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randomnabi

Aug 5, 2022

the-wild-wolves-around-you

even as a shadow, even as a dream pt.3

Pairing: Vamp!Eddie Munson/Fem Reader; Vamp!Eddie Munson/You

Summary: Eddie and Reader finally have their reunion. (Eddie's POV)

Rating: M(ature)

Warnings: adult language, feelings of self-loathing, blood cravings, blood kink if you squint

A/N: sorry for the delay! this part just kept getting away from me lol. also, i think i'll do one more small wrap up chapter so Dustin can get his breakfast and his own reunion, but then this story will be done! anyway, hope you enjoy ❤️

Ao3 Link: Here | Pt. 1 Links: Tumblr / Ao3 | Pt. 2 Links: Tumblr / Ao3

Taglist: @sushihousebread @localdepressedvampire

Reblogs and comments greatly appreciated!

Eddie cursed himself and sobbed in turns as he blindly lurched through the woods.

He should have left the moment he saw you. He shouldn’t have gone to your house at all. But he got lost in the cadence of your voice as you spoke to Harrington, and every word out of your mouth was like a dagger to the heart. You had sounded so broken, so defeated. Hearing you blame yourself for his death almost had him running out of the trees to your side. He wanted to wrap his arms around you and tell you he was sorry, that he loved you, but fuck, it had taken every ounce of self-control in him to not go rabid over the blood pumping through your and Harrington’s veins.

When Harrington left, Eddie tried to make himself do the same, but he couldn’t. Instead, he lingered in the shadowed tree line like a creep, watching you smoke on the porch before you went inside, beckoned by the sound of Dustin’s staticky voice. He again tried to leave, but somehow, he found him sneaking across the dark street to press himself against the side of your house. Then he’d just… stared at you through the kitchen window, taking in every detail of your battered face. Your split lip, the purple and yellowing bruises splattered across the arch of your cheekbone, your bloodshot eyes. The sight of you so injured and the thought of Jason Carver beating you bloody had started to make him angry. The rage in turn made his teeth pulse, and it fed the hunger that was writhing in his belly like a living thing.

So, when you suddenly smashed the glass you were holding against the sink, when you sliced open your hand, the smell of your blood— even through the wall— was so strong that Eddie had gouged his claws down the side of your house to keep from launching himself through your window. All at once, his brain had filled with fantasies of you pinned beneath him, squirming, crying, as he sank his teeth into your flesh, and his mouth had overflowed with saliva.

Then he’d looked up and found himself staring into your wide eyes, and your voice was like a bucket of ice cold water.

“Eddie?!”

His feet had started running before he could tell them to, but he could hear your front door slam open behind him, could hear your bare feet slapping against cement and then asphalt, could hear each one of your ragged, panting breaths.

Could smell the hot fresh blood pounding through your veins.

The hunger in him was howling to go back, but Eddie forced himself forward. He had to get away from you, far away. He couldn’t hurt you, he wouldn’t. He needed to get away, away, away—

“Eddie!”

Your voice made him trip, his shoulder smacking painfully into a tree trunk. He could hear you stumbling farther behind him, but it was like you were screaming directly into his ear. He whimpered as the smell of your blood got closer, and then he was staggering into motion again.

“Eddie, please!”

“No,” he sobbed as he started to gain a little distance, and with it, speed.

He could do this, just a little bit farther—

“Ah!”

He heard you cry out, followed by the sound of you crashing into the forest floor. The smell of your blood suddenly grew stronger, more potent, and Eddie stumbled, falling to his hands and knees. His mouth was pooling with saliva again, and he could feel the press of sharp teeth against his bottom lip. His stomach roared and revolted, and drool slipped past his lips, plopping wetly to the ground.

“No!” Eddie said again, this time caught somewhere between a groan and a growl, and he pressed his forehead into the dirt as he fought against the demon hunger.

It raged at him, clawing and slashing its way up his throat. Eddie convulsed into the leaf litter, scrambling for purchase, and he was so out of it, he didn’t even hear you get to your feet again and start running.

But he did smell your blood getting closer, and a whiny snarl tumbled past his gritted teeth as you rounded a tree behind him.

“Eddie!” In your mouth, his name was half sob, half gasp for breath. He heard you stumble towards him, but the smell of blood on you was like a thick cloak, nearly eclipsing his senses.

“Stay… back!” he spat out, and he scrambled away until his shoulder smashed into the base of a tree. He was panting through his mouth, but it was pointless since the scent of your blood already sat on his tongue like the sweetest of chocolate. He whined in pain as he continued to salivate, and he distantly felt his wings fold around him as he curled up into a ball. “Please… Obi.”

“Oh, my god,” you whimpered, your voice choked with tears. “It is you. E-Eddie—”

“I said, stay back,” he snarled, an animal sound, and he heard you freeze mid step.

“Okay, okay,” you breathed. “I won’t— oh, shit.”

Your voice jumped an octave, went high-pitched, stabbing at Eddie’s ears. The scent of you soured slightly, and it wasn’t hard to guess why. You were scared. Scared of him. You were obviously close enough that you could see him clearly. See the monster he had become.

Eddie whimpered again and pressed his face into the bark of the tree.

“Go awayyyy,” he moaned, drool still slipping down his chin. “B-But don’t… run. I’ll… fuck, I’ll want to chase you. Just back away s-slowly. Go home.”

The last word came out as a growl because he could sense you inching forward again, and at his tone, you froze once more.

Silence filled the woods for what felt like an eternity, broken only by the sounds of your ragged breathing and pounding heart. Then you took a deep breath.

“No,” you said on the exhale, your voice quiet but firm.

“Goddamnit, Obi, I-I’m not f-fucking kiddin’,” Eddie slurred. The front of his ruined shirt was soaked with drool, sticking wetly to his skin. “Go. Please.”

“No,” you said again, but now your tone was sharp, angry. “No, I’m not leaving you, Eddie. N-Not again. Let me help. Let… let me see you.”

“F-Fuck!” His wings flicked out without his permission, letting the humid night air wash over him. He slammed his head into the tree behind him, felt it shudder and crack beneath his skull. The smell of you was stronger now, overwhelming, and through his slitted eyes he could see your blurry form crouched just a handful of yards away. “Shit, god, i-it hurts. Fuck, it hurts so bad, Obi.”

His words were little more than a desperate sob, and he sensed you shuffle closer, which made him whine and dig his heels into the dirt.

“W-What hurts?” you whispered. “Are you… bleeding? Is something broken?”

“No, no,” he groaned, his head rolling back and forth against the tree trunk. Then he fully opened his eyes, saw you crouching there in front of him, saw the enticing curve of your neck in the pale moonlight filtering in through the trees. His teeth were burning now, and his mouth hung open. “Hun— Hungry.”

“Hungry?” you echoed, sounding confused, but then he saw your eyes click to his mouth, taking in the dried blood and the sharp teeth— no, fangs— pressed to his lower lip. “O-Oh.”

“Please… go,” Eddie said again. He could barely form words now, could feel the animal hunger clouding his mind like thick fog. “I… I don’t want to h-hurt you.”

“You won’t.” Your tone was adamant, tempered like steel, and you crept forward inch by inch. “Eddie Munson would never hurt me. He— you are a good man, a great man, a hero. You… are my best friend, Munson. You are not going to hurt me.”

Eddie couldn’t tell if you were trying to convince him or yourself.

“I… can’t,” he gritted out, clenching his eyes closed and snapping his jaw shut with an audible click. Saliva continued to leak from the corners of his mouth. “C-Can’t… think. Hurts too— too much. Y-You’re blood is so… fuck, Obi.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” you shushed him, and suddenly your hand brushed the tip of his shoe. You were so close now he could reach out and touch you.

Eddie cried out wordlessly, going rigid, and he dug his claws into the dirt beside his hips. His restraint was holding on by a single thread on the verge of snapping.

“Shhh, shhh, it’s okay,” you murmured fretfully. “I-I don’t want you to be in pain, Eddie. So why don’t you just… just take a little, huh? T-That should make you feel better, right?”

The smell of your blood abruptly got stronger, and Eddie’s eyes snapped open of their own volition, locking onto your right hand as you extended it out to him. A scarlet stained kitchen towel was wrapped around your palm, but as he watched, you used the cast on your opposite wrist to push the towel off. It fluttered to the forest floor, wafting your delectable scent into his nose, and Eddie gargled out a growl, clinging to the last scraps of his humanity.

“N-No, I’ll hurt you, won’t stop, can’t stop, it hurts,” he babbled out, trying not to drown in the saliva sliding down his throat.

“No, it’s okay, it’s okay. You’ll stop. I’ll stop you. Just… just take enough to make the pain go away. Please, Eddie. Let me help you. Let me give you this.”

Eddie tried to keep fighting, he really did, but then your bloody fingertips trailed across his lips, and everything inside him shattered.

Snarling, Eddie snatched your forearm with one hand and shoved you back with the other. You cried out in surprise as you fell on your ass, but within moments Eddie was pressing your spine flush with the dirt, bringing your hand up to his mouth in the same motion.

He dragged his tongue over the gash in your palm and nearly wept. The taste of you— of your blood— was exquisite, all-consuming, erasing the rest of the world. His lips latched onto your skin, pulling the blood into his mouth in warm pulses. He shuddered and groaned as he swallowed, but he needed more, tongue digging into your wound, looking for more, more, more—

He abruptly sank his teeth into the meat of your thumb, and you yelped, trying to yank your arm back. Eddie growled into your hand, mouth full of your blood. He was on top of you, his body pressing yours into the forest floor. He could feel your pulse stutter against his tongue, the fearful hitch of your chest against his. Your heartbeat was thundering, drowning out all else, and Eddie just kept sucking, swallowing, losing himself.

“E-Eddie.” Your voice was very faint, like it was coming from far away. He felt you start pushing at him with your left arm, smacking his shoulder with your cast, but it was like bugs hitting a windshield, inconsequential. “Okay, y-you can stop now. St— ah! Eddie, stop!”

Your blood turned sour with fear on his tongue, and it was enough to drag him back to his senses.

He ripped his mouth away from you, and blood splattered off his lips and down onto your neck. He panted as the hunger started to recede, curling at the bottom of his belly like a satiated cat stretching in the sun. The roaring in his ears faded, and when his vision cleared, he was left staring down at your wide eyes and your ashen, trembling face.

A moment ticked by. Two…

Then realization crashed over him like a tidal wave.

“Fuck!” Eddie leapt off you and scrambled backwards on his ass, his wings flapping frantically on either side of him. “Shit, fuck, god! I’m so sorry, Obi, I’m so fucking sorry, I—”

He broke off with a whine when his spine bumped into a tree, but before he could crawl around it, you were bolting upright, your eyes as wild as your leaf-strewn hair.

“Wait!” you gasped. “D-Don’t go! It’s… it’s okay. I’m okay, see? You… you stopped. Eddie, you stopped. I’m fine.”

“I hurt you,” he whimpered, remembering your high-pitched cry and the flavor of your fear. He started to hyperventilate again, and the taste of your blood was making him dizzy.

“Barely,” you argued as you got up on your knees and shuffled forward an inch. “It hurt more when I gave myself the cut. It’s okay, Eddie, I’m okay.”

You repeated these sentiments in a murmuring, soothing voice, and Eddie’s rapid panting slowed a fraction. His eyes skipped over your face, taking in the bruises, before his gaze locked with yours again. You were staring back at him firmly, unblinkingly, and when he didn’t move, you tentatively brushed your fingertips against his ankle.

Your skin was hot against his, but not in a painful way. It was more like the sensation of sinking into a hot bath after a long day, and Eddie shuddered as some of the tension leeched out of him.

Then he realized he could think clearly again. In fact, he almost felt… normal. The beast-like hunger that had filled his body mere moments ago was nothing more than a tiny twinge deep in his belly, as easy to ignore as a minor headache. The scent of your blood was still strong but not overpowering, so now he could also smell the sharpness of your sweat, the lingering haze of smoke on your clothes. He licked his lips and could actually taste the potent burn of alcohol lingering in your blood, remnants of whiskey. It was… so good, so satisfying, so… filling.

“Eddie?”

Your voice yanked him out of his thoughts, and his eyes flicked to yours. You were still staring at him with that pinched, worried expression, and you had tightened your fingers around the bone of his ankle.

He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, a distant sound drew his attention. His head turned in that direction, and he heard the crunch of leaves and sticks beneath thick boots, followed by the murmur of voices and the crackle of static.

“What the fuck are we even doing out here?” one voice grunted. It was deep, male, irate.

“You got the same info I did.” The second grumbling voice was also male but a little less deep. “Someone heard screaming in the woods.”

“Probably a damn coyote,” the first man scoffed. “People are just fucking paranoid.”

“I dunno, man… you heard the rumors about this place. People have been dropping like flies for years. And the brass is acting all squirrely, dragging so many of us out here, making us do these night patrols. Plus, what’s with the flamethrowers? Some weird shit is going down.”

“Well, I’ll pump that weird shit full of lead if I see anything,” the first guy snickered, and Eddie heard the clear click of gun safety being switched off.

A moment later, the smell of the men hit him, wafting through the treetops on a cool breeze. That hunger in his belly stretched momentarily but then decided it was still satisfied with your blood, and Eddie felt the throbbing in his teeth fade into nothing.

But with the hunger gone came fear. Because those men had guns and were not stingy about using them from the sound of it. And Eddie was still a wanted man. Plus…

His wings twitched along his back, and Eddie knew he couldn’t let those men find him.

Or you.

“Obi.” His tone was sharp and clear, and you jumped when he turned back to you, but he barreled onward. “We… we gotta get out of here. I can— don’t ask me how, but I can hear some guys coming this way. Two of them. They have guns.”

“Shit, the curfew,” you gasped as your eyes darted around. You frowned in concentration like you were trying to find the men in the shadows, but a moment later, a bright light flared to life deeper in the forest, and you flinched as you scrambled onto your feet. “Come on, let’s get back to my house before the soldiers find us.”

As he looked up at you, Eddie suddenly recalled what it felt like to pin you to the ground, the wildness in him when he sank his teeth into your flesh. He started shaking his head, and the words just came tumbling out.

“No, I— Obi, I can’t go with you. You need to get home. I’ll be fine. Just go, please. I don’t want to hurt you again, and I don’t know how long the hunger will stay away, and—”

“Munson!” you snapped, no, snarled, just as animal as he sounded minutes ago. Then you abruptly bent down and grabbed his wrist, your palm tacky with blood and his saliva. You were yanking him to his feet in the next instant, and you pushed him back against the tree. Your face was fierce and enraged as you bared your teeth at him. “There is no way in fucking hell I’m leaving you here. Do you hear me? So if you don’t get a move on, we’re both getting shot at.”

“Obi—” he tried again, desperation filling his veins as he listened to the men draw closer.

“I’m not losing you again!” you cut him off, and your voice cracked at the end. Tears suddenly pooled in your eyes, reflecting the faint moonlight, and Eddie could smell the salt in them. “I… can’t, Eddie, I just can’t.”

Eddie felt his face twist, but he was only conflicted for a moment, because then a twig snapped way too close for comfort, and a desire of a different kind ignited in his chest.

Not hunger, but… protectiveness.

He needed to protect you, whatever it took.

Without thinking, Eddie twisted his wrist to free himself from your grip, but he barely gave you time to gasp before he was wrapping his hand around yours and dragging you back in the direction of your house. The two of you stumbled beyond a tree just as the soldiers’ flashlights cut through the darkness.

“Hey, did you hear something?”

“Tch, now who’s being paranoid?”

Eddie quickened his pace, hand tightening around yours, but then you suddenly hissed and stumbled into him.

“Sorry, sorry,” you breathed, clinging to his hand. “I can’t fucking see shit, and fuck, I stubbed my toe good, goddamnit.”

Glancing down, Eddie could clearly see your bare toes wiggling against the dirt, and he could also see the bruise already purpling below the nail of your big toe. But the soldiers were still drawing closer, and there was no time, so he again didn’t think about it and just acted.

“Don’t scream,” he had the foresight to say before he tugged free of your hand and swept you up into his arms.

“Oh!” you gasped quietly. Your hands instinctively wrapped around his neck for stabilization, but you flinched when your fingers brushed the leathery skin of his wings.

Eddie tried not to think about it, but he was mindful of where his claws were pressing into your back and the skin of your thigh below your shorts. Then he started walking again, and he distantly noted that you strangely didn’t seem to weigh anything, but the thought fluttered away when your hair brushed his nose. The combination scent of cigarettes and your shampoo was oddly nice, as was the sensation of your warm body in his arms. He could feel your heartbeat against his chest and your warm breath skating across his collarbone, and he nearly bent down the few inches and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

Because, fuck, all of the sudden he could cry. You were here, in his arms, alive, and he didn’t want to kill you, didn’t want to drain you dry.

Maybe… maybe there was some hope for him.

Before he could consider this further, Eddie abruptly broke through the tree line, and standing in the strip of grass beside the road suddenly made him feel exposed. The street was mostly swathed in shadows, and there was no one around, but his eyes darted back and forth all the same.

Most of the houses were dark, the only porchlights yours and the old man who lived on the corner further down. Eddie could hear the slow glug of the old man’s heart, but he shoved the thought away when you tightened your hands around his neck.

“Eddie, we need to get inside,” you muttered, shifting your head to peek over his shoulder and into the woods.

Eddie could still hear the soldiers not far behind.

“Shit, yeah, sorry,” he said, and with one last glance up and down the street, he started jogging toward your house.

He bridged the distance quickly, much more quickly that his smoker’s lungs should have managed. It was like he blinked, and then he was taking your porch steps in one leapt, shouldering through your partially open door and kicking it shut behind him. He set you down so he could throw the deadbolt, and once that was done, he peeked through the blinds beside your door.

A few seconds later, Eddie saw the two soldiers step out of the woods across the street, their flashlights cutting through the darkness. They seemed to glance around for a moment or two, but after a moment, Eddie could hear them grumble at each other and turn to return to their Jeep.

The moment they slipped back into the woods, Eddie let out a sigh and dropped the blinds back into place.

“They’re heading back, thank fucking Christ,” he said as he turned to face you, but then he froze when he caught sight of your face.

You were standing in the middle of the living room, your wide eyes as round as your gaping mouth. Your face was ashen, your lips trembling, and there were drops of blood drying on your neck, your clavicle.

Eddie heard the way your heart began to race, the way your breathing grew jagged and uneven, and he assumed the worst.

“Shit, O-Obi, I’m sorry,” he stuttered, his wings smacking into the door behind him and making him flinch. “I’m so sorry, I-I know I look like— I look like a fucking monster, I know, but I, fuck, I—”

Before he could finish, you suddenly launched yourself at him. Eddie closed his eyes, braced himself for your fists… but then you were collapsing against his chest, knotting your fingers into his ruined Hellfire shirt, and bursting into tears.

“Eddie.” You pressed your forehead against his collarbone, your body wracked with sobs that Eddie felt like physical blows. Your tears burned his skin, but not as much as his heart burned to hear the utter grief in your voice.

Eddie felt himself rocked to his very foundations, and his throat grew tight as he tentatively wrapped his arms around your shaking form.

“Shhh, shhh, it’s okay,” he croaked out, parroting your earlier words as he bent down and buried his face into your hair. “It’s okay, I’m okay, I’m here, Obi, I’m here.”

This only made you wail harder, and when your knees suddenly buckled, Eddie had no choice but to sink with you to the floor. His wings pinched where he sat on them and pressed them into the door at his back, but he barely felt the pain as he clutched your weeping body against his chest.

You only seemed to burrow deeper into him, and your gasping breaths were hot against the crook of his neck.

“I-I thought,” you whimpered, voice thick with tears and snot. “I thought you were— Dustin said you were— fuck, Eddie.”

“I know, I know,” he murmured, but he didn’t have the heart to tell you that he suspected he very much was… that. He just clutched you a little tighter and tried not to think about it.

As you shifted, the top of your head brushed below his nose again, and this time he couldn’t stop himself from leaning down and pressing his lips to your hair.

“I tried to go back,” you sobbed. “I tried to go back s-so many times, but they wouldn’t let me, s-said it was too dangerous, pointless, but I knew, I knew I should have gone back for you. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, please forgive me, please—”

You broke off as you started to hyperventilate, and Eddie immediately pulled back a fraction so he could cup your face and tilt your head up to look at him.

“Shit, hey, no, no, breathe, Obi,” he said and then inhaled sharply through his nose and out through his mouth to demonstrate. “Come on, breathe with me. In. Out. In. Out. There ya go.”

You shakily copied his breathing, hiccupping every few seconds. Tears were coursing down your cheeks, but your eyes were glued to his, and after a minute, you had calmed down a little. Eddie listened to your heart slow beat by beat, and you sniffled as you turned and nuzzled into his palm.

The action made his heart squeeze, and he started to smile, but then he caught sight of his hand against your cheek. It was the first time he’d looked at his hands fully since he’d… woken up, and the breath stilled in his lungs.

His pale, slender fingers were the same for the most part, adorned in silver rings, but his skin was streaked with dark dried goo. And his fingertips… Eddie always had a bad habit of chewing his nails down to the quick, but now black talons extended a good inch or two from each finger. The sight of his curved and wicked claws against the bruised skin of your face made his stomach churn, and he hastily dropped his hand.

But then his wings twitched from where they were trapped between his spine and the door, and Eddie saw your eyes flick to them, and suddenly he started to panic.

God, what must he look like to you?

Since he couldn’t back up, he abruptly threw his body to the side, and you cried out as you were jostled, your legs tangling with his for a moment. Eddie scrambled to his feet and blindly smacked at the wall beside the front door until the overhead light was flicked off. The living room was plunged into shadow, but the light over the stove in the kitchen cut through the darkness, making it so he couldn’t fully hide.

“Eddie—” you said from the floor.

“Don’t!” he cut you off, chest heaving as his eyes darted around for an escape. “D-Don’t look at me. You can’t— I can’t— shit! I have to get out of here, I have to—”

He abruptly trailed off as his eyes locked on the back door between your kitchen and living room, and he started to stagger towards it before you suddenly leapt to your feet and grabbed his wrist.

“Wait, Eddie, you can’t—”

“No!” He wrenched his arm from your grasp. “D-Don’t touch me, don’t look at me, I-I don’t want you to see me like this, don’t want to scare you, don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’re not,” you said, but when he took another stumbling step toward the back door, your voice rose to a frenzied pitch. “You’re not, Eddie! You’re not scaring me, and you’re not going to hurt me.”

“I already did,” he whimpered, remembering again the sour taste of your fear. And he could still feel that hunger lingering in his belly. It was only a matter of time before it woke up again, and Eddie refused to put you in danger any longer. “I can’t… can’t do that again, I’m sorry.”

He finally made it to the door, and he was reaching for the knob when your voice sliced through him.

“Eddie, please,” you begged, and fuck, it was almost enough to break him. He sensed you approach his back, but you didn’t touch him again. “N-Now you’re hurting me by trying to leave.”

The tearful hitch in your voice made his knees shake, and Eddie groaned as he pressed his forehead into the backdoor.

“Obi,” he croaked with his eyes closed. “S-Stop making his so goddamn hard. You’ll be… better off without me.”

He wrapped his hand around the doorknob and started to turn it before the smell of salt filled the air. He recognized the scent of your tears, but when you spoke, your voice was angry, scathing.

“Who the fuck are you to tell me I’ll be better off?” you asked, your voice stabbing him in the back, right between where his wings were fluttering.

“Obi—” he sighed again, but this time, you were the one to cut him off.

“No! Goddamnit, Munson! Do you know how terrible the last four days have been? They’ve been the worst of my fucking life. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep. I took up chain smoking just to feel something besides the weight of fucking grief sitting on my chest. I’ve slept maybe a handful of nonconsecutive hours because every time I closed my eyes, I dreamt of your body being stuck in the Upside Down. Or worse, I dreamt of you alive, and when I woke up, it felt like my heart was ripped out all over again. And Dustin kept looking at me for help, for me to make him feel better, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t fix things, couldn’t hug him and tell him everything would be alright. Because it wasn’t alright! You were… dead. I-I kept waking up, and you were still dead, and nothing made sense, nothing, and I felt like I was fucking drowning. I wished Vecna had taken me instead, wished Jason had finished the job, wished the gate had swallowed me whole. I prayed to every god that I don’t believe in to bring you back, to give me just one more minute with you. Fuck, Eddie. I love you so goddamn much that it nearly killed me to lose you. So don’t tell me I’d be better off. Don’t you fucking dare.”

You were gasping for breath by the end of your rant, but Eddie could barely hear it, could barely hear anything over the roaring in his head that was just your voice overlapping, playing on loop.

I love you so goddamn much that it nearly killed me to lose you.

I love you so goddamn much.

I love youI love youI love you.

Slowly, Eddie let go of the doorknob and turned to face you.

You were standing less than ten feet away, with your fists clenched at your sides like you were gearing up for a fight, cast or no. Tears were streaming down your cheeks, dripping from the line of your jaw, and your red face was twisted with too many emotions to name. Your chest heaved as you fought to catch your breath, and your body trembled like the last leaf clinging to a branch in a brisk autumn wind.

Eddie thought you were so goddamn beautiful.

But it just reminded him of how ugly he now was.

Maybe this was hell. Eddie had everything he’d ever wanted standing right in front of him, but it was all so wrong. The wings on his back, the tears on your face, the lingering taste of blood in his mouth— it was all wrong, twisted… cruel.

The town must have been right all along. He’d somehow sold his soul to the devil, and this was his punishment. This was hell, and he’d become the demon everyone always saw him as.

But maybe he deserved it. For abandoning Chrissy in his trailer that night. For always being such a fuck up. For being a Munson.

How could you ever love something like him?

“Obi…” His voice was strangled and tore at his throat like glass. He held his arms out to the sides helplessly, his wings extending with them. “Just— fuck, just look at me, I—”

“I don’t care.” You ground your teeth together and lifted your chin, every line of you defiant. “I don’t care what you look like. You’re Eddie Munson. I know your favorite metal bands. I know you sleep through every alarm, which is why I call you every morning to make sure you get to school. I know that you can’t cook to save your life. I know you’re the best damn Dungeon Master Hellfire could ever ask for. I know how much you like to write music but hate to share it. I know you use the same brand of hairspray as Harrington. I know that you talk in your sleep, especially when you’re high. I know everything about you, Eddie. A-And I love you. Nothing could ever change that. Do you hear me? Nothing.”

Eddie stared at you for an endless moment. The world faded around him, white-noise, and it felt like time stood still.

Never, in all of his wildest fantasies, did Eddie ever think you could love him back. He’d pined for you for so long, imagine a thousand different scenarios where he confessed his feelings, but never once did you return them.

He truly must be dead then. This must be a trance, a trick, and any second now, he expected Vecna to materialize in front of him, mock him, and finally put him out of his misery.

But… none of those things happened. You just continued to stare at him, and as the seconds ticked by, your scent soured a little. It wasn’t a sharp as your fear had been, but it was still unpleasant, and he watched as your determined expression fractured.

“Look…” You averted your eyes as you started to fidget, the fingers of your right hand picking at the cast on your left. “I realize you probably don’t feel the same way, but that’s fine. I can… I can still be your best friend, and we don’t ever have to mention this again. Just… stay. Please. If not for me, then for Henderson. He needs you. I ne—”

You cut yourself off and bit your lip, then winced as you aggravated the split in it. You reached up in a jerky motion to swipe at the tears drying on your cheeks, and when you sniffled— a small, broken sound— something in Eddie snapped.

“You don’t know everything,” he blurted out in a hoarse voice. It wasn’t what he’d meant to say, but it got your attention nonetheless.

You looked back at him with a frown, more confused than upset now. “What?”

A small voice in the back of his head— one he was familiar with— screamed that this was a bad idea, but if he was an actual demon now, then Eddie was going to be selfish.

“Earlier, you said you know everything about me,” he clarified. “But you don’t.”

Your frown deepened. “Ed—”

“If you did…” he pressed on, taking a deep breath and then meeting your eyes squarely. “If you did, then you would know that I’ve been hopelessly in love with you for almost a fucking decade.”

Your eyes widened, and Eddie could actually hear the skip in your heartbeat.

“Wha— you— what do you mean a decade?” you stammered.

Eddie was surprised he actually had the capacity to feel embarrassed, but he did. He didn’t get warm all over like usual, but his skin felt tighter, and he lost the nerve to maintain eye contact.

“It’s… it’s a little— well, a lot— pathetic,” he laughed weakly as he stared at his muddy boots. Then his wings curled over his shoulders slightly, like they were trying to cover him, but Eddie winced and straightened his back until he couldn’t see them in his peripherals. He still couldn’t meet your eye, though, so he stared at the wall behind you. “I know you don’t remember, but, um, we’ve met before. I-I mean before you walked into Hellfire, before. We— it was the day before your dad moved your family out of Hawkins for that job. You were so pissed, you ran away, off into the woods. There was—”

“A boy,” you breathed, and Eddie couldn’t help but look at you for just a moment, take in your shocked, slack expression.

“Yup,” he said and looked away again. “That, uh, was me. We played—”

“Knights and dragons,” you finished for him yet again, your voice no more than a whisper. “You… you let me be the knight until I got bored and wanted to be the dragon.”

“You made a hell of a dragon, Obi.” He smiled faintly, recalling your fierceness, even as a child.

“That… was you?” Your voice was still colorless with shock. “I-I didn’t recognize you. You had that buzzcut, and that day you had a—”

“A shiner.” He finished your sentence this time and stared back down at his boots. “Yeah, my old man had been on a bender the last few days. I was avoiding him out in the woods. Don’t feel too bad, though. I didn’t recognize you when you came back, not until you walked into Hellfire to pick up Henderson.”

“If you remembered… why didn’t you say anything?”

Eddie shrugged, curling his hands into loose fists and shoving them into the pockets of his leather jacket. “It wasn’t important. It was just one day, when we were kids. It was stupid.”

“No, it wasn’t,” you said, and then you took a tentative step forward. Then another. Until you were nearly standing toe to toe with him. “It wasn’t stupid, Eddie. That day was one of my best memories from Hawkins. I… I’ve thought about that day a lot. After we moved, and I couldn’t make any friends, I remembered you and wished I’d actually known you. Then, when I moved back, I-I even wanted to try and find you. But I didn’t have your name, didn’t know where you’d lived… you should have said something, Eddie.”

“Sorry,” he muttered, but he still didn’t have the courage to look you in the eye. He was still half expecting you to laugh at him, for Vecna to pop up, for the world to end.

Silence stretched in the inches between Eddie and you, but he didn’t know what else to say, where to go from here. Eddie prided himself on being a master of improv— all good Dungeon Masters were— but right now, he was speechless.

Eventually, you spoke up again.

“So, what was it that did it for you, Munson? Was it my muddy, scraped up knees or my gap-toothed smile that made you fall for me?”

Your tone was suddenly so teasing, so light, so you, that Eddie couldn’t help but finally look up. And you were smiling at him. Really smiling at him. The kind of smile that scrunched up your face in the cutest way, and even battered and bruised, you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

“Little bit of both, honestly,” he said with a faint smile. “You also wielded a mean stick-sword.”

“Damn right I did,” you huffed, the sound half laugh, but suddenly, tears starting trickling down your cheeks again.

Eddie’s eyes widened, and he withdrew a hand from his pocket to reach for you. “Obi—”

Before he could finish asking what was wrong, you launched yourself at him again, but this time, instead of ducking your head into his chest, you rose up on your tiptoes and threw your arms around his neck. Eddie grunted when you slammed into him, and his back bumped into the back door, his wings flailing and knocking a picture frame off the wall.

But you didn’t seem to care, because in the next instant, your lips were on his.

Eddie’s mind short-circuited, but his body reacted instinctively, his arms wrapping around your back to stabilize you against him. You all but collapsed into his chest, and you made this little sound in the back of your throat that made electricity zap through every nerve in his body. But when you tilted your head and tried to open your mouth, Eddie suddenly had a realization.

“Wait,” he gasped as he ripped himself away, and it took everything he had not to break when you chased after him with a whine. “W-Wait, Obi.”

You seemed to come back to yourself because you froze and then dropped back onto your heels. Your face was flushed and hesitant under the bruises, and you bit your lip and winced again as your eyes searched his.

“Sorry,” you murmured, retracting your arms and taking a half step back. “I thought you wanted— I’m sorry—”

“No, no,” Eddie said, and he settled his hands on your hips to keep you from retreating any further. “That’s not— Christ, Obi, I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you so fucking bad, but I’m… filthy.”

He glanced down at himself as he said this and winced. He was still wearing his ruined and blood-stained Hellfire shirt, his leather jacket, and the green vest on top. Everything was covered in dried mud and blood, both his own, the demo-bats’, and the unfortunate racoon’s. Fuck, he probably still had dried blood all over his mouth, too. Eddie wanted to scrub himself until his skin came off, and he definitely shouldn’t be touching you, let alone kissing you.

At this thought, he dropped his hands from your hips, but he didn’t move away from you. He knew he should, but he was weak and tired and just wanted to be near you after the hell he’d endured.

“O-Oh, um, right.” You broke the silence as you cleared your throat. “Why don’t, uh, why don’t we get you cleaned up then, yeah? Come on. You can… you can use the master bath. It has better water pressure.”

You took a step back, but Eddie didn’t follow. He just stared at you helplessly until you tentatively reached out and pinched the sleeve of his leather jacket between your fingers. Then you slowly started to walk across the living room, then down the hall, gently tugging Eddie with you.

At the end of the hallway, you opened the door on the left and flicked on the light. The room was decently spacious, the bed unmade, the dresser drawers half open, and the closet door eschew. There were clothes littered all over the floor, but you just stepped over them as you led him to the attached bath.

You flicked on the bathroom lights, but Eddie hissed in the sudden brightness and retreated half a step back into the bedroom.

“Oops, sorry,” you muttered. “Let me just…”

You turned the goddamn floodlights off and flicked another switch, and a softer, dimmer light illuminated the bathroom.

“Is that better?” you asked as you turned back to him, silhouetted in the doorway.

Eddie had the errant thought that even your shadow looked beautiful.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” he said and then couldn’t help but amend himself. “I-It’s good. Um, thank you.”

You smiled faintly as you moved further into the bathroom, and Eddie slowly followed after you. You busied yourself with checking the soaps in the shower/tub, but Eddie froze when he caught sight of himself in the mirror over the sink.

He looked… monstrous was the only word.

His face was much paler than it used to be and gray-tinged, splattered with dried black and red gore, especially around his mouth. His eyes seemed a little sunken, but they weren’t as black as he thought they were when he first caught his reflection in the Upside Down trailer window, and there were no dark veins carved into his skin. But there was a ropy scar on his jawline, extending down his neck, and Eddie faintly remembered the sensation of a demo-bat trying to rip his face off.

Speaking of bats…

Eddie’s eyes fell to the twin fangs poking out between his parted lips. They were white and gleaming and sharp, nothing like his original yellowed smoker’s teeth. He recalled how it felt to sink those fangs into the racoon, into your hand, and he pinched his mouth closed. He could still feel them, feel the awkward protrusion of them in his mouth, but at least he didn’t have to look at them.

He couldn’t say the same thing about his wings. There was no ignoring those fuckers.

They were tall, a little taller than he was. The skin stretched over them was a gray color bordering on black, thicker along the edges but thinning out into nearly translucent membranes between the bones. Each wing was tipped with a wicked curved talon at the top, and their sharp tips nearly brushed the ceiling.

They were decidedly inhuman, and Eddie shuddered as he felt them twitch, watching them move in the mirror like they had a mind of their own.

What the fuck had he become?

“Eddie?”

Your voice drew him out of his existential spiral. He turned slightly to see you frowning at him, and the frown only grew when his right wing knocked the hand soap off the sink counter.

“Shit! Sorry.” He bent down to pick it up, but then his other wing flailed, clipping you in the process. “Fuck! I’m sorry, I don’t— I don’t know how to fucking work these things.”

“It’s okay,” you said as you ducked to avoid getting smacked in the face again. “Eddie, calm down, it’s okay—”

“It’s not okay, Obi!” he suddenly shouted, his wings flaring and smashing into the wall and mirror on either side of him. He groaned and then folded in on himself, crouching down to tuck his face into his knees. His wings folded with him, knocking down more stuff and draping over him like a heavy cloak. A sob caught in his throat, and he clenched his eyes shut even though no tears came. “Nothing… nothing is fucking okay.”

You were silent for a minute, but then Eddie sensed you crouch down in front of him, and after a moment, your fingers hesitantly trailed over the curve of his wing.

“I know,” you murmured, your voice soft and quiet. “I know this is… a lot. It’s fucking insane, impossible. And it’s not fair. If— If I could take your place, Eddie, I would in a heartbeat. But… we’re gonna get through this. You hear me, Munson? We’re… we’re gonna figure out how to get you back to normal, figure out how to wake up Max, and kick Vecna’s ass for good. And I’m going to be with you every step of the way. I love you, and I’m not going to leave you, no matter what. So let’s just… take things one step at a time, okay? Starting with a shower.”

You continued to stroke his wing, and then his hair, and Eddie felt the knot of tension that was his body unravel bit by bit. Finally, he lifted his head, his wings shifting back, and there you were, kneeling in front of him with a smile so gentle he could weep.

How could he deserve such a smile?

His eyes stung but remained dry, and he cleared his throat before he responded.

“Okay,” he rasped, and then because he was pathetic and couldn’t help himself, he added, “I-I love you, too, Obi. So goddamn fucking much. Fuck, I’ve wanted to say that for months, years. I— you’re the one thing keeping me sane.”

Your smiled widened, turned radiant, and a faint blushed painted your cheeks. Eddie could smell the blood pooling in your face, and that hunger inside him stretched as if waking from a long nap, but Eddie shoved it as far down as he could.

No. He wasn’t going to let the animal inside him ruin this moment.

He just focused on your smile, the way you reached out for his hand and slowly helped him to his feet. His wings shuffled awkwardly behind him, but they didn’t smack into anything this time, and after a moment, they settled somewhat comfortable against his spine.

“Hey, looks like you’re getting the hang of it,” you praised, and while your tone was teasing, there was actually pride in your eyes.

As if in response, his wings flared out a little bit, like they were preening, and you giggled. Actually giggled.

The sound was like an angelic choir. He wanted to hear it every day for the rest of his life.

“Sorry,” you said as you covered your mouth. “I know it— I know it sucks, and I promise I’m not making fun of you. It’s just… they look a little cute once you get used to them.”

“Cute?” Eddie echoed and gaped down at you incredulously. “You think my giant monster bat wings are cute?”

You shrugged but couldn’t keep the grin off your lips. “On you they are.”

Eddie felt a slow, barely-there warmth suffuse his cheeks, and his wings curled around him a little, as if to hide him.

“I always knew you were a few dice short of a full set,” he muttered as he slowly shook his head.

“Yeah, but you love me,” you said, and although that shit-eating grin stayed in place, your eyes grew a little hesitant.

Eddie couldn’t have that.

“Yeah, I do,” he said and delighted in the blush that crawled down your neck.

“Enough stalling, Munson.” You turned away and opened up a cabinet next to the shower. “Alright, here are some clean towels and wash cloths. Use as many as you need. There are several different kinds of soaps and shampoos in the tub, and… oh.”

You turned back to him and frowned.

“What?” Eddie asked.

“I was going to offer to wash your clothes,” you explained, your eyes trailing up and down his body. “I can probably wash the jeans, but the vest and jacket… we’ll have to cut them off, I think.”

Eddie blinked in confusion, but his wings oh-so-helpfully brushed against his cheeks to remind him that they’d somehow sprouted from his back while he’d been… unconscious. Dead. Whatever. Either way, there was no way he’d be able to shrug out of his clothes with Thing One and Thing Two attached to his spine.

“Shit,” he muttered as his brow furrowed. “I really liked this jacket.”

“I’ll buy you a new one.” You smiled. “But for right now, let me go get some scissors.”

“I don’t think your dull kitchen scissors are going to cut through leather, Obi,” he pointed out.

You shrugged. “They I’ll get a knife. I think my mom bought an electric carving knife for Thanksgiving last year. Unless you have a better idea?”

“Actually…” Eddie said as he suddenly remembered how easy it was to carry you through the woods and back to your house. “I may have one.”

You cocked an eyebrow at him questioningly, but instead of responding, he grabbed each side of his vest with the opposite hand and then pulled. There was a tugging sensation against his spine, then the sound of ripping fabric. The vest tore along the gashes his wings had already caused, and within moments, he was holding both pieces of the garment.

Fuck. That felt as easy as ripping paper. Had he really grown that much stronger?

“Wow,” you suddenly breathed and drew his attention, and Eddie noticed the deeper blush along your clavicle, as well as your increased heartrate. “That was— you’re stronger than before.”

“I, uh, noticed it when I was carrying you earlier,” he said as he ducked under his bangs. Your now pounding heart was getting hard for him to ignore, and his teeth started to itch before you spoke up again and completely derailed his train of thought.

“Well, that might come in handy later,” you murmured, but when Eddie’s wide eyes shot to yours, you flailed. “I-I mean, in the fight against Vecna. You know, you being super strong and everything… a-anyway, I’ll, uh, just leave you to it, so if you’ll excuse me—”

You tried to press yourself against the wall opposite the sink and scoot by him, but Eddie suddenly panicked at the thought of you leaving his sight.

“W-Wait.” He dropped the remnants of his vest and gently grabbed your wrist, his wings flaring out to block your escape.

Your wide eyes stared up at him, but you didn’t look— or smell— scared.

“Yes?” you asked, your voice a little more pitchy than usual.

Despite all the earthshaking confessions that had been thrown around tonight, Eddie still felt embarrassed about his request, so he ducked his head again.

“Can you… can you stay?” he asked haltingly. “I just don’t… wanna be alone.”

His wings curled up over his head again, but you just gently turned your wrist in his grasp so you could intertwine your fingers with his.

“Do you want me to sit on the toilet while you shower?” you offered, your tone soft and genuine.

Eddie felt that slow warmth fill his cheeks again as he glanced up at you through his bangs. “I-I want to be able to see you. Could I just… sit in the bath with the curtain open? I’ll , uh, wear my boxers, so it won’t be… weird.”

He winced. He was some kind of fucking vampire monster, and he was asking you to sit with him while he was half-naked. That was definitely weird.

But you just smiled and nodded, even though your face flushed slightly again.

“Yeah,” you said. “That sounds… actually, that sounds better. The curtain wouldn’t be able to close anyway, with your, um, wings. But I’ll also feel better seeing you— I mean, being able to see that you’re okay and everything, not see you naked. Not that seeing you naked is bad— shit, um…”

“Hey, Obi?” Eddie cut in as a faint smile tugged at his lips. “Hate to break it to you, but the position of Stuttering Awkward Mess has already been filled by yours truly.”

“Shut up, Munson,” you said reflexively, but he saw the smile you were trying to hide as you turned to the tub again. “Finish going all Superman on your clothes. I’ll start the water.”

Eddie continued to smile as he watched you kneel beside the tub and reach for the faucet, but then you paused and glanced back over your shoulder at him.

“Um, do you want it warm, or should it be… cold?” you asked hesitantly, your eyes flicking to his wings.

Eddie frowned in confusion for a moment before he remembered Henderson said things from the Upside Down preferred things cold and dark. He felt his stomach twist at the implications.

“I, uh, don’t know,” he muttered and then reached out for the sink behind him. “Let me… check.”

He fiddled with the sink faucet, turning on the cold tap and then inching on the hot as he stuck his hand under the water. Slowly but surely, the temperature increased until it became unbearable, and Eddie finally ripped his hand back.

“Ow.” He glanced down to see the skin across his knuckles was blistered a pale pink.

“Let me see,” you said as you appeared at his elbow, ducking under the curve of his wing. You didn’t even flinch as the leathery skin brushed your cheek, and your expression was calm and neutral as you gently took his burned hand. You inspected his injury for a moment before you reached out to touch the water still streaming from the sink faucet. “Hmm… okay so lukewarm at best. Got it.”

You nodded smartly and turned off the sink before returning to the tub, and Eddie just stared after you blankly.

“How…” he started, stopped, tried again. “How the hell are you so… calm about all this shit, Obi? I just learned I’m fucking allergic to heat, and you’re just… drawing a cold bath.”

“Well,” you said once you had the bath running, but you busied yourself with placing the plug in the drain. “I’ll admit it’s a little weird, but… it doesn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t matter?” he echoed, his voice disbelieving.

“No.” You tone was frank and matter-of-fact, and when you glanced over your shoulder at him, so was your expression. “Munson, you could have come back with two heads, and it wouldn’t have mattered to me. The only thing that matters to me is that you’re alive. We’ll figure everything else out as we go. Now, are you going to strip or what?”

Eddie stared at you, feeling his throat grow tight. Jesus Christ, he didn’t deserve you.

But he knew saying that would only make you yell at him, so instead he decided to listen to your instructions and finish undressing.

The first thing to go were his boots and socks, which he kicked back toward the bathroom door. He was still a little reluctant to shred his leather jacket, but there was nothing for it, so within a few seconds the tatters of the black fabric were dropped to the ground, along with the scraps of his Hellfire shirt. Eddie grimaced at the mess of scars on his chest, but he tried to ignore them as he worked his bandolier belt open. That fell to the ground along with his black jeans, but he kept his boxers on, like he promised. He vaguely remembered wearing a bandana before, so he reached up but found it was long gone, he curls wild and lose around his head. He dropped his arm, and then he unclipped the metal chain bracelet around his wrist and wiggled off his rings.

“Just set those next to the sink, I’ll clean them,” you offered as you stood up and shuffled into the small space between the toilet and the counter. Then you gestured to the still filling tub. “It’s ready when you are.”

“Thanks.” Eddie set the rings down where you requested, but then the mouthwash caught his eyes, and he snatched it up and dumped half of it into his mouth without thinking. The blue liquid burned as he gargled it, but he swished it around for over thirty seconds before it spat into the sink.

He ignored the black streaks in the blue liquid and then awkwardly scooted by you to stand in front of the tub. It was about halfway full now, so he tentatively stepped over the side and eased his foot into the water. He couldn’t really tell what temperature it was, just that it felt good, so he lifted his other leg to step fully into the tub, bracing his hands on the wall in front of him.

But when he tried to turn and face the faucet, his wings smacked into the curtain rod and wall.

“Shit, sorry,” he muttered and tried to shift a different way, but then one of his wings nearly slapped you in the face. “Fuck, sorry—”

“Stop apologizing, Munson, and relax,” you cut him off, but your voice was gentle. Then your hand settled on his upper arm, and just your touch had him unclenching a little. “Okay, good, now I want you to try and focus your attention on your wings.”

“What?” He turned his head to frown down at you over his shoulder.

“I know it sounds weird,” you said, “but they’re… a part of you for right now. I can… I can see where they’re fused to your back, so you should be able to control them, just like your arms and legs. Try to focus on the muscles in your back and get them to fold the wings.”

“You make it sound so easy,” Eddie grumbled, but he didn’t have a better idea, so he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He tried to envision his back in his mind, imagine the muscles that would be… connected to his wings. It was a little difficult since he’d never fucking had wings before, so what muscles would they even use, but after a moment, he felt the ghost of your fingertips around his spine.

“They connect here and here, if that helps,” you murmured, your fingers brushing against his skin like the softest of feathers.

And it did help, actually. Eddie zeroed in on the sensation of your touch, and then he took a deep breath and tried to relax his back. He felt his wings flutter before they responded, and you gasped softly.

“There you go, Munson, good job,” you encouraged, and a few beats later, Eddie felt the wings collapse against his back like folding lawn chairs.

“I did it!” He turned to you with a grin and nearly slipped.

“Whoa, careful,” you laughed as you latched onto his forearms. “And I knew you could do it. The wings are just a little stubborn, like the rest of you. Now, can you sit down before you fall down, please?”

“Sorry.” Eddie cleared his throat sheepishly and then slowly squatted down. It took some maneuvering, but he managed to sit on the bottom of the tub with his wings tucked against his back. The bottom tips kept getting caught under his thighs, but it wasn’t too uncomfortable. He did have to scrunch up his legs, though, since he was too tall to stretch out.

“That feel okay?” you asked as you leaned over to turn off the faucet. The water line was a few inches below the rim of the tub, but every time Eddie shifted, it came dangerously close to over filling.

“Yeah, it’s good,” he said. “But I’m gonna get water all over your floor.”

“Oh, noooo, whatever shall we do?” you snorted and kneeled down on the mat beside the tub. Then you leaned to the side, opened the cabinet beside you, and pulled out a stack of white washcloths. You set most of them on the floor before you started to hold one out to him, but you suddenly paused, and your face flushed as you met his eyes. “Can I, um… can I help? I can scrub you off while you just relax a bit.”

Again, Eddie felt embarrassment squirm through him, though it lacked its usual heat.

“You don’t have to do that, Obi.” He averted his gaze and stared at his distorted feet in the water. It looked like even his toenails had lengthened, sharpened into dark points. “Besides, your cast—”

“I want to,” you cut him off, your voice insistent. “And I can still use my right hand.”

“Wait.” Eddie frowned as he suddenly remembered something, and he turned to look at you as guilt raked its claws through his gut. “What… what about the gash on your palm?”

“Oh, shit, I totally forgot about that,” you said, dropping the washcloth in your lap and turning your palm right-side up.

Then both you and Eddie inhaled sharply.

“What… the fuck?” you murmured, and your brow furrowed as you inspected your hand.

There was still some dried blood along your wrist and in the grooves of your fingers, but the wound that Eddie had worried open with his tongue was now… sealed. There was a pink scar bisecting your palm, but it was faint and apparently not tender because you poked at it without flinching. There were also no puncture holes in your thumb, even though Eddie distinctly remembered sinking his fangs through your skin.

“Does it… hurt?” he asked as he swallowed thickly.

“No.” You shook your head and looked up at him. “Did you… know you have healing saliva?”

“Ugh, fuck, don’t say it like that,” Eddie groaned, closing his eyes and tipping back his head. “And no, I didn’t.”

“I noticed the scars on your chest,” you murmured, “so I assumed you had an accelerated healing factor, but to heal someone else’s wounds… Amazing.”

Amazing. You were calling him amazing when he was really just a freak, like he’d always been. Just in a more obvious, beat-you-over-the-head-with-it way.

Eddie barked out a dry and humorless laugh and lifted his head to look at you, but you were just smiling back at him like the strange angel you were.

Fuck. No one had ever loved anyone as much as he loved you. He was sure of it.

But he couldn’t say that, not yet, not now, so he deflected with a joke like he always did.

“Careful there, Obi, you’re gonna give me a big head.”

“Too late,” you scoffed, but your eyes were bright and sparkling. Alive. So much more alive than they’d been when you were smoking on the porch earlier. “But we can talk about that later. Can I…”

You trailed off and motioned toward his body as you picked up the washcloth again.

Eddie had never been able to deny you anything before, and he wasn’t about to start now.

“Alright, fine.” He ducked a little to hide in his hair and wrapped his arms around his upraised knees. “Knock yourself out, sweetheart.”

“Thank you.” You surprisingly pressed a quick kiss to the curve of his shoulder, but then you were taking a washcloth and dunking it into the water that was already tinged a little gray. Once it was sopping wet, you draped it over the edge of the tub and reached for a bottle of body wash, opening the cap and holding it out to him. “Does this smell okay? It’s David’s. I have some of my mom’s soaps, too, but they are way more perfumey.”

Eddie leaned forward and took a tentative sniff. The soap had a sharp note of chemicals, but it wasn’t terrible, so he nodded.

“‘S fine,” he mumbled.

“Perfect.” You upended the soap over the washcloth, picked it up in your right hand, and startled to gently scrub at the line of Eddie’s arm and the curve of his shoulder. You paid extra attention to the tattoos on his arm, and Eddie saw your tongue poking out of your mouth in concentration.

He had the sudden urge to lean forward and bite the lithe pink muscle, but he wasn’t sure if it was a sexual urge or an animal one. Either way, he needed to distract himself, so he asked the first question that came to mind.

“Where is David, anyway? And your mom. Oh, shit, and Wayne!” Eddie felt bad that it took him so long to remember his uncle, but to be fair, he’d had more pressing matters commanding his attention since he “woke up.”

You paused momentarily but then went back to lathering his arm with soft, even strokes.

“Wayne’s fine,” you said. “He was at the plant the night it happened, and the plant wasn’t in the gate’s path. He’s… he’s been staying at the high school, with other people whose houses were destroyed. I tried to get him to stay here, but he wouldn’t accept. He’s been real broken up about you being… gone. Dustin… tried to tell him what happened— without any real details— but he’s still putting up missing posters of you.”

Eddie felt his heart lurch at the thought of Wayne holding out against all hope that he was alive. Wayne had looked after Eddie ever since his dad— Wayne’s brother— got locked up for grand theft auto. Eddie knew his uncle wasn’t overly affectionate, but he’d done the best he could as an abrupt single father. He always made sure Eddie ate even if he didn’t. He gave Eddie the only room in the trailer while he slept on the pullout couch. And when Eddie failed senior year twice, Wayne hadn’t yelled or said how disappointed he must have been. He just ruffled Eddie’s hair and told him that “he’d get ‘em next time.”

Eddie’s throat suddenly felt locked tight. He couldn’t talk or think about Wayne anymore, because who knew if he would ever see him again. It wasn’t like he could go up to his uncle while he was half fucking bat.

“What—” Eddie licked his dry lips. “What about your mom and David?”

Thankfully, you knew all his tells and took the change of subject in stride.

“They left,” you murmured, shifting on your knees to get a better angle. “After the earthquake, they wanted to get the hell out of Dodge. So, they packed up what they could carry and left.”

“Without you?” Eddie frowned and turned his head to look at you more directly.

“They tried to get me to go with them.” You shrugged and then looked a little sheepish as you cleared your throat. “My mom and I, we, uh, argued. And then she said something— it’s not important what. But I just… snapped. Slapped her across the face in the middle of the hospital parking lot. Then she and David drove off, and I haven’t heard from them since.”

“Shit, Obi,” Eddie muttered as he studied your face, but it was perfectly neutral as you picked up his hand and started rubbing at his knuckles, careful of his claws. “Are you… okay? I know you and your mom don’t always… get along, and David’s a dick, but… still.”

“I’m fine,” you said, but when Eddie scoffed, you paused in your cleaning and looked up to catch his eye. “Seriously. Well, I mean the world’s gone to shit, but I’m not upset about my mom or David. In fact, I’m still pissed at my mom, so her being gone feels like a blessing. Plus, I get the house all to myself. Or, I guess, we do.”

You smiled at him, but Eddie could see the lingering sadness in your eyes.

“What did she say to you?” he murmured, flicking his bangs out of his face. “Your mom.”

“It was nothing important,” you said and reached for the soap, dumping more onto the washcloth.

“Obi—”

“It was about you, alright?” you sighed but wouldn’t look at him this time. “It was about you and… and she shouldn’t have said it. It wasn’t— wasn’t true, anyway.”

Your voice grew a little tight, so Eddie decided not to push it. But just the knowledge that you had slapped your mother over something she said about him…

God, he wanted to kiss you.

The thought made him suddenly remember how you kissed him earlier, and also why he stopped you. With this in mind, Eddie started to reach for the soap, but you stopped him with a frown.

“I can get it,” you said. “What do you need?”

“I just wanted to get all this… shit off my face,” Eddie muttered and waved a hand in the general direction of his mouth.

“Oh, okay, let me just…” You shifted higher up on your knees, and a moment later, the cool washcloth brushed against his jaw, right over the scar Eddie saw in the mirror earlier. “This alright? It doesn’t hurt, does it?”

“No, feels good,” he mumbled. And it did. Your strokes were gentle but firm, wiping away all the filth and blood. Your face was much closer in this position, though, and Eddie suddenly realized how intimate this whole situation was.

Here you were, sponge bathing him while he was half naked, being extra careful when you went over his scars. No one had ever done anything even half as kind as this, not for him, and the focused but loving look in your gaze made him lose his nerve and close his eyes.

He leaned back a little until his head hit the wall behind him, ignoring the pinch as he all but laid on his wings. You continued to bathe him, lathering the washcloth against his skin and then dunking it in the water, only to repeat. You started to hum softly under your breath as wiped down his brow, cheeks, and lips, and Eddie smiled faintly when he recognized the tune of Holy Diver by Dio.

Your soft touches and even softer voice lulled him into an almost trancelike state. Eddie felt his mind float off, and all his worries and fears were wiped away by your careful ministrations. He didn’t even flinch when you shifted down to scrub at his chest, his legs, nor when you picked at his claws, or even when you wiped down the edge of his wings. He just relaxed further into the sensations, and he swore he was on the edge of sleep when you suddenly brushed his cheek, murmuring his name.

“Eddie?” you whispered. “Can you hear me?”

“Mmhmm,” he hummed and blearily opened his eyes.

You were kneeling above him with a soft smile. “I got most of the grime off, but we’ll still have to turn on the shower to rinse you. Before that, though, I wanted to wash your hair. Is that okay?”

Eddie nodded, unable to get his lazily tongue to work, but your smile just widened as you reached for the shampoo.

“How does this one smell?” you murmured and popped open the cap. “This one’s mine, but it’s lavender scented, so I just wanna make sure it’s not too girly for your tastes.”

This soap was definitely stronger than the bodywash had been. Eddie felt like he’d stuffed his face into a field of lavender. But it smelled like you, which was good enough for him.

“Just girly enough for my tastes, actually,” he said as a small smirk tugged at his lips.

“Good,” you giggled, and the sound was like bubbles popping against his skin.

You had Eddie sit and scootch up a bit in the tub, and you struggled a little to get around his wings, but after a moment, Eddie felt you dumping water on his head with a cup you got from who knows where. You were careful, though, having Eddie tilt his head back and pouring deliberately so the water wouldn’t get into his eyes. Eddie felt the weight of his waterlogged hair brush his shoulders, and his eyes were just starting to drift close again, but then you suddenly gasped.

“What?” He jolted, eyes snapping open, wings flailing, water sloshing out of the tub.

“No, no, it’s okay, I’m sorry,” you said as you put your hand on his shoulder and coaxed him to lean back. “I didn’t mean to startle you, I’m sorry. I was just… surprised. Your, um, ears… they’re a little… pointed.”

“What?” Eddie repeated. He reached up, and sure enough, the tip of his ear came to a sharpened point instead of a rounded curve. “Oh, Jesus H. Christ. Seriously? My ears, too?”

“I think they’re kinda—”

“If you say cute, Obi, so help me god…” He shot you a glare, but he couldn’t maintain it under the radiance of your smile and sparkling eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you said again, clearly fighting back laughter. “But… they kinda are. You’re like… an elf! Like Legolas.”

Eddie pursed his lips. Being an elf was kind of badass… but he didn’t feel like an elf.

“Legolas didn’t have giant monster wings and a thirst for blood,” Eddie grumbled as he tried to pull his hair over his ears again, but you stopped him.

Then you leaned forward and kissed the tip of his pointed ear, and Eddie shuddered.

“Doesn’t matter,” you murmured into his hair. “They’re a part of you for now, so… I love them.”

Every time you said that four letter word, Eddie felt like every cell in his body died and was reborn, and this time was no different. He slumped in the water with a grumble, but his cheeks felt slightly warm again, and he couldn’t help but lean into your touch as you traced the shell of his ear with your fingertips.

It felt… good. Really good. Actually… maybe a little too good, and Eddie shifted uncomfortably as he felt his dick twitch beneath his wet boxers.

“Weren’t you going to wash my hair?” he muttered and casually cupped his hands over his lap.

“Oh, yeah.”

Your hand withdrew for a moment but returned drenched in the floral shampoo. Then you started kneading your fingers against his scalp, massaging as you went, and Eddie groaned, every muscle in his body going lax.

“Feel good?” you asked as you combed through his sodden curls.

“So goooood,” he sighed, eyes slipping closed.

Silence fell over the bathroom as you continued to wash his hair, broken only by the soft sloshing of the water, your intermittent humming, and Eddie’s quiet groans.

At some point, you finished and started to rinse the shampoo out, but you instructed him to lean back and keep his eyes closed. You turned on the faucet to get fresh water for the rinsing, and cup by cup, you washed all the soap and grime from his locks. Then you rubbed some conditioner into his curls and had him stay in his reclined position for a few minutes, and Eddie started to drift into that trancelike state again before you gently touched his face.

“Hey, Eddie?”

He opened his eyes to find you kneeling over him with a smile once more.

“I’m all done,” you said, brushing his bangs off his forehead. “I’ve pulled the plug, but you’ll need to stand up and turn on the shower to do one last rinse and, um, finish cleaning up.”

Your gaze flicked to his lap, which was still covered by his dirty boxers, and the mild embarrassment helped to wake him up fully.

“Oh, okay, yeah, um…” He sat up a little and then swayed as the weight of his wings became apparent again. Some more gray, murky water also sloshed out of the tub, and Eddie winced. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it, we can mop up later,” you said, waving him off and pushing yourself to your feet. But then you hissed slightly as you straightened, face contorting, and Eddie froze.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, yeah.” You nodded but pressed a hand to your side, barely suppressing another flinch. “My ribs are just… sore from being in that position for so long.”

“Obi—” Eddie started to reprimand, but you cut him off.

“I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m always a little sore nowadays, it’s no big deal.” You smiled, but it was still strained. “Come on, Munson. Rinse off. And don’t worry about the curtain. I’ll, um, just turn around.”

To demonstrate, you did just that, turning to face the door while you gathered the scraps of Eddie’s clothes.

Not wanting to keep you waiting, Eddie pushed himself to his feet, wings flailing, water sloughing off his body. The tub was already half drained, and he stared down at his feet for a moment as the brackish water swirled away. Then he reached out and turned on the shower, leaving the handle on cold, but he cast one last look in your direction before he shoved his boxers down. He winced as they splatted against the bottom of the tub, but when he glanced at you, you were still facing the door.

Feeling vulnerable and ridiculous, Eddie finished scrubbing and rinsing himself as best as he could, and a minute later, he switched off the water again.

“Okay, um, done,” he said as he grabbed a towel from the open cabinet beside the tub and quickly tied it around his waist.

“Are you, uh, decent?” you asked, still with your back to him.

Eddie laughed, and the sound was exhausted and slightly hysterical. “Define decent, sweetheart.”

You turned then, eyes quickly flicking up and down the length of him. You kept your expression carefully blank, but he could see the flush crawl down your neck, hear your quickening pulse. Your gaze seemed to linger just a second too long on the line of hair on his stomach that led beneath the towel, but then you snapped your eyes back to his face.

“Borderline indecent, but I’ll let you off with a warning this time,” you deadpanned.

“Thank you kindly, Officer Obi,” Eddie quipped back, and for a moment, things were like they always were.

Then his wings had to go and shift against his back and ruin everything again.

Eddie sighed and painstakingly stepped out of the tub, being careful not to slip on the wet floor or the blackened washcloths scattered across the tile.

“Uh, what should I do with these?” he asked and kicked at one of the dirty towels. His toenails were longer, and blackened at the tips, so he snapped his head up to look at you instead.

“Just leave ‘em. I’ll pick them up when I come back for your clothes.” You gestured to where you’d piled his dirty, shredded garments in the corner, and then you beckoned him forward. “Come on, Munson, let’s get you something to wear.”

You stepped through the doorway and back into the master bedroom, and Eddie had no choice but to follow you, his wings trailing water behind him.

As he stood awkwardly beside the bed, you started rifling through the open dresser along the far wall. You carelessly tossed item after item of clothing onto the floor before you apparently found what you were looking for.

“Aha!” you said and turned back to Eddie with a grin. You were holding a pair of gray sweatpants. “I think these should work. They’re David’s, but they’re clean, and the two of you are roughly the same height. They’ll be big around the waist, but you can cinch them with the strings. I’d offer you a pair of boxers, but…”

“Yeah, I’ll pass on Dave’s undies, thanks,” Eddie snorted as you handed him the pants.

“I thought so.” You smirked before your brow furrowed a little. “I was trying to think if I had anything you could wear on top, but with the wings… unless you want to wear a poncho. My mom as this really itchy wool one—”

“Aw, how sweet of you, Obi, but I’ll also pass on the itchy wool,” he teased, but then his wings twitched again, and he sighed. “I’ll just… stay shirtless. I-If that’s okay with you.”

“Why wouldn’t it be okay?” you asked with a frown.

Eddie blinked at you and then glanced down at the mess of scars on his chest. “Uhhh, cuz I look like I lost a fight with a fucking cheese grater? It’s disgusting. My modeling career is definitely over.”

“Don’t talk like that,” you said, and when he looked back at you, your frown had only deepened. Then you were stepping closer until he could feel the heat radiating off your body, could hear the steady beat of your heart reverberate through his skull. “Your scars don’t bother me. I-I don’t like that you were hurt, but… They’re proof that you’re a hero. Dustin told me what you did. How you… cut the rope and took on the demo-bats by yourself to give him a chance of escape. How you didn’t run away. That’s the very definition of heroic. So, you should wear your scars with pride, Eddie the Brave.”

Your face, tone, and the look in your eyes was completely sincere, and Eddie felt all his self-deprecating comments dry up in his throat. He swallowed thickly as his fingers clenched around the sweatpants he was holding, and his eyes stung but still didn’t well with tears.

“Okay,” he managed to croak out. “I’ll… try to channel my Samwise.”

“Good.” You smiled happily before you glanced down at the sweatpants he was holding. “I’ll, uh, turn around while you put those on. And then I’ll need to change, too.”

You gestured to your cotton shorts and Hawkins High t-shirt that sported damp patches as well as streaks of mud and whatever other shit had been caked to Eddie. He also noticed that your knees were red and a little scraped up, and he suddenly recalled how you fell when you were chasing him through the forest, how the smell of your blood grew stronger.

The memory, plus the sight of the barely formed scabs on your kneecaps, made the itching in his teeth return with a vengeance.

Before the saliva could start to pool in his mouth, he whirled away from you and flared out his wings a little, partially blocking himself from your view. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes to try and center himself, but he could still hear the steady pound of your blood at his back.

“You—” His voice cracked, so Eddie cleared his throat and tried again. “You can go get changed, too. I’ll meet you in your bedroom.”

“Oh.” Your tone was surprised, and a little confused. “A-Are you sure?”

“Yup.” He knew he sounded short, but his teeth were growing their own little heartbeat again. “I’ll… join you in a sec.”

“Alright…” you said, but now you sounded a little hurt. He heard you move toward the bedroom door, but you hesitated at the threshold. Your heartrate had increased, tripping over itself, and your next words were a little shaky. “Could you maybe, like, make a noise every thirty seconds? Just… just so I know you’re still here.”

You voice was small, uncertain, and your scent soured the slightest bit with fear. Eddie knew you were afraid to let him out of your sight— he felt the same way about you— but he just… needed a minute.

“Will do, sweetheart,” Eddie said, trying to keep his tone light, but it was hard when he was speaking through gritted teeth.

“Okay… see you in a minute then,” you murmured, and he heard you move out into the hall and over to your bedroom.

He could still hear the thud of your heart even through the walls, but the miniscule distance gave him a bit of clarity. He took multiple deep breaths and ground his jaw until his teeth creaked against each other, but that hunger was yawning and stretching deep in his gut. Not fully awake, but stirring. He tried to shove it back down, make it sleep again, as he shakily dropped his towel and pulled on the sweatpants, but there was only one thing that had worked before.

So, Eddie filled his thoughts with you as he cinched the pants around his waist. He thought of you smiling at him like you didn’t see the monster he saw in the mirror. He thought of you giggling, saying he was cute. He thought of you saying how much you loved him.

The memory of that word in your mouth seemed to do the trick, and the hunger retreated inch by inch. His teeth still itched but not to the point of pain, and his skin felt less tight. Eddie took one last deep breath and let it out slow.

He would control himself. He had to. Hurting you… hurting you was not an option, and neither was disappointing you. Eddie still couldn’t fathom why, but you believed in him, had faith that he was still the man he used to be.

Eddie was going to try his fucking hardest not to prove you wrong.

“Munson?”

Your voice rang through the house, high-pitched with a note of fear, and Eddie winced as he was pulled out of his thoughts.

“I’m still here, Obi, sorry,” he called back, moving toward the door.

He stepped into the hall just as you exited you bedroom, and his breath hitched in his chest as he caught side of you.

“Is that… my shirt?” he asked as he narrowed his eyes.

You were wearing an old, faded Judas Priest shirt, the hem falling to your midthigh and nearly covering your cotton shorts. The collar was stretched out, and Eddie distinctly remembered burning that hole into the side by accidentally dropping a lit cigarette on himself.

“Yes.” You blushed a little as you averted your gaze. “You gave it to me a couple weeks ago when I spilled bong water on myself at your trailer. I meant to wash and return it, but forgot until I found it a few days ago. I-I’ve been wearing it to sleep.”

Eddie felt something twist in his chest at the thought of you sleeping in his shirt. Did you do it to feel closer to him, when you believed he was dead? The thought hurt more than he expected.

“Well,” he said, voice a little thick, “it looks better on you than it ever did on me. In fact, since I can’t wear any of my shirts, I think you really have to wear all of them. You know, so I can vicariously live through you.”

You smiled faintly but then winced. “I would, um, but your trailer…”

“Oh, shit, yeah.” Eddie frowned as he remembered he was homeless. Really homeless. He didn’t even have the clothes on his back because he ripped them off.

Before he could really consider how depressing this was, a loud growl suddenly echoed through the hallway. Eddie immediately tensed, but then you were blushing and pressing your hand into your belly.

“Sorry,” you muttered, and Eddie realized the sound had been your stomach.

“Henderson said you hadn’t eaten dinner, right?” he asked without thinking.

“Yeah, I— wait a second.” You furrowed your brow and cocked your head at him. “How did you… were you watching me on the porch earlier? Holy shit. Were you the sound I heard? How long were you out there?”

Eddie shifted awkwardly on his feet, avoiding your eyes as his wings curled slightly over his head. “It wasn’t long, few minutes maybe. I showed up right before Harrington came outside. I-I didn’t mean to be a fucking creep, I just…”

He trailed off because he didn’t want to tell you that he’d nearly punched straight through a tree trunk while he was fighting off visions of raking his claws across Harrington’s throat.

Silence descended over the hallway for a moment before your stomach growled again.

“Well,” you finally said, “I’m gonna go warm up some dinner. Do you want to come with me, or would you like to watch me from outside the window again?”

Your tone was amused, and when Eddie looked at you, a smirk had unfurled across your lips. He felt his own mouth curl upwards in response.

“I would be honored to have a seat at Her Majesty’s table,” he said in an overly dramatic tone, and he went to bow, but his wings bumped into the wall on either side of him.

Still, you giggled, which was reward enough, and then you were reaching out, taking his hand, and turning to tug him down the hall.

You dragged him across the living room, but then Eddie dug his heels into the carpet. Pausing, you turned to look at him with a question in your eyes, and he pursed his lips.

“I— I can’t go into the kitchen,” he admitted reluctantly. “Your… blood, from earlier…”

He could still smell it. It wasn’t as strong now that it was dry, but he knew standing in your small kitchen would be unbearable.

“Oh, shit.” You winced and flicked your eyes over your shoulder. “Forgot about that. Okay… why don’t you sit on the couch, and I’ll go warm something up. Oh, um, actually d-do you want… something? Can you still eat like pizza or whatever?”

Eddie squirmed and looked down at where you were still holding his hand. “I don’t… know.”

“Okay.” You nodded easily, unfazed. “We can try and see what happens. But, uh, are you… hungry? For, you know…”

“Your blood?” Eddie scoffed, his tone sharper than he intended it to be, and he scowled at himself. Because the answer was yes. He could still feel that hunger slowly building up inside him again, and given the current topic of conversation, it was getting riled up.

“Yeah,” you said quietly, and when Eddie refused to look at you, you squeezed his hand. “Do you want… more?”

Yes.

“No,” Eddie said out loud, forcing the word out. “Obi, I can’t… take that from you.”

“You aren’t taking anything,” you argued. “I’m offering. Y-You said it hurt, before. The hunger. And you could barely string two words together. I don’t want you to hurt anymore, Eddie. So I’ll give you as much as you need. And don’t even try to say anything about hurting me. You stopped before, and you can stop again. Alright?”

Your voice was solid, unwavering, and when Eddie looked up, the line of your jaw could have been carved from marble. You stared at him defiantly, daring him to challenge you, but Eddie knew he would lose every time. You were so goddamn stubborn.

It was one of the things he loved most about you.

“Fine,” he relented after a long moment. “But you have to eat first.”

“Fine,” you echoed, and your hard expression broke into a smile. “Go ahead and sit on the couch. I’ll be back in a second.”

You tried to pull your hand from Eddie’s, but he stopped you and glanced pointedly at your bare feet.

“You should put shoes on so you don’t step in anymore glass,” he suggested. He was worried about you hurting yourself but also about you trailing fresh blood through the house.

“Oh, you’re so smart, Munson, I like you.” You smiled cheekily and then surprised him by raising up on your tiptoes and pressing a chaste kiss to his jawline.

Before he could even process you being so close, you were dancing away from him, moving toward the front door and shoving your feet into the sneakers scattered by the entrance. Once you were properly protected, you blew him one last kiss before skipping into the kitchen.

Eddie could still see you over the half-wall that separated the kitchen from the living room, so he walked over to the couch and eased himself down onto it. The piece of furniture was actually pretty spacious, and comfortable, and Eddie extended his wings to either side of him as he relaxed into the cushions. Sighing, he kicked his feet up onto the coffee tail and chose to ignore his dark and clawed toenails.

This couch was the softest damn thing he’d sat on in days, and Eddie lolled his head back as he stared at the ceiling. He could hear you bustling around the kitchen as you swept and picked up any remaining glass. Then the sink turned on, and the smell of lingering dried blood lessened, so he assumed you were scrubbing away the remaining red stains. When that was done, he heard you open the freezer, take something out, and throw it in the microwave.

While you waited for your food to heat up, Eddie could see in his peripherals how you kept peeking over the half-wall to check on him. After the seventh time, he turned his head to catch your eye, and you blushed and stuck your tongue out at him.

It was such a silly, juvenile gesture, but Eddie felt his heart squeeze in his chest.

Fuck, he loved you so much. Too much. He knew that, somehow, it would be the death of him.

The faint smell of cooking meat wafted from the kitchen—it wasn’t exactly appetizing— and after a few minutes, the microwave beeped. Eddie heard you pull your plate out, cursing under your breath when you burned your fingers, and then you were fast-walking out of the kitchen and nearly dumping the plate all over the coffee table.

“Whoa, where’s the fire?” Eddie asked as he shifted his feet to the floor. “You could have waited a moment for it to cool, Obi.”

“Eh, a minute was too long.” You shrugged before you folded yourself to sit cross-legged on the floor between the couch and the coffee table. Your shoulder pressed into the side of his knee, but then you turned slightly so you could smile up at him.

Eddie knew better than to offer you a seat on the couch. You always preferred to sit on the floor when you could, even in his dirty ass room at the trailer, though you usually flung down one of his shirts to protect your ass from the crumbs and other shit that had been imbedded into his carpet. You always said you were less likely to drop stuff, and Eddie didn’t have the heart to tell you that was definitely not true.

“Did you at least get yourself a fork, or are you going to eat like a caveman?” he asked as he looked down at you, and he had to fight the urge to reach out and play with your hair next to his knee. He’d done it before— a million times— but he was still wary of touching you with his claws.

“I actually did, thank you very much,” you said and stuck your tongue out at him again. Then you were rolling up the hem of your— his— shirt and pulling out the fork that you’d apparently stuck in the waistband of your shorts.

But Eddie inhaled so sharply it was nearly a scream when he saw the skin on your abdomen.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Obi,” he breathed.

Both sides of your ribcage were covered in livid bruises. Eddie dragged his wide eyes over indigo splotches, saw where they were turning a lighter purple and even yellow around the edges. He thought he could even see the clear tread of a shoeprint.

“Wha— oh.” You winced when you glanced down and saw what he was looking at. “That’s… it’s nothing.”

You hurriedly dropped your shirt back into place, but Eddie felt like the sight of those bruises was stamped on the back of his eyeballs. A quiet roaring started to fill his head, getting louder and louder, and now his teeth were pulsing instead of itching.

“That’s not nothing,” he gritted out, clenching his fist in his lap and feeling his claws cut into his palms. “I’m not a fuckin’ doctor, but I’ve broken several ribs, so I know what they look like. Did fucking Carver do that to you?”

The blond’s name came out as a snarl, and Eddie felt the pulsing in his mouth move up to his eyes. He would tear that fucker to shreds, he would—

“Oh, shi— Eddie, calm down,” you said, and the note of panic in your voice, coupled with you reaching out and cupping his cheek, suddenly snapped him back into his body.

His eyes found your wide ones, and he could feel that he was panting heavily through his mouth. The hunger paced inside him like a caged tiger, just dying to be let out, but then he saw a tiny reflection of himself in your pupils.

His eyes were jet-black now, framed by ebony veins that spiderwebbed down his cheeks. His lips were parted in a snarl, and the tips of his fangs gleamed wetly with saliva.

Eddie slammed his eyes closed, wrenching himself away from you until he was pressed back into the sofa. He tilted his head to the ceiling and took several deep breaths, clenching and unclenching his fists in time.

“Sorry,” he grunted out, the word strangled. “I— fuck, sorry.”

“It’s o— I know,” you corrected yourself, like you’d remembered how he responded the last time you tried to tell him it was okay. “I know. But you… you don’t have to worry about Jason anymore. He’s dead.”

Satisfaction and disappointment warred inside Eddie as the words echoed through his skull.

Dead. Jason Carver, the man that had gathered an angry mob to burn Eddie at the stake, was dead.

“How?” he asked after a long moment. He vaguely remembered you talking to Harrington about how Carver had also hurt Sinclair and somehow fucked up Mayfield’s Walkman, so Eddie hoped it had hurt when the blond bastard bit the fucking dust.

“He…” you started but then hesitated long enough that Eddie opened his eyes and brought his head back down to look at you. Your gaze was focused somewhere off to the side, but your expression rippled through various emotions under the bruises. Anger was the easiest to name, but it was gone just as quickly, replaced by guilt. Your scent grew sharper with it, deeper, and you picked at your cast. “He ambushed us at the Creel House. I— he knocked me out. I tried to fight him, and I got a few licks in, but I haven’t played every single sport every single fucking year since I was five. He was just… stronger.”

Your voice dropped off into a defeated whisper, and Eddie watched as you hunched into yourself, trying to hide behind your hair. Your scent continued to thicken with guilt until Eddie was practically choking on it, and he didn’t even think about it as he leaned forward and placed his clawed hand on the top of your head.

“Hey. Hey, Obi. Look at me.”

You refused at first, but when Eddie started stroking your hair, you sighed and looked up to meet his gaze.

“I know you’ve heard this probably a million times already,” he began, his hand coming down to cup your cheek gently, “but what Harrington said earlier was right on the fucking money. Sinclair and Mayfield weren’t your fault. I wasn’t your fault. A lotta shit went real wrong, real fast, but hey, look, I’m still alive. I may be a goddamn knockoff Dracula now, but I’m alive, Obi, and from what Harrington said earlier, so is Mayfield. I’m guessing she’s in a coma, but if I can come back, so can she. So you have to stop blaming yourself, sweetheart. Because if I can’t hate myself, then neither can you.”

Tears instantly welled up in your eyes, and one trickled out, sliding down until it hit his thumb that was still resting against your cheekbone. He softly wiped the salty liquid away, careful not to poke you eye out with his claw, and you sniffled as you turned and pressed a kiss to his palm.

“Okay,” you murmured before you took a deep breath, and as you exhaled, the scent of guilt dissipated. Then your eyes found his again, still wet with tears, but with a glint of life in them again. “I love you.”

You said it some simply, so easily, but for Eddie it was still like taking a punch to the solar plexus, hearing those words. He felt breathless, his head swimming.

“I… love you, too,” he said and still couldn’t believe it, still couldn’t believe he got to say it. Couldn’t believe the broad smile that bloomed across your face in response. He was seized with the sudden urge to kiss you, but then he saw the plate of cooling food over your shoulder, and he knew if he started kissing you, he was never going to be able to stop. So, instead of giving in to his base desires, he smiled down at you and leaned back into the couch again, dropping his hand from your cheek and onto his knee. “But you should eat before your food gets cold. And pleaseeee tell me Carver at least went out pissing his pants.”

You snorted but turned back to your dinner, which was a microwaveable meal of Salisbury steak and mac n’ cheese. “I mean, I didn’t see it personally since I got knocked out, but I wouldn’t be surprised. Vecna managed to open the gates before El— Mike’s superhero girlfriend— kicked his ass. And Jason got caught standing over the gate as it expanded. Lucas said the fucker got cut in half.”

“Holy shit.” Eddie whistled. Maybe a few weeks ago, he would have felt slightly bad about Carver dying in such a gruesome way, but now all he felt was grim satisfaction.

Then he looked at your face, and he saw the same thing in your eyes.

“Yeah, but he goddamn deserved it,” you muttered, stabbing at your mac n’ cheese. “He riled the whole fucking town up to hunt you, like an animal. I wish I’d been the one to do it, but since I wasn’t, I hope he fucking suffered until his last breath.”

Eddie blinked at the quiet vehemence in your voice, the fury. He’d seen you angry before—frustrated at your job, at ignorant people, pissed at your mom and David— but he’d never seen you hateful. It should concern him, but all Eddie felt was a deep, dark, guilty pleasure that you felt so strongly on his behalf.

He couldn’t say that out loud, though, so he deflected with a joke, like usual.

“Damn, Obi,” he said. “Going a little Dark Side there?”

You looked up at him with a serious expression that was only slightly ruined by the smear of cheese in the corner of your mouth. “I would have gone full Sith if it meant saving you, Munson. But, lacking a lightsaber and the use of the Force, I resorted to lying to the police to clear your name.”

“What?” Eddie gaped down at you. “Wait… what?”

“Don’t look so scandalized, Munson.” You rolled your eyes and carved off a bite of the steak with your fork. “We’ve collectively committed serval felonies in the last week. But when I… when I thought you were… gone, I couldn’t live with the idea of your name being dragged through the mud. So, I talked to Lucas, and together we concocted the story that Jason was the one who killed Chrissy. We told the police that Chrissy and I had a project together, but I left my notes at your trailer since we’re friends, and Chrissy went to go pick it up because I had a shift at Family Video, which I did. Jason saw Chrissy go to your trailer, thought she was cheating on him, and killed her out of jealousy. Then he tried to frame you for the murder since you were already the town ‘freak,’ but he’d gotten a taste for blood and kept killing until he ended up attacking Max, Lucas, and me. He confessed all this to us right before the earthquake tragically swallowed him whole.”

You jutted out your lip in a very overexaggerated fake pout, but then you winced a little as the split was agitated.

Meanwhile, Eddie felt like the room was shifting around him. His throat clicked when he swallowed, and his wide eyes stared into yours.

“So… I’m not a wanted man?” he asked, voice barely louder than a breath.

“Nope.” You grinned and seemed incredibly proud of yourself. “Police cleared your name at an emergency meeting. To be honest, no one seemed to care about anything other than the cracks splitting Hawkins into pieces, but once we get you de-batified, you’ll be a free man, Munson.”

You speared another bite of macaroni, but before you could bring it to your mouth, Eddie suddenly shoved himself forward and covered your lips with his. You made a surprised noise but didn’t pull away, and Eddie gently cupped both sides of your face as he tried to pour all his love into the kiss. He was careful to keep his teeth tucked away, but you arched up into him, your tongue coming out to trace the seam of his mouth.

“Fuck, Obi,” he gasped as he ripped himself away and pressed his forehead to yours. “What the hell did I ever do to deserve you?”

You giggled slightly and pecked a kiss against the tip of his nose. “Come on, Munson. Don’t you know heroes always get the fair and badass maidens?”

Eddie felt his heart clench in his chest again, and he couldn’t help leaning down for a second kiss.

“Oops,” you laughed when he pulled back once more, and you reached up to wipe your thumb over the corner of his mouth. “Got a little cheese on you.”

“It’s okay,” Eddie said and absently licked his lips. But the faint taste of the macaroni made his mouth pucker, and he immediately stuck out his tongue. “Ugh, wait, maybe not okay.”

“Does it really taste that bad to you?” you asked with a concern frowned.

“Definitely doesn’t taste like mac n’ cheese,” he muttered and then groaned as he dragged a hand down his face. “Fuckkkkkk. Giant bat wings weren’t bad enough, now I can’t even enjoy my favorite foods.”

“For now,” you quickly assured him. “But we’ll figure it out. If you can change, you can change back. Dustin will love the challenge.”

“Henderson.” Eddie laughed dryly as he ran a hand through his damp hair. “I actually miss the little twerp.”

“He misses you too, I— oh, shit!” you gasped, your eyes lighting up. “Oh my god, Dustin’s going to fucking freak. He’ll be so happy, so relieved, so— fuck, wait, he’s coming by in the morning for breakfast. I don’t want him having a heart attack, so I need to think of what I’ll say to him while you wait in my bedroom.”

“Do you…” Eddie swallowed and looked down at his hands, his claws. The hunger is his belly had receded at the disgusting taste of cheese, but it was slowly unfurling again. “Do you think that’s a good idea? Maybe we shouldn’t tell him yet. Until I gain a little more… control.”

You frowned. “Your control seems fine, Eddie. But, if you’re really worried about it, we can just make sure you’re not… hungry by the time Dustin comes around.”

To emphasize your point, you quickly stuffed the last bits of pasta and steak into your mouth. Eddie thought you looked like an adorable chipmunk with your cheeks all stuffed, but then you chewed, swallowed, and wiped your mouth.

“Okay, I ate,” you said. “And you promised you would, too. So… here.”

You shifted until you were facing him and kneeling, and you extended your right arm, laying it across his lap. The paler skin of your wrist beckoned him to sink his teeth into it. He could see the juts of your veins, their blue undertone. He could see the way they pulsed with blood, and all at once, his mouth filled with saliva as his teeth started to ache again.

But he fought against it, digging his claws into his thighs as he met your gaze. Part of him still wanted to refuse, but Eddie knew he wasn’t strong enough.

“Are you… sure, Obi?” he forced out, trying not to drool. “I really don’t want to hurt you, but my teeth—”

“Yes, Munson, I’m sure. I can take a little bite. Stop being so stubborn.” You nudged your arm into him until he finally broke and gently picked up your wrist, like it was made of the most fragile of glass.

His fingers trembled as they overlapped on your warm skin, and his wings fluttered as he hunched over his lap and your arm. That hunger was pulsing through his face now, but Eddie had enough sense left not to chomp down on your forearm. Instead, he placed a shaky kiss against your wrist, then other, followed by the flick of his tongue.

You inhaled, and he groaned, the sensation of your pulse against his tongue finally breaking the last tether of his restraint.

Eddie fitted his mouth over your wrist, and then he dragged his fangs across the delta of blood vessels at the base of your hand. You let out a slightly pained gasped, but Eddie could barely hear it because his hunger was roaring in triumph as your blood washed across his tongue.

He moaned and grunted, sounding more animal than he wanted, but he couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop himself. Your blood tasted like every one of his favorite foods combined, only hundred times better. He slurped it up like a dying man who’d stumbled upon an oasis, his clawed hands holding your arm firmly against his mouth as he pulled and pulled and pulled.

It felt like years and yet seconds later when your other hand patted the side of his face, the cast rough and coarse against his skin.

“Eddie,” you murmured. Your voice was calm, not panicked. “Okay, Eddie, that’s enough. It’s been a f-full minute. I timed it.”

The hunger in him rebelled for a moment, but Eddie found it was only slightly difficult to detach his lips from around your wrist. He’d had a harder time getting off the couch while stoned before.

Eddie panted as the whooshing sound faded from his ears, but he couldn’t help darting down one last time to drag the flat of his tongue over your wrist. Then he pulled back and watched as the incision he’d made slowly stitched itself closed.

Goddamn healing saliva. Eddie had to admit… it was kind of amazing.

Licking his lips, Eddie lifted his head, half afraid he would see a hint of fear or disgust in your eyes, but you were just smiling gently at him.

“Feel better?” you asked simply, as if you’d let him nap on your couch instead of suck the blood directly out of your veins.

He hated to admit it, but…

“Yeah,” he murmured and licked the last remnants of you off his lips. The hunger had curled back up inside him, satiated, sleeping. His thoughts were clear, his teeth didn’t ache, and for the first time since Eddie woke up, he felt… relaxed, maybe even a little tired.

Did Upside Down demo-bat vampires need to sleep?

“Hmmm,” you hummed contemplatively, cocking you head, and then you were suddenly kneeling up and pressing your lips to his again.

Your tongue swiped across his mouth, and Eddie opened instinctively. You deepened the kiss without hesitation, placing a hand on his knee to stabilize yourself, and Eddie ended up clutching the back of your head. His tongue tangled with yours before you pulled back a fraction, flicking the tip of that lithe muscle against the point of his fangs. The hot taste of your blood bloomed in his mouth once again, and he groaned, swallowing, as you finally broke the kiss.

“Jesus Christ, Obi,” Eddie panted while you sat back on your heels. “What… the fuck was that?”

“I dunno,” you said with a shrug, but there was a mischievous glint in your eyes. “Just wanted to see what it tasted like.”

Eddie groaned and dropped his head onto the back of the couch. “This is hell, and you are truly the devil.”

You stuck your tongue out at him again and made the sign for horns against your temples, but your shit-eating grin was ruined by the enormous yawn that nearly cracked your jaw in half.

“S-Sorryyy,” you said as you covered your mouth. When the yawn released you from its grasp, you blinked up at him, but your eyes were a little unfocused.

“Sleepy?” Eddie asked with a faint smirk.

“No,” you said, but after you were immediately contradicted by another yawn, you pouted up at him. “Okay… maybe a little.”

Eddie glanced at the clock on the wall and saw it was nearly midnight. “Well, no wonder, it’s wayyyy past your bedtime, princess. We should get you to bed.”

You pursed your lips, and your scent soured ever so slightly with fear.

“Will you…” you started, shifting uncomfortably on your knees. “Will you sleep with me? I-I mean, s-sleep in the same bed as me. I just…”

You trailed off, but Eddie knew what you were trying to say.

I just need you close.

He felt the same way.

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.” He smiled before pushing himself to his feet, and he actually remembered his wings this time. They didn’t tip him off balance, and after a moment of concentration, they folded obediently against his back.

Maybe he was getting the hang of this.

Like the gentleman— gentlebat?— that he was, he helped you to your feet, and then he was struck with an idea, so he bent down and swept you into his arms.

“Munson!” you gasped, and the way you said his name was just like he remembered when he was losing his mind. Equal parts exasperated and affectionate. “Put me down!”

“Now, Obi, you and I both know a princess is never allowed to just walk anywhere,” Eddie said with faux grave importance as you settled against his chest. “She must always be carried and never let the ground sully her beautiful feet.”

“Oh, god, do you have a foot fetish?” you groaned dramatically. But you still wrapped your arms around his neck and nuzzled into his hair, pressing a kiss to his pointed ear that made a shiver race down his back.

“Nah, I just have a you fetish, sweetheart.” He grinned and started walking across the living room, pretending to almost trip just to hear you gasp and feel you cling to him.

You ended up directing him to the master bedroom instead of yours since it had the bigger bed, and while Eddie didn’t particularly love the lingering scents of your mom and David, everything else faded away the moment he gently dropped you on the bed.

You smiled as you scooted up towards the pillows, and Eddie noticed the split in your lower lip was gone, erased by his “magic” spit.

Henderson was definitely going to have a field day with that.

But Eddie shoved the thought away as he tentatively crawled onto the bed, and he was agonizing over how to lay down when you suddenly knocked one of his arms out from under him. He faceplanted into the pillow beside you with a grunt, his arm and one of his wings splayed out over your body. His other wing extended across the empty bed to his left, the tip trailing off the side of the mattress and down towards the floor.

Eddie turned his head to fake scowl at you, but he immediately froze when he saw your face was only inches away. You were smiling and looked so happy, your fingers tracing patterns over the arm and wing he’d slung across you.

“You look good in my bed, Munson,” you said with a teasing smile.

Eddie felt his heart and his dick throb in time, and his brain flailed for a response. “You mean your mom’s bed? Do you think she and David had sex on these?”

Your face immediately scrunched up. “Oh, gross, why would you say thatttt?!”

You tried to turn away from him, batting away his wing, but Eddie chased after you.

“No, no, I’m sorry,” he laughed. “It was just the first thing that came to mind!”

He wiggled partially onto his left shoulder so he could wrap both arms around you and pull your back against his chest. His left wing was a little pinched but not in a painful way, and his right wing draped over you like a leathery blanket.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” you huffed over your shoulder, but Eddie could see the smile you were fighting, could see the sparkle in your eye.

He grinned shamelessly, the expression feeling almost foreign on his face, but, god, he loved you so much it nearly pained him. You made him feel like he wasn’t a monster, wasn’t a fuck up. You made him feel like a man worthy of your affection.

He wondered if it would be inappropriate to ask you to marry him.

Maybe after he got rid of the wings.

“Come on, Obi,” he said as he leaned forward and smacked an obnoxious kiss against the curve of your cheek. “Everyone knows you’re the cute one, and I’m the mangy but loveable delinquent.”

You giggled as you snuggled back into him, the curve of your body fitting perfectly against his, and Eddie thought for the first time since he woke up that maybe, just maybe, everything would be alright.

The two of you talked about everything and nothing— just like always— until you eventually drifted off to sleep in his arms, and Eddie buried his face in your hair and prayed to every power he could think of that he would wake up tomorrow in this same bed.

The wings could stay, he didn’t give a shit, as long as he had you.

Just you. Always you.

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