the door.  

With a staircase to your left and a doorway to the dinning room on your right, your inebriated brain decided to chuck your thick jacket at Steve and ascend the steps, only for Steve to grab you by the waist and hoist you down from the steps- causing a burst of laughter to bubble explosively out of your chest.

“Oh no you don’t. Party is this way.”  Your brother instructed you, lightly guiding you forward through the house to the living room where the party raged on. Dina had long since left your side in search of a drink. Grace Adler made eye contact with Steve, beckoning him towards her with a silent siren’s song.  This left you alone to shift through the crowd in order to find a group to join.

In mid-conversation with Donnie, Eddie halted his sentence in its tracks.  A laugh sliced through the air; one he would recognize anywhere. He turned his head in time to watch as Steve nudged you deeper into the house, just past the wall that obstructed you from his view.  His heart skipped a beat, and quickly restarted as his friend snapped his fingers in front of his face.

“Earth to Eddie, come in Eddie!”  Donnie chuckled.  

Eddie turned his head back to the boy that sat in front of him.

“Y/n just got here.” “I know.  I heard her.  You gonna go see her?”

Eddie picked at the skin on the side of his thumb anxiously- debating his options.

He could either pussy out and avoid you all night in order to not get flustered and say something stupid. Or he could find you and try to win back the girl he loved. The latter was his only option.

*******

The latter proved to be the harder option, but not because he was scared.  He simply couldn’t track you down in the 2-story house filled with seemingly hundreds of kids.  He drifted through the house, feeling like a ghost amongst his peers who would not acknowledge him, being too wrapped up in their own drunken hazes.  

He would spot you in the kitchen, walk towards it, then find the area deserted- only for you to pop up on the living room couch ten minutes later.  You were like a sprite- flittering around the house like you had done in the record store- seemingly everywhere and nowhere all at once.  

In your own mind, you were in deep turmoil.  You yourself couldn’t spot Eddie in the crowd of teenagers, and multiple times that night you had began to believe he wasn’t present.  You would send a little prayer to the universe every so often, wishing he would appear in front of you.  You thought maybe he had decided to stand you up (technically stand Tammy up) and this only drove you to drink and dance harder.  

Eddie made his may back to his lunch box on the dinning room table, about to pack it in for the night and deciding it was not meant to be to see you that night. Somehow, over the booming music and loud conversations, Eddie heard a commotion come down the stairs.  He watched as you descended from the top, trying not to trip over your black kitten heels as you loosely clutched the railing. Your eyes were lazy, and half closed as you swayed from step to step loudly, singing along to the song playing.  

Eddie could sense that it was not a good idea to let you walk down alone, so he raced to the bottom of the step.  His prediction stood correct as you tripped over one of the bottom steps, reaching out to grab the closest thing- Eddies biceps. The boy wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into his chest.  You looked up as the adrenaline from the stumble pumped through your body- a temporary moment of clarity occurring.

“Am I really drunk or are you Eddie?” you slurred out at the beautiful boy in front of you.  Eddie chuckled and held your hips steady, as you swayed in his grasp. “I am Eddie, and you are very drunk sweetheart.”  You giggled and rested your arms on his strong shoulders, draped in his leather jacket.  

“Your always so funny, Teddy.  One of the things I like most about you.”  You tucked a curl behind his ear and trailed your finger down his jaw, neck, collarbones, to settle on his chest.

This took Eddie by surprise. Teddy was a nickname of endearment he hadn’t heard in months, and the sound of it on your lips combined with the feeling of your hands was enough to stir something within his core.  He gapped at you; face flushed.

You looked up to the ceiling and whispered a small thank you with your eyes closed.  Eddie flashed his eyes to the ceiling to try and peer at what you saw, only to eye a cream-colored ceiling.  

Numbers began to be screamed around the pair of your as you clutched onto each other at the bottom on the staircase.  Midnight was approaching and your face was getting frighteningly close to Eddies.

“Y/n, what are you doing?” Eddie demanded as he removed his grip on your waist in favor of one on your cheeks and jawline.    

“I’m gonna kiss you at midnight.” You spoke to him in your drunken stupor as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

As the final countdown began you leaned your face forwards again, determined to complete your plan. However, Eddie had other ideas. He couldn’t let the first time you kiss since the breakup be when you are plastered on a holiday where you are expected to kiss someone.  If this is going to happen again, it will happen privately, a moment solely belonging to the two of you and not the hundreds of strangers surrounding you currently.  

While winding your fingers around his neck, your nose brushed his, and Eddie revealed in the contact. But before your lips could make contact, Eddie maneuvered his thumb to press over your lips just as they came close enough to his own that he could feel your hot, alcohol ridden breath fan over them.  

Ironically, it was the vodka on your breath that sobered Eddie up, pulling him from the moment of ecstasy he lost himself in from your closeness.  He pulled his face back from yours, leaving his thumb against your lips, and moving the other hand to find purchase on your waist again.  Your eyes shot open and welled up, pulling your face back from his own so fast that the movement threw you off balance, causing you to step backwards and catch yourself on the railing that started at the bottom of the stairs.  Eddie stepped forward to catch you and simultaneously cage you, desperate to explain his actions.

He took your face in his hands again and brought his mouth to your ear.  “The next time we kiss, I want us to both be sober for it.”  He brought his face around to ghost his lips across yours once more, muttering a final sentiment that surely would have brought you to your knees if you weren’t gripping the handrail.  

It’s a shame you were too drunk to hear what he said.

The alcohol in your system, the music and shouting in your ears, and the feeling of Eddies hands on you were so all encompassing and overwhelming, that you simply didn’t process what he had said.  All you could comprehend was that you tried to kiss Eddie, and he stopped you.  And you couldn’t hear his words over the blood pumping in your ears, but it sure felt like he was making fun of you for it now.

Oh god.  What have I done.  I’m so dumb.  So very, fucking dumb.

You pushed your way out of his embrace and staggered to the front door only a few feet away.  Eddie let you, hoping the moment of separation would allow you to think.  He went back to the table- maneuvering around the bodies of kissing teenagers- to grab his lunchbox and hopefully meet up with you outside.  

The night air you stepped out into only further added to the feeling of drowning that was swelling up in your throat.  The few tears that blurred your vision burned in the crisp air- yet you managed to not fall down the porch steps and trudge your way to where your foggy memory recalled Steve had parked.  

Steve had already been in the car for 20 minutes.  His desire to socialize had disappeared around a quarter to 12 o’clock, right along with the girl he had been chatting up who suddenly “needed a smoke break” and did not want company.  

You fell into the passenger seat and the warmth of the car enveloped you like a warm hug.  You haphazardly shut the door, not caring to check if it had closed all the way, before turning your tear-streaked face to gaze at your equally drained brother.

“Home?” he pleaded.

“Home.” You agreed.  

Eddie stood on the dark porch steps and watched as Steve’s car pulled out of it’s parking spot on the grass and barreled down the street.  It seemed the Harrington's could not get away from the Thompson residence fast enough, and a horrible feeling of dread filled Eddie.

Shit.

this altered my brain chemistry

𝐭𝐡𝐞 "𝐲𝐞𝐬" 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐲.

singledad!mechanic!eddie x fem!reader

✶What happens when Eddie tries to hide the less-than-fun side of being a single parent from you, and you discover Miss Mouse can't always save the day?✶

NSFW — angst with a happy ending, reader wears eddie's hoodie, comfort, kissing, 18+ overall for smut, drug/alcohol mention/use

chapter: 11/19 [wc: 14.2k]

↳ part 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 / 09 / 10 / 11

AO3

Chapter 11: In the Beginning...

——Then——

In the beginning…

It was January 31st, 1988, and Wayne had come in to check on him again. And maybe he had a reason to when Eddie continued to stare at the pockmarked ceiling, dressed in the same clothes as three days prior, laying on the same bedsheets last washed by well-meaning, pre-aged, liver-spotted, wrinkled hands gnarled from factory work after being tanned on a big rig’s steering wheel for decades.

No music played from the stereo record player; The Doors still sat with the album art turned, stopped mid-spin. The paperback on the nightstand remained unfinished, its dog-eared page trapped as a placeholder from New Year’s Eve. Dust and cigarette ash clung to the room as if saving it in a time capsule of the morning he was arrested, and any movement would disturb the illusion.

“Eddie?” Wayne called out to him with his Free name; one that shouldn’t hold a stigma, because Eddie was a free man, wasn’t he? He was innocent. Even if they hadn’t caught the other guy yet. “You okay if I go?”

Tracing the bumpy lines of the most recent tattoo on his stomach, he answered, “Yeah, I’m fine,” and his uncle breathed as he usually did when he was wringing his mouth with indecision.

Wayne twisted the doorknob, uncertain. “If you’re sure.. And, uh, I’ll stop by the hardware store and pick up somethin’ for the spray paint on the trailer if the cookin’ oil trick doesn’t work, don’t you worry about it.”

Whatever rude thing someone wrote this time, Eddie hadn’t gone outside in days to know.

After a long silence, Wayne cleared his throat and gave a gruff, “I’ll see ya after work,” and left, as foretold by his rackety truck fading further into the night, and the deadness of winter taking over. A staleness of midnight inactivity in the crisp air invading the guitars and amps and magazines Eddie never touched anymore; the ceramic of his bedside lamp, the model car next to his lighter, the binders stacked on his desk with a pencil he hadn’t sharpened since it broke six weeks ago. He didn't get much relief from his routine of ignoring, shutting down, isolating, and desperately trying to get tears to form when he had none left to give, so he wept agape and dry, spiraling downward.

The phone rang.

He wasn’t going to answer—he hadn’t since December unless under obligation—but in case it was Wayne, he did.

“Hello?” The other end of the line was equally hesitant to answer his unrecognizable voice, gone hoarse from disuse. “Hello?” he repeated.

“Eddie?” A beat. “I guess I’ll get this over with. Look, uh, do you remember selling to a girl at Brad’s party a couple months back? Not the Halloween one,” they said, definitely a young woman’s voice, but with each word spoken she lost her fluttery nervous edge and replaced it with a direct tone, leaving no time for him to dawdle.

He hurled his mind into searching his memories before the ones made in the weeks prior, only grazing past the details which haunted him, and registering the question he was asked. “Uh, yeah, yeah I think so. Ah, Sarah? Something generic like that. Sold to her a couple times before. Why?”

Her severe silence loaded the chamber. His forthcoming nature pulled the trigger, never learning when to shut his mouth and keep information to himself. There was no telling who he was speaking to, or what happened to the girl he sold to, or why he was the subject of interest. His stomach clenched in knots at the whiff of gunpowder. He was too relaxed at the prospect of a normal conversation. He said too much. It was happening again. The police sirens would wail any minute now. Whatever happened to Sarah—or whoever—was bad, and he incriminated himself. Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.

But it was her next words that fired the shot. Rang in his ears. And he knew then, as the cold sweat took over his body and bile stung his throat quicker than his heart leapt black spots to his vision, life as he knew it was over.

“I’m pregnant, and it’s yours.”

————

In the beginning…

It was March 7th, 1988, and Eddie walked out.

It was better than listening to Wayne blame himself for not doing enough, or being involved enough, or whateverthefuck he was saying about failing Eddie, because soon those judgments would turn into nags about how Eddie’s irresponsibility got himself into this mess, and those arguments would become shouting matches about his lack of preparedness for raising a baby, and Eddie would end the fight with his fist through the hallway closet door, where his piece of shit father’s jacket swung on the hanger and fell to the floor.

Following the Munson name.

————

In the beginning…

It was April 29th, 1988, and Eddie left his motel room to drive forty-five minutes outside of Hawkins to sit across from a woman in a dimly lit restaurant with her hand laid atop her round belly, and his cold chicken alfredo. The cheese in his oval shaped dish had coagulated, but he wasn’t hungry anyway.

The entire time his mouth ran sentences, he kept his gaze focused on a crumb dirtying the white tablecloth as the candle flickered shadows through their untouched water glasses. Yet, his tone remained animated and optimistic, though a bit hollow. “—So, uh, with the money from workin’ at the gas station, and what I have saved from that graveyard shift I picked up at the laundromat, I can afford the crib no problem. Maybe you could, ah, come with me to pick it out! I don’t really know what I’m supposed to be looking for, but whatever you want, you got it. And—And I’ll start stocking up on diapers, and stuff. Y’know, different sizes. Some clothes. Could even get a nice baby blanket, or somethin’. I guess cribs have those teeny mattresses, so we’ll need sheets for that, too. Um, one of those, y’know, things that hangs over it and spins, puts them to sleep.” His lips hinted at his first smile in weeks at his dumb explanation for a mobile. “And with your job, you have health insurance, don’t you? That’ll.. That’ll really help us out,” he emphasized by bugging his eyes, and nodding. “There’s a position open at an auto shop in town that I’m gonna apply for, but I don’t think insurance will kick in until I work there for a certain number of days. Sucks, but it’s decent money. Better than what I make now, anyway. Um..” Thinking, he sorted through his plan for the future in his head, making sure he didn’t forget anything important—

That’s when he made the mistake of looking up, and a different type of heartache wrung his chest.

Indifference powdered her shimmery beige eyelids, darkening to smoky apathy at the outer corners with a touch of heavy mascara weighing her eyes half-closed. She appeared bored—he wished she appeared bored—but in the eternity he glanced at her, she resembled a loaded chamber moments from cutting him off.

Continuing, he said, “I can also handle the small stuff like bottles, and bibs, and pacifiers. Depending on how much the crib is, I can probably swing the carseat too, just gotta sell my other guitar, and—”

“Eddie,” she stated. He winced.

There was no trace of his smile left on his lips; trembling and licking at the sore metallic-tasting spot he bit out of habit. The first sign of rejection welled behind his eyes. A sense of shame clogged his throat, but he tried, “Are people still bothering you about me?” he asked, so meek and defeated.

Her words were a merciless killing, “Does it matter?” He shrugged, running the side of his hand along the table’s edge, concentrating on the crumb. “And don’t bother buying anything.”

“Why not?” he faltered. “I’m not gonna be some deadbeat who doesn’t provide, okay? I’m good on my word.”

“You know why.”

The cruelty, the truth he denied, struck him.

“You don’t want to try?” His voice went watery, and the candles swam in his vision. “We’re having a baby together, and you don’t want to try and work something out between us?” There was a reason he avoided addressing where the crib would go, or what the arrangement was after coming home from the hospital. In the first few calls they had, she seemed interested when he rattled off the list of cheap apartments he found around Hawkins scribbled into his notebook, and when he lightened the bleak mood with a joke, she laughed, sort of.

Though, he was always the one to call her, and her answers were refined to short words such as yeah, or no. And she did pick up the phone less often, but she was busy with University or her career or there was a family thing that had come up or she was just headed out the door, so he stuck with planning their future by himself, aware of the ugly reality twisting his stomach with dread.

Maybe he was being naive, but he thought she’d come around by now. See how responsible he was being, and maybe.. maybe..

“I’m not interested,” she dismissed him in monotonously stern frankness.

“I thought you said you liked me,” he reminded her, on the verge of something pathetic, “at the party.”

The corner of her jaw twitched from an emotion she ground between her teeth.

That was the final straw.

She swung her gaze around the restaurant, releasing a hard sigh of frustration, and shaking her head. Dropping her hand to the bottom of her belly, she leaned forward, and eviscerated any hope he had for them being together. “I’m not interested,” she hissed under the susurration of nearby tables, “in raising a baby with someone whose reputation is for giving girls discounts when they flirt with him.”

Eddie shrunk into himself, not expecting the hit below the belt.

“You’re just the loser dealer that all the guys send their girls to because they know you’re too lonely to turn them down. I wish I stuck with flirting, because let me tell you, having a couple of smarties to get me through last semester wasn’t fucking worth it.” She motioned at her stomach, he assumed. “I almost missed my finals because I couldn’t stop puking.”

Fat drops wobbled his vision. Anxious sweat from holding his breath prickled his hot face. His knuckles hurt from clacking them against one another, punching bone-on-bone in his lap to distract himself from letting the venom win. Biting impressions of his teeth into tongue from the weight of his one chance at normalcy slipping through his fingers.

The ache of deep-seated rejection stung worse, built worse, escalated worse with every heartbeat echoing in his head: not even someone who’s having your kid wants to be with you.

Chairs skid across the tiles behind him, and a family stood to leave. Eddie faced the stained glass window as they passed, pretending to admire the intricate details while warm tears spilled over the dam, and onto his cheeks in steady drops like rain. Drip, drop, drip, drop..

Embarrassment, failure, freak..

Even before he was wrongfully arrested, his reputation was trash.

Pathetic loser not good enough for his dad, his uncle. Can’t pass fucking high school, or get a girl to stick around for more than a few weeks; just long enough to feel the safety of attachment, learn their likes and dislikes, what their favorite flowers were, and then they’d leave too..

“Doesn’t matter,” she exhaled. One, two—she took two calming breaths through her nose while his was running, and he was trying to not sniffle through the grossness of crying.

Composed and diplomatic, she sat up, smoothed the buttons of her burgundy maternity blouse stretched across her swollen middle, and informed him “I’m giving her up for adoption.”

Eddie froze.

Her.

Tiny tines of salad forks ceased clinking on plates. Silly dull knives unworthy of much else sank into whipped butter, and stopped. Pretty laughter faded, leaving red lipstick kisses staining the rims of wine glasses.

Her.

He froze. A strange cliche to explain how his body reacted. How his heart pounded, and tears splashed onto his clenched fists. How his brain latched onto one word, one word only, and the blood drained from his cheeks to pool liquid rage in his empty belly. How his temper surged like a wave, and crashed, again and again on the shore of fate. How he was thinking sharper, seeing clearer, smelling the raw flame of the candle being snuffed out from his sudden movement.

The tableware rattled when he planted his elbow next to his forgotten dinner, and pointed a stern finger at her stomach. “That’s my daughter, and you will not—”

“C’mon, Ed—”

“No,” he cut her off. He didn’t give a damn if another tear rolled from his wide eyes when he said it, he put conviction behind his voice even when it cracked, “That’s my daughter, and you are not giving her up for adoption.”

“Be serious,” she spat back. “You don’t have the means to take care of a baby. I’m doing this as a favor for the both of us. Mostly for you.”

Eddie sucked his bottom lip inward and chewed the flesh. Shivers of indignation trembled his body, and his nostrils flared from the absolute power he invoked to rein his voice from the snap, bite, snarl his upper lip suggested. “I don’t care what you think is best,” he maintained through the viscous tar coating his refusal in the abhorrence she deserved. “That baby.. She’s mine.” He nodded until the motion was ingrained, and her expression changed. Pointing to himself, now. “She’s mine, and I want her.”

There wasn’t much thought put behind his decision. It was done. It was innate. It was automatic, and her soft warning—”You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into,”—was as heeded as the candle’s flame.

He paid for the date. It cost five hours of his minimum wage. That was all his money. He was hungry when he got back to his shitty motel; opening the door to darkness, and a suitcase of dirty clothes he’d need to sort before going to work at the gas station at the edge of town where his boss cut his hours last week because it was making customers uncomfortable to see a criminal serve them at the till, and a new sound replaced the ding of the cash register: loser, loser, loser..

Already, he couldn’t afford diapers.

Already, he failed.

Already, he was worthless.

Already, he was alone.

Not even the woman he was having a baby with wanted to be with him.

——Now——

Eddie hung up the phone, and you watched his shoulders rise and fall for long moments, listening to the rain pattern shift above. The storm spilled its sorrows on the tin roof, uncaring if the structure could handle the stress of another trial when it was weak and susceptible. It poured, and poured. Ruthless. Vicious and brutal as nature could be, targeting the vulnerable and strong alike.

His back broadened with a breath, and finally, he dropped his hand from the yellowed plastic, staring at the dial pad as his arm went limp at his side. Absorbed by his thoughts as the old night rolled into another low growl of thunder, and whatever was on his mind reflected heavily in his vacant appearance.

“Ed?” You waited for him with a kind lift to your brows, but as soon as his glance landed, your chest tightened.

The emotion in Eddie’s eyes was heavily guarded, communicating little as to what caused the tenseness in his jaw when he averted his gaze to the floor, walking fast and purposefully away from you standing half-dressed in his kitchen, and stopping at the front door with his head down. Going through the motions of buttoning his pants, and buckling his belt, rigid and rough, snapping the leather against itself.

“Is Adrie okay?” you asked, voice coming out painfully shallow, like when you were using it to diffuse a customer service issue with the breeze of happiness and a plastered smile.

Leaned over, he shoved his feet into his boots, and began lacing. “She’s fine.”

Blunt, and closed off. Not like your Eddie from an hour ago. And you didn’t know how to navigate asking him what was wrong, and easing him into opening up to you, coaxing him back to that place of union and understanding.

Left feeling confused, you gleaned that this wasn’t the time to bother him about it, and mumbled, “Okay,” and assumed the rest. You dragged the whispery ends of the blanket across the floor, and picked your sweater off the carpet, having that particular sense of embarrassment as if you’d missed a cue, and should’ve read the room sooner, and been clothed and leaving without him asking.

You dressed in silence, doing up the buttons on the cardigan he so skillfully slipped you out of. Treading over linoleum to wash the evening off your hands and mouth. Making yourself small to fit next to him in the entryway, and putting on your shoes in a state of quiet obedience, missing the warmth of his hands and the comfort of his lovesick grin. Wilting under the coldness of his attitude, and wanting nothing more than to reach out, and soothe that bit of regret knotted between his eyebrows.

He regarded the exposed skin of your upper chest, and handed you his black hoodie from where it hung next to his canvas work jacket. “Here.”

Here wasn’t much of a break in the distance he resurrected between you, but you pulled the heavy scent of cigarettes and cologne over your head, and he almost found himself braving eye contact to tell you, “I’m dropping you off first.”

“What? No,” you blurted, “I’m going with you to pick her up. She’s just scared of thunderstorms, right? No big deal, you can drop me off after.” Which seemed like the right thing to say; that you were fine with Adrie crying, but when he set his gaze on you, a small image of yourself swam in his endless pupils, and your stomach clenched at the animal warning in his unbreakable stare.

Eddie shook his head an imperceptible amount, only enough to loosen the curtain of curls tucked beneath his jacket’s collar, and shift the lamp’s glare at the edge of his bitter coffee eyes. It was a threat to back off. Leave well enough alone. Stop encroaching on the parts of his life he hid, and keep the illusion intact.

“I wanna go,” you assured gently.

However, your support fell short when challenged against the aggressive shine swallowing you whole. He looked at you. Really looked at you with the same intensity as when his hands were on your hips and you rocked yourself in his lap, chests flush together with a lazy prayer of your name on his tongue; when nothing mattered more than honoring each other with lips and teeth, tasting sweat on necks and sucking bruises until moans were spilled from heads thrown back. But instead of unraveling you in shocks of pleasure, the ignorance of your child-free lifestyle softened the harsh lines of his face, and slowly, slowly, the shine dulled. The fight left him.

He saved his apology until his back was turned, and the squeaky doorknob gave under his heavy palm—turning it with too much force—and he cracked open the world beyond the two of you, dousing the lingering tenderness of your affection on his skin with frigid mist. “Sorry tonight ended this way.” The door banged open on the rusted iron handrail, caught on a gust.

The trailer park was bright with daylight. Flash, after flash.

Eddie’s silhouette eclipsed the doorway, outlined in lightning. He stood impossibly taller—like the animal threat still lurked within his structure, and caution stayed within your subconscious, altering how you perceived his lanky frame into something more imposing. His shoulders carried many burdens, bulked from five years of hard labor, possessing strengths you couldn’t imagine. He stepped to the side, insisting the door stay open with the spread of five fingers only, and his body no longer shielded you. You were exposed to the cold splash of rain on your shins. His palm was firm at your lower back, and you peered up at the hard set of his jaw feathering the muscle at the corner, sweeping the bone in a mature edge of stubble. Strands of his frizzy hair whipped in the wind. Droplets speckled his nose like freckles. His gaze, anchored on his car through the downpour, brewed with resentment.

His deep timber resonated in your chest beneath the safety of his hoodie, “Car door’s open, I’ll lock up behind you.”

And you were pushed.

Beaten down to a hunch, you took careful strides in your heeled shoes down the concrete steps and into the soft mud, covering your head as best you could from the cloud’s assault, and flinching at the closeness of the strikes darting around the boundary of treetops surrounding the trailer park. You tried the handle, and the car welcomed you into its dry insides. Guilt followed your tracks of caked on mud, leaves, and dead weeds on his nice red interior, but when you shivered to the bone, you didn’t care as much. Curled in on yourself, you spied Eddie’s vague shape through the waterfall blurring the windshield, and listened to his heavy boots trudge up to the door, and soon, the car sank with his weight too.

The engine roared to life. Heat wouldn’t come from the tiny AC units for some time, but the promise of such gave you hope. Eddie, beside you, drenched beyond measure, did not match your enthusiasm. Shadowed streams snaked across his pinched expression, swimming down his heavy brow, and splitting his raw lips. His bangs stuck to his forehead, and his cheeks trembled from his clacking teeth.

Soft music played from the radio station.

Riders on the Storm.

Two booms of thunder ended your small attempt at a smile from the timing.

Leftover adrenaline pulsed in your veins, fumbling your grip on the seatbelt. Wet earth and unease stroked your skin like skeletal hands, muddying your tights, and soaking his hoodie, weighing it down to your crushed sweater beneath. You wanted to speak; to poke, to prod, to press him to talk to you. The questions were there. On your tongue. At the ready; inviting him to tell you why his mood soured over a situation out of his control, other than the obvious weather.

But Eddie’s face was carved with irritation, baring his teeth as he attempted to buff circles into the icy fog on the windshield, only for it to cloud over in an instant. “C’mon..”

The wipers couldn’t keep up with the powerful current, and the tires struggled to find traction. “Fucking—damnit,” he said, interrupted by him slapping the steering wheel, cascading water off his work jacket, and onto every surface around him.

You twisted your hands in your lap at his mild slip in temper.

Now was not the time to bother him.

In a lurch, your shoulder bumped the door, and your head rocked side to side from the car backing over the swell of mud behind the tires. With another frustrated stomp on the gas, it evened out on paved road, and though the visibility was low, you were off towards the nicer side of Hawkins.

For once, he drove responsibly. Street signs could be read before he passed them. Fallen limbs in the road could be avoided, not ran over. His rings tinked off the glass when he rubbed at the thin fog, and the music was dialed to a somber ambiance behind the deep sighs through his nose. Dark stretches of treetops bent to the wind’s will. Short buildings sat so dim beyond the faint streetlights, they might as well have been deserted. Each red light was a necessary break for him to shove his fingers in the air vents to thaw them.

He never spoke. Never looked at you. He kept himself busy with tasks, and when those tasks were over and his hands were defrosted and the windshield was mostly clear, he regressed within himself. Unnervingly quiet. Turning onto streets with heavier regrets sagging his features the longer he crawled in front of white picket fence houses, and stopped.

The two story home was lit beautifully by the ornate sconces placed on either side of the doorway. Their lawn was manicured, and the sidewalk was free of weeds. No cars were at the mercy of the storm, they were parked inside the two-door garages. There was activity behind the embossed curtains hung in the living room of the residence. Presumably, the biggest shape was the father who called over the phone.

Someone who wore a business suit to the preschool’s Thanksgiving play lived here.

Eddie stalled. He remained seated forward, hands gripped at 10 and 2, squeezing the steering wheel as rain echoed in the belly of the car, battering the roof inches above your damp hair. There was a pause in his movements, his breathing. An awareness in his silence at the questions you didn’t ask. Tension in his pursed lips, rubbing them together as he surveyed the street.

He opened his mouth. Then, he thought better of it, and got out.

Your earnest call of his name was swallowed by the sea cleansing his body of your night together.

Leaping up the bullnose brick stairs, Eddie raised his hand, but before he could knock, the artisanal stained glass shimmered with movement. The immaculate door opened to a winced face. The man’s glasses were askew on his aged eyes, and his peppered hair hung over his eyebrows, no longer gelled back. He exchanged a few tight words with Eddie as Adrie was handed over, and Eddie, of course, shuffled into a meek posture, dipping his head, apologizing profusely. Almost bowing to this man dressed in matching pajamas and a robe. In horror, you watched the door close during one such apology. You could tell it happened in the middle of him speaking, because you had to sit through the agony of Eddie animatedly explaining something only for him to look up, straighten at the realization, and stand there for a few more seconds until the sconces dimmed off.

Worse, still, he cowered in the nook as cruel rain belted his back, doing his best to bundle Adrie in her tattered quilt and securing her on his hip, keeping all of her dry except her little legs wrapped around his middle. She buried her face in his neck, and he hesitated on the balls of his feet, judging the distance between the house and the car. His large palm covered the blanket over her head. All he had was his jacket.

Lightning revealed his weary frown.

At the clap of thunder, he sprinted.

Back in New York, at the going away party your friends threw in your and Robin’s honor, they warned you about moving to the Tornado Alley, and what to look for if one were to appear—green skies and all—but most importantly, they told you an incoming tornado sounded like a train. Being city dwellers, they wouldn’t actually know, but Robin confirmed it. And now you could too, because the piercing wail coming towards you could only belong to a natural disaster, not a four-year-old girl.

Murky water flooded to Eddie’s ankles from where it rushed against the sidewalk, sloshing in with his boot stomped to the floorboard for balance as he ducked inside amidst the fuss. He got Adrie into her carseat as quickly as possible. In the chaos, her overnight backpack fell somewhere in the dark, her quilt was chucked aside, and he cursed when the buckle bit into his thumb. She had a fistful of his hair, tangling it, making it harder to see what he was doing. He may have even threatened her full name to let go. It was hard to hear on account of the shrieking.

“Daddy!” The vowels were elongated, broken by hiccups. He shut the door, and in the small space with no escape, her big emotions rang louder. “Daddy!” Again, the y was screamed with the full power of her lungs, which would be impressive for their tiny size if it wasn’t for the pounding in your skull. She hollered louder when he sat heavily behind the wheel, “Daddy!” He didn’t shush her fourth tantrum spilt on his name; he accepted it, knowing it was futile.

It took all your strength to blink. Sat half-turned in your seat, frozen, gaze unfocused, marveling at your brain’s ability to function. You shifted your attention to Eddie’s face, a surprising few inches from yours.

The heat of his concentration scorched shame to your cheeks.

Avoidant no longer, your reaction to Adrie’s meltdown was the sole subject of his interest. Zeroed in on, dissected, and picked apart by just his eyes alone. Didn’t matter which eye you shied from, you were pinned in both, your discomfort blatant for him to witness. Your clamped mouth, your apologetic withdrawal, your fidgety fingers on your skirt; all of it. All of it was captured in his periphery because he didn’t dare break sight as he turned the key in the ignition, and started a raucous engine you couldn’t remember being turned off.

Humbled by the girl assaulting your senses, your questions were answered.

This was why he didn’t want you to come. This was why he slighted you with a pointed look from the recesses of his annoyance when you trivialized his daughter’s behavior as ‘No big deal.’ This was why he kept you separate from his parental sphere where everything wasn’t made of sunshine and rainbows. This—coming to terms with your inexperience staining each uncontrollable contortion of your unprepared expression—was why he never let anyone near his heart.

Adrie could no longer form his name through her open-mouthed cries, resorting to plain, wet screams which trilled past your eardrums, resulting in a throbbing headache.

At that, he grasped the gear shift, put his boot to the gas, and cut fat lines through the river overflowing the pampered neighborhood streets.

Eddie’s anger was a presence. His embarrassment, too. Just like at the auto shop when problems stacked and stacked into an unbearable weight on top of his sleepless nights and long mornings, he turned inward to delay his outburst. To feel everything so fully in his fists wringing the leather covered steering wheel until it creaked, and teeth gritted until they begged no more. Just that one second to release his frustration, and then it was suppressed from sight. But you felt it. His ire rested below your braced muscles, beneath your clammy palms and in your shallow breath. It invaded the tidy home you kept behind your ribs, taking up residence in your hammering heart.

The humiliation of having the date end when it did paid its dues in his bad mood. Disappointment radiated off his narrowed eyes, and slack frown. “Adrie,” he warned in a low tone.

She bawled louder, shriller than the crack of lightning.

The immense pressure to adapt was upon you. There was no sense in parsing what he expected you to do in this situation, it was clear he was soured by your ineptitude the moment you let it show on your face, but.. Only two short weeks ago, he relied on you to divert Adrie’s meltdown before DND night. And sure, she had already stopped crying by the time you got there, but you could come to his rescue again, couldn’t you?

You twisted around in your seat, proud of yourself for thinking of a solution, and showed him you could handle a modicum of parenthood. “Adrie, look!” you tamped down your children’s television host voice to a delightful, excited cheer, “I’m here. Miss Mouse is—!” Shocked with your hand reaching towards her, shooting pain traveled up your arm from her swift kick to your wrist. You recoiled, rubbing at your forearm without blame. It wasn’t her fault. She wasn’t even looking at you. Her fit was directed at the window she couldn’t peel her attention from, dropping tear after tear from her swollen eyes at the thunder shaking the car. “Adrie?” you tried softer, but she beat her hands on the carseat harder. Wailed until you were defeated to a wince. Yelled until you accepted a unique heartbreak you weren’t prepared for.

Miss Mouse couldn’t always save the day.

Acute twists of rejection wrung your chest. Eddie wasn’t the type to say I told you so, he wasn’t mean like that, but when you sat forward and your gazes moved past one another, never quite meeting, you knew what he was thinking.

Little else stung worse than his obvious cynicism at how this date was concluding.

Exacerbating the issue, Adrie escalated to screeching her distress. Every open sob of hers pulled your focus, invaded your brainspace, overpowered any thought before it began, and set your teeth on edge from the high-pitched squeals you swore vibrated in your bones. Her behavior seeped into your nerves, winding them up, scratching them with the very tip of a brittle nail, inciting a riot. The need to flee crawled under your skin. Breathing was uncomfortable. Your ankle hurt. There was to break in between the blinding pulses of your headache. The car was too hot, too cold, too swerving from the high winds buffeting it sideways. Your tights were too tight. His hoodie too stifling. Itchy yarn from your sweater chafed your damp neck. Alarms of panic battled inside. Louder, louder, louder—Adrie cried louder. Eddie’s lips tugged down at the corners, chin wrinkled, tensing his face from a sadder response. Your lashes fluttered from the chokehold his frown had on you. Fingernails bit your palms. You tried to bide your time, to resist snapping. Dug down deep for something, something you could do, something.. innate. Some answer within you to fix it all. To get her to stop. To get him to relax. Something, something, something—instinctual.

“Pull over!” you barked; Eddie had every right to whip his head around at your sudden demand, but in your panicked state you only cared about the road ahead. “Ju-Just—just—” You scanned the dark parking lot outside the hardware store, and stabbed your finger on the cold window, pointing past it. “The gas station! Under the roof-thing.”

When it wasn’t clear he heard you, you turned towards him at the same time he leaned forward to catch your eye. Justifiable skepticism burdened his brow, tightening the edges of his crow’s feet. His lips hung parted with a confirmation hesitating between them; however, it was silenced after you maintained your need, and the fight against the wind won.

Soppy pebbles scraped wet asphalt, muddied in the bump and grind from Eddie turning too sharply into the sloped driveway, banging into a pothole, and rattling the innards of his already rocky cargo. He careened towards the closed convenience store with its row of dim fluorescent lights inside. Pulling up alongside the gas pumps, he slammed the breaks. A second later, he slapped the windshield wipers OFF, violently shushing their grating squeak.

His patience strained thinner. Working through the sensory overload festering like infected wounds on blistered skin, he rumbled a shallow apology past his aching teeth. Quickly, it devolved into a barrage of doubt. “Look, I’m sorry she—Wait, where’re you—?” The instant fear of rejection shot past his octave. “Wait! Please don’t—”

Cruelly, he thought; heartlessly, he knew; the sun-faded black cotton draped about your shoulders was the last image his adrenaline latched onto, playing it over, and over, door slam and all. He wasn’t parked for more than a clock tick, and you hurled yourself out into the storm, leaving him behind. His first assumption was gentle. Kind whispers stroked the angst in his chest, telling him you needed a break from the noise, that was all. Then the hatred of abandonment gutted his center.

“Giving up already?” he asked aloud in a conclusion only meant to hurt himself when no one was there to answer.

As if sensing his hopelessness, Adrie sniffled into the worst of her hyperventilated cries. Broken disjointed things. Sinking him deeper, deeper into his seat, crossing his arms over his caved chest, shuddering at the hot sting wobbling his vision at his own inadequacy.

Never good enough for anyone to stay.

Tremors of repressed memories wakened the churn of nausea making him sick.

“Baby, baby, it’s okay,” soothed a voice behind him, trickling in with the splash of faraway drops. “It’s okay, sweet baby, I’m here. I’ve got you. I’m here.”

Eddie jerked his chin up and stretched his neck to see into the rearview mirror. The wall of water teetering on his lash line made everything blur, so he tugged down the slick skin beneath his eyes to suck back the tears, and almost allowed them to spill at the scene behind him anyway.

In the reflection, you crawled across the backseat and unbuckled Adrie’s carseat, learning how to maneuver the straps from watching him. She reached for you, your hair, your clothes; small fists belying their strength. You didn’t care. You calmed her struggles with pretty words. “It’s okay, yeah, you can hold on to me, baby. Let’s get you wrapped up nice and warm. There we go.” Shhh. “Let me see your face, so I can clean you up.” Shhh.

“M–M-Mizz Mou—se,” Adrie got out between body-wracked sobs.

“Mhm, I’m here.” Shhh. “Miss Mouse is here.”

—Oh.

“Baby..” So modest was his whisper when so resolute was his yearn.

He leapt into motion, flushed with adrenaline.

The ripple effect of your actions caused tidal waves to swell and crash over him; body hitched in the place where his past convinced him he lost it all, only to collapse into a stuttered exhale of acceptance, understanding there was someone out there who cared about him to this degree; throat constricting with gratitude he could only express by stumbling out into the foggy cold, throwing open the door, and sliding into the backseat with you.

His fingers grazed the baby hairs at your nape on their way to the side of your head, using his wide palm which took up too much room to cradle you steady with a gentleness unknown to his tough skin. He trusted you to forgive him for how hard he knocked his forehead to your temple, and smashed his nose to the soft of your cheek. He need not worry. Beautifully, you adjusted to the bulky arm behind your neck, leaned into the crook of his body he hollowed out for you, and filled the familiar place at his side. You worked diligently to clear his daughter’s face while he passed a strong hand over her back and dropped it to shape his grip at the end of your thigh, curving his fingers in and slotting them to the underside, behind your knee.

“S’okay, Adrie,” you cooed, wiping at the sticky grossness clinging to her nose. “I’ve got you,” you continued the mantra, albeit with a lapse in motherly tenderness as a result of trying not to gag too hard.

Outside the car, the gas station’s tall canopy provided enough coverage to stop the rain from pounding the roof. Harsh winds howled past, encouraging the woeful sobs dropped onto your breasts, but the lightning stayed within the clouds, and the thunder faded in the distance. “Look at me,” you guided, sweeping the hoodie’s cuff over her puffy cheeks glowing splotchy red from the neon beer signs in the postered up convenience store windows. “We’ve got you. Nothing bad can happen when we’re here.”

Eddie lips pulled thin against your skin, breath stuttering damp and thick on your neck like a smothered cry.

“Nothing bad can happen when we’re here, okay?” Repeating the union of you and him, you went on, “We’ve got you. You’re safe with us. Nothing bad can happen when we’re here. Right, sweet bean?” You tucked the quilt around her feet, and held her close. “We won’t let anything bad happen to you, ever.”

With her hands latched into the folds of fabric around your neck—cotton, yarn, and canvas—her big coughs were cushioned by your arms snuggling her to your front while Eddie’s chest was at her back, embracing her between your two bodies converging to protect her in a toasty nest. Warm air hummed from the vents, shooing off the stale chill clinging to the backseat, now disturbed by activity and plucky guitar strings playing over the radio.

Across the Universe.

Undertaking the complexities of the man rubbing his forehead into your hair with the same sort of neediness as his little girl wringing your clothes, you assumed the responsibility of consoling them both. “Nothings gonna change my world,” you mumbled the lyrics into the patchwork quilt covering Adrie’s curls. “Nothings gonna change my world,” you sang to Eddie, face tipped up and eyes falling closed, seeking out his nose to trace the tip of yours along the soft bumps in a devoted offering after the turbulent events causing you both inner strife.

His fingertips became an imposing force spread across the scope of your cheek, turning you toward him, capturing you in a deeper kiss than you were ready for. It was demanding, hard with desperation, misaligned and urgent. Born out of necessity in the moment. He kissed you in front of his daughter, where she could see if she picked her face up from your chest, and a dart of surprise lit your heart at the recklessness. You kept a level hand atop her head in case he’d come to regret the decision, but he didn’t seem to notice, or care. He sighed into a second helping, and at the sound of the wet smack, she stirred.

Adrienne hooked her fingers into your collar and sniffled hard, soothing herself from further cries by hugging you tight, huddling into your comfort, oblivious to what was happening around her.

Easily, you fell into the third kiss. Became what he needed, mouths mashing together at the odd angle, your lower lip plush between his. Dizzying amounts of reverence manifested in his spontaneity. He packed a lifetime’s worth of bottled up feelings into the affection he was privileged to. Giving, and taking. But his impulses were still a puzzle. When he’d drank his fill, he squeezed your leg, broke apart from your lips in a silent slick slide, and drew a deserved breath.

“Sorry, no one’s ever just.. done that for me before.” He shrugged his hand off your thigh at the poor summary of the millions of things on his mind, and left it at that.

Spurred by the praise, you seized the opportunity for communication. “Remember how before we played DND that night, I told you to call me first next time you needed help?” you reminded him, and something vulnerable, maybe even pleadful, entered your tone. “I want to be someone you can rely on, Eddie.”

An unfortunate amount of complicated emotions passed in his eyes. There wasn’t much to garner from them, nor his soft grunt when he dropped his nose to the column of your neck, above Adrie’s head, and regressed into his quiet self. Reserved. Hard to decipher. He did speak up once to warn you she would fall asleep with how you were holding her—same as he did most nights on the couch while Late Night with David Letterman aired—and you embellished your promise to him with a kiss to the stringy curls frizzing at his scalp, “That’s okay.”

And it was okay, truly, when the storm raged heaves of rain against the car, spraying the windows with shocks of water. You dabbed Adrie’s cheeks. Wiped her nose. Rocked her in the same tempo as the backs of Eddie’s fingers stroking your cheekbone, flexed bicep behind your neck. Thunder occurred. Lightning happened. But with your quick thinking, lulling gestures, and genuine effort to speak past the fondness clogging your throat, you calmed her. Calmed her so well, in fact, her hands went limp and her body relaxed, fatigue claiming her victim to the numbered sheep hopping over fences in her dreams. After her tantrums, she was taxed out. Drained.

Stuck in the cramped middle between Eddie and the carseat, you rearranged your legs before they went tingly numb from her weight on your lap, and shifted the pressure off your heels. It was sweet having her fall asleep on you. Her slow breaths filled your arms as a reward for your efforts to hush her. The quilt smelled of their home, cozying itself in your lungs and sweeping you in a sense of longing for the humidity in his kitchen after making soup.

Though, as much as you thrived on the temporary role you played as parent—taking over for Eddie and dwelling on the fact Adrie slept propped on your chest like the many times she napped on his stained coveralls—you could do without the additional pain of him leaning on you too.

You groaned at the sharp twinge in your spine from slouching sideways, and conveniently, your movement roused his consciousness. He launched into a sleepy inhale. Robust, filling his lungs to the brim, too loud, too silly and sweet. He primed you for a solid press of the bridge of his nose to your jaw by thumbing you towards him, after which he pulled away, separating himself from you fully.

Eddie rolled his shoulders, stretching out from the uncomfortable position, and faced the window. He commented in a sincere tone, “You’re good with kids.”

“I know how to entertain kids,” you corrected him. “I don’t know how to do any of the hard shit you do.”

The streetlights painted strokes of dotted orange on his complexion cast in shadow. He played with the tips of his fingers, squishing each one in a line as he ruminated, staring elsewhere, perspiration blurring the outerworld, sealing yourselves in this crowded car together. “You do a good job,” he reassured, petering out in a hoarse whisper.

Ceaseless nerves gnawed at his absent-minded ring spinning. Not a big production like when he wrung his hands or bit his nails, but enough to show he was getting anxious. You’d expected his leg to be bouncing by now, but it was laying softly against yours. Something big was on his mind.

You bumped your knee into his. “Talk to me.”

Talk to me. Yes, you asked the world of him. You knew it, too. Encouraging his gaze to flick to Adrie bundled in your arms, and back to the window. His eyes weren’t wide with fear, just larger than normal at the subtle confrontation. It was time he opened up to you. There wasn’t a concrete ultimatum if he didn’t, but there was a mutual understanding that if this were to continue, he needed to trust you to be there for him. No more reluctance.

He extended his hand towards your knee, patting twice before claiming it in the great breadth of his palm, stroking his thumb over the thin pantyhose; bridging the gap from his earlier behavior, but not yet apologizing for the soreness he caused.

Sorting his thoughts, his throat bobbed twice on the swallow.

And of all the questions he could ask, of all things he could say, of all the topics he could choose, he picked, “Did you ever want kids?”

Heat swam to your cheeks, blood rushed to your ears. Buds of true belonging bloomed at the question, adorning stems of untended longing first planted during the Christmas party at work, ever growing. Your heart pumped faster at the inherent past and implied future of the subject. His curiosity was a mild prod, perhaps not meant to encourage these leaps in logic considering he announced it in the same buckled cadence of someone who was asking about the weather—and yet, the hold it had on you was impossible to deny. A blend of you, Adrie, and him, just like now, but in different contexts—different meanings other than sitting in the back of his car—something domestic, like being piled together on the couch watching Disney movies; that’s what was pushed to the forefront of your mind.

But, despite those instantaneous fantasies, this was a place for honesty, and the significance of your pause between his question and yours was an entity of its own, stiff like his posture.

“Are you ready for this conversation?” you checked. He fostered an anxious glance and nod. “Having kids is not something I ever saw for myself, no.”  The consequence of your answer marked his immediate dropped eye contact, but ever patient with him, you continued strongly, “With how I dated and moved around, I didn’t think it was for me, that sort of lifestyle. It’s just not something I put a lot of thought into except when my friends were having kids, and really, they kinda turned me off of the idea. Pregnancy sounds.. daunting. Or—you know—really fucking scary. They’d always talk about how awful it is, all the complications you could have, the risks, the near death experience in one case,” you broke off in a squirm. “And then you don’t even get the relief once the baby comes. Like, seriously, taking care of a newborn sounds straight up terrifying.”

Eddie cracked. His hiss of laughter was a welcomed reprieve, especially when it sank to his chest, gripping his shoulders in a hearty shake. “Y-Yeah,” he got out, face crinkled in all the ways you adored, “it is straight up terrifying.”

You giggled in the softest way, careful to not disturb Adrie’s shallow breaths, and careful to not swoon too head-over-heels over the image of him rocking a baby. “It seems easier when they’re older, though,” you said, broaching the real crux of the conversation with your chin dipped to the top of her head. “Like it’s not as bad when they can actually communicate why they’re crying, or tell you what’s bothering them.”

“Not necessarily easier, just different,” he clarified. “It’s less about making sure this little tiny thing that can choke on its own snot survives the night, and more about the emotionally draining problems like her telling you about her day at preschool, explaining a situation where a group of kids kept giving her tasks to do that sent her away, and she’s smiling so big when she’s telling you, thinking it was a game, but deep down you’re just waiting for the heartbreak years down the line when she realizes they gave her errands to run because they were excluding her, and the reason they were laughing every time she came back was because they took joy in being mean to her.”

Wilt tinted your faint, “Oh..”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He upped the pressure he used to pat and rub your knee. “S’part of life.”

Consumed by his side profile, you studied the scope of his impassive expression set on the premature lines edging his face. The urge to find the right thing to say amidst the convoluted churn of anger on his behalf, and sadness on Adrie’s, itched something fierce beneath your skin. Ultimately, no words of inspiration came.

Eddie took an anticipatory breath.

The radio garbled advertisements for the station’s sponsors.

“Still wouldn’t trade it for those first months when she was a newborn, though.” Pursing his mouth thin, he rolled his lips inward with a hardened brow, releasing and scrunching tension around his nose as he shook his head slowly, addressing the memories of those days with a shine of pain to his eyes, and a loud smack of his tongue. “The moment I found out Adrie’s mom was pregnant, I wanted to do the right thing—y’know?” He took his hand off your leg to demonstrate the narrow path he followed. “Kept my head down, stayed focused, didn’t bother anybody, got a real job, and kept my mouth shut. Lotta places didn’t wanna hire me, obviously, but I applied anywhere I could, and when I got the job, I’d go get another one on a different shift, and another one on a graveyard shift. Sold whatever I had—guitars, ‘nd shit—bought what I could with the money. I wanted to be a good man. Be a provider. Be worth something.” Scrubbing his shaky fingers over the stubble on his chin, he aimed to calm himself, but when bringing up the Hell he went through during those times, there was little to stop his pitch from wavering. “Still wasn’t good enough.”

A verdict aimed at him flippantly, yet the impact on his self-esteem was immeasurable.

Gathering himself, he licked the inside of his cheek, and explained, “In the beginning, when Adrie was born, I tried to make it on my own. Locked in this little motel room with a crying baby. Couldn’t go to work. Didn’t have anyone to call to watch her for me, y’know, didn’t.. didn’t have anyone to rely on after walking out on my uncle, and isolating myself from my friends. The people at the bullshit resource center said I wasn’t eligible for benefits because they were for single moms, not dads. And child support was taking too long to kick in. Not like it mattered when it couldn’t pay for a single canister of Similac. I didn’t have fucking anything. Or know anything.”

His shame was only beginning to unravel.

“There were these free classes at a clinic for expecting parents, but I..” He dropped his knuckles to his thigh and fed them along the coarse cotton, using the friction to burn away the guilt. “I-I didn’t go. I didn’t want to go alone. Be the only guy there, by myself. Have all these people w-who might know who I am fucking.. fucking staring at me.” With how he was looking down at his lap, rocking slightly with his movement, he stood no chance against the wall of tears damming at his lashes. “I didn’t want to go because of my sense of pride, and my baby suffered because of it.”

“Eddie, that’s not true—” you stepped in.

Three effective beats of his fist on his leg, and you were left to witness his face crumple from the utter contempt he had for himself.

“It is true,” his volume fluctuated in jumps. “She wouldn’t eat. She wouldn’t fucking eat and keep it down.” Droplets splashed his jeans in unyielding splats. Drip, drop, drip, drop.. They slipped and spread in splotches of salty remorse he couldn’t wipe away quick enough. “Nothing worked. Couldn’t get her to latch onto a bottle, and, and—I didn’t know, I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to microwave the formula, but she wouldn’t take it room temp, so if it was too hot she’d just scream at me until it wasn’t, and I–I just—I was having these breakdowns, I don’t know. I blacked out, and next thing I knew, I was at Harrington’s, and Nancy was taking care of her for me.” The emphasis alluded to much, though the fact their son was only a year older, and Nancy would still be producing milk said it all. 

Frantic breaths which wouldn’t catch were pulled past grimaced lips parted on the unrefined sob his confession emerged on. “I never wanted to be with Adrie’s mom, but proving what she said was right, th-that I was a fucking loser who didn’t know what he was doing, it-it-it.” In a desperate flourish, he pointed at his temple, It lives in here, and another tear clung to the tip of his nose, smeared by the back of his wrist.

Stunned useless by the suffocating urge to help him, you blanked. Sat still while your favorite mechanic reduced himself to the wrong opinion of others; the same person who showed his gentle nature by picking worms out of the garage after a heavy rain so they didn’t dry out. Remaining frozen while silent pain wracked your friend’s held breath, heaved and shuddered out as a cough into the same palm he used to catch your ankle when he challenged you to a race on the creepers, and he had to cheat to win before you beat him to the service door. Saying, “Baby, no,” to the man who snuck a smirk over his daughter’s head when he caught you doting over her as she sat on his hip, and the smell of Christmas potluck embedded itself into the memory of Eddie’s eyes hinting at a deeper glint than the tease on his grin.

“I am a fucking failure,” he seeped out his regret. “C-Couldn’t give her what she needed. I still can’t. Still can’t give her what she wants, ever. T-T-Tellin’ her I can’t get her something when she asks for it—and the disappointment. Just a piece of shit who disappoints her. Never good enough—” There was another high-pitched stutter, but it was muffled behind his trembling hands covering his face, and smothered by your intervention.

“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie,” you shot out, hand and voice working together to untangle the trauma his knotted fingers attempted to hide. “Listen to me.” No please, but no lack of kindness, either. “You are not a disappointment. Not then, not now, not ever. Do you hear me? You’re not any of those things.” You tugged at the canvas jacket around his stiff arms tucked tight to his body, and rocked him away from his huddle against the door.

In the aftermath of your scramble to comfort him, Adrienne startled awake. Her soft hmm? became a grunty whine when the sensation of slipping backwards disoriented her. “Daddy?” One of her fists found your hoodie for balance, but her groggy curiosity dealt a heartbreaking blow.

She traced the wet trail on his cheek, encountered a tear in its path, and broke the droplet’s surface tension on her finger, wondering aloud, “Why’s Daddy crying?”

Thinking quickly, you used your muscles earned through unloading car parts from delivery trucks, and scooped her from your lap onto his, diverting the nuance of grown-up-problems by fumbling out, “Daddies cry sometimes, too. Have you told him you love him today? Can you tell him? It’ll make him feel better. Please, Miss Adrie?” Whether or not it was the perfect phrasing wasn’t important. What mattered was the unsuspecting gratitude laden at the base of his frown.

“I love you, Daddy,” Adrie said, latching her arms around his neck. “I love you.”

“You’re a good man,” you added, and rolled onto your hip, fitting your body to his side. You nosed through his long, frazzly curls, and spoke earnestly, but softly into his ear, “You’re a good man, Eddie. Look at how well you take care of her. Look at how well fed, clothed, and happy she is. You make her so happy.. You make me happy, too. You’re the best dad I’ve ever met. No one else compares.”

He dragged a sniffle from his last sob into an unintelligible mumble.

“I’m here.” Shh. “I’m here.” You included Adrie in your hug as you brought your hand up to the other side of his flustered hot face, blending your fingers through the hair stuck to the sweat and stubble on his jaw. “We’re here for you. We’ve got you. Nothing bad can happen when we’re here.” Sweet with conviction, “It’s okay, handsome, I’ve got you.”

Overwhelmed by the small I love you, Daddy, on one side, followed by You’re a good man, on the other, his inhale shivered, and he cuddled Adrie to him for a watery, “I love you, too.” Croaky and real, and mouth agape on an ugly cry he let you witness until his needy reach cupped the back of your head, and smushed you to his wet cheek, scratching the same sentiment into your nape, just like you were rubbing it into his scalp, exchanging the affection without words.

Us and Them funneled through the car, mellowing the heightened emotions with its dreamy saxophone opener.

“I’m so glad to have met you,” you prized in tender sweeps of whispers and thumbs. “I actually look forward to coming into work because of you, even when you hide my pen cup, and tickle me when I go to reach for it on top of the Coke machine. Which is unfair, by the way.”

“Yeah?” he asked for dear reassurance, and distraction.

Humming against the intimate corner of his jaw, you nudged the prickly scruff, and melted into his uncoordinated pets over your ear. “I see your sacrifices, and trust me, Eddie, you’re doing a great job at raising your daughter. Stuff like buying her toys, or cookies, or whatever doesn’t matter. The love you show her is better than any of that. She’s so lucky to have you.”

Another tear dropped to the tattered quilt. Another, another dropped. He squeezed his eyes shut and more fell. Hindered breaths let go in stuttered huffs shook his chest, swayed his damp hair. You circled your thumb over the rivers on his sensitive skin, and found a dry section of your sleeve to clean the price he paid for being a good father without the proper support he needed. Soothing him with fond shushes and feather touches. Forming a ball of comfort around him: cramped in the tiny car, a cast of solid fog on the windows for privacy, Adrie’s blanket draped about your jumbled legs, and her lanky arms wrapped around his neck where precious words were stoked from the embers of a fire which he built. “I wanna color with you to-mah-rrow,” she pronounced. “You can have the dinosaur book, because I want the kitty cats. Deal?” Deal, he nodded.

Your bottom lip introduced a blessing at his sideburn, “You deserve to see yourself how we see you.”

Recovering from the unbearable throb his stuffed sinuses drove to his headache, he tried—“Thank you, baby,”—though the letters were mashed together, and further pulped by the thickness in his throat. Loud, however, was his hug. Crushing you both to him with honed strength; flexed forearms demonstrating the power lying dormant in the track of muscle he snaked around your waist. Groans were earned from his expertise. Bones protested the gesture, begging to be released. It took several seconds of your heartbeat pumping visibly at the edge of your vision, but he let go. Afterall, there was no praise to be had by flattened lungs.

“That hurt,” Adrie complained.

“Ow,” you agreed.

“Sorry,” he said in non-apology.

At a change in tone, you fawned, “But that was a nice hug.”

Adrie rated it, “An 8 out of 10.”

Crowded together, the bond was unmatched. His arms were spread like a greedy dragon hoarding its wealth. Chest open, collecting his most remarkable treasures to the roaring furnace locked within the confines of his body, ready to share the warmth to those who could appreciate its value. Clasped in your hand was Adrie’s ankle, gaining squirmy kicks for each smile and giggle traded under Eddie’s chin. Dressed in his well-loved hoodie, the crook of his elbow fit to your figure, and the backs of his fingers strummed your bicep in a trained motion. None of it was perfect, no. The hoodie could smell less like cigarettes, his forearm stuffed behind you meant you couldn’t recline comfortably, and when he patted your hip, he awakened the dull throb of the bruising grip he left during earlier events.

Those weren’t bad things, though. They were as real as human flaws. Accepted as such, too.

“Are you feeling better?”

Sporting a grin favoring one cheek more than the other, Eddie’s eyes were framed by clumped together lashes after being stripped to his barest self and given the grace he needed. “Yeah,” he answered Adrie in fondness, “I’m feeling better now.” Not forever. He wasn’t cured. But with time, he guided his gaze to the velcro shoe you were wiggling back and forth onto her heel, and climbed his soft study up to the plump concentration on your bottom lip after you released it from between your teeth.

Perceiving his attention, you clocked him with a sneaky grin. “We’re a sardine family.” Brightening at the bewildered noise he made, you tapped Adrie’s knee, and imparted your wisdom as if he should know it too. “Yeah, you know, you, me, and Adrie. Jammed packed back here like a tin of sardines. All squished together.”

They blinked at you. You blinked back.

“And I thought I was supposed to be the one with bad jokes,” Eddie offered after some thought. You cut him a look. “But I like the image,” he amended.

“I like sardines,” Adrie chimed. She didn’t know what sardines were, but you appreciated her enthusiasm.

The conversation waned from there. Drowsiness from the old night seeped into your collective huddle, slouching you all towards one another. Heavy limbs went boneless. Tender brushes of thumbs came to an end. The sound of deep breaths were heard between the local ads for Indiana’s finest antique mall and an uptick in the rain smacking the paved street. Near the edge of sleep, you convinced yourself to get Adrie up and into her carseat. Eddie sat back and watched you go through the steps of buckling her in, listening to her plea for Fluff in her backpack, tucking the quilt around her just right, and hitting your head on the roof in pursuit of making her happy. Taking care of his kid. You collapsed beside him, far closer than would be proper for coworkers, and basked in his approval, noting the pride in his charged gaze. The emotional rollercoaster of the evening took its toll on his swollen face—nevertheless, romance novels could learn a thing or two from the way his stare rendered you weak.

“Should get you home before the storm gets worse,” he warned in an attractive thrum of sternness. He might call you lil’ lady next. Or remind you he promised your father he’d have you back on time.

Floating in the fizzy pool of your crush's attention, you nodded your dizzy head, and observed without need, “Yeah, should get home before it gets worse.”

He laughed. You swam in his laugh, in the instinctual desire based in his mood after watching someone nurture his young. A silly thing to rock you into a sultry sweat considering the outcome of your second date. Luckily, when you stepped out of the car, the frigid mist stole your focus, hosing you down and keeping you from reading too much into the odd chemical imbalance that must be happening in your brain.

The night was really fucking long.

Driving with the radio on low, Eddie drifted his ringed fingers over your forearm whenever they weren’t being used on the stick shift. A small gesture letting you know he was thinking about you when there wasn’t anything to talk about, not that it was needed. The calm was nice. The storm behaved en route to the Buckley’s, avoiding the occasional tree limb blocking a lane. He removed his touch from your person, and with a glance, you were assured it wasn’t the last.

“You didn’t have to walk me to my door,” you gasped, posing with your arms stuck out, useless against mother nature sagging your soaked clothes.

A puddle formed on the wood planks where he wrung his hair. “And make you do this run all by yourself? C’mon, sweet stuff. I’m a gentleman.”

Shivering on the covered porch, your shoes were partially to blame for the slipping incident(s) in the muddy driveway. The lack of the house lights on was another, slowing down your sprint into a crawl. A yellow cast from a lamp in the back room lit the hallway, but other than its soft glow, that was it. Clearly, no one expected you to come home.

“Is it okay if, uh,” you began, “Is it okay if we kiss in front of Adrie?” Oh, how your awkward pointing from yourself to the car came to a charming halt, fingers caught in the stiff fabric of his jacket, under his spell.

Plush pink lips warmed by vented heat promised your worries away.

“I think she’s asleep anyway.” His voice was playful, tugging syllables in the way his lopsided grin ought. “But,” he softened, “yeah, we can kiss in front of her.”

The permission washed over you. Weeks and months in the making. Brewing tension under the surface in your daily interactions—and now? You kissed him. Just for fun, just to show off. You kissed him again. Gentle, pretty brushes. Tame, refined, and for the sake of exploring the lack of boundary before saying goodbye.

Working man arms defined your waist.

Fingers calloused from gripping pens grazed his steady throat.

He swallowed, and spoke endearments with his busy mouth, “Could kiss you all day, baby.” Your lips kicked into a smile which he devoured, kiss after kiss. Neat little things. Virtues, maybe.

“Could’ve kissed me since the day we met,” you answered, feeling the squeeze around your back when his belly pressed you into his embrace. Though, his dismissive snort caused you to frown. “I’m serious. Coulda had me back then. Or at least you could’ve kissed me when we were slow dancing in the garage, or standing under the mistletoe at the Christmas party. Like, seriously, way to make me feel rejected.”

His wide passionate eyes shared common ground with his genuine smirk at your feigned agony. “Excuse you, but I am not having our first kiss be at work.”

“Then why not at DND when everyone left?”

“Because, sweetheart,“ his cadence loved those two words most of all, “I knew I only had a few minutes with you. And I needed a helluva lot more than a few minutes with you.”

“Or, what about when—”

Crazy how you strove to be silenced by his mouth. Craved it like no other, provoking him into eager unions, fulfilling the itch and providing the scratch with your bottom lip between his, just how he liked.

You shifted. Your inner thighs rubbed through your ripped tights. The untimely circumstances bringing you to Robin’s door lived on the surface of your chilly skin; ushering you to reality, and he as well.

“I’m sorry for how all this turned out.” Eddie’s sincere apology pitched his voice to something sorrowful, something deeper, and maybe you underestimated how much the night ending when it did upset him as a man.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about.”

He shuffled his stance, scraping his boots in dissatisfaction. “Baby, you didn’t even get anything,” and you knew what he meant. And it annoyed you he’d even brought it up.

Combing your fingers up from his nape through his hair, you drove him into you, chasing the molten ooze pooling at your center in effort to shut him up. Wet, hard, nipping kisses at his plump lips until they were raw like his tear-stained cheeks. You forwent air. Mouths melding as one, then apart as two, then one, then a set of awake eyes boring into his drunk ones. “Our date was perfect. We needed this.” The trust, the experience, the uncomfortable glimpse into his life and how you handled it. His breakdown, his shame, his face when he finally let go and ugly cried in front of you. “I don’t regret how our night turned out.”

Nodding into a nudge of his nose stroking the side of yours, he was honest with himself, “I don’t regret it, either.”

“Well, you might regret it in the next half-hour if this storm keeps up, and you’re stranded with Adrie in the car because a tree fell across the road.”

“Shit.” Indeed, the weather was turning again. If luck were on his side, he could deal with the high winds and sheets of rain until he got home, but, more likely, he drained his luck over the course of the date, and lightning was about to start again.

Eyeing the sky with hesitance, he asked, “Can I call you tomorrow? Or—today?”

“I’d be upset if you didn’t.” Acting as an endorsement to get going before things worsened, thick forest branches creaked in the distance, popping like warnings. You followed it with snappier affections doled between your palms fitted to his jaw. “Please be safe, Eddie.”

“I will, I will. Kay?” Urgency swept him from kiss to kiss—needy, and intense, treating them as the last. “I adore you, baby. Tell me you adore me.”

Mushy under his tender affirmations, your body went pliant and he accepted your weighty lean on his chest, making it harder than it already was for him to leave his sweetheart behind. “—dore you too, handsome,” you moaned into his mouth, sending him off on a proper goodbye.

“Jesus Christ, woman.”

Ever the lovestruck fool, he stayed rooted on the porch watching your figure move from shadow to light within the home, eyes glued to sways and curves as you met the hallway and bent to peep inside Robin’s room. It was the single lamp being turned off which broke his greedy gaze, and ended his fun. Oh well. His Monday morning was booked with penciled in meetings for his admiration and your assets.

Eddie spun on his heel and stopped stalling. He didn’t bother throwing his arms over his head, he accepted his fate, and ran. Sloshing through puddles, slipping in mud. He wrenched open the door, and fell inside the car. The heater made him sticky warm in the gross way, so he turned it down, and got comfortable behind the wheel, adjusting, adjusting.

Pulling oxygen into his outkissed lungs, he heaved a solid breath, and sank into his seat, unable to comprehend the recent events carving out a new path for him to consider where there wasn’t one before.

——Then——

In the beginning…

Summer died to autumn, and it was time to move on from Steve's. Eddie tried to make it on his own in the motel room over the three day weekend break from work, but his wallet was empty, his baby was dressed in another family's blue sailboat onesie, and come Tuesday morning at 7AM, he needed someone to watch Adrie who wasn't an overworked Nancy Harrington.

Infant in hand, pride left behind in his boyhood, Eddie knocked on his uncle's door, and in Wayne's usual manner, he answered by clearing his throat when neither words nor greetings failed to repair the strained relationship.

“Can I live with you?”

Taking in the marks of fatigue under his nephew's averted eyes, Wayne said, “Of course, son,” and welcomed him inside with a swung gesture.

The walk to the single bedroom humbled what spirit Eddie had remaining. Or, crushed what was left of it. He passed by the kitchen table which still had his chair cocked out, noticed the patched-up hole in the closet door, and flicked on the lightswitch, grazing the curled edge of a poster he hung over a decade ago. His stomach sank at the familiarity.

Blazed by the ornate lamp hung in the corner, standing out like a behemoth beside his white desk, was the crib he was never able to afford.

Adrie grunted awake in her carseat. Looking down at her would spill his tears, so he cranked his head back to stare at the ceiling, steeling himself after spotting the new bedsheets stretched across his mattress, and he knew—he knew—if he turned around, the pullout bed in the living room would still be set up.

His uncle never took his room back.

Defeated by the routine pang of worthlessness, impressed to have any self-esteem left to be stolen from him at the point, Eddie sank to his childhood mattress with his three-month-old daughter at his feet, undressed himself from his boots, and made a clear spot for them both on the bed, away from blankets or pillows. He laid on his side, legs crossed and knees bent with an arm beneath his head. Same position he assumed on the motel’s carpeted floor yesterday when Adrie experienced a milestone: rolling over. Not from her back to her stomach, she wasn’t coordinated enough for that yet, but with enough powerful kicks and wiggling, his paranoia coaxed his other arm around her.

He molded himself to be her protector. Chest sunken on a shallow breath, forearm spooned to her side closest to the edge, and gaze trained on her chubby cheek. Her babbly noise of happiness brought him a sense of reward, and though the newborn smell had faded in the weeks where motor oil stung his nostrils, he put his nose to the top of her head for a whiff of a sweet scent that wasn’t there, and felt the peace it brought him anyway.

Wayne shuffled into the room with a sizable stack of chunky hardcover books between his hands. “I, uh, checked these out from the library. Been doin’ some readin’ while you were gone.” He set them down on the bedside table, and pointed at a few of them. “Learned a lot from the one on the bottom, but they were all, ah, educational, I s’pose.. Some lean more religious than others,” he grumbled. “But, uhm..”

The expectant pause in his uncle’s speech drew Eddie’s awareness.

“Can I hold her?” Wayne asked.

“Yeah.” He almost had the strength to clear the rasp from his throat. “You can hold her.”

Putting his new knowledge to good use, Wayne first worked his palm under Adrie’s head before scooping her into his folded arms. Eddie took his shame in small doses, glancing at his uncle meeting his grandchild for the first time, and looking away when he cooed over her. Three months and his only family member had yet to meet his baby. Three months spent avoiding this trailer, and depriving his uncle from making these memories.

Self-loathing boiled under Eddie’s skin, and still, there was a fleeting desire to brag about Adrie’s neck strength, and how it wasn’t so necessary to be wary of her head falling back.

But he stayed quiet. He pushed his overgrown bangs out of his eyes, and read the book’s titles, wondering what sparked enough interest for Wayne to stuff receipts between the pages, or mark them with paper clips if they were particularly interesting.

Speaking in his gruff smoker’s voice with an edge of seldom heard unease, Wayne introduced a conversation, “I read in that yellow book there that babies shouldn’t sleep in the same bed as the parent. Dangerous, with how tired you are, ‘nd all. Should I put her in the crib?”

As gingerly and delicately as one could be when discussing the reality of a child suffocating to a parent who was well aware of the risks, Eddie regarded him with an annoyed expression, and Wayne shut his mouth in apology.

“I’ve gotta do her night routine again, so I’ll be up for a bit.”

“Yep.” A solid statement, and conclusion, to the conversation.

Bending down, Wayne positioned Adrie in the hollow Eddie created for her, and mentioned there were leftovers in the fridge on his way out. He shut the door behind him. It didn’t take long for tiny fists and tinier fingers to find a lock of his hair, and pull it into a drooly mouth. Didn’t take long, either, for his exhaustion to kick in and for the emotions to crash through his walls.

Tears slipped sideways along his features. Cresting over the bridge of his nose, colliding with his other eye, and joining the wetness at his hairline, dotting the bedsheet. He pressed his face to his baby who was too innocent for this world. “Daddy loves you,” he whispered, tasting the word for the first time. Daddy. It didn’t feel right when Steve stepped in as a father figure, but he could acknowledge it now. He was a dad. A momentous occasion followed by, “I’m so sorry you’re mine.” An apology uttered on a wet hiccup—borderline unintelligible—but after coming back to this trailer, and enduring his memories trapped between its thin walls, he promised, words slurring to a constricted squeak in his throat, “Daddy’s gonna get us a nice house, okay? Your own room. Your own bed. Daddy’s gonna do it. Just give me some time, okay? I’ll do it, I swear. Daddy loves you so much. So fucking much.” The promises bred dread even then, living in the pit of his stomach as future disappointments, knowing he would fail.

Perhaps sensing his distress, his little girl used the last of her energy to kick his arm in a fair warning before her face scrunched, and the wet coughs preluding her wail for food began.

He dried his face on the bedsheet. In this moment, it was hard to continue crying when he had another human relying on him. It was time to move on. Time to bury the pain, and move on. Time to neglect himself, and move on. Time to give up, and move on. Kiss her chubby cheeks so fucking much he feared he’d never be able to stop, and move on.

——Now——

Now, he checked the rearview mirror and Adrie was looking back at him, possessing a curious pinch between her brows at his reflection.

“You were kissing Miss Mouse,” she accused and questioned.

“I was,” he confirmed.

“What does that mean?”

“It means, ah,” he filled the pause with another ah while he searched, “It means we’ll be seeing more of each other. She’ll be coming around more, and stuff. Hanging out with us.”

Ever ponderous, ever candid, ever blunt, she asked, “Does that mean she’s my–”

Crazy Little Thing Called Love blasted their eardrums.

Eddie’s fingers slipped over the volume dial by accident—totally by accident—as he reached for the stick shift, turning the music on high and drowning out the last word of her sentence.

—Mom.

No way in hell was he ready for that conversation after the emotionally grueling night he’d had.

“Whoops,” he pretended, “Sorry, couldn’t hear you—but, uh! Hey, do you wanna start our bedtime story early? Should I go with the princess one, or the Sesame Street gang running their own bakery? Hmm.." He drew out his hum until he was in the clear of the Buckley's mailbox, swearing he wasn't the reason it was laying flat in a ditch. "How about we pick up where the princess one left off? So! The firbolgs have declared alliances with Toadstool Kingdom, and.." Throwing it into first gear, Eddie raced home as quickly, but responsibly, as possible, talking non-stop. His parched throat begged for a drink by the time he pulled into the trailer park—a scratchy pain made worse by his nervous chatter in the elusive quiet of his parked car.

He wrapped Adrie in her quilt as best he could while securing her on his hip and booked it through the rain, unlocking the front door and ducking inside right as an unlucky flash of lightning came.

And when nature’s nightlight died, he blinked and blinked at the spots in his vision.

It was unfathomably dark in his living room.

Stumbling over a small shoe in his way, he patted the wall for the lightswitch, and flipped it. And flipped it again. And harassed it some more. Sighing heavily in defeat, he grabbed the giant flashlight on the kitchen counter, and lit the way. "Looks like we're camping tonight." (Their codeword for when the power was knocked out.)

"Okie dokie," she said, ignorant to the cruel world of no pancakes for Sunday breakfast when the electric stovetop was out of commission.

In the meantime, he got them both ready for bed with the added pain of doing it by a single wobbly light source, ready to pass out the second his body sank to the mattress and his head hit the flat pillow—

But of course, Adrie rocked his shoulder incessantly, goading him into giving her attention at her whim, sanity be damned. "Mm?" he grunted, coating the noise in mild annoyance.

"Daddy?" she checked.

The wait for her question grew excruciatingly long.

He almost wasted an eye roll. "Yes, my child?"

"I wish Miss Mouse was here."

Surprised more so by his yawn than the request itself—and then surprised again when his heartbeat remained calm when confronted with the reality of Adrie noticing too much—he struggled to stay awake in his best interest, perhaps giving an inappropriate answer, and unwittingly feeding into her inner wishes, "I do too." He was fading, and quick. The hard rain had returned, droning white noise on the roof, soothing his eyelids closed over the dry sting they drew. Rolling, fighting the stiff sheets tucked around them both, he threw an arm over her before the doom-roll of thunder came. Sweet dreams greeted him in a pair of tiny arms folded to his chest. Brain shutting down. Night, night. Asleep.

"I wish she was my mom."

"Goodnight, Adrie," he stressed.

PLEASE

being insane about your own fics is so embarrassing like i want to scream and cry and shout about them but it’s like. my own guys.

About You

(Mid-Late December 1984) Chapter 2: The Dance 

Eddie Munson x female!harrington!reader

Chapter summary: A month has passed since the breakup and both you and Eddie have decided you can’t stay apart. However, pride and anxiety seem to have other plans. An awkward school dance might help make a breakthrough in your relationship though... 

Word Count: 6.9k 

series masterlist here

Chapter warnings: 18+ minors DNI for mature themes, angst, smoking (reader), adult language, angst, partying, underage drinking (reader and co.), 18+ suggestive content (not smut just like sporadic, vague mentions of suggestive themes), anxiety, fluffy convos, 

A brick wall made jarring contact with your nose as you rounded the corner of the deserted Hawkins High halls.  Disoriented, you stumble backwards only to be held in place by a pair of steel arms- preventing you from causing any further injury to your persons in the process of reacting to the initial assault on your nose.  Without opening your eyes, you already know who is holding you steady- you’d know the grip on your arms anywhere.  These arms have wrapped around you many of times; to comfort you, to protect you, to pleasure you.  

You open your eyes and find Eddies eyes searching your face and body frantically for any serious damage while locking you in his iron grip.  “Holy shit- y/n I’m so sorry sweetheart are you alright?”  He questioned quickly and apologetically.  

A blush creeped up your neck at the term of endearment as you stepped back from him- needing air between the two of you in order to think straight.  Your arm gripped your chest and the painted concrete wall beside you, providing support to settle your rattled nerves.  

“Yea I’m okay.  Free nose job I guess.” You chuckled, moving your hand from your chest to lightly tap at your nose and feel for anything out of place.  Eddie stifled a belly laugh at your optimistic comment- successfully putting his anxieties to rest.  

“Are you sure I don’t need to drive you to like the hospital or something?”

“I think walking would be a safer option than you driving.”

He clasped his hands together and jabbed them at the center of his chest, pretending to knock the air out of his lungs as he stumbled backwards, “Low blow.  Truly, you wound me.” You giggled as you stooped down to pick up the backpack you dropped in the flurry of the impact and lift it onto your shoulder.  

“What are you doing here so late?  Don’t you know the weirdo’s creep out at night?” he teased at you wiggling his fingers in your face.  “Oh, I’m well aware. I’ve recently had an encounter with one and he damn near broke my nose.”

“Hey, I said I was sor- “

“But I’m a big girl, I can handle them.  Also, I had cheer practice, so I had to stay. I should be asking you why you’re here mister.” You squinted your eyes at him in curiosity.

Eddie crossed his arms and leaned his side against a row of lockers in an effort to look nonchalant, “I think we both know why I’m here.”

You arched your eyebrow, “Stalking me?”

“You wish, weirdo.”

“Coming from the chronic detentionee.”

He rolled his eyes and giggled as you popped your hip out dramatically to the side and rested you hand on top of it in a display of annoyance.

“What were you in for this time?”

“I may or may not have stolen some test answers out of Mrs. Woodhouse’s desk. During her planning period.  And got caught.”

Sighing, you threw your arms up in the air, “Eds!” 

“Hey, you said you wanted me to graduate!  How else am I supposed to do that!” He pushed off the lockers and walked over to the opposite side of the hall, opening his conveniently placed locker, and pulling a pack of cigarettes out.

Your arms dropped back to your hips, and you stroked your chin feigning being deep in thought.  “I’m not sure maybe you could, oh I don’t know, study?”

He craned his neck around to give you a side eye, “Come on, y/n.  Let’s be realistic here.”

You giggled at his antics.  As he lit up a smoke- the warm blanket returned.  It had been a couple of weeks since your last interaction with each other when he gave you a ride home from the party you attended, yet this banter was endlessly more effortless.  You were once more confident around one another.  A comfortable silence returned to envelop the two of you, the playful conversation easing the once tense atmosphere between the you both.  He crossed the hall back to you and extended his hand out, offering you a puff of the cigarette.  

It felt too intimate; putting your lips where his were moments before. However, you couldn’t stop the flutter in your chest or yourself as you reached for the smoke. While you made the exchange, he breathed out the smoke and began elaborating.

“You wanna know the worst part?”  “Oh, do tell.” You pleaded, overexaggerating your interest in his predicament.

He smirked as you took a deep inhale, filling your lungs with the calming depressant that dulled the ever-present ache in your bones for the man who stood in front of you.  

“Woodhouse has taken a particular pleasure in trying give me the hardest time possible.  In order to not flunk the semester, she’s making me run music at the middle school’s dance.” He whined taking the cigarette back from you.

Your face twisted into a confused expression- one that Eddie thought made your look adorably puzzled.  “You’re volunteering at the Snow Ball?” “More like I was volun-told to oversee music. Totally ruining my street cred.” He chuckled out darkly and filled the space between you with the potent smoke from his lungs. Giggling, you retorted back, “Well a little birdie told me all the cool kids are doing it. So, I think your cred is safe.”  

Eddie stared back at your secretive expression, willing you to elaborate on your comment.  You motioned to your mouth and zipped it shut, twisting a phantom key at the corner of your lips, and tossing it behind your shoulder.  “You’re kind of the worst you know.”  Your shoulders shrugged upwards, “Enjoy the crime, you do your time.”  

“Okay Billy Idol.” He scoffed.  

“You knew that?” a twinkle in your eye appeared as it occurred to you, he recognized a line from your favorite artist.  He copied your previous actions and pretended to lock his mouth closed, tossing the key behind his shoulder as you once did.

Silence ensued.  Eyes drank up the sight of each other.  Brains formed phrases you desperately wanted to speak but couldn’t bring yourself to. Arms tingled to entwine yourselves in each other’s beings, noses craved each other’s scents, and ears yearned to once more be graced with the timber of each other’s voices. Infinite longing, silently vocalized into the small space between your bodies and the smoke that lingered by your mouths.  

“You need a ride home?”

“That’s alright, Stevie is probably waiting outside.”  

“You better head out then.  Wouldn’t want to keep the prince waiting.” You rolled your eyes at his snide comment, his disdain for your brother’s popularity peeking through ever so slightly.  

“Alrighty then.  See ya.” You awkwardly waved your arms at him and hiked the strap of your backpack further up the expanse of your shoulder.  As you trekked down the long corridor to the large, glass, double doors, you felt the familiar tingling you got only when his eyes were on you.  

At the doors, your eyes caught an image in the reflection of the hallway lights on the glass- an image of Eddie planted in place with his eyes glued to your form as you glided away from him.  Longing in his eyes and a visible ache in his heart.

You thought for a split second that he might come after you or call out, but then nixed the idea from your mind.  

He broke up with me.  He doesn’t miss me; he just misses the attention.  I can give him attention.  I will give him attention until he doesn’t want mine anymore.  

You push the door open and flee to the comfort of Steve’s presence and the warmth of his car.  Leaving Eddie alone, with no company except for his anxious thoughts.

 _______________________________________________________________

“He did not!” you shrieked at the story your brother relayed to you.  The smell of popcorn drifted through the house and butter clung to both your fingers.  The movie you were supposed to be paying attention to went unwatched in favor of gossiping.  “I swear to God y/n.  He grabbed his hands in front of him-“Steve demonstrated as he described, “-and his shoulders touched!”  

“I know he doesn’t have collarbones, but I’ve never seen it in action.”  

“It was the strangest thing I’d ever seen.  But the kid is kinda cool.  He asked me if I’d drive him to that dance next week.”

“Aw, that’s sweet Stevie.” You pinched at his cheeks with your greasy fingers as he swatted them away.  

“I know I know, I’m a saint.  What can I say?”  

“You still gonna take me too?  Or will I be third wheeling on this playdate of yours?”

He rolled his eyes at your mocking and agreed to transport you along with his newfound sidekick.  

“I found out that Eds is gonna be there.” “Gonna be where?” “At the Snow Ball.”

A pause.

“Voluntarily?” You both chuckle. “More like he was volun-told.”

“And you found this out how?” “I may or may not have run into him yesterday and it just came up.”

“And how do you feel about that?”

“I don’t really know.  I caught him staring at me when I left and I swear he even looked sad, but I feel like it was just wishful thinking.  I’m kind of nervous to dress up all nice in front of him, even if he doesn’t care.” You explained while pulling the pillow that decorated your families couch from behind your back and into your lap.  You anxiously fiddled with the decorative fringe at its corners. “We both know he still cares y/n. I’ve seen the way he ogles you at school.”  Steve retorts at your dismissive comment.  

“I get it- I just don’t know what’s going on in his head. Does he regret it?  If I ask him, will I just embarrass myself in putting the idea out there?  Do I even want to get back with him after he couldn’t trust me?  Or, he might still think I cheated on him with Hargrove!”  A gagging noise emerged from your brother’s throat at the mention of his rival’s last name.  

“I told you that you shouldn’t have talked to him after school, of course the prick would try to make a move.  You’re too nice for your own good.”

“Not helping here Steve.”  “Right, sorry.”

“There’s just so many factors that I’m not sure he can even overlook to get back with me.  I wish we could talk about it, but it feels like I’d ruin the common ground we’ve found if I do.  I can’t lose him completely Stevie.”  

Your brother sighed and reached towards the coffee table to grab a fist full of popcorn.  He popped a few into his mouth, munched, and contemplated your situation. “Maybe you don’t need to talk about it. Maybe you can drop some hints or plant some seeds in his brain and see what he does.  Almost like, testing the waters.”

“Steve, that’s like kinda brilliant.  How did you come up with that?”

“Oh, you know me.  You are currently in the presence of Hawkins High’s local Cupid.”

“Oh yea?  And how’s Cupid’s own love life going?”

Steve threw a few pieces of popcorn at your face, getting tangled in your hair as you pulled the pillow up too little too late to block his attack.  “Off topic, back to you!”

The siblings bantered back and forth like a pair of gossiping hens for the rest of the night.  2 more batches of popcorn were made, the kitchen was made sticky from a shaken can of soda- resulting in a very irritated Mrs. Harrington and an assumed Mr. Harrington-, and another movie went played yet unwatched.  

You and Steve parted ways a little before midnight. As you settled into your bed, your head swam with thoughts of your Eddie.  The image of his toothy grin painted across the back of your eye lids and welcomed the darkness of sleep with you.

 _______________________________________________________________

You yearned for the smell of last night’s buttery popcorn.  Or any smell that wasn’t beer, vomit, or sweat.  You weren’t particular.  

You sank into the couch, red cup in hand, as you sullenly sipped from the spiked punch.  

Second party in a month.  Never thought my social life would come to this- forced interaction with drunk adult toddlers.

You spied your friend Dina- the culprit who insisted you come out tonight- stumbling her way towards the couch out of your peripheral vision.  You sprung up from your seat, abandoned your drink haphazardly on the lamp table to your right, and caught Dina in your arms before she collapsed onto the suspiciously stained couch.  “I think you’re ready to go home Dina.  Who drove you here?”

“May-May!” She shrieked out.  “Who?”

“May-May!” Dina sang into your ear- blowing out your eardrum in the process.

You held Dina as she swayed around in your embrace and tried to decipher her drunken rambling.

“Oh, Mabel!” “Mabel!” Dina agreed with the vigorous shake of her head.  

You scanned your surroundings and found a friend lounging in a chair on a few feet away from the couch- close enough to hear you call out over the music. “Andy!  Can you come watch Dina while I get her ride?”  Andy swung his head around, his fluffed up brown hair shaking around his head at the motion along with the tiny, silver, dangle earring that reacted the same.  His eyes scanned the scene in front of him and his eyes focused in with determination, “Of course, I won’t let her out of my sight.”  Andy arose from his chair and sat on the couch, leaving room from Dinas drunk form to collapse next to him.  

“Thanks man.”  He made an army saluting motion with his hand, then you turned and walked into the thick of the party to find Mabel.  

After 15 minutes, an awkward bedroom interruption of Mabel and her boyfriend Denis, and convincing Dina to stop petting Andy’s hair, the lot finally got Dina into Denis’ car.  

“Thanks for helping again, Andy, I owe you.”  You closed Dina’s door and patted his shoulder in appreciation.  You averted your attention from Andy’s from retreating into the house at the sound of Denis poking his head out of the driver’s side window.  “You gotta ride home y/n?” he questioned cautiously.  

You shoved your hands into the pockets of your jacket and angled the top half of your body to see Mabel in the passenger seat.  “I can find someone to drive me, you’ve got your hands full with Dina.” Mabel shook her head vigorously and insisted you join your drunk friend in the backseat.  “Plus, I don’t know where she lives,” she added, ”and I don’t think she is any position to give us directions.”

“I thought you drove her here?”

“Yea, but she came over to my house then Denis picked us up.”

A thought crossed your mind for a fraction of a second.  Dina lives in Forest Hills.  Eddie lives in Forest Hills.  Dina lives directly across from Eddies trailer. Your heart skipped what felt like multiple beats at the thought of possibly seeing him, but then you came back down to Earth and realized the probability of you interacting with him tonight was astronomically low.  

It’s Friday night, there is no way he is home.  

Yet your stomach still got butterflies at the thought of being in proximity to the trailer where everything ended.  A place you once frequented multiple times a week.  A place you felt safest in.  A place you have not been in at least a month. You swallowed your nerves and glanced at Denis, eyeing him for permission to accompany them on their journey to Dina’s house and inevitably adding a stop to drop you off.  

Denis smirked at you, thinking your lapse in response was an effect of the alcohol, “Just get in the damn car.”  You giggled and stuck your tongue out at him, making your way around the car to enter the backseat where Dina greeted you with a burp in your face that smelt of vodka and stomach acid.  

Definitely not buttery popcorn.

________________________________________________________________

Eddie lounged in the comfort of his room.  Another Friday night, another night alone.  It was a slightly warmer than usual December night, creating the perfect opportunity for Eddie to leave his bedroom window ajar; a beautiful breeze filling up his space and lungs.  Silently, he scribbled down notes and ideas for his next Hellfire campaign- ever since that unfortunate November evening, Eddie has found himself with excessive amounts of free time and no choice but to fill it or be left in a spiral of despair and self-loathing.

Without warning, a voice drifted into his room that had not entered since the aforementioned night.  It was so crystal-clear Eddie was concerned for his own sanity; either he had started hearing voices- your voice- in his head or you were somehow hiding in his closet. Neither of his theories yielded correct when, after discarding his busy work, he found your voice originated from outside his bedroom window, somewhere in the shadows of the trailer park he lived in.

There you stood, the streetlight you stood under creating a halo affect around your head and hair, infecting the air around you with your laugh.  To your left was a raven-haired girl he knew to be one of his neighbors, Dina Rodriguez, and a dear friend of yours.  She had her arm draped around your shoulder like she couldn’t stand without you- and after observing for a moment, Eddie realized she couldn’t.  Supporting Dina’s left arm was another member of your squad, Mabel Myers; her boyfriend Denis “something-or-other” trailed behind the group of girls like a bodyguard.

It appeared Dina was either drunk off her ass or high out of her mind- he is familiar with both situations intimately- and it was the duty of you three to see your friend home safe and sound.  She lulled her drooping head to the right and muttered another comment into your ear that sent your laughter exploding from your chest and flooding his ears again.  As you tossed your head back in hilarity your eyes caught his gazing at your from across the street through his window. Immediately turning red, Eddie turned around and rushed to his bed- desperate to dive back into his campaign and distract himself from the colossal embarrassment that was being caught by you.

He heard the door to Dina’s trailer open and close and the sound of your voice disappear behind the thin trailer walls.  After a while, he heard nothing but silence in Forest Hills and assumed you had fled the park with your friends after settling Dina in.  Eddie should know by now to always expect the unexpected when it comes to you, because a few moments after he figured you’d left there was a light tap noise at his window.  At first, he ignored it, choosing to remain focused on his campaign. Yet again, another light tap hit his window.  And a few more second after that, a tiny pebble landed on the open page of his journal he wrote in on his bed.  His eyebrows pinched and he picked up the stone to inspect it.  These shenanigans had your name written all over then, and his heart swelled.

Stone still trapped between his index finger and thumb, Eddie approached his window and opened it further to come face to face with your flaming cheeks.

“Were you throwing stones into my room?” He questioned with a smirk on his face, holding up the pebble and launching it back out his window and onto the gravel below.  

“I’m sorry I have terrible aim.  I meant to hit your window.” You rubbed the back of your neck embarrassedly.

He narrowed his eyes at you, “You stalking me or something?”

You blush at his reference to your last conversation, “You wish, weirdo.” You stuck your tongue out at him.

He cocked his head to the side and rested his hands on the sill of the window, “Coming from the girl who was throwing stones at my window.”

You planted your hands on your hips and raised your eyebrows at him.  “Coming from the guy who was watching me like a creeper from across the street.”

It was now Eddies turn to blush profusely.  “I was hoping you hadn’t seen me.” His eyes flitted to the ground where your white sneakers made contact with the gravel road of the trailer park.  

“I was hoping you wouldn’t see me either.  Didn’t wanna disturb your night.” You shuffled your right foot against the dirt and sent up a gust of particles that had you stepping back slightly as to avoid the cloud.  “Yet here you are, causing a ruckus that would have your mother clutching her pearls.” Eddie chuckled grasping at the guitar pick necklace that dangled across his collarbone, resting atop the black, fitted t-shirt he wore- mimicking a shocked lady.  Your cheeks once more flushed at the insinuation your presence was an intrusion while muttering another apology.  You ran your hand through your hair, a nervous tick Eddie noticed both Harrington siblings had developed over the years.  

Eddie caught his flunder. “Oh, no I didn’t- I wasn’t saying that- erm.. What’s up with Dina?” he tried to change the subject.  

You smiled sheepishly, “One too many hits.  A few too many shots.  And after emptying the contents of her stomach on the ride of the road a few miles back, everything seemed extremely funny to her.  Don’t go hiking around marker 15… it’s not pretty.”  

“Rock on party animal.  Are you okay?”  Eddie asked quizzically.  “Am I okay? Yea.  Am I sober? For the most part.” You giggled.

“You okay to get home? I can give you a ride.”

“It’s okay, Denis is our DD.”

“Ah, I see.  Wait, are they still here?”

“Yea, they are right over there.”  You jammed your thumb behind you at the red hatchback humming at the entrance of the of the trailer park, stalled in place and- apparently- waiting on you.  

“Then what are you doing Y/n?  Don’t hold them up.” Eddie gestured to the car. You zipped your windbreaker up farther and crossed your arms on your chest. You made brief eye contact with the boy in the window before flicking back away to the oh-so interesting weeds growing at the base of the trailer home.  “I’ll get out of your hair in a minute, I just- I guess I just wanted to say hi.”

Just planting some seeds. Testing the waters.  Wondering if yours still in love with me as deeply as I am with you.

Your eyes reached his again, checking for his reaction, only to meet his glassy eyes.

He muttered a soft hello as he leaned further out his window.

You muttered a soft hello back as you stepped towards the opening.  

Eyes locked; hearts pounded in sync.

Then, an ear-splitting car horn shattered the moment, alerting you two that you were not alone. You jumped out of your skin and Eddie almost hit his head on the top of the open pane.  You both laughed awkwardly at the intimate bubble that had burst around you and you shuffled backwards.  

“I better jam.  Later.”

He didn’t respond.  He held his eyes on you and waved his hand back and forth- a reluctant goodbye.  You jogged to the car and stopped when you were about halfway. Suddenly, in a flurry of movement, you raced back to the windowsill.  

Eddies jaw dropped as you approached him.  Eyes locked; hearts pounded in sync.

“My dress will be blue.”

Bewildered eyes peered at half-sober ones.

“Do with that what you will.”

Seed, planted.

Once again you jogged back to the car, but this time you entered the car and exited Forest Hills trailer park.  

________________________________________________________________

Eddie had a horrible habit of being late to almost everything.  Corroded Coffin had to be at the Hideout at 7:30?  He’s showing up at 8. School starts at 8:45? He’s showing up at 9. Hellfire is right after school? He’s showing up 20 minutes late.  

It’s just how he rolled. His overactive mind usually distracted him from his original intent- making arriving on time a seemingly impossible task for the frazzled metal head.  What he lacked in punctuality, he tried to make up for speediness in travel- an Eddie-ism that has nearly sent you into cardiac arrest on multiple occasions.

Eddie had never been on time for nearly anything in his life, much less early.  Yet here he sat in the back of his van, music low, back doors open, cigarette lit, and 10 minutes early to the mandatory set up for the dance.  

Eddie was early, for the first time in this life, because of you.  Because of your little comment, whispered to him through his windowsill in the dead of night.

My dress will be blue.

He swore he melted into a puddle of lovesick-Eddie-mush as soon as Denis’ car exited the trailer park. That was not the comment he expected you to leave him with that night, but he was nonetheless grateful for it.  He couldn’t leave his trailer early enough that night, it seemed.  He wanted to see you as soon as earthly possible, adorned in a blue gown.  Now, he was excited to sit in the stupid gym, listening to stupid pop music, surrounded by stupid middle schoolers. Because he would be rewarded with the sight of you in a beautiful blue dress.  

As he smoked through his cigarette, he let his mind wander.  He wondered what shade it would be, light or dark.  He wondered what length it would be, long or short.  If it would be tight, showing off your figure.  If it would show your shoulders or your cleavage. What you would be wearing underneath it.  He shook his head, trying to rid himself of thoughts that would only lead to sorrow when he saw you in your beautiful blue dress and wouldn’t be able to take you home with him after the dance.  How he wouldn’t see the blue of the dress drown underneath the leather of his jacket that you would wear if you got cold. How he wouldn’t be able to feel the fabric of the garment under his hands as he held your waist, guiding you down the hall of his trailer and into his room. How he would never see that beautiful blue dress crumpled up on his bedroom floor.  

Eddie felt like such a pervert, but he couldn’t help himself.  You were his kryptonite, his eternal temptation, and he would never be able to stop himself from wanting you- or loving you.  He stepped out of the back of the van and flicked the butt of the smoke stick on the ground, stomping it out under his heavy boot and ridding himself of fantasies of you.  He decided he would have to settle for just admiring you and your beautiful blue dress from afar tonight, shut the doors to his van, and started towards the entrance of the gym.  

*******

Half listening to Mrs.Woodhouse explaining the “do play” and “do not play” songs, Eddies eyes wandered the sparkling, silver gymnasium for you.  You had yet to arrive, which caused anxiety to swirl in his chest and make his blue tie feel more like a noose, slowly choking him.  After getting the run down about the music, Eddie meandered over to where an acquaintance of his, Jonathan Byers, set up his camera.  They chatted about the dance, school, life- until Nancy Wheeler appeared next to the pair of boys and tucked herself under the older Byers sibling’s arm.  

Eddie excused himself from the conversation, happily obliging to the new couple’s silent desire to bask in their honeymoon phase, alone.  

Eventually the dance commenced, and you still had not darkened the doorway of the gym.  A steady stream of middle schoolers entered, blood pumping, hearts racing, and hormones ranging- and Eddie occupied himself by spinning records of mindless pop songs.  

You stepped into the gym right out of Eddie’s fantasies.  There you stood, coat in hand, adorned in gold jewelry and the dress he had pondered about for the past few days.  

You were a breath of fresh air, filling his lungs and igniting the anxiety in his belly, as the music thumped in his ears in time with his racing heart.

Your dress was the perfect shade of dark, navy blue and came down to your knees.  It covered your shoulders with puffy sleeves that capped at your elbows, accompanied by a square neckline that highlighted your collarbones and the dainty gold necklace that sat upon them.  Your earring swished around and bounced off your cheeks and jawline as you swung your head around to the music at the same time as observing the room.  

Your eyes met Eddies for a split second before darting away.  His chest sank at the dismissal until your eyes immediately darted back to his, realizing you’d skipped over his face and commenced a double take.  

Your eyes digested the sight of him in a sky-blue tie, crookedly hanging from his white-collar shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, displaying his tattoos. A smile erupted on your face as you comprehended his appearance.  He was in a sky-blue tie.  A blue tie.  The beam of your smile was enough to send the butterflies in your stomach fluttering to Eddies.  You shyly brought your hand up and gave an enthusiastic wave to the boy, but turned to dash towards Nancy before he could return the gesture.  

A moment later a small boy with extremely poofy hair walked through the entrance and sought his friends out in the bustling crowd, as many had done before him that night.

You reached the punch bowl and rounded it to stand on Nancys left, giving her a quick side hug.  

“You look gorgeous y/n!”  

“Me? Look at you!  I feel like my eyes are about to pop out of my head- that dress looks amazing on you!” She blushed at your compliment and even deeper so when her eyes made contact with Jonathan’s from across the room. “And I don’t seem to be the only person who has noticed.” You tease her, the exchange not going unnoticed by you.

She rolled her eyes at you and shoved you playfully with her hip, not before you swiped two cups of punch and sauntered away.  As you left you heard a boy ask Nancy what was in the punch.  She chuckled to him and replied, “Pure fuel.” You giggled to yourself, the joke- too- not going unnoticed by you.  

A small smile settled on your face as you approached the music booth, clutching a cup in each hand, and walked up the platform to Eddie.  

The booth sat behind the speakers that filled the gym with music, making the space Eddie sat in unexpectedly quieter than the rest of the dance and nixing the need to shout to be heard.

“Total rager, isn’t it?”

Eddie looked up at your sly smirk, quickly soaking up your presence.  “Oh yeah totally.  This’ll be the talk of the playground for weeks.”

You giggled, “I told you all the cool kids would be at this shindig!”

Eddie rolled his eyes and slumped back into this chair; arms settled on the crease of his thighs.  “Oh yes, Hawkins Highs resident freak and 200 middle schoolers.  A shindig of epic proportions.”  

“Hey, don’t forget about the co-captain of the cheer team! Or am I just chopped liver?” you raised your eyebrow at him playfully.

In a daring mood, and propelled by the beat of the music, Eddie couldn’t help but flirt shamelessly, “Not in that dress, you aren’t.”

Your cheeks rushed red, and you looked down at the flats adorning your feet, willing yourself to gain composure.  You forced your eyes up again and settled into your hip, preparing your response.

“Well, I see you got my hint then.  About the color.”  You pointed to your own neck with your index finger, still wrapped around a punch filled cup.  “Although I don’t think you really matched it right.”

“Hey, you said blue! Not what kind! S’Not my fault you didn’t specify.” Eddie accused while reaching down to the crate of records next to him, ready to cue up the next set.  

“And here I was trying to be nice and bring you punch.  But, if you’re gonna be a jerk then I guess I’ll take myself and my beverages elsewhere-“

“Wait, wait, hold up. Don’t go.”  He pleaded.  You turned back around from where you had started away, eyes locking too intensely for such a public space.  Eddie pulled himself out of his momentary lapse in composure, “I’m very thirsty.”

You half smiled. “And?”

“And I’m sorry.”

“For?” you waved your arms around in a circle, feigning confusion, and tousling the liquid around in the cups.

Eddie narrowed his eyes at you and you mirrored his expression- serious about your teasing. “For being a jerk.”  

“Now that wasn’t so hard now was it!”  You stepped back towards him and extended your arm towards him, offering the cup in your hand.  As the cup exchanged between you two, fingers brushed slightly against each other. Eyes locked, then looked away- unable to process the intensity of each other’s stares.  A moment passes before you noticed that the music had stopped.  

“Eddie.” “Yea?” “The music.”

A moment.

“What?”

“Mr. Munson!”  Mrs. Woodhouse shrieked a few feet away from the booth.  Pulling you both from the locked gaze you held.  

“Oh shit- “Eddie choked out while frantically changing over the record.  You snicked under your breath, holding your cup to your lips to hide behind as you stifled your laughter.

“Think it’s funny getting me in trouble?” he glared at you out of the side of his eye as finally spun the track.  “Only a little.”  You held up your thumb and index finger in front of your face.  

Your eyes caught on the watch the adorned Eddies wrist, the time setting an alarm off in your mind. You placed your cups down on the table next to Eddies untouched punch and started off on your mission.  “Hey I gotta go.”

“But you just got here. Where are you going?”

“I just- I have something- someone… this thing I gotta do.” You stammer out to him through your anxious smile, concealing your urgency.  

Eddies heart visibly sank. The secrets, the stammering, the lack of explanation- all brought him back to that night.  That November night.  The worst night of his life.   While he was upset that the situation had not lessened any to allow you to tell him about it, he would not make you feel guilty for a second time about having to put it above both your feelings- he would not make the same mistake twice. He understood this was your obligation. And he let you go, just like that night.

“Oh okay.  Come back if you want.”

You smiled at him and nodded your head slightly, leaving him alone behind the booth and entering the sea of students trying to impress one another by step touching and bouncing up and down to the rhythm of the songs playing.  

Disappearing through the doors of the gym and into the night, you entered the freezing air for a moment to approach the police truck parked in the lot.  Inside awaited your ward for the night, El.  Hopper entrusted you with watching after her until he came back at the end of the night to retrieve her- wordlessly exchanging a thank you to you as Eleven climbed out of the truck and embraced you in a tight hug.

Arm slung around her, you guided her into the dance, took her coat and paid for her ticket.  You accompanied her through the door and gave her hand a squeeze.

El looked up at your gentle smile and returned it.  “What now?” she softly questioned, unsure how to conduct herself in such a new and public environment.  “Go have fun,” you whispered in her ear, “And enjoy yourself.  You deserve this.”  El blushed slightly, turning her face to scan the crowd.  A soft smile took over your lips as you watched her scamper towards Mike- their relationship reminding you of Eddie and yourself at the start of your relationship, last year.  You tucked her coat over your arm and made your way to the bleachers covered by reams of long silver streamers, stashing it away next to yours.  

Eddie watched as you reemerged from the stands with the poofy-haired boy in tow, as he wiped his eyes. You dragged him towards the dance floor and proceeded to dance with him, until he was chipper and bouncing around to the song with you.  Your beautiful blue dress reflected under the lights, and Eddie swore in the moment, you looked like an angel.  A real-life angel, sent down to Earth to brighten up the lives of everyone around you.

“Don’t look now, but that group of girls over there keeps looking at you.” You muttered to Dustin as you continued to dance.  His steps faltered as he comprehended what you said, and a radiant smile broke across his crooked teeth.  “Really?”

“Really.  Now don’t let anybody get you down.  Not tonight, not ever.  Got it?”

The younger boy nodded his head and twirled you around.  

“Don’t look now, but the guy at the music booth is totally checking you out.”  

You felt your heart sprout wings and flutter off, joining the butterflies in your stomach.  Your throat went dry as you questioned, “Really?”

Dustin smirked, “Really.” He wiggled his eyebrows at you and made a Chewbacca sounding noise with his tongue.  You cringed at the uncomfortable sound effect and after a beat curtsied to Dustin.  He bowed back to you and the two parted ways, leaving you free to make your way back to Eddie.

***

The dance ranged on in front of you and Eddie, like a battle unfolding, but did not burst the bubble you had created for yourselves.  After rejoining him, you fell back into a natural conversation filled with ebbing emotion beneath both of your surfaces, coded flirting, and semi-awkward sips of punch.

“Who was that girl you walked in?”

Your heart stopped and your hands grew clammy.  You had no idea how to explain the supernatural girl to Eddie and her cover story had completely fled your mind in that instance, the inquiry catching you completely off guard.    

“I… well she- um,” you stammered out in a hopeless search for the right words to string together. Eddie saw your distress, he understood. No matter how hard you tried, you could never conceal your emotions around Eddie, he had always and would always be able to read you like his favorite novel.  In a desperate attempt to rid you of your anxieties, he shifted the question.  “What’s her name?”

You took a deep, yet shaky breath in. “El.” You breathed out.  “She’s um… she’s not from around here.”  

“Then how do you know her?” You mind scrambled for an explanation. “Well, I… She… She’s Mike Wheelers girlfriend, so…” your mind and mouth wouldn’t let you elaborate past that.  Eddie nodded his head in understanding and dropped the topic.  He didn’t know what she had to do with everything, but he knew this El girl was involved with what you couldn’t talk about. And that was enough information to satisfy him.  

The rest of the night was filled with Eddie playing your song requests and laughter filling the space between you both.

***  

Eddie sat in his van and watched as you guided the skittish girl to a truck, with the poofy haired boy following closely behind.  After seeing her inside the vehicle, you and the middle schooler made your way past his van to enter your brother’s car a few spots down from his van.  

In a rash decision he could hardly process before performing it, he leaned his head out of his rolled down window and called your name.  Your head whipped around at the beckon, and you left the younger boy on the journey to your brother’s car in favor of approaching his.  

When you were close enough to hear, and far enough away from the boy to be overheard, Eddie spoke.

“Thanks for keeping me company tonight. I… I had a really nice time.”

You blushed intensely at the profession and returned the sentiment, “So did I. Like I said, I miss talking to you.” A lopsided smile spread across your face, and you turned to leaved, the fabric of your blue dress swishing around you.

“Y/n?”

You turned back around, with a hopeful look in your eye.

“You… You look beautiful tonight.”  

Eddie swore if your cheeks became any redder, you would turn into a tomato.  

Wordlessly, you skidded back to your brother’s car and opened the passenger door.  You looked back once, made searing eye contact with Eddie, then entered the car cabin and closed the door.

The seed was sewn, and it grew.  The water was tested, and it was warm.  

And for the first time in a long time, you both slept soundly.

I wanna make this better at some point because the angle is SHIT but… a thought came to me… and I had to scribble it down…

(I’m sorry but this is absolutely something he would fantasise about with you)

in my miguel o’hara era rn…

I am fully aware that the fandom is, uh, waning. I also do not care and have so - many - ideas. Eddie is still my fictional boyfriend, and I still want to write for him. Just so you (whoever is reading this) knows.

WAKE UP BABE NEW CONTENT

the lord has blessed us today, amen