summary: Elvis has a little secret named Kennedy Jackson. Part 3!
word count: 6.4k
Author's Note: It's been a while!!! I've missed writing and I've missed this community. I haven't been on tumblr a lot. I hope you guys enjoy the final part of this story! I wrote a lot these past 2 days, getting back in the grove of writing again :)
Part 1, Part 2
My Secret Ken-Doll (part three)
“I’m pregnant.” Kennedy replied.
Earlier that day
Kennedy woke up feeling extremely sick, she launched out of bed and sprinted towards the bathroom getting to the toilet in record time to throw up all the contents of her stomach.
She sat on that bathroom floor for a while, she didn’t feel like it was food poisoning because that would include other things, not just throwing up. She got up and brushed her teeth before heading towards the calendar that was on her fridge.
She’s supposed to get her period this week, it was supposed to be two days ago but that doesn’t mean anything. Her period sometimes comes late depending on her food or stress, anything could affect it. It doesn't mean anything. Kennedy kept trying to justify it and couldn't even bring herself to say the words out loud let alone in her head.
She pulled on a pair of jeans and threw on a t-shirt before speed walking to the nearest supermarket. She walked around, shy to walk out with a pregnancy test so she got some ice cream, chips and chocolate. She wanted junk after the amount of stress she’s been in trying to figure out if she’s pregnant. Why was she stressing herself out over nothing, it’s probably nothing. Right?
“Please god. Let it be nothing.” She prayed in her head as she grabbed a pregnancy test off of the shelf. She walked over to the counter and paid for her things before walking out. Okay maybe no one cares that she bought a pregnancy test but for her it was a big deal. Her life was about to be flipped upside down. She’s gonna be pregnant with a rockstar’s kid. The same rockstar who cheated on her and she was stupid enough to sleep with him after breaking up with him.
But damnit a part of her wanted to keep a part of Elvis. She loved him so much and she couldn’t help but picture a little boy with Elvis’ looks.
She shook her thoughts, walking back to her apartment. A baby was a huge responsibility and what if Elvis says he doesn't want to be a part of the baby’s life, the baby will already be born in a broken home.
She took the test and waited anxiously for the lines to appear. The box said three minutes but Kennedy could already see the two lines on the pregnancy test. She gripped the sink and let her tears fall. She had to tell Elvis. And she hoped he’d stand by her and make her feel better about all of this.
One thing for sure, she wasn’t about to get rid of that baby. Life was gonna get so much harder but she’s willing to do whatever it takes to provide for that little thing growing inside of her stomach.
Present time
Elvis looked at Kennedy with confusion on his face. Did he hear correctly? Did his ex girlfriend say she’s pregnant?
“Elvis?” Kennedy asked, her voice diminishing significantly. She was scared of what he would say like it was her fault but it wasn’t, it was both of them. She makes sure to always take her birth control pills so she wasn’t sure how that happened.
“You-you’re pregnant?” He asked, his voice slightly above whisper.
“Yes.” Kennedy gulped.
“And it’s mine.” Elvis stated.
Kennedy nodded, her eyes starting to water once again.
Elvis’ lower lip trembled, a smile starting to grow on his face “We’re having a baby?”
“Only if you want to be a part of its life.” Kennedy replied.
“Of course I want to be a part of its life.” He replied and stepped forward pulling her into a tight embrace “We’re having a baby.” He whispered in her ear, completely ecstatic and excited “I love you.” he whispered.
Kennedy sobbed, holding onto Elvis for dear life. She was relieved. She definitely did not picture him to be happy when she announced the news but she could literally feel the weight of the world drop from her shoulders. She couldn’t say she loved him back. Of course she did but she didn’t want to lead him on.
“I got you.” He said as she continued to cry on his chest “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. And we’ll be the best parents for that little boy or girl.” He said while rubbing her back reassuringly.
Kennedy slowly calmed down, no longer sobbing but she stayed in Elvis’ arms. Elvis pulled back and cupped her face, wiping the leftover tears that stained her cheeks. Her eyes red and her face puffy but he loved her so much. He was grinning from ear to ear, they’re meant to be. He leaned forward and kissed her. Kennedy kissed him back before pulling away completely out of his arms. He frowned and looked at her.
“I still can’t be with you Elvis. We can coparent but I-I don’t wanna be with you.” She whispered.
“What? Why?” Elvis took a step towards her.
“You still cheated, Elvis. And it hurt me so much. I don’t want to get back together only to get cheated on once again.” She replied.
“I promise I won’t make the same mistake twice. We’re meant to be, baby. Can’t you see that? It’s god’s way for telling us we belong together and now we’re tied for life.” He said, trying to convince her to take him back.
“Elvis.” Kennedy shook her head “We’re tied for life and I can’t wait to see you become a father. I think you’ll be an amazing dad but I can’t be with you.”
“Kennedy.” He sighed but shook his head. He was determined to show her that he could be the best partner and parent to that little kid.
The first trimester for Kennedy was hell. She was very anxious all the time for no apparent reason and she was sick all the time that meant she barely went to work.
Her doorbell rang as she collected herself from the ground where she laid clutching the toilet bowl for life.
“Hello?” She rasped, answering the intercom.
“Ken. Open up.” Elvis replied.
She sighed not even bothering to argue with him. The baby was not here yet so he had no business to be in her apartment but he kept showing up. Especially now that he had wrapped filming for Viva Las Vegas. Kennedy unlocked the door and quickly ran back to the bathroom. As she threw up she felt Elvis come up behind her and hold her hair back while rubbing her back.
“This is hell.” She muttered as Elvis reached over to flush the contents of her stomach that was now in the toilet.
“I know, baby. I’m sorry.” Elvis replied. He hated seeing her like this, he hated seeing her in pain.
Kennedy sighed and went back to laying down on the floor. She did not have the energy to stand up and right now the floor just felt comfortable and cold.
Elvis frowned, he did not know this was how pregnancy was for women. He thought the worst part was pushing a baby out but over the last few weeks he had been reading lots of pregnancy books and how to be a supportive partner to your pregnant wife. Even though she wasn’t his wife but he wished they were married and living in Graceland together. Cuddling in bed together. He missed being in her arms. He sighed and lifted Kennedy off the floor, he knew if she wasn’t tired she would’ve fought him but she was too tired to fight him. He carried her over to her bed and tucked her in.
Elvis kissed her head before heading to the kitchen and pulling the bag he brought with him. He bought tea, salt crackers and lemons all things that would help with her morning sickness. He heated up a kettle of water and made Kennedy some tea before going to her bedroom and placing it on her bedside table.
She slowly blinked and opened her eyes. She smiled gently “Thank you.”
Elvis smiled and reached down pushing her hair away from her face “I told you I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere.”
“Come on now, get up and drink your tea before it gets cold.”
Kennedy sighed and shook her head “I can’t even pick my head up. I’m so tired, I did not sleep at all the past few days.”
“It will make you feel better.” Elvis replied.
Kennedy pouted and shook her head again.
Elvis sighed and walked around the bed to sit next to her on top of the covers.
Kennedy felt him sit next to her.
“I’m gonna sit you up now, okay?” He asked her. She nodded, keeping her eyes closed. He placed his arms under her pits, dragging her up. He sat behind her and let her lean back into him. Kennedy leaned her head back on his shoulder. Elvis grabbed the mug, brought it to his lips and blew on it before testing if it was too hot. Then he brought it to Kennedy’s lips and helped her take some sips from the tea.
She took a few sips before leaning her head back against Elvis’ shoulder and fell asleep. Elvis sighed and kissed her temple before helping her lie back down on her pillow.
As he moved to get out of bed Kennedy reached over and grabbed his hand “Can you stay?” she rasped.
Elvis smiled softly, his heart racing “Yeah-yes.”
He got in bed next to her, keeping a distance because he did not want to push her boundaries and then get kicked out. Kennedy turned to face him and shuffled closer to him, placing her head on his chest. Elvis grinned and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her body even closer to his body.
Kennedy woke up a few hours later, her stomach grumbling. She blinked awake and turned to look at her bed to see it empty. She frowned in confusion but then she heard the soft rumblings of Elvis’ baritone voice singing softly from the kitchen/living room. She could also smell something yummy which made her stomach rumble even louder.
She shuffled out of bed and went into the bathroom to brush her teeth, feeling much more refreshed and energized. It was almost 7PM now, she took a sick day off of work but she needed to get her butt in the office tomorrow or else she would definitely get fired for taking so many sick days back to back.
“Hey.” She smiled walking out of her bedroom to see Elvis singing softly while cooking some pasta.
“Hey! Good morning - or Evening?” Elvis chuckled looking back at her “I bet you’re hungry.”
“I am.” Kennedy replied, smiling gratefully at Elvis and walked to sit on the stool by the kitchen island. Elvis had his back towards her as he threw in some tomato paste into the pan “This smells really good. I thought you didn’t know how to cook?” Kennedy teased because she always cooked for him when he was here. She loved cooking for him because he really appreciated good food.
“I don’t.” Elvis chuckled “I had to call Mary and write down instructions on how to cook pasta.”
Kennedy laughed and shook her head at him.
“I’m sorry by the way.” Elvis said softly, turning to look at her.
“For what?” Kennedy frowned.
“I-I don’t know. For having a really tough pregnancy.” Elvis shrugged, looking at her with worry and genuine concern in his eyes.
Kennedy smiled softly “Don’t apologize for something that isn’t your fault. Some have hard pregnancies, some have hard postpartum and some have hard deliveries. We’re all built different.”
Elvis smiled back at her “Let’s hope you have the easiest delivery and postpartum then.”
Kennedy chuckled and nodded.
“Thank you.” Kennedy said as Elvis went to go back to finishing the pasta.
“For?” It was his turn to ask.
“For being here and taking care of me and learning how to cook pasta.” Kennedy replied, smiling softly feeling extremely grateful to have him here “I know I keep pushing you away- it’s just I don’t want to rely on you especially since we’re not together. I-I don’t want to get used to having you around and then when you meet someone, they’re gonna be your priority.” Kennedy gulped, getting slightly hot at admitting her fears.
Elvis frowned and walked around the kitchen island to get to Kennedy “You will always be my number 1 priority.” He cupping both her cheeks when she swiveled around in her stool to face him “You’re gonna be the mother of my kid. Maybe you’ll get bumped to second place when he or she gets here but thats it.” He joked making Kennedy smile “I love you. You’re the love of my life. I screwed up but I’m gonna do the best I can to show you I can be the best partner to you and the best father to that kid.”
Kennedy felt her eyes burn with tears, she wanted to say she loved him too. So much. But she was terrified.
“Can I kiss you?” He whispered, already bending his head down to kiss her.
She can never say no to him or to his soft pillow lips, she gripped his arms and nodded. Elvis smiled and kissed her lips softly.
“You should move into Graceland with me.” He said as he pulled away but kept his hands on her cheeks, his forehead resting against Kennedy’s forehead.
“Okay, now you’re pushing it.” Kennedy chuckled.
Elvis chuckled and pulled away “Fine.” he rolled his eyes teasingly, going back to finished up the pasta.
Elvis evenly distributed the pasta into two plates, for him and for Kennedy. He was waiting for her to kick him out but she never did. They both sat on the couch turning on their favorite TV show that they loved to watch together and ate pasta. It felt like the good old times when they were actually dating. Kennedy would cook for the both of them, they would eat on the couch then they would make out on the couch, head into the bedroom to make love and then they would stay up till the early hours of the morning talking and catching up. Every weekend without fail Elvis was at her apartment even when he was filming in Vegas or working on something in Los Angeles. He still flew all the way back to Memphis during the weekends to spend time with her. It was hard but when they came together during those 2 days it was the best.
The next few months flew by, Elvis was slowly gaining Kennedy’s trust back but nothing happened between them. They were more of a strong front and team, he was always there to help. He had some work to do in LA so weekdays he wasn’t in Memphis but he was always at her place if he was in Memphis. Sometimes they would kiss but nothing more.
They were finally able to learn the sex of the baby, so Elvis was extra excited. He was practically bouncing in his seat as he drove him and Kennedy to the hospital. Kennedy was slightly terrified because it was the first time she was getting a scan with Elvis, she wondered how people would react once they spotted him especially with a pregnant girl that they’re never heard of in the media.
Elvis turned his head as he drove to the hospital to see Kennedy looking out of the window while biting her lower lip anxiously.
“Hey.” Elvis said and placed his hand on her bare thigh, Kennedy was dressed in a sundress since none of her pants fit her anymore. She officially needed to go buy maternity clothes.
Kennedy turned her head and smiled at him.
“Relax. There’s doctor-patient confidentiality. No one can say anything unless they want to lose their job.” Elvis said.
“I know.” Kennedy sighed and placed her hand on Elvis’ hand that rested on her thigh.
“Plus. People are bound to know that I’m gonna be a dad.” Elvis shrugged.
“I know but still I don’t want to get bombarded by fans and paparazzi at my place or at work.”
“I know, I know.” Elvis sighed, dropping the conversation but keeping his hand on her bare thigh.
Elvis kept his head down as they quickly walked through the hospital to their scheduled appointment.
The nurse walked on, her eyes lingered on Elvis. Kennedy could see that she recognized him and she was grateful that she didn’t say anything or acknowledge that he was Elvis Presley.
Elvis sat next to Kennedy and held her hand as the nurse squirted some gel on her stomach.
“There’s the heartbeat.” The nurse smiled as the picture on the monitor came to life. They could see a little baby.
“Oh my god.” Elvis whispered, his grip on Kennedy’s hand tightening. He had never seen a scan except from the pictures Kennedy had shown him.
Kennedy smiled at Elvis who was staring intently at the screen with wide eyes.
“Do you want to know the sex of the baby?” The nurse asked smiling softly at Kennedy and Elvis.
“Yes, please.” Kennedy smiled.
“Okay.” The nurse replied “It’s a girl.”
“Really?” Kennedy breathed, a smile spreading on her face. She turned to see Elvis looking down at her with a soft smile on his face, his eyes brimming with tears.
“We’re having a little girl.” He whispered.
“Yeah.” Kennedy replied.
He leaned down and captured Kennedy’s lips with his own “I love you.” He whispered against her lips. They heard the nurse walk out, the door clicking shut behind her.
“She’s gonna be the cutest little thing. I hope she looks exactly like you.” Elvis said once he pulled away, resting his forehead against Kennedy’s.
“I hope she gets your eyes.” Kennedy replied.
“Oh I can’t wait to have a little Kennedy running around.” Elvis grinned.
“We’re gonna have our hands full if she gets your personality.” Kennedy giggled and kissed him again. It was the first time she had initiated the kiss which made Elvis grin against her lips.
It was now starting to feel real for the both of them. They’re gonna be parents. To a little girl. And they were over the moon.
A few months later, Elvis called Kennedy telling her to throw on some clothes and open the door. As she opened the door dressed for the day a large group of men walked in carrying boxes and bags, the last that appeared was Elvis.
“What’s all this?” She asked Elvis with wide eyes.
“Crib, stroller, clothes, bibs, diapers, bottles, breast pump for you…” Elvis replied as the guys placed all the boxes and bags in a corner of the living room before leaving.
“Wow, Elvis.” She replied, shutting the door “You really didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to. And I think we should assemble the crib.” Elvis replied.
“There are two crib boxes here.” Kennedy pointed out when she walked closer to see all the items he bought.
“Uh yeah, one is for Graceland. I mean if you think it would be fine if I take her for the day or something obviously when she’s a bit older.” Elvis stuttered.
“Oh.” Kennedy replied, her heart sinking when she realized that they’d have to share custody and wouldn’t be a real family. Taking turns when the baby would cry or needed changing “Yeah, that makes sense.”
Later that night, Kennedy curled up on the couch as she watched Elvis sitting on the floor, assembling the crib. He was shirtless in just his black jeans and he looked so good, his back flexing as he tightened the screws.
“Are you enjoying the view?” Elvis asked looking at her from over his shoulder with a huge grin on his face.
“Well nothing is on TV so…” Kennedy chuckled, her face turning red after being caught staring at him.
Kennedy was asleep, she was due at any day now. She was officially on maternity leave. She woke up to Elvis whisper shouting in the living room.
“I told you I’m taking the next month off!” He whisper shouted but it was still loud enough to travel through her cracked open door. He was asleep on her couch because he was scared she would give birth when he wasn’t around so he was her new roommate for now until she gives birth. Her apartment was once again littered with his things, in the bathroom, on the vanity and he had some of his clothes in her drawers.
“No! Kennedy could give birth right now. And if I were to miss the birth because I’m working in a different state it would kill me Daddy.” Elvis growled “Tell that goddam son of a bitch that I’m not signing any new contract with anyone.” He said, referring to his manager.
Kennedy did not want to intervene, she definitely did not want to tell him that it was okay for him to leave. She was scared of giving birth and she needed him by her side. She couldn’t imagine doing it without him. Her parents were very old and can’t fly in to be with her but she was excited to show them the baby once she’s born.
She shuffled out of bed and wadded towards the living room as he hung up on his dad.
“Oh I’m sorry honey, did I wake you?” He asked, concern on his features.
“No, no.” She shook her head. She was ready to pop, her stomach was bulging out and she looked really cute, according to Elvis. He realized he loved seeing her pregnant with his kid. She walked over to him and wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging him. He looked at her with furrowed brows, she never hugs him but he happily wrapped his arms around her. They couldn’t properly hug because of Kennedy’s belly but he still pulled her as close as he could.
“Thank you, I know you’re sacrificing your career to be here with me.” She murmured against his chest.
“I’m not sacrificing anything, the Colonel is just money hungry.” Elvis joked “I’m happy to be here with you.”
Kennedy just hugged him tighter.
Elvis started getting anxious about leaving Kennedy’s side. He had most of his clothes in the washing machine and was currently walking around in boxers only.
“Elvis.” Kennedy chuckled from where she was sitting on the couch. She didn’t want to admit that seeing him in his boxers were doing something to her internally. She missed him… in bed “Go home and get more clothes.”
“No.” Elvis frowned as he poured himself a cup of freshly brewed coffee “I know my luck. The moment I step out of this apartment building your water will break.”
“Elvis- go.” Kennedy replied “It’s literally a ten minute drive.”
“Noooo, it’s ten minutes going and ten minutes coming back. That’s twenty minutes away from you.”
Kennedy heaved herself off of the couch and wadded over to Elvis, she took the cup from his hands while he frowned at her. She placed the mug on the kitchen counter and cupped his cheeks “I’m fine. I’m literally going to be here in twenty minutes, still on the couch.”
Elvis pouted childishly.
“Hey, you’re in charge of laundry. And you didn’t wash your clothes so that’s on you.” Kennedy chuckled, letting her hands slip from his cheeks.
“At least I washed your clothes.” Elvis pointed out, he made sure to wash her clothes but he would get lazy to wash his own clothes.
“Thank you. But you could’ve thrown some of your clothes in with mine.” Kennedy replied and went into the bedroom “I have some big sweatpants and a big shirt.”
She walked back to the living room and handed it to him “But this doesn't mean that you shouldn’t go home and get more clothes!” she said sternly.
“Fine.” Elvis huffed and threw on Kennedy’s sweats and shirt and wore his shoes before grabbing his keys “Don’t break your water.” He said and kissed her head before walking out.
“I promise.” Kennedy chuckled.
Once Elvis left, Kennedy went back to lounging on the couch, eating popcorn while she watched a random channel. She felt a sharp pain shoot up her stomach. She gasped, her eyes widening. She wasn’t sure if this is what a contraction felt like. She got up, confusion etched on her face. She didn’t know if she should call Elvis. But she didn’t want him to worry and rush back if it was nothing.
Then she felt something splash down her legs “Oh crap.” she muttered looking down at her feet. Kennedy quickly wobbled to the landline and called Graceland.
“Hi, is Elvis there? It’s Kennedy.” Kennedy said once Mary picked up.
“She’s coming isn’t she?!” Mary asked excitedly based on Kennedy’s slightly panicked voice.
“I think so.” Kennedy chuckled.
“Hey! I’m here!” Elvis grabbed the phone from Mary “What happened? Are you okay?”
“I broke my promise.” Kennedy joked, she wasn’t feeling the pain yet.
“What promise?” Elvis asked in confusion.
“My water broke.” Kennedy replied.
“Shit! I need ten minutes! Do-do you need me to call an ambulance? I-I-I-“ He stuttered.
“Elvis-Elvis. Relax, I’m fine. I can wait for you. I need to change and pack my bag.” Kennedy replied.
“Okay, I’m coming.” Elvis replied and hung up.
Kennedy headed into her bedroom to change her clothes and prepare her bag while Elvis got there in less than 10 minutes.
“Are you okay? Are you in pain? Do you need me to carry you to the car?” Elvis asked, rushing into her apartment.
“Honey-honey. I’m fine, I swear. Let’s go.” Kennedy chuckled.
Elvis slung her bag over his shoulder and took Kennedy’s hand.
“When we get back here we’ll have one extra person with us.” Kennedy said.
“An extra person that we created.” Elvis whispered “Woah. I think it’s fully hitting me now that that baby is a mixture of me and you.”
They stared at each other, both their eyes brimming with tears.
“Don’t make me cry now. Let’s go.” Kennedy chuckled turning away from Elvis, wiping her tears with her free hand that wasn’t holding Elvis’.
Elvis helped her down the stairs and into the car, they headed towards the hospital thats when Kennedy’s contractions started to happen more and she started to feel the pain.
Elvis held her hand during the whole ride, looking her with pained eyes. He wanted to take the pain away but all he could do was hold her hand and not complain when she squeezed too hard.
They rushed Elvis and Kennedy into her into the room and waited to get checked out. They definitely would’ve waited in the waiting room had it not been for Elvis. Plus the hospital did not want to deal with paparazzi rushing to take pictures of the baby and Kennedy. No one knew about her for now.
“Why isn’t anyone tending to us?” Elvis asked, pushing his hair back anxiously.
“It’s okay, the nurse checked. I’m still 7CMs dilated.” Kennedy replied, reaching her hand out to Elvis. Elvis huffed and walked back to where Kennedy laid on the bad and took her hand, taking a seat next to her on the chair “I know I never told you this but thank you for standing by me for the past 9 months. I wouldn’t want to do it with anyone else.” Kennedy said. Elvis had shown up a lot for Kennedy, proving to her that he is going to stand by her even when he didn’t need to be, they aren’t together so there wasn’t anything forcing him to be with her and sleeping on her couch the past 2 months.
Elvis smiled and kissed the top of her hand “I’m glad that this little girl is going to have a strong mom like you.”
Kennedy smiled but quickly pain covered her facial features, screwing her eyes shut tightly.
An hour later Kennedy was fully dilated, her midwife, delivery doctor and nurses were all around as Kennedy pushed. Elvis stood next to Kennedy, holding her hand and whispering sweet nothings in her ear and pushing her sweat drenched hair back and away from her face.
“You got this sweetheart.” Elvis said kissing Kennedy’s temple.
Kennedy groaned, huffing as she took a break from pushing for a second.
“She’s gonna be here and it’s gonna be worth all the pain.” Elvis continued “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry sweetheart. I wanna take the pain away from you, I do.”
Kennedy squeezed Elvis’ hand in reassurance and gave him a small, tired smile before going back to pushing.
A while later the baby was out and Elvis had cut the umbilical cord while Kennedy threw her head back against the pillow, her forehead drenched with sweat. She shut her eyes for a second before the baby was placed on her chest.
“Congratulations, it’s a girl.” The nurse smiled at Kennedy but Kennedy was too enamored by the baby that was currently on her chest. Her mind was reeling. This was her kid and my god did she look perfect even as she wailed.
Elvis was staring at both Kennedy and the baby in awe, his eyes brimming with tears but his cheeks were hurting from smiling so hard.
Kennedy turned her head up to look at Elvis and smiled at him, tears escaping her eyes.
“She’s perfect.” Elvis whispered “What did you decide on the name?” Elvis asked. They had some names in mind for both boys and girls but they hadn’t narrowed it down.
“Judith Gladys Presley.” Kennedy whispered and looked at Elvis.
His eyes widened and his lips started to tremble, they both loved the name Judith but they never suggested the name Gladys as her middle name. However, Kennedy knew how much he loves his mom and how heartbroken he was and still is after her passing. He talked about her all the time to the point that Kennedy felt like she knew her even though she never got the chance to meet her.
Elvis bent down and kissed Kennedy “I love you so much my Ken-doll.” He whispered over her lips.
Kennedy gulped as the nurse took Jude from her to get her cleaned up.
Elvis’ dad, Vernon came to visit Kennedy and Elvis in the hospital. It was their first time meeting which was slightly awkward seeing as she just had his baby and was no longer with him. She also met some of the Mafia guys who came with flowers from their wives. Kennedy worried that now that a bigger group of people knew about her and the baby that it would eventually be known publicly which was bound to happen.
Elvis was by her side the entire time and she loved having him around, she loved him. Elvis was starstruck with Jude, not letting anyone hold her except for him. He would stare down at her and smile. Even when his dad held her, he fussed scared that his father would drop her. It was so cute, he was so protective over her.
Elvis installed the car seat and got ready to take them home to Kennedy’s apartment.
The first day at the apartment, Kennedy was able to get some sleep since she barely got any at the hospital but her slumber was disturbed an hour later when Jude started to cry. The moment Jude cried, Elvis came running into Kennedy’s room to grab her before Kennedy could even open her eyes.
“I think she’s hungry.” Elvis said, cradling her close to his chest “It’s okay, little one. I got you.” He cooed in a baby voice as he gently walked over to Kennedy. Kennedy sat up and took Jude from Elvis, tugging on her night shirt, down to expose one breast, Jude quickly latched on while Elvis stood there looking at Kennedy. He gulped audibly and looked up at the ceiling. Kennedy frowned and looked at him.
“I-um I’m gonna go, now.” He said placing his hands in front of his groin area but Kennedy quickly caught sight of the growing tent in his pajama bottoms.
Kennedy bit down on her lower lip to stop herself from laughing as Elvis quickly scurried out of her room.
The next few days in the apartment Kennedy and Elvis were both anxious, scared to sleep and scared to look away from Jude. They were both terrified that something would happen to her or she would stop breathing so they spent a lot of time just staring down at her in her crib as she slept.
They were both stood by her crib in pjs, Elvis was still sleeping over on the couch.
“Thank you for making me a dad, she’s our perfect little thing.” Elvis whispered, staring at Jude.
“She really is our prefect little thing.” Kennedy smiled softly at Elvis.
“She looks a lot like you.” Elvis said, looking at Kennedy “But she has my eyes.”
“And your mouth.” Kennedy added “Perfect combo of us.”
“Yeah.” Elvis grinned.
“Thanks for being here. I know it’s not ideal.” Kennedy started “You-sleeping on the couch.”
“Get back together with me.” Elvis whispered, cutting her off.
“Elvis.” Kennedy gulped, shaking her head.
“Please.” He whispered, taking a step closer to her and reached out to cup her cheek, caressing her cheek “I need you, I need to be with you.”
“Elvis- we gave it a try once and it didn’t work.” Kennedy replied.
“I made a mistake and I’ve shown up for the past 9 months and I will spend eternity to prove to you that I’m worthy of your love.” He said, leaning his forehead against hers.
“Thank you for being here, thank you for being by my side but- Elvis I-I can’t and we shouldn’t confuse Jude, we should put some boundaries.” Kennedy replied, taking a step back and away from Elvis “You shouldn’t kiss me anymore and you shouldn’t stay here. You can come and visit anytime but you can’t sleep here.”
“Kennedy.” Elvis’ jaw dropped, his eyes widened with unshed tears. Kennedy could see his heart breaking right in front of her and her mind scrambled to take back all the words she just said. What the heck was she doing? She wanted him here, she loved having him here. But it was hurtful at the same time to not be officially with him but having to share this space with him.
“I-I-I can’t not be here with you- w-with Jude. I-I.” He stuttered.
Kennedy bit down on her lower lip to stop them from trembling “I’m sorry.” she whispered.
Elvis quickly bent down and kissed Jude’s head before quickly heading out of the door, wiping his face as he did. When Kennedy heard the door slam shut, she burst into sobs, quickly heading into the bathroom so that she could cry without waking Judith up. She had to cut her crying short when she heard Jude’s little whines, she wiped her tears and washed her face before going to breast feed Jude.
Kennedy fed Jude and got into bed, staring up at the ceiling, she couldn’t sleep not with a new born and not after practically kicking Elvis out.
He was right, he was there for her during the whole nine months of her pregnancy. He took care of her and showed up for her even when he didn’t need to be. She was cheated on previously and got back together with the guy only to get cheated on again, from then on she decided once a cheater always a cheater. She didn’t want her heart to break again.
A few hours passed and it was officially one in the morning, she was still wide awake and she missed hearing Elvis’ footsteps from the living room or the low lull of the TV, he loved to sleep with the TV on and now the apartment felt way too quiet without him. He’d only been gone a few hours but she missed him terribly.
Kennedy shuffled out of bed and headed towards the phone, she quickly dialed Graceland.
“Hello?” Elvis’ voice traveled through the headset.
“Hi.” Kennedy breathed.
“Ken? Hey. Are you okay? Is Jude okay?” He asked quickly.
“Yes. Yes. We’re both fine. But can you come by the apartment please?” She asked, swallowing a pit that formed in her throat.
“Yeah, yeah give me a few minutes and I’ll be there.” He replied.
And in less than ten minutes later Elvis used his key to Kennedy’s apartment. Kennedy gave him a key when she was pregnant.
“What’s wrong? Is she crying? Do you need help?” Elvis asked, shutting and locking the door behind him. Kennedy’s heart skipped a beat and it killed her just replaying the look on Elvis’ face when she told him he couldn’t stay here anymore. She hated herself and she couldn’t help but feel ease and happiness take over by just having him here. How is it that he was so worried and ready to come running especially after she practically kicked him out. He loved her, that’s for sure and he loved his daughter.
“It’s-it’s Jude.” Kennedy replied.
“What-what’s wrong with Jude? You said everything was fine.” Elvis frowned, worry etched on his features.
“She missed her dad.” Kennedy replied.
Elvis’ frown remained on his face.
“And I-I missed her dad as well.” Kennedy continued “I’m sorry. I’m an idiot and I spent the last 9 months trying to convince myself that I wasn’t still in love with you but I am and I still love you and having this baby and seeing you with her only made me love you even more.”
“Kennedy.” Elvis gasped.
“I was scared but I’m not anymore. Well I still am a little but you showed me that I shouldn’t be scared anymore. You love me, it’s obvious and you made a mistake.”
“I love you.” Elvis nodded quickly walking towards Kennedy. He cupped her cheeks and slammed his lips on hers. Kennedy eagerly kissed him back “I love you. I love you. I love you.” He chanted with every kiss.
“Move in to Graceland with me. Dodger would love having a little baby running around the house.” Elvis said, pulling back to look at Kennedy.
Summary: After moving to Hawkins to take care of your ailing grandma, you end up spending a wild night with Corroded Coffin's lead singer, Eddie Munson. When you uncover his true intentions, you have no desire to ever see him again, but fate--and his son, Harris--has other plans.
Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), fingering (f! receiving), oral (m!receiving), slowburn, strangers to enemies to lovers, angst, Eddie is 30, Reader is 28, no use of y/n
WC: 7.5k
Chapter 1/?
Scruffy!Eddie edit credit to @eddiemunsons-missingnipple
Divider credit to @saradika
Late August, 1996.
July had come and gone so quickly, and you could sense it in the muggy air as the daylight dwindled away on the horizon of an orange colored sky. Your heels click along the parking lot pavement as you make your way into the dingy bar. Everyone told you that your twenties would be full of surprises, but no one warned you that those twists and turns would land you in Hawkins, Indiana.
The neon sign reads The Hideout; well, really, it reads Th H deo t, and the “o” is starting to flicker. You’re not the only one who notices the building’s crumbling exterior.
“Huh,” Jess says, crossing her arms over her chest. “This place seemed a lot cooler when I was in high school.” Still, she pushes open the door, where you’re immediately hit with the stench of cigarettes and beer. The floor is sticky with what you can only hope is spilled liquor, and you take a seat on a rickety barstool.
“How did you even hear about this place?” you ask your new friend, tugging your dress so it covers a bit more of your thighs. You had one night out to yourself, and Jess was insistent on you making the most of it.
“Used to come here all the time when I was, like, sixteen?” She wrinkles her nose. “They’re dirt cheap and they never card, so my friends and I used to get super wasted. Thought we were hot shit.” She flags down the bartender with a wave and a smile. “Anyway, you can’t live in Hawkins and not come to the Hideout at least once. It’s a tradition.”
The bartender, a woman who looks to be in her mid-forties, leans on the counter. “What can I get you ladies?” she asks. Her voice is raspy from what sounds like decades of chain smoking.
You’re about to order a Bud Light, but Jess cuts you off. “We’ll each have a Hideout Special,” she says confidently. “Make hers a double.”
“Jesus Christ, are you trying to kill me? And what the hell is a Hideout Special?”
She waves off your concern. “Honestly, I have no idea. But it’ll get you buzzed fast.”
You reluctantly agree, sipping on something that tastes vaguely like a mixture of rum and vodka, with the pungency of rubbing alcohol. “That’s awful,” you grimace, and Jess just laughs.
“Yeah, they’re pretty rough going down. But you only have one night to yourself, and you’re gonna make the most of it.” She links her arm through yours, using her free hand to tilt the drink back up to your lips. “Now, drink up. The band’s gonna start playing soon, and you’ll need all the liquor you can get. Trust me.”
Corroded Coffin, the band in question, is warming up in the back room. Tuesday nights has been their slot since high school, and if their lead singer and guitarist has his way, it’ll be their slot until they’re too old to play. He’s tuning his ax, tongue poking out of his mouth in concentration, only looking up when he hears a faint “oh, shit,” come from his bandmate.
“Y’good?” Eddie asks, strumming gently to play a perfect A-chord.
“Yeah,” Jeff says, holding up a small black box. “Forgot I had this in my pocket; almost dropped it when I took off my jacket.”
Eddie rolls his eyes. “That’s what you get for wearing leather in fuckin’ August, dude.” He squints at the object in Jeff’s hand. “What is that, anyway?”
“A ring,” Jeff proudly announces. “I’m gonna ask Viv to marry me.” The big, goofy grin on his face makes Eddie’s stomach churn. He looks at Gareth and Danny, expecting similar disgusted reactions from them, but they’re both smiling, too.
“Way to go, man!” Danny says, and Gareth claps Jeff on the back. “Our little Jeff is growing up.”
“Oh, fuck off, man,” Jeff says, but he’s laughing as he accepts the congratulations. He glances expectantly at Eddie, waiting for him to chime in.
“You two’ve been together for a million years,” Gareth jokes, twirling a drumstick in his free hand. “What made you decide to take the plunge?”
Jeff’s eyes dart around the room. “Okay, I wasn’t supposed to say anything,” he starts, voice hushed, “but Viv’s pregnant!”
“Holy shit!” Danny sputters. “Dude, you’re gonna be a dad!”
“Yeah,” Jeff agrees incredulously. “Fuckin’ wild, isn’t it?” His gaze falls to Eddie. “Does the seasoned professional have any words of wisdom?”
An uncharacteristic silence fills the room. Eddie can feel their eyes burning a hole into his head. He knows what he should say, what Jeff wants to hear, but he can’t bring himself to feign happiness. “You don’t have to marry someone just because you knocked her up.” It comes out with a snarl, meaner than he’d intended.
“Crazy thought, but have you considered that I actually want to marry her?” Jeff shoots back, crossing his arms over his chest. “We’re not all content being miserable hermits like you are.”
“Whoa, break it up,” Gareth tries, stepping between the two guitarists, but the conversation’s already too heated.
“I’m not miserable, and I’m not a hermit,” Eddie counters. “I’m just not about to limit myself when there’s plenty of pussy in the sea.”
Jeff rolls his eyes. “Whatever, dude. Thanks for the well wishes.” Eddie can’t help but notice the flash of hurt in his eyes as he walks away. A small part of him feels bad, but he can’t shake the anxiety that unexpected change seems to bring.
“So, what does this mean for Corroded Coffin?” he asks. “Should we consider this our farewell show?” He tries to ignore the irritated glares he’s getting from Gareth and Danny. It’s like the words fall from his mouth before his brain can process the damage they can do.
“Obviously, once the baby comes, I’ll have to take a step back,” Jeff shrugs. “And I’m gonna try to work some overtime before it’s born. Save some extra money, y’know.”
The room had been zapped of joy, and Eddie feeds off of the sullen atmosphere. “Nice commitment to the band,” he sneers. “Glad to see how easily your priorities change.”
“Yeah, man, you should try it sometime,” Jeff snaps. His fists clench, and he looks angry enough to throw a punch. “Maybe you’ll stop acting like an overgrown teenager.”
Eddie’s about to fight back, jaw locked in place and eyes seeing red, but he’s temporarily grounded by the sound of the manager’s tired voice echoing from the ancient sound system.
“Put your hands together for Corroded Coffin!” A smattering of applause signals their cue to enter. Eddie tries to shake off the conflict; it can be resolved after they play. The show must go on, or whatever it was that his high school drama teacher always said.
A balding man with a gruff voice introduces the band as Corroded Coffin. Jess’s eyes go wide; she’s already a few Hideout Specials deep and definitely feeling it.
“Oh, shit!” she laughs with a hiccup. “That’s my sister’s boyfriend’s band!” She motions to the bartender to pour her another drink, but you shake your head and just mouth water. The bartender gives you a knowing nod, probably grateful that she won’t have to be the one dealing with Jess tonight.
“Yeah, that’s Jeff!” Jess continues, pointing at a tall guitarist with tight curls. “He’s the one who knocked up Viv!” She cackles like she just made the most hilarious joke. “I totally forgot they were playing tonight.” She frantically waves at him, and he gives a small head nod in acknowledgment.
Your eyes are drawn to someone else: the lanky, ring-clad man who takes center stage. He grips the mic with black polished nails, smirking out into the crowd as he yells, “Hawkins, how’re we doin’ tonight?” The loudest cheers come from Jess, and you join in, letting out an obnoxious “woooooo!” in response.
The noise draws his attention, and you watch as his smirk shifts to something needier, hungrier, even. His big brown eyes land on you and Jess, leaving you momentarily breathless. He’s absolutely gorgeous, light stubble on his cheeks and above his plush lips. He’s wearing a white V-neck that shows off a dusting of chest hair. His torn black jeans hang low on his hips, accentuated with a studded belt. A gleaming pair of silver handcuffs are clipped to one of the loops.
“All right!” he calls back. “Well, this first one goes out to the pretty girl in the blue dress at the bar. Wait for me after the show, Sweetheart.” He counts out to four, and they launch into a cover of Def Leppard’s Pour Some Sugar on Me.
It doesn’t even register until Jess nudges you, more forcefully than necessary, and says, “Hey, you’re wearing a blue dress!”
Oh.
Oh.
“Who…who is he?” you ask, feeling a warmth spread through your core that you’re sure isn’t from the alcohol.
“That,” Jess says, leaning on you for balance, “is Eddie Munson. Total freak back in high school, but now he’s just got a reputation for being a freak in the sheets.” She throws you a clumsy wink and adds, “looks like you’ll get to find out for yourself tonight.”
“I’m not really a one-night stand kind of person,” you counter, internally cringing at the memories of your feeble attempts at hooking up, all of which inevitably ended with you pining after them pathetically.
Jess rolls her eyes. “Come on,” she whines, taking note of the way you and Eddie can’t seem to tear your gazes from each other. “Your dad leaves tomorrow, and then you’ll be spending your nights taking care of your grandma. You gotta live a little!”
Plopping back down onto the barstool, you consider her sentiment. It’s true; once your dad goes back home, you’ll be the one helping out in the evenings. And the new school year starts next week, leaving you with little time for yourself.
Your whole life has been spent helping others. You became a teacher to shape young minds and provide them with a safe place to learn and express themselves. You moved to a tiny town in the middle of Indiana to look after your grandma. Even now, you’re babysitting Jess and ensuring she doesn’t dehydrate instead of letting loose and ordering another drink.
“Fine, but only if he brings it up,” you concede. “I’m not gonna be the one to make the first move.”
The band moves on to their next song; it’s either an original or one you’re not familiar with, but you find yourself dancing to the beat. Jess joins you, writhing her body in some kind of drunken jig that has you cackling. You’re having such a great time that you don’t even notice Eddie tripping over a few chords as he watches you sway your hips back and forth.
Corroded Coffin plays for another forty minutes. You recognize some Metallica and Black Sabbath songs, headbanging along until you’re dizzy. The bartender slides you another drink—on the house, she insists—and you sip it eagerly, trying to quell your nerves. Eddie shouts out, “thank you, Hawkins!” and disappears backstage with the rest of the band.
You can’t ignore the dejected pain in your heart, but you muster up a smile and turn to Jess. “Ready to get out of here?”
She shakes her head, putting her palm on the bar to steady herself. “You still have to wait for Eddie,” she teases. “You promised.”
You cock your eyebrow in amusement. “First of all, Drunky McWasted, I didn’t promise anything,” you say, “and second, show’s over and, uh, he’s not here.” You swivel around for emphasis.
“Give him a fucking second, would ya?” The comment doesn’t come from your friend, and you turn around to see Eddie standing behind you. He’s got a towel around the back of his neck, mopping up the sweat from his performance. His hair is pulled back into a low ponytail, and you can see the remnants of kohl eyeliner smudged around his lash line. “Had to clean myself up a little bit, damn.” He smiles, and you feel like you’re going to melt.
Jess interrupts, pushing you closer to him. “Eddie, this is my neighbor.” When you still don’t say anything, too awestruck to introduce yourself, she tells him your name.
Eddie nods, letting his fingers graze yours. “What’d you think of the set?” He grins at the bartender, who gives a small head bob and hands him a whiskey, neat.
“It was good,” you manage, finally finding your voice. “I especially liked the song you dedicated to the pretty girl in the blue dress.” There. You flirted. The rest is up to him.
“Yeah?” He rests his forearm on the bar and leans over to take his glass. “Was kinda hopin’ you would. Soon as I saw you, I knew I had to shoot my shot.” His eyes flit over the low-cut neckline of your dress before he drags his gaze back to your eyes. “You new to Hawkins?”
“Mhm,” you say, watching as he fumbles with a pack of Newports. “I moved here to take care of my grandma.” Good going. Nothing turns a guy on like talking about your elderly relatives.
But Eddie’s unfazed. “Hot and nice? A lethal combo, if I do say so myself.”
“What about you?” you blurt out. “I mean, have you always lived in Hawkins?”
He shrugs. “Been back and forth. Came here when I was nine, left when I was twenty-two, then came back about four years ago.”
“What brought you back? Missed all the excitement?” You laugh and he gives a small smile, but an emotion you can’t pinpoint crosses over his face.
“Somethin’ like that,” Eddie mutters, popping a cigarette between his lips. “Wanna go outside an’ have a smoke with me?”
“I’d love to,” you say with an apologetic tone, “but I really don’t wanna leave her alone.” You motion to your friend, who is currently trying to convince the bartender to let her have another drink. But as soon as she hears you using her as an excuse, she waves you off.
“Go,” she insists. “I’ll be fine. ‘M gonna have Jeff take me back home.” She stands on her tiptoes, nearly falling over, flailing both her arms wildly when she spots Jeff in the crowd and shouting, “Jeffy! Jeffy, can you drive me home so these two can have sex?”
You feel your face heat up at her words as Eddie shakes his head incredulously, lips twisting into a cocky grin. The last thing Jeff wants to do after Eddie’s earlier tantrum is help him get laid, but he knows there will be hell to pay if he doesn’t watch after his inebriated sister-in-law-to-be.
“Yeah, sure,” he grumbles, carefully looping his arm around her waist and helps her to his car. He appears to deliberately avoid making eye contact with Eddie, though you don’t know why. The two of them seemed to be getting along just fine on stage. The rest of the band leaves with them, carrying various instruments. No one even acknowledges Eddie’s presence.
“Uh, everything okay?” You can’t not pretend you didn’t notice; the tension is far too obvious.
Eddie brushes it off with another shrug. “Guys all got sticks up their asses, I dunno.” He pulls a black Bic lighter from his back pocket and motions towards the door, signaling your cue to walk out with him and drop the conversation.
Chirping crickets and a rowdy group of drunks shouting obscenities at each other punctuates the otherwise quiet atmosphere. Eddie looks at you expectantly, holding out his lighter, and you realize that he’s waiting for you to take out your own pack of cigarettes. A pack of cigarettes that you do not have.
“Oh, I, um, I don’t smoke,” you stammer, biting your tongue in irritation towards your own awkwardness. “I mean, I’ll smoke, like, socially, but I don’t carry cigarettes on me. Sorry.”
“Wanna bum one?” You pluck one from the pack and lean in as he lights it for you. The crisp inhale of tobacco lingers in your lungs for a moment before you breathe out, grateful that you didn’t cough like a middle schooler stealing cigs from her mom’s stash. You take another drag, watching as he does the same. You’d thought that there would be some level of conversation, but Eddie seems perfectly content smoking in silence.
“So,” you finally say, “how long have you been playing guitar?”
He chuckles and pushes his hand through his hair, stopping where it’s gathered into a hair tie. The perspiration on his forehead is starting to dry, but his bangs still stick to it. “Shit, gotta be twenty years now. Damn, I’m fuckin’ old.”
“How old are you?” It comes out more accusing than inquisitive, and you sharply inhale more nicotine to shut yourself up.
“Turned thirty last month.”
“Oh, that’s not old,” you reassure him. “I’m twenty-eight, so…not far behind.”
He doesn’t say anything in response to this. Maybe you’d misread his intentions. Or maybe he’d lost interest after just a few moments alone with you. The pretty girl in the blue dress quickly becomes the lame girl in the blue dress, and you both return home unsatisfied.
You try again, this time saying something that warrants a response. “I just moved here last week, if you have any recommendations of places to go. Restaurants or something?”
Eddie shakes his head. “Nah, ‘s pretty boring around here.”
End of conversation.
“Well, I should probably get home,” you say, shifting your weight onto your other foot and stubbing out your cigarette in the nearby ashtray. There’s no sense in wasting anymore time, and the nighttime chill is biting at your bare legs.
“Wait, what?” Eddie practically does a double-take. “I thought…didn’t Viv’s sister say something about…”
Or maybe you’d read the situation correctly after all.
“You still want to?”
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?” He ashes his own cigarette, and the smirk returns to his face. “Your place or mine?”
Considering the fact that your place is currently housing an eighty-year-old woman with declining cognition, and your father, you quickly jump at the offer to go to his home.
You walk with him to his car, a beat-up blue sedan. He opens the passenger door, and you thank him with a tight smile, still not sure what to expect. Maybe he’s just not into small talk, but he seems awfully closed off for a man who’s trying to get laid.
A tangle of tree-shaped air fresheners hang from the rearview mirror; they sway slightly as the two of you plop in your seats. Instinctively, you look behind you as he turns the key in the ignition. Nestled into the far left side of the backseat is a carseat. Cheerio crumbs are wedged in the crevices, and an empty sippy cup leans up against it.
“Is that a carseat?” It’s a dumb question; of course it’s a carseat, but you can’t bring yourself to be more blunt and ask if he has a kid. I mean, the guy couldn’t even tell you a single restaurant to go to.
“Oh. Yeah.” Eddie reaches around, placing a ringed hand on the back of your headrest as he backs out of the spot. He doesn’t elaborate on the matter, just speeds out of the parking lot, so you don’t push it.
The words, I love kids; I’m actually a preschool teacher, linger on your lips, but you bite them back. This is supposed to be casual, a one-night stand; you’re not trying to be anyone’s stepmother.
Eddie flicks on the radio to a metal station–of course–and you sit back and try to enjoy the ride. You can faintly hear him humming along to the music. The fingers on his left hand drum on the steering wheel, while his right hand finds its way to your upper thigh. Fuck, it feels good. He gently squeezes, and the sensation of his cold metal rings combined with his hungry touch makes you involuntarily press your legs together.
“Just wait, Sweetheart,” he laughs. “There’s more where that came from.” It’s probably the most he’s said to you all night, and you consider it a small win. You lean in and gently nip at his earlobe, grinning as he shivers at the contact.
“There’s more where that came from,” you echo, shifting back in your seat. Eddie looks at you, brows raised and forehead creased in amusement, but–big surprise–says nothing. He pulls into an apartment complex parking lot, swinging into the nearest available spot, and kills the engine. Without the music or the steady hum of the ignition, you’re suddenly plunged into complete silence. Are you really doing this? Going to a stranger’s apartment to have sex with him? What if he’s some sort of serial killer? But Jess knows him–sort of–and vouched for him, so he can’t be all bad, right? Although, Ted Bundy had friends, too…
Eddie clearing his throat disrupts your inner monologue, and you glance up at him shyly. “Sorry,” you mutter, though you’re not quite sure what you’re apologizing for.
“No biggie,” he says, like he’s used to women just spacing out in his car before they fuck him. “Um, y’ready to go inside?”
You nod, opening your door and carefully stepping out onto the uneven pavement. You wobble a little in your high heels, but you feel a hand on your lower back, steadying you. “Lemme help you,” he mumbles, lacing his fingers through yours and guiding you to the front door of the building.
The two of you only make it to the stairwell between the first and second floors before he’s pouncing on you, your back against the cold concrete walls. His hands start on your waist, traveling upwards and lightly grazing your breasts before he’s cupping your face. His kisses are hungry, but not sloppy; when his tongue breaches your lips, you let him in without a second thought. He places his knee between your legs, just barely nudging it against your lace thong. “Fuck,” he hisses, pulling away from you and running his tongue over his teeth, “I need you, pretty girl.”
You pout, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him deeply. “Can’t get naked until we’re in your apartment.” You pause before whispering in his ear, “and if you thought this dress looked good on me, wait till you see it on your floor.”
Eddie’s eyes widen. “‘S just another flight of stairs after this, yeah?” He doesn’t wait for a response, just takes your hand again and leads you to apartment 3C. There are a few Hot Wheels cars scattered on the ground, but he kicks them under the couch without further explanation. He sits down, adjusts his body on the soft beige cushion, and pats his lap. “Your throne,” he says cheekily, exposing tiny dimples on either side of his lips.
Wordlessly, you climb on top of him. Your dress bunches up as you straddle his waist, though that won’t be a problem much longer. You greedily grind your clothed pussy over the rough denim of his fly, sucking on his neck as his strong hands clasp the back of your thighs and pull you closer.
“Needy thing, hmm?” Eddie smirks, chuckling when you feign offense. “Where’re you going? ‘M just teasing you.” He sits up a bit, tugging one dress strap down and kissing the flesh between your neck and shoulder. “Maybe I read it wrong, but…y’look like a girl who likes to be teased,” he says, voice muffled by your skin.
“N-No, I do. Like it,” you stammer, fumbling with the frayed hem of his shirt and lifting it over his head. You run your hands over the expanse of pale skin, admiring his tattoos. There’s one of a red guitar pick right above his left pec; without thinking, you kiss it gingerly. He lets out a quiet moan, unzipping your dress and helping you shimmy out of it. You’re not wearing a bra, and he nearly chokes on his own tongue when he sees you on display for him.
“Christ, baby,” he groans, “got the most perfect fuckin’ tits I’ve ever seen.” He kisses them and runs his thumbs over your pert nipples before briefly sucking on them. The nickname baby isn’t lost on you, but you try not to read into it.
Still, there’s a sense of satisfaction at the way he’s crumbling literally beneath you, though you can’t help but snarkily say, “bet you say that to all the girls you bring back here.”
Eddie throws his head back and laughs, sending vibrations through your core. “Only the ones with perfect tits.”
You hate yourself for wondering how many perfect-breasted women there have been.
“Bedroom?” It’s all you can manage, already breathless from dry humping like a goddamn teenager on prom night.
Eddie hesitates before shaking his head, a curl falling loose from the hair tie. “Let’s just, uh, stay out here. Room’s kinda a mess.” The unsure expression on his face hints at another reason, but he quickly distracts you by pushing your panties to the side, slipping his middle finger into your aching cunt. “Holy shit. S’fucking wet already. I knew you were needy.”
“Y-Yes. Need you. Need more.” You’re already stretched out by one finger, but you’re dying to know how a second one feels. The more of him inside you, the better. He obliges, fucking you with his pointer and middle fingers while his thumb makes tiny, hurried circles against your clit. “That’s it, right…right there. Don’t stop; please don’t stop!” He brings you to your orgasm, smirking as you finish all over his fingers.
Your rocking slows, and you reluctantly pull yourself off of him and sink to your knees. He’s unbuckling his belt as fast as he can, and you can’t help but notice the wet spot on his jeans right where you were grinding on his thigh.
Eddie’s pants and plaid boxers are around his ankles in a heartbeat. His hard cock rests against his stomach; a pearly bead of pre-cum leaks from the tip. “Let’s see what that cute little mouth can do, Sweetheart,” he muses, leaning back into the couch with his hands behind his head.
You bite your lower lip. “First I gotta clean you off, yeah?” you ask before licking the tip, tasting him. His length twitches at that minimal contact, which makes you giggle. “Just relax. Let me take care of you.” There’s no protesting, so you grasp the base of his shaft with one hand and cup his balls with the other. You suck on the head, circling it with your tongue, before taking as much of the rest of his cock as you can fit into your mouth.
“Mmm, baby, yes,” he growls, inhaling sharply when you gently tug on his balls. “Thas’ a good girl. Play with my fuckin’ balls, just like that.” He bucks up his hips, bringing his cock even further down your throat. “Gag on it, baby. Gag on my big fuckin’ cock.”
He’s not wrong; at least, it’s the biggest of any guy you’ve ever been with. Hollowing out your cheeks, you increase your pace, letting your nose brush against his patch of dark curls. Saliva drips down your chin; you swipe at it clumsily and keep your focus on him.
“Shitshitshitshitshit–FUCK!” Before you can even process what’s happening, Eddie pulls out of you. Thick, hot ropes of cum trickle down his right hand, and he buries his face in his left. You reach for a tissue and hand it to him, and he angrily wipes off his spend.
“Gimme fifteen minutes, and I’ll be good to go,” he says, tossing the used tissue in a nearby wastebasket. He finds the remote tucked behind a couch cushion and clicks on the TV. An episode of Seinfeld comes on. “You’ll do,” he mutters, plopping down next to you and poorly stifling a yawn.
“Sleepy?” you tease, wrapping your naked chest in an itchy wool blanket and curling up. He doesn’t put his arm around you, or make any attempt to cuddle, so neither do you.
“Nah, ‘m fine.” But nearly five minutes later, while Jerry and Elaine argue about God-knows-what, you can hear Eddie softly snoring next to you.
“Eddie,” you whisper. No response, so you try a little louder. “Eddie!”
“Huh? What?”
“I can, uh, I can go now. I’ll call a cab. Just need your address.” You start to get up and head for the phone hanging on the wall, but he puts an arm out to stop you.
“‘S’okay. Stay for a bit, baby.”
Stay for a bit, baby.
It almost feels like you’re taking advantage of him; his curt conversations and closed-off demeanor earlier in the night indicated that he was not looking for someone to sleep over. But now he’s asking you to stick around, resting his head on your shoulder and letting one tattooed arm drape over your waist. You let him stay there, trying your best not to wake him, but you’re forced to reach over him to grab the remote when an infomercial starts blaring.
“C’mere,” he mumbles, half-asleep as he lays down and scoots himself as far back as he can. You follow his lead, pressing your back against his bare chest. Your eyelids flutter shut, and you find yourself drifting off while wrapped in the warm embrace of this handsome stranger.
RRRRIIIINNGGG! RRRRIIIINNGGG!
You’re startled awake by a loud, unfamiliar noise that doesn’t sound like your alarm clock.
RRRRIIIINNGGG! RRRRIIIINNGGG!
Eddie jolts up, almost knocking you off the couch. “Shit, didn’t think you were still…” He turns towards the ringing sound, still confused. “What time is it?!” His eyes widen as he gets a look at the clock, which reads 7:19. “Shit, shit, shit! Son of a bitch!”
He practically flies off of the couch, sprinting to the phone and bringing the receiver to his ear. “Wayne? Yeah, I’m sorry…overslept. I can be there in ten…no, you don’t have to do that, I’ll just…okay, okay, fine. See you soon.” He hangs up with a clank, turning back to you.
You’re just sitting on the sofa, still wearing nothing but your underwear and the blanket. “Everything…um, is everything okay?”
“Yeah, yeah,” he says, but he lets out an overwhelmed sigh. “Let me help you find your dress.” He doesn’t say it aloud, but the real meaning behind his words seeps through: you should leave.
You nod, feeling the all-too recognizable lump in your throat. It happens any time these shared intimate moments come to an end; the realization of just how temporary you are in someone’s life is a punch to the stomach.
You find the bunched blue garment behind the couch and slide it over your head. The fabric feels stale and cold against your skin, like it doesn’t belong to you. Eddie’s only wearing his boxers, and you catch yourself staring at the collection of tattoos that trail down his arms and torso.
“Like what you see?” He laughs when you duck your head, scratching at the stubble on his cheeks as he walks towards you. “C’mon, don’t be shy. Not after that little show you put on for me last night.” He leans down, tilting your chin up to him and kissing you softly. “Before you go, leave your number, yeah?”
That makes you roll your eyes. “Oh, please,” you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest.
“What?”
“Don’t ask for my number if you’re not gonna call,” you say. You sling your bag over your shoulder as you walk to the door. “We don’t have to do the whole song-and-dance. We can just, y’know, leave this as a one-night stand.”
Eddie chuckles incredulously. “You wound me, Sweetheart,” he says. “‘Course I’m gonna call you. How could I not wanna see a girl as beautiful as you again? ‘Sides,” he adds slyly, “We didn’t even get to the best part.”
Begrudgingly, you write your number on a nearby notepad. The phrase don’t get my hopes up for nothing sits on the tip of your tongue, but you bite it back.
You’re halfway down the stairwell when you remember that you never called a cab. There’s no way in hell that you’re going to clamber back up to the third floor and ask Eddie to use his phone–and get his address–so you continue down to the lobby payphone and dial Jess’s number.
“H-Hello?” a man’s sleepy voice picks up on the third ring.
“Uh, Jess?” It’s clearly not your neighbor, but you have no idea what else to ask. Did she find some skeezy guy to bring home from the Hideout last night?
“Nah, it’s Jeff. Who’s this?” When you say your name, he hums in acknowledgment. “Oh, yeah. From the bar, right?”
“Yeah…is Jess there?”
He yawns into the receiver. “Last I checked, she was asleep. Finally. She spent half of last night puking her guts up. Everything okay?”
“Mhm. I was just wondering if she could pick me up from…um, from Eddie’s.” You cringe at your admission; the last thing you want is for Eddie’s bandmates to think that you’re some kind of pathetic groupie.
But Jeff seems unfazed. “I’ll be right there.” Before you can protest, he hangs up.
You catch a glimpse of yourself in the glass-door reflection. Your hair is a mess, and there’s smudged makeup around your eyes and lips, like a billboard for the walk of shame.
Jeff pulls up a few minutes later, and you bashfully climb into the passenger seat. “Thanks,” you mumble, trying not to let your humiliation show through.
“Yeah, well,” he shrugs as he pulls onto the main road, “it’s a special occasion.” When you pinch your eyebrows together in confusion, he laughs. “Ed never lets a girl stay over. Not sure what you did–don’t wanna know, to be honest–but you must’ve made quite the impression.”
“Didn’t mean to,” you say quietly. “We both fell asleep after…yeah. We only woke up when we did because some guy named Wayne called.”
Jeff nods knowingly. “That’s his uncle. He watches his son on Tuesdays when we have our gigs.”
His…son?
Jeff must notice the stunned expression on your face, and his cheeks flush pink. “Shit, he didn’t tell you about Harris?”
“We didn’t do much talking,” you reply wryly. “I’ll have to ask him about that when he calls.”
“Christ,” Jeff shakes his head. “Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but he’s not gonna call. Never does. Calls it the ‘Cat-and-Mouse.’”
“The what?” Your throat goes bone-dry. You should’ve trusted your intuition, denied giving him your number, left it as a one-time thing.
“He brings a girl back to his place, has sex with her and asks for her number, but doesn’t call. When she shows up to the bar the next week, all insecure and wondering if he’s still interested, he acts like he’s been so busy, apologizes profusely, and strings her along until she catches on. Then it’s onto the next one.”
You feel like your heart’s been ripped out of your chest. Bile burns at the back of your esophagus, and you have to blink back tears. How could you be so stupid, so naive? Didn’t you know by now that guys like Eddie Munson are only after one thing?
The two of you sit in silence until he pulls up to your building. “Thanks,” you say finally, “for the ride and for the warning.” Jeff just nods, watching to make sure you get inside before driving off. As soon as he’s safely down the road, you burst into tears. Angry at Eddie, but mostly angry at yourself.
Eddie watches from his window as you get into a car–Jeff’s car–and leave. Great, he thinks, I’m sure I’ll get my ass handed to me at our next practice for fucking around with his sister-in-law’s friend. If we even still have a band, anyway.
Throwing on a pair of dark gray sweatpants and an undershirt, he makes his way downstairs just as Wayne and Harris arrive. His son is leaping out of his carseat to get to him.
“Daddy!” Harris flashes a gigantic smile. His dark brown curls are a tangled mess atop his head. Eddie unbuckles him and wraps him in a giant hug. He’s losing the chubbiness of his baby fat, but he’s still sweet and cuddly.
“Har-Bear!” Eddie laughs. “Did you say goodbye to Grampa Wayne?” Harris encircles Eddie’s waist with his legs, reaching out his arms to give Wayne a hug through the window.
“Sorry again,” Eddie says sheepishly. “Fell asleep and forgot to set the alarm.”
“Got a job yet? A real one?” Wayne asks stoically, ignoring his nephew’s apology.
A storm cloud washes over Eddie’s face. “I’ve told you a million times: nothing’s going to pay the bills as well as working for Rick.”
Wayne rolls his eyes. “Get a job,” he says pointedly, pressing a kiss to Harris’s cheek before lowering his voice and growling at Eddie, “and wipe the damn lipstick off your neck, for Chrissake.”
Jeff’s right: Eddie never calls. The home health aid that takes care of your grandma during the day informs you at the end of each shift that week that no one named Eddie called for you. And while you can’t say you’re shocked, it doesn’t do much to quell the hurt.
You spend as much time as you can preparing your classroom for the new school year. By the time you’re finished, the room is decorated to look like a jungle. Stuffed animals of lions, monkeys, and different birds line the shelf tops, which are packed with various books and art supplies. Your walls are decorated with different posters, all of which encourage kids to be their best.
The hustle and bustle of the first day of school helps keep your mind off of your personal life. With a thermos full of hot coffee, you happily introduce yourself to your teaching assistant, Will. He’s a sweet guy, a few years younger than you, and he’s practically bursting with games to teach the kids.
“Before I forget,” he says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a folded piece of paper, “I picked up our roster from the office on my way in. Looks like we have ten kids this year.”
“You’re the best,” you tell him gratefully, and he starts putting tiny chairs around tiny tables.
Being new to town, you don’t expect to recognize any of the names on the list. There’s an Abigail Carver, a Joshua Harrington…
And a Harris Munson.
“No fucking way,” you muse, apparently a bit louder than you’d intended, because Will’s head snaps up and he swivels in your direction. “Sorry.”
The sounds of bubbly giggles and excited chatter filing into the hallway grab your attention. One by one, parents start dropping off their kids, kissing them goodbye. There are tears–some from students, some from parents–and you’re quick to reassure everyone that school will be so much fun.
You’re just grabbing the sign-in sheet for Mr. Carver to fill out when you feel a small thump against your legs. When you look down, you see a curly-haired boy staring up at you with wide, brown eyes.
“This is my classroom!” he says matter-of-factly, pointing to the number 3 on the door. “My name’s Harris. Like the guy from Iron Maiden!” He jumps up and down as he speaks. “Are you my teacher?”
“I am.” You smile and introduce yourself, peering towards the door. “Harris? Did a grown-up drop you off?” And please tell me his name is Wayne, you silently plead.
“Oh, yeah! My dad has my backpack!” He starts running back to the hallway, only to crash right into Eddie.
“Little dude, you can’t be running off like—” Eddie stops mid-sentence when his eyes land on you. “Oh, shit.”
You set your jaw, willing yourself to stay strong. He’s on your turf now.
“Mr. Munson, you need to watch your language,” you warn crossly.
“Yeah, sorry,” he mutters, handing Harris’s backpack to him. “I packed him a snack, um, and a juice box.”
“Okay,” you nod, crouching down to Harris’s eye level and injecting enthusiasm into your voice. “Can you find your cubby? It’s the one with your name on it!”
The little boy bounds over to his assigned spot, hanging his bag on the hook before running over to play with blocks.
Forced to interact with Eddie, you press up on your knees and say, “Pick-up is at two.”
“Can I say goodbye to my kid before you kick me out? Jeez,” he grunts, calling out to Harris with his arms wide open. Harris hugs him, half-heartedly promising to be on his best behavior before starting to race back to the toys.
“We walk in the classroom,” you tell him sweetly. “That way, people don’t hurt each other!” You make a point to look over at Eddie when you say the last part, though his gaze is trained on the classroom posters. Harris, innocent and oblivious, walks hurriedly towards the group of kids playing with blocks.
“Didn’t know you were my kid’s teacher,” Eddie remarks, pressing his tongue into his cheek.
You shrug. “Maybe I would’ve told you if you called me.”
Shooting you the wide eyes that he passed down to his son, Eddie lets his lower lip jut out in a little pout. “I’m so sorry; life’s just been, like, crazy lately—”
“Exactly what Jeff said you’d pull,” you bite back. “Two PM, Mr. Munson.” You walk towards your students to begin circle time, leaving Eddie dumbfounded.
After a long day of wrangling ten four-year-olds, you’re ready to go home and take a nap. The kids are gathered around the table, molding Play-Doh and giggling amongst themselves. By 2:10, everyone’s been picked up. Except for Harris.
“Typical,” you mutter, kneeling next to the boy and smiling sweetly. “Whatcha making, Harris?”
He holds up a lump of the yellow clay. “A dinosaur, see? Roar!” You fake being scared, and he laughs. “Don’t worry; it’s just pretend!”
“Oh, phew!” You wipe imaginary sweat off of your brow. “I was afraid that he was gonna eat me!”
Harris reaches over to where one of the other students had been sitting and plucks a handful of blue Play-Doh off of the table. “Wanna play with me?” He’s looking at you adoringly, and you can’t possibly turn him down.
Just as you’re about to join him, Eddie runs into the room. “Hey, buddy! Sorry I’m late. Got, uh, caught up with something.”
Harris just shrugs, unaffected by his dad’s tardiness. “S’okay. Look!” He holds up the dinosaur proudly, giving another ferocious roar.
“That’s awesome! And super scary.” Eddie ruffles Harris’s curly hair before looking at you. “Can we talk for a sec? Out there?” he asks, gesturing to the hallway.
You huff out a sigh. “Fine,” you concede, and Will slips into the chair next to Harris.
Eddie closes the door behind him. “Listen,” he begins, twisting his rings around his fingers, ”about the other night…” He trails off, and for a split second, you think he might offer a genuine apology. “I just don’t want this to affect how you treat Harris.”
You bark out an incredulous laugh. “You really think I treat my students any differently based on whether or not I like their parents?” Crossing your arms, you turn back towards the door, throwing out a pointed, “I think it’s best if you leave now.”
Eddie’s voice draws you back into the conversation. “I’ve never had this problem before,” he snorts.
“Excuse me?”
“Most girls love the thrill of the chase. The will-he, won’t-he. Haven’t struck out yet,” he retorts, a smug grin spreading on his face.
You roll your eyes. “Well, I’m honored to be the first. I don’t know what girls are into your pathetic games, but I’m certainly not one of them. So, please, just go before you say something else ridiculously stupid.”
Eddie bristles at that, standing a bit straighter and clenching his jaw. “Yeah, whatever,” he mutters, twisting the doorknob and punctuating his frustration with, “Frigid bitch.”
He’s just trying to get under your skin, and you refuse to let him get the best of you. You plaster on a well-practiced fake smile. “If you don’t think that this classroom is a good fit for Harris, you can request a transfer with the office.”
“Sounds like a plan, Sweetheart,” he snaps, yanking the door open so aggressively that it smacks into the wall. “We’ll be out of your hair by tomorrow.”
summary: set after the events of season four, Steve has disappeared and is presumed dead in the upside down. broken and now left to deal with your pregnancy alone, Eddie takes it upon himself to support you to the best of his abilities in Steve’s absence.
chapter summary: tonight’s agenda: go see a movie, drink a milkshake, give birth. easy, right?
content warnings: fem!reader, adult language, adult themes, unplanned pregnancy, pregnancy symptoms, angst, some canon divergence/au, mentions of death, reader is 19, anxiety, angst, fluff, no use of y/n, labor, brief mention of blood/gore, needles, slow burn
word count: 8.9K+
a/n: whew, we did it!! this is the chapter I’ve been most excited to write, which has also proven to be the biggest challenge. I hope you enjoy, this is just the beginning of squid’s adventure earth side <3
↳ one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight / nine / ten / eleven
Part Seven: Thundercats Are Go!
The weeks rolled on, Christmas passed in the blink of an eye. Fireworks were heard over Hawkins, the promise of a new year, a better year, was palpable for the townsfolk, but for you it was all the same. Your body, your mind, was growing heavy.
dilf!neighbour!steve x babysitter!neighbour!reader
summary: when moving to hawkins the last thing you expected to find was any sort of love. especially not from the single dad who lived with his daughter two doors down. after offering to babysit for steve when he’s in a bind, it becomes a regular thing. through weeks of stolen glances and secret whispers, your feelings for each other bloom into something more. with both of you unsure of how the other feels and wondering if any of this is right, things are bound to get tangled up. after a particularly confusing night, you and steve find yourselves with no where to look but at each other.
word count: 17.4k
warnings: 18+ content,singledad!steve and his daughter whose name is daisy, age gap (reader is in her early twenties and steve is in his early to mid thirties), lots of back and forth pining and flirting, so much miscommunication, minor angst that gets resolved, mentions of blood (reader cuts her hand on broken glass, nothing serious), steve patching up the reader ( but it is not described graphically), steve being the sweetest, smut, dirty talk, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, size kink, reader struggling to take steve, reader getting teary eyed during sex, happy ending
authors note: hello again! i know some of you are wondering where the third chapter of invisible string is, and i promise it’s coming, but this is what i’ve been working on the past three weeks. this is the longest fic i’ve ever written and so i’m feeling very proud of it and of myself. this idea is one i’ve had for months but finally got inspired enough to finish. i want to announce here that because the love i feel for this fic is so strong, i am making this an au! here on my blog! that means you can request fics or send asks about this story as well as i will be writing more for it in the future! i hope you all love it even half as much as i do! i need to give some attention to some amazing people as i post this. a big thank you to @mysticmunson for creating the header for this and for listening to me talk through every idea i had. another big thank you to @bejeweledmunson @petal-veined and @moonmistt for putting up with this being all i’ve spoken about for week! i love you all so so much. also… @loveshotzz here she is, the glorious dilf fic i promised and i’m so sorry it’s probably a lot softer than you were thinking!
The quaint town of Hawkins was nowhere near as bad as you had prepared yourself for it to be. Moving into small towns like this could be difficult, considering everyone knew each other and most inhabitants had lived there for their entire lives.
Living in the city you were used to most people being relatively rude to strangers, everyone always having somewhere to be with no interest in small talk of any kind. You were pleased to see that the few people you had met were nothing short of kind and made you feel right at home.
The weather of the town was much nicer than you were used to. The sun beamed down brightly, the sky a bright blue with fluffy clouds scattered throughout it. This fact had you forgetting about your unpacked boxes on your first day there. Instead you rushed to the nearest florist, buying different already bloomed flowers to plant in the front, making the rental home feel more like your own.
You had only been living there for a week, your boxes all finally unpacked and you were comfortably settled. The neighbourhood you lived in was cozy, green grass on each lawn, mailboxes all looking freshly painted, and sidewalk chalk covering every other driveway.
You were seated in your front window, enjoying your morning coffee as you flipped through a few pages of a book. Your mind was wandering to what you needed to get done, jotting down a few things as you spotted something out of your window. You looked once more after the first time, realising that it wasn’t something you were seeing, rather someone, a small someone.
There was a small girl in your garden, looking around it as she carefully walked beside it. She couldn't have been older than seven, her steps still wobbly despite the attentiveness to each step she took.
She had dark brown hair that was in one french braid along the back of her head, a few small clips holding any loose pieces of hair back. A pair of denim overalls sat on top of a light pink t-shirt, her little white shoes covered in dirt all over.
You were unsure of what to do. She wasn’t doing anything wrong, but truthfully you didn’t want her destroying the garden that you had just planted days ago. You got up off the windowsill, making your way out your front door quietly, not wanting to startle the tiny girl.
“Hi there.” You said sweetly as you walked down your front steps, watching as she slowly walked over to where you were.
“Hi!” She lifted a hand close to her body, waving it shyly. Her voice was slightly frightened, but she was putting on her bravest face. You didn’t look all that intimidating, a fact that you were hoping would play to your favour in this situation.
“I like your overalls.” You pointed to them, kneeling down next to her. “They’re very snazzy.”
She giggled at your words, freckled nose scrunching up as she smiled. Her cheeks were a little red from the sun and what you assume playing outside in the heat.
“I like your flowers.” She replied, looking back at them before turning to you again. “They’re very snaz-snazzy!”
You laughed at her attempt to use the word you just did, making her laugh a little harder this time. You wondered if it was normal for kids here to approach strangers the way she did, if the parents of Hawkins just trusted that no one here was a bad person.
She held out her hand, a pile of beaded bracelets on her wrist. You took her hand in yours, her whole hand nearly fitting into your palm.
“I’m Daisy.” She hummed, aggressively shaking your hand. “I live down there.” She pointed down your street at a big white and blue house.
“Like the flower!” You gasped excitedly. “I’m Y/n, it’s a pleasure to meet you Daisy.” As she let go of your hand she began to play with her fingers, her mind searching for the correct words to say.
“I was wondering…” She trailed off, looking everywhere but your face. “If-If I could have a few of your flowers…but they aren’t for me!” She exclaimed as if it would make her question sound more believable.
“Who would they be for, sweet Daisy?" You inquired, lifting one of your knees from the ground, the hard pavement beginning to make it hurt.
“For my dad!” She said happily. “It’s Father’s Day a-and I forgot to get him a present.” She winced, squinting as you copied her facial expression. “He never forgets my presents, and I feel not good.”
Your heart was aching so hard your teeth were hurting. You were positive you had never met a kid this cute, nevermind this thoughtful. There was no way you could tell her no and send her away, knowing that it would weigh on your chest for the rest of your life.
“I’ll tell you what.” You whispered, standing up fully but still bending so she could hear you. “I’ll help you put something together for your dad if you let me have one of those pretty bracelets.”
It was not a fair trade in the slightest, but you weren't about to tell her that, not when she squealed with excitement, jumping up and down on your grass.
“Thank you! Thank you!” She sang, grabbing your hand and dragging you to your garden.
You let her pick whichever flowers her little heart desired, not surprised when she chose a few daisies as her final touches. You grabbed some newspaper and ribbon you had inside, putting the arrangement in the middle of it and tying it up to look somewhat presentable.
“Do you know how to write?” You asked her, taking a pen and a small piece of construction paper.
“Not very well.” She grumbled, making you let out a breathy laugh. “My dad lets me write while he helps!” You take her word for it, placing the paper on the wood of one of your stairs, leading her hand along the paper with yours as you write.
“To dad.” She mumbles to you, telling you what she wanted the note to say. “I love you, from Daisy.” You see her nodding her head, content with her word choice.
You finish the poor attempt at a note up, it being painfully obvious that she helped you write it, the words being barely legible. You were sure her dad wouldn’t care, you weren’t even positive he would care as much as she thought he would, a thought that made you worry this might have been a bad idea.
As you finished putting it together, you watched her reach behind her neck, unclipping the beaded necklace and showing it to you. It was pink and white, with a flower charm sitting in the middle of it, a daisy.
“Do you like that one?” Her eyes were hopeful. “It’s pink like your dress but you can pick a bracelet instead! No mean feelings! It matches so I thought it would be a better choice for you!”
You assumed she meant ‘no hard feelings,’ which made you bite back a laugh. She was great at speaking for someone her age, but still struggled to pick the right words.
It had a childproof clip on it, the odd one that you sort of just push together which really did make it easy for you to put on. It sat right between your collarbones, the size of it not quite being big enough for an adult, not that you minded.
“This one is even more perfect than a bracelet, thank you, Daisy.” You tell her, handing her the bouquet. “Think it would be okay if I walked you home?”
You thought it might be a good idea to take her home. You didn’t want her dad to think she was with a freaky stranger, but rather a neighbour, who was also a stranger, but one with no harmful intentions.
“That sounds very okay to me!” She smiled at you, nodding her head as she reached for your hand. “I think my dads gonna love this with all his heart.”
“I sure hope he does.” You followed behind her, eyes widening as she began to run.
“Dad!” You heard her yell as she disappeared onto the property.
The house was only two down from yours, their driveway being one of the many with chalk all over it. As you stepped onto the driveway you saw a man kneeled in front of her, his back turned to you.
“They're beautiful, sweetie.” You could faintly hear his voice over the sound of someone mowing their lawn. You watched her explain something, hands flying all over the place. “Yes, I love them so much, best Father’s day ever.”
You walked up the driveway a bit further, still keeping a healthy distance.
He engulfed her in a hug, holding the flowers behind her so that they wouldn’t get squished. When they separated he whispered something to her, the question making her look over his shoulder, pointing to you happily.
His head turned to look at you, staring for a moment before he handed the flowers back to her, muttering something. She ran off into their backyard with the flowers, giving him a moment to stand to his full height.
You had no idea what you were expecting Daisy’s dad to look like. Maybe someone much, much older than you, someone who wasn’t very attractive and who was possibly going to curse you out for talking to his child without him present.
You were dead wrong.
He wore a faded grey t-shirt, the words on it so worn out that you couldn't read them. His blue jeans had grass stains on them, only getting dirtier as he rubbed some dirt on the thighs of them as he approached you. He looked like he had been doing yard work of some sort, throwing the gloves he was wearing by the stairs that led to his side door.
His hair was a pretty shade of brown, dark in most places but lighter in areas where the sun was kissing it. It was clearly long, but styled in a way that made it lay perfectly on the top of his head. The gold rimmed glasses that sat on his nose suited him well, complimenting the colour of his skin in a way that was extremely flattering.
There was no way around admitting that the nameless man in front of you was the most handsome person you had laid eyes on in a very long time.
The two of you stared at each other for longer than normal, not a word being exchanged as he stood in front of you. Each time you went to speak your words escaped you, only being able to smile brightly at him.
It wasn’t everyday Steve found himself staring at anyone as breathtaking as you, nevermind having someone that enthralling standing on his driveway.
The powdery pink dress you wore hugged you in all the right places, going all the way down to your ankles. The straps on the top of it were barely there, leaving the top part of your chest exposed.
Everything from the bridge of your nose to the ends of your hair was radiant, leaving him speechless. He didn’t know if it was the sun's fault your skin looked so glowy or if you always carried such beauty with you.
He wasn’t ignorant to the fact that you were seemingly younger than him, hoping that his staring wasn’t coming off in a way that would make you feel uncomfortable.
You weren’t ignorant to the fact either. The only firm indication you had that he was somewhat older than you was the scruff that adorned his chin and the beginnings of wrinkles that formed when he smiled.
“I’m so sorry about her.” His voice was as thick and smooth as honey, the sound sweet to your ears. “We were outside together and she wandered off… and I didn’t even realise until a moment ago, and now you probably think I’m a horrible parent.”
His lips curved into a smile, freckled cheeks pressing into his eyes.
“No! No…not at all.” You shook your head. “She didn’t stray too far anyway, I live a few houses down.” You pointed with your thumb before holding your clammy hands in front of your body.
Your voice only made you prettier, a powdery pink haze filling his mind.
It really was the best Father’s day ever.
“She didn’t cause too much trouble did she?” His voice was slightly panicked, his fingers combing through his hair.
“There was no trouble, she’s honestly the sweetest kid I’ve ever met.” You beamed. “I found her in my front garden, she thought my flowers would make a good gift for you.”
Peeking behind his shoulder you checked to see if Daisy had come back. There was no sign of her as you looked back at the tall man in front of you.
“She felt terrible she didn’t have a present for you, so there was no way I could say no to her.”
He shook his head, a smile forming on his lips. As much as he didn’t love the thought of Daisy hanging around strangers, he was happy that she was at least sweet about it.
“That… uh, that was very kind of you. Thank you for being so sweet to her.” He spoke, placing a hand in his back pocket. “Is there any way I can repay you?”
You held your hands up, disagreeing immediately as you reached to grab a hold of the beaded necklace.
“She already took care of it.” You could tell by his expression he was slapping himself internally. “Think I might’ve ripped her off though.”
Steve couldn't remember the last time someone made him genuinely smile this much. He felt a bit stupid considering the fact he had been smiling from the moment he laid eyes on you, but he could and would blame that on you and the fact that you were wearing the necklace his daughter loved most.
“I’m happy to hear that.” He shrugged. “I was worried her cuteness might’ve looped you in. Happens to me more than I’m willing to admit.”
“Almost.” You tilted your head. “Her sob story nearly got me, but I toughed it out.”
He took his hand from his back pocket, once again wiping it on his jeans before holding it out to you. As you took his hand it was apparent his hand was much larger than yours, his hand feeling much firmer than your own.
“I’m Steve.” He told you, shaking your hand gently.
“Y/n.” You replied, letting his hand go after a moment.
“Y/n.” He repeated your name. “Pleasure to meet you, thank you again for taking care of her.”
As the words left his mouth he realised that was exactly what you did. You took care of her and looked after her, even making sure to walk her the short distance home. His chest was consumed with an unfamiliar feeling, like something was twisting and pulling at his heart.
“It was nice to meet you too, Steve.” You backed away slowly. “I’ll see you around I’m sure.”
“Yeah.. yeah I hope so.” He commented. “Welcome to Hawkins.”
You walked away wearing a saccharine smile, trying to not let him catch sight of your face as you turned off his driveway.
Steve knew for a fact you weren’t just new to the neighbourhood, he would have definitely remembered your face if he had ever seen you in town.
Turns out, you’d be running into Steve more often than you thought.
The first few times were when you both were crossing paths. He was leaving as you got home, or you were both heading out at the same time.
This cycle of small talk and running into each other continued for a few weeks, neither of you daring to push the conversations much further.
That was until one early morning around 5am. You were sitting on your front steps, a blanket wrapped around your body, a steaming cup of coffee keeping your hands warm. You were tossing and turning all night, finally giving up and deciding to start your day early.
The sky was halfway painted with a pastel orange colour, the clouds and run rising with it. The air outside carried that crisp freshness that only the morning could bring. The grass had been tricked with dew overnight, the droplets of water beginning to clear up.
The silence was enjoyable, the sounds of birds chirping made you feel less alone, their presence being welcomed by you. You didn’t expect anyone to be awake this early, mainly because you would never willingly wake up this early.
Your silence was interrupted by the sounds of feet hitting against the ground. Your eyes searched for the source of the sound, not finding it right away. Turning your head a little further to the left, you were met with the sight of Steve.
His face was flushed, a light shade of crimson sitting on top of his cheeks. He was wearing nothing but a pair of running shorts, his grey shirt hanging from his arm. Your eyes dragged down to the patch of thick hair that rested on his chest, the view of it making you pull on the skin at the back of your neck.
Everything he did, every move he made, every piece of him you got to know more was only making him more attractive. You couldn’t fathom how you happened to move in two houses down from a man who invented the concept of dads being hot.
You considered running into the house before he saw you, painfully aware of how you looked this early in the morning. Your hair was a bit of a mess, eyes dressed with bags, and you knew for a fact your face was still swollen with sleep.
There was no time left to put that plan in action as he looked over at you, pushing the headphones off his head.
“You really shouldn’t be out here all alone at this time.” His husky voice spoke as he stopped at the bottom of your stairs.
“I could say the same about you.” You replied, clearing your throat to try and make your voice sound better.
It was then, from the close proximity you noticed the deep spots under his eyes. He had the look of someone who was stressed out beyond belief, a certain rigidity to his whole body.
“I’m clearing my head.” He yawned, leaning onto the wood. “What’s your excuse?”
“Couldn’t sleep.” You told him honestly, catching his yawn after you spoke the last word. “Is something going on?”
It might have been weird to ask him that, but you hoped he wouldn’t be taken aback by the question.
“Ah.” He let out a deep sigh, licking his lips. “I’m gonna have to call off work for the second time this week, which you can imagine I’m not thrilled about.”
Steve had mentioned in passing he was a paramedic. The job normally would have come with unforgiving hours, being called in at any time of the day or night. However, in a town this small, that wasn’t the case. He explained that he rarely got called in, telling you how happy he was to have a job he loved so much with hours that worked well for him.
“Are you not feeling well?” You sounded concerned, raising your brows with worry.
“No no, I’m okay.” He reassured you. “Daisy really hated daycare when we tried it. So usually I get one of her aunts or uncles to take her or come over and watch her, but…” Running a hand over his face he continued. “Everyone’s been so busy lately which puts me in a bit of a bind.”
“Your wife works when you do?” Your question was genuine for the most part, an ulterior motive may have been present. Steve’s eyes widened before he smiled slowly.
“It’s just Daisy and I.” He spoke. “Her mom’s not in the picture anymore.”
“I’m sorry.” You shook your head, feeling embarrassed but relieved at the same time. “I had no idea.”
“That’s okay.” He chuckled, kicking your stair with the tip of his shoe softly. “I’m sorry for dropping this all on you, I’m sure it’s the last thing you wanna hear this early.”
The idea swirled around your head before it left your mouth.
“I could help…if-if you wanted, that is.” Your suggestion did make his ears perk up, mouth falling slightly open. “I’m always home anyway, don’t really have a lot going on.”
“I couldn’t ask you to do that, Y/n.” There was a tenderness to his voice, one you had never had the pleasure of hearing before.
“You didn’t ask me.” You quipped. “I offered, Steve.”
You could tell he liked the idea, he was just contemplating whether to admit it or not. It would make his life a lot easier, and you had proven that he could trust you with his child.
“Are you gonna let me pay you?” He asked. “Because if you try and do it for free I might just lose what’s left of my mind completely.”
Babysitting Daisy was a breeze.
She seemed to like you a lot which made the time you spent with her a lot easier. The two of you got up to everything from playing outside to sitting on her bedroom floor while she showed you her books for what felt like the tenth time.
At first, Steve only called you when he exhausted all other options, not wanting to burden you constantly.
That quickly turned into you watching her each time he worked.
Daisy had expressed to him how much she enjoyed being around you one night when Eddie showed up to watch her instead of you.
Eddie was incredibly offended by his niece's words, not understanding why her and Steve both seemed more keen about you coming over. That was until he had the pleasure of meeting you as he came to pick Daisy up from your house one evening.
You opened the door a few seconds after someone had knocked on it. On the other side of the door was a man who looked extremely rough around the edges, his face and clothes covered in oil.
“Eddie, right?” You asked him, voice a little hesitant. You wanted to make sure you weren’t handing Steve’s daughter to a complete stranger and by the looks of the man in front of you, you weren’t entirely sure this was the right guy.
“I must have the wrong house.” He froze. You were way too pretty to be Steve’s babysitter, at least much prettier than he was anticipating. Even if you were actually the babysitter, he had no idea how Steve managed to get out more than one word to you. “You’re Y/n?”
“In the flesh.” You tried to hide your confusion at his reaction. Daisy came to save the day, running into Eddie’s legs hard enough for him to let out a groan.
“Uncle Eddie!” She screamed, hugging one of his legs. “Are you here to get me?”
Her little mind was going a mile a minute, not even saying goodbye to you as she walked down the front stairs. She was young so you understood how her mind sometimes flew from one place to the other with no regard.
“Thanks.” He nodded in your direction. The longer he thought about it, the more he understood why Steve was such a fan of you. Eddie imagined if he had such a pretty babysitter he’d want her around all the time too.
As you closed the door you could hear the pair bickering. Eddie let out a laugh, telling Daisy to stop pretending like she was happy to see him.
You hoped not all of Steve’s friends were as strange as Eddie.
Slowly, you began watching Daisy at Steve’s house more often. It was easier for you to be there so she didn’t have to bring a bag and all her toys with her.
You had begun to pick up on housework while you were there. Doing the dishes, keeping everything tidy, and making dinner every night you were there, leaving more than enough in the fridge for Steve when he retired home. You usually only washed Daisy’s laundry, but on occasion you found yourself washing the dirty laundry that he was too busy to get around to.
He was paying you way too much for you to just sit around and watch her anyway, so you insisted this was how you made things even.
Steve would make a fuss about it sometimes, but he would be lying if he said he had a problem with it. It was nice to not have to worry about certain things after long days or nights at work.
He liked having you around, probably more than he should have.
There was a tension growing between you and Steve, one that could only be ignored for so long. It was the kind of tension that was created when two people were obviously and painfully attracted to one another.
It started with Steve having to watch you move around his kitchen, knowing where everything was placed, knowing exactly how he liked it. It progressed with the pride you felt each time he commented on how well you did something, your body burning with a sensation that only Steve could bring to you.
Many stolen moments shared between the two of you continued to make the tension thicker.
The short dresses you wore around him made it hard for him to breathe, his eyes not being able to leave your figure no matter how hard he tried. When you bent over to grab something the dress would rise up the backs of your thighs, exposing your body to him more than he thought he deserved.
Reluctantly, he’d drag his gaze away before you turned back around, focusing on calming himself down and getting rid of the twitch in his cock. Part of him hoped you did it on purpose, that these moments weren’t a series of accidents that he happened to bear witness to.
Steve didn’t make it easy for you either.
He would always place a hand on your hip as he squeezed behind you, his front brushing against your ass as he moved. His hot whisper of ‘sorry, honey.’ played through your mind for hours each time he said it.
You never missed the way he stared at you when you arrived at his house. His eyes examining you for a moment too long, making their way back up to yours where he would smile at you softly.
You weren’t much better, the sight of him in his clothes for work had you in a tight grip, making it impossible to look anywhere but at his arms in that shirt that was a size too small.
These moments were why you were shocked and hurt in a strange way when Steve called you one afternoon, asking you if you could come watch Daisy.
“I thought tonight was your night off?” You frowned a bit, hating that he kept getting called into work last minute.
“It is.” He felt a lump in his throat, the hand that wasn’t holding the receiver was on his hip. “I uh…I have a date tonight.”
You never thought that four short words could leave you feeling so many things at one time. There was a pain biting at your heart, its teeth sinking into your skin hard enough to make your entire chest throb.
The root of the pain was unidentifiable. There was jealousy and betrayal present, playing their roles together to leave you feeling like a fool for thinking that a man like Steve would ever want anything to do with you.
You were his babysitter, nothing more.
“Oh.” You sounded surprised. Steve could picture the ways your lips were curling in, a hand coming up to smooth your shirt down to cover up the fact that something was bothering you.
Steve was only doing this as a poor attempt to resolve whatever feelings he was having for you. He thought there was a chance seeing someone else could work out and he would maybe be able to stop thinking about waking up next to you on slow mornings and kissing you each time he walked through his front door.
Through this all, he found himself refraining from thinking about how things could have been between the two of you if this one small detail had been different. He knew there was no good in dwelling in what could have been, but he wondered if these thoughts ever crossed your mind.
“Yeah, yeah I can come watch her.” You cleared your throat. “What time did you want me over?”
He had never heard you like this. Choked up. Like there was something wrapping around your vocal chords, not allowing you to say what you really wanted to.
“How’s seven?” He asked, the thought of cancelling the date bouncing around his head.
“Whatever you need.” You tried to sound happier, but you failed miserably. Your remark came off caustic, leaving Steve with a sour taste in his mouth the rest of the day.
You wanted to cancel on him last minute, ruining any prospects of his date going well. However, you didn’t have it in you to do something cruel to Steve when he was the last person in the world who deserved it.
So, you went to watch Daisy at seven.
Steve told you he would be home by ten and he didn’t lie. Right at ten he unlocked the door, seeing you sitting on his couch watching some random movie.
He was relieved to see you, a faint feeling of happiness lingering within him as he stepped into his house. His date was nothing short of horrible and he had spent the majority of the time counting down the minutes until he could return home again.
“Hey.” He whispered. “Is she asleep?”
“Of course.” You hummed, standing up and gathering your things. You didn’t want to have to be around him for longer than you needed to. Pushing your feelings down was only going to work for so long, and looking Steve in the eye would have been what made them come right back up.
“Thank you, I know it was short notice.” He walked closer to you, sensing this new kind of tension, one that he wasn’t so fond of. Steve grabbed his wallet, reaching for what he owed you plus a little bit extra.
“It’s not a big deal.” You smiled softly, grabbing the money from him and putting your shoes on. “I’ll talk to you soon.”
And with that you left. There was no goodbye, no asking him about his time out, and for the first time since he met you he didn’t get to hear your laugh as he made some stupid joke.
With that, he couldn’t help but notice the dishes weren't done and Daisy’s toys still scattered around the floor, left for him to clean up. It wasn’t like you had to do those things, but you always did. The fact that you didn’t do them should have had Steve running out the door after you, begging you to tell him what was wrong.
But he didn’t. He stood there alone in his living room, frozen in place.
For the first time in months, Steve’s warm and lively home went back to feeling like a cold and lonely house.
Steve going on dates became a regular thing. At least once a week he was taking out some woman who he barely had any interest in, hoping he might like her more than the last. He felt like he was fresh out of highschool again, looking for someone to mend the hole in his heart that Nancy Wheeler had left behind.
Only this time, he wasn’t trying to fill the hole someone else put there, he was trying to heal the wound in his heart that came from the knife he twisted. The job to fix it this time wasn’t easy, not when the women he was seeing were all dull and boring, not being able to make him feel a fraction of the way you did. Steve felt old again, like the single dad that couldn’t land more than a shitty one night stand.
Part of you felt bad that all of his dates were going terribly.
He never went into the details much with you but you could tell by the way he looked that he was happy to return home after each one. He looked more drained than he did before he left, a deep sigh leaving his lips as he hung his jacket up.
Steve was always home before 10pm, walking in either a few minutes before or right as the clock struck the hour, he was never a minute late. You were caught between thinking he did that to leave the dates earlier and to keep his word true, not wanting to make you feel like your time was something he would throw away.
Slowly, you grew to tolerate him going on dates. Swallowing down the poison that threatened to spill out of your mouth and stopping the tears that sometimes burned the back of your eyes.
You both noticed that everything shifted back to how it was before that first date. From the extra work you did for him to the stolen intimate moments the two of you shared like a secret, whispering in the late hours of the night under the covers of a bed.
That was until one gloomy Friday night. You made the short walk to Steve’s house, pulling the baby blue cardigan you wore over your body further, the wind being extremely unforgiving. The white dress you wore was bright looking compared to the dark conditions outside. The clouds were a mean shade of grey, preparing to let out their anger in the form of cold droplets and cracks of thunder.
You rarely knocked on the door anymore, letting yourself in with a faint greeting to anyone who may have been close by. As you walked onto the carpet at his front door you weren’t met with the usual sounds of Steve and Daisy singing, or the television being a little too loud as she sat in front of it, barely watching it as she played with her bead kit.
Daisy was sobbing her little eyes out, whole body shaking in Steve’s arms. You were immediately panicked, heart dropping to the floor as you tried to understand what was happening. She didn’t cry often at all, in fact this was only the second time you had ever seen it happen.
“Sweetie.” Steve sighed defeatedly, his white button up covered in her tears. “The sky is only a little dark, I’m sure it’s only gonna be a little rain, I promise.”
“Don’t go.” Her voice wobbled with fear, small hands clinging to the collar of his shirt. “Daddy I-I don’t want you to go.”
You knew that might have just done him in completely. Daisy had that man wrapped around her tiny little finger, knowing exactly what she needed to say to get Steve to give in. She never did it in a bad way, only ever using her power to guilt trip him when absolutely necessary.
Steve lifted her up, rubbing her back in soft circles as he turned around to see you. He gave you a sad look, mouthing ‘I’m sorry’. You only shook your head, coming closer to him and craning your neck to look at her tearful face.
“Sweet Daisy.” You frowned, wiping one of her tears. “What’s going on?”
“T-there’s gonna be a storm.” She breathed. “I don’t like thunder…I need Dad to stay and protect me.” You nod your head, thinking for a second.
“I see.” You hummed. “That’s a real shame…because I had a really important secret to tell you once he left…” You sighed dramatically. “But I guess if I can’t protect you from the thunder…”
“No!” She gasped, leaning off of Steve’s chest. “You promise you’ll save me from the thunder?” Her eyes were wide with excitement, the idea of getting to know a secret taking over whatever bad thoughts she was having.
“I promise!” You held your hands up, “Wouldn’t let anything hurt you.” She squirmed in Steve’s arms, shouting something about changing into her pyjamas so she could be comfortable while you told her the secret.
He let out a painful noise as she ran up the stairs to her room.
“I should stay here.” He shook his head. “If it actually starts to storm I’m going to feel like the worst.”
“Steve.” You smiled sadly. “You’re far from the worst and she’s really lucky.” You whispered, noticing how handsome he looked right now. His hair was pushed back, one single strand of hair not getting enough gel, hanging in front of his face. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, releasing his pink lips from the tight line they were in.
“I’ve got her if anything happens okay?” You hum. “She’s gonna be just fine with me here.”
Steve was looking at you with nothing but adoration. His friends who he considered family all loved Daisy and cared for her greatly. But he was yet to find someone outside that circle, someone whom he wanted in a different way who cared for his daughter as much as you did.
The way he was looking at you was making the lock that kept your feelings away come undone, letting them trickle out of their hiding place slowly.
“Okay.” His voice was soft. “I trust you.”
“Good.” You bit back a smile. “Because your collar looks absolutely horrendous.” Without thinking you reached up for it, smoothing the stiff fabric down.
“Are you nervous?” You were trying to calm him down from what just happened, really not caring to know much about how he was feeling about a date that was with someone who wasn’t you.
“Not really.” He watched as you fixed his shirt for him, your eyes focused on what you were doing. He noticed the way your nose twitched when you were focused, scrunching up when you were really trying to get something right. “I haven’t seen her since highschool, so it should be interesting.”
You tried to avoid thinking about the fact that this person might not have been a total stranger to Steve, making the chances of this being a good date slightly more probable.
Reaching behind his neck you smoothed the fold of his collar down. He didn’t know what to do with his hands as you worked at making him look presentable. Did he hold them in front of his body? Did he put them behind his back? Did he rest them on your hips like he so badly desired to?
“Oh my, since highschool?” You breathed. “That was what? Forty years ago?”
Your eyes flicked away from his shirt to look at him. He was still looking at you, nodding his head as he chuckled.
“Forty years!” He laughed, making you let out the giggle you had been holding in. “I see how it is!”
You lost track of what you were supposed to be doing, your hands resting flat on his shoulders as you both shared a playful string of banter through fits of laughter. Steve had more fun in those three minutes than he had on the hours he had spent out on dates combined.
Your touch, your smile, your laugh, they filled his body with so much joy that for a second he forgot that you weren’t the woman he’d be seeing tonight.
Once the sounds of laughter died down you removed your hands from his body, backing away a bit as you gestured to his shirt.
“You’re all ready to go.” You told him, looking towards the stairs as you heard Daisy trampling down them as fast as she could. “And I think she’s ready for you to leave.”
Your suspicions were proved correct when Daisy began basically shoving Steve out the door, saying goodbye to him as fast as she could. His exit was a rushed mess of him trying to bargain with her for a hug, but not being surprised when she barely gave in.
Next came the part of the routine that never changed.
“I’ll be back before ten!” He shouted as he closed the door.
11:47pm.
You had been staring at the clock that hung in the middle of Steve’s living room for so long that you could barely read it anymore.
You checked it once, then twice, then finally you ran to the kitchen to check the clock there, not believing what you were seeing.
11:49pm.
“What the…” You whispered under your breath, a hand making its way to your head.
Steve was never late, nevermind nearly two hours late. Your mind ran rampant with terrible thoughts, anxiety serging through your veins as each new idea formed. You tried your hardest to not let yourself think that something bad had happened to him despite how badly you wanted to believe it.
Daisy had fallen asleep a half hour ago, but not after she asked you a plethora of questions about where Steve was. It felt impossible to try and calm her nerves when your own were burning at the ends, the sparks catching on each dendrite, setting everything on fire from synapse to synapse.
The worry you felt was intense, making your jaw tense, your teeth grinding together. Your nails dug into your palms, the dread trying to claw its way up your throat and take you under completely.
As you searched through the notepad that was hung on the fridge for Robin’s phone number, the phone that sat on the end table by Steve’s couch began to ring. The buzzing of the phone scared the life out of you, putting you even further on edge.
Your shaky hands grasped the receiver, bringing it to your ear.
“Hello?” You tried to sound a bit more lively than you felt, not wanting the person on the other end to know something was wrong.
“Shit, Yn.” He uttered. “I didn’t even realise the time, I’m so sorry.”
Your heart felt heavy, like a large rock that had been thrown into a body of water. You were relieved to hear his voice, to know that regardless of what happened he sounded like he was okay.
“Steve.” Your voice trembled, your fingers squeezed the coiled wire of the phone. Before you could ask a question, he was speaking again, obviously being rushed for a reason that was unknown to you.
“I called Robin, and she’s gonna come and pick up Daisy.” He spoke.
“What? Why?” Your confusion was like a thick fog, covering everything around you and making it hard to see.
“It’s late and I feel bad for not calling.” His speech sounded distracted, as if he was trying to listen to the chatter behind him as he spoke. “I don’t want you to be waiting around for me.”
You didn’t know what to say, so you said nothing, waiting for his voice to fill the silence again.
“Steve! Let’s go!” You heard the voice of a woman from his end, all high-pitched and filled with giggles.
You felt sick to your stomach.
You thought that something bad had happened to him. You were genuinely worried that the reason he wasn’t home and hadn’t called was because some unfortunate event took place. Not once did you consider the notion that Steve might have just been having fun and for once enjoying himself on a date.
You felt so stupid for believing any of the lies you were feeding yourself. You got worked up over nothing, your worry turning into a burning feeling of betrayal.
“I’ve gotta go, okay?” His voice was a little louder now. “I’ll come by tomorrow to pay you.”
The line went dead.
Steve was never this short with you, nevermind not doing as little as saying goodbye to you.
It hit you slowly, putting together the pieces that told you exactly why Robin was picking up Daisy and why Steve insisted you head home.
He probably wasn’t going to be returning home alone.
The house felt dark, the ghosts standing in the room with you were the only things keeping you company. Everything was too quiet in contrast to the beating of your heart, throbbing against your chest like it never had.
Robin showed up not long after, helping you peel Daisy from her bed. Luckily her sleep was enough to stop her from asking too many questions, her little eyes barely being able to stay open as Robin carried her downstairs.
You had met Robin on a few different occasions, and given the way she was looking at you, she knew something you didn’t.
Truly, she was sick of listening to Steve talk about you and do nothing about it. So, to see you in his house looking like a sad puppy made her want to kick him right in the ribs.
After she had left you felt even lonelier than before, the absence of Daisy allowing you to experience your emotions even heavier. You decided to quickly clean up before you left, thinking that this might be the last time you babysit for Steve for quite some time.
This tug of war with your heart was getting hard again, slowly becoming unbearable. For the first time in the months you knew him, the flirting and moments you shared didn’t seem intimate at all, they seemed like a really good way for him to string you along and win himself more favours.
You refused to cry about something like this, not here, not in the four walls of his house.
The sound of the water running as you washed dishes almost covered up the sound of the front door opening. Your ears perked up, listening to hear if he was alone or not, getting ready to awkwardly excuse yourself. You didn’t expect him to be home within an hour, not by the way he was talking over the phone.
You didn’t hear any voices, no noises that would have signified someone was with him. There was only the sounds of him kicking his shoes off, feet padding to where you were. You kept your back turned to him, focusing on finishing up with the four items you had left to wash.
“Honey…” His voice was thick with regret. He didn’t think you would have bothered to stay a moment longer than you needed to.
But of course you did.
You didn’t respond, not even acknowledging his existence. Your silence was deafening as well, causing a ringing in his ears the longer he listened to the sounds of water hitting the bottom of the sink.
“Y/n.” His voice grew closer, his feet taking a soft step in your direction.
You placed a plate in the dish rack, reaching and grabbing a dirty glass.
Steve felt a lump growing in his throat, a lump made up of worry and fear, similar to the one that lived in your throat as you waited for him to come home. He would understand if you were mad at him for not calling, maybe you had plans after being here tonight and he ruined them, or maybe you just wanted to go home and-
“Do you have any idea how worried I was?” You seethed, wiping the outside of the glass, not turning to look at Steve.
His face grew softer, the wrinkles on his forehead smoothing out.
“You’re never late and that would have been fine if you just called sooner.” He could see how tense you were, shoulders moving ridgeley with every syllable.
Oh.
“I thought something happened.” Your voice cracked. “I thought you got into an accident or got hurt.” The cloth slid into the glass, your hand cleaning the inside of it. “Do you know how fucking scary that was?”
Oh.
You weren’t mad at him, not in the way that he was anticipating. You were worried about him, the kind of worry that made you anxious and restless. He had to fight every urge to come and grab your face, to kiss you so softly that you forgot why you were worrying, being blissfully reminded that he was standing right in front of you.
“God, Steve.” Your eyes close, head tilting back slightly. “I was so relieved to hear your voice for a second.” You looked at him, hurt etched into your usually glowing irises. “But then you made me feel like an idiot for worrying in the first place.”
“Hey now.” He stepped toward you, reaching a hand out to hold your shoulder.
“Don’t!” You barked, going to step away from him. Encapsulated in your sadness, you forgot about the glass around your hand, slamming it against the sink.
The glass shattered, the debris flying all around the sink. The sound of it was loud, louder than the frustration that was booming in your head, pulling you back down to earth. A gasp fell from your lips as you felt something tearing at the skin of your palm.
You pulled your hand back from the sink, your other grabbing your wrist and holding it tightly.
“Jesus, Y/n!” Steve bellowed, grabbing the kitchen towel from by the stove. He reached for your hand again, unhappy to see you pull away from him.
“It was an accident!” You trembled, the blood dripping from your hand onto the wood floor beneath your feet. You hated how upset he sounded, your face burning with embarrassment over what you just did.
“I’m sorry.” His voice was soft spoken, his warm hand finding safety on your forearm. “I didn’t mean to raise my voice, but you’re hurt and you need to let me help you.”
His hazel eyes searched yours for forgiveness, not only for yelling, but for everything that had gone wrong tonight.
“Okay.” You put your guard back down, letting him in again. He took your injured hand and wrapped the towel around it, placing your other hand back on top to hold it there.
Steve guided you upstairs and into the bathroom, rinsing your hand off as gently as he possibly could. He stood behind you, his chest pressed against your back as he made you keep your hand under the water.
The close proximity made it hard to breathe. The smell of his cologne filled your nose, notes of cedarwood and bergamot dancing around you. The scent was one that over time you began to associate with him, goosebumps growing along your skin with each whiff of it you got.
What nearly pushed you over the edge was the way he was whispering words of encouragement to you as he poured alcohol onto your wound.
“Just a little longer, okay? You’re being real strong.” “Breath for me, you’re okay.” “I’ve got you, honey, I’m right here.”
The winces you were letting out weren’t all from the pain of your cut, but rather the sting that each thing he said was leaving behind.
Once he got the bleeding to stop enough, he took you into his bedroom. You had been in his room only a handful of times, coming in to grab his laundry without taking time to really look around.
It was exactly what you expected his room to look like. The walls were all a plain cream colour, nothing on them. The floors were carpeted unlike the hallway, the brown material feeling nice on your feet. All of the furniture in the room was wooden from his bed frame to the thick walnut desk in the corner. The desk and the shelf next to it were covered in framed pictures. Most of them were of him and Daisy but the other few were of his friends whom he considered family.
“Sit up here.” He tapped the desk lighty. You manoeuvred your way onto it the best you could without putting much force onto your palm. Steve opened a few different drawers, grabbing the various supplies he needed to help you.
“My job comes in handy a lot more than you’d think.” He set everything down next to you, turning the lamp on the desk on. A yellow glow illuminated his face, extenuating his features in a way that made him somehow look better than he did before.
“I can imagine.” Your voice was softer than before. You felt yourself retreating, opening the curtains again for him. He slipped himself between your legs, fixing the end of your dress so it was covering your knees.
Steve was doing everything he could to make you feel comfortable, like he always did. You were hurt by his actions, but felt like a child for how you handled the situation. A swift feeling of regret filled you, making your gaze shift to his face.
“Gonna bring your hand up, yeah?” He waited for some sign of you agreeing before lifting your hand closer to his face. “I can see a few pieces of glass in there, so I’m gonna take them out and then we can wrap it up for you.”
“Okay.” You were trying to keep calm as he grabbed a pair of tweezers. His eyelashes fluttered as he plucked out a small shard of glass, dropping it into the small bowl of water he placed beside you.
Steve looked so focused, barely breathing each time he brought the tweezers to your hand. The feeling was bearable at first, but the stinging quickly became a lot to handle. You let out a sharp squeak as he had to push the tweezers a bit deeper.
“I’m sorry.” He glanced up at you, staring at you as he let you settle from the pain. “You should try and distract yourself, it’ll hurt a lot less.”
“How should I go about doing that?” You asked.
“Talk to me.” He offered plainly, raising his eyebrows for a second.
You knew he wanted to discuss the events of the night, so you decided to dip your foot into those waters hoping they weren’t going to be as cold as you anticipated.
“I take you had a good time tonight.” The comment was seemingly genuine, but there was something bitter about the way it rolled off your tongue.
Steve avoided eye contact after you said it, not replying as he sucked in a deep breath.
“No, I really didn’t.” He spoke finally. “I had a pretty terrible time.”
To say you were confused was an understatement. Nothing about the way the evening played out implied that he had a bad time from returning late to the laughter of the woman who was rushing him off the phone.
You tilted your head quizzically, watching every small twitch on his face.
“What happened?” You blurted out, wishing you had taken an extra second to think of something better to say.
He continued picking the glass from your skin, glancing up at you for not even half a second.
“We went to dinner, and it was fine.” He mumbled, shrugging his shoulders. “Then she suggested going to this bar.” His voice trailed off as he shook his head slightly. “And we ran into a few people…Eddie and Dustin and a few other people from highschool.”
There’s a hint of pent up frustration in his voice, a tone so deep that its thickness was built up by an ongoing feeling of resentment.
“She got really drunk.” His nostrils flared. “And by that point the date was more than over. She found someone else to entertain her. When I called you I was about to drop her off at home, which was probably the best part of the whole date.”
He wasn’t rushed on the phone so he could run off with his date. He was rushed because he was uncomfortable, wanting nothing more than to leave and be home.
Steve was a lot of things, but most of all he was a really good person. Of course he wasn’t going to leave her drunk at a bar, he was going to be the one to take her home and make sure she got in safe. Even if she made his night horrible, he wasn’t the type of man to storm off and leave her to fend for herself.
“I’m so sorry.” Your words dripped with guilt. Steve wouldn’t meet your stare, keeping his eyes directed on your hand.
“Don't be sorry…the dates are always the same.” He muttered. “I show up and they talk about themselves the whole time.” A sigh falls from his lips. “They have no interest in me or at least it dies off pretty quickly after they find out I have a kid.”
After his fourth date with a different woman, you began to wonder why he never made it to a second date with any of them.
“But I guess I'm no better.” He pushed his glasses off his face, letting them sit on his head where they look like they’re about to fall off. You felt the burn of the alcohol seeping into your cut, the sensation making you bite back a wince.
“What makes you say that?” You reached with your free hand, taking his glasses off his scalp, placing them on the top of the shelf next to you.
“Because the whole time they’re talking I’m thinking about someone else.” His gaze flicked up to yours, eyes locking like magnets.
You felt paralyzed, not one part of your body daring to move in a way that might be even a little bit noticeable. Trying to process what you heard, you remained speechless. You thought you were out of the woods for a brief moment, the guilt you felt being accompanied by selfish relief.
“Someone else?” You blinked rapidly.
Steve couldn’t help but to be amused at your innocence regarding the subject. His lips were being tugged at the edges as he fought off the smile he so badly wanted to show you.
“Someone else.” He confided. “Someone who listens to me, and cares about what I have to say. Someone who cares about my daughter almost as much as I do.”
Your heart was working incredibly fast, beating in large thrums as it pumped your blood through your veins. The blood rushed through your body, making a pulse appear in every place where one could form.
Steve cut and measured a bandage, the metal scissors making a clicking noise as they hit the desk. As he wrapped it around your hand, he kept talking.
“I can’t stop thinking about her.” He released, securing the bandage by placing it around your hand a few times. “
“I can’t get the smell of her vanilla perfume out of my head and I really can’t stop wondering if that lipgloss she loves so much is anywhere as sweet as she is.” His voice was as soft as the silk of your pillowcase, keeping your face and hair safe as you slept.
Your heart was beating so fast you were sure he could hear it, the sound filling his ears the same way it filled yours.
He was talking about you. He was talking about the vanilla perfume you sprayed on each morning you left your house, making sure to put it in places it would stick. He was referring to the lip gloss that sat on your lips as he spoke, the strawberry flavour filling your mouth more than it ever had.
“And sometimes I think about those nights when I come home and find her asleep on my couch…” Steve places your hand down in your lap, never letting go of it.
“I never wanna wake her up.” His fingers reach out, pushing a small piece of hair from your face. “I wanna put a blanket over her and let her sleep soundly… or carry her up to my bed and let her sleep comfortably next to me.”
Steve looked at you like you were the most beautiful thing he had ever set his sights on. Your beauty was intoxicating, making it hard to concentrate on anything but the way your smile was visible on your entire face.
Steve thought he would have noticed the day that his innocent fondness for you grew into something more, but he didn’t.
Maybe he would have if he was paying more attention, but he was too busy loving every moment he got to spend with you. He was hypnotised by how much he liked you to realise how hard he was falling for you. He was too distracted by the constant voice in his head telling him this was wrong to notice that you felt the exact same way.
Your stomach contracted, nerves forming there and balling together. The hairs on your body stood on end, the air in the room feeling ice cold.
Though it was obvious who he was talking about, you played along with the idea that you had no clue.
“Why don’t you take this someone else out?” You put forth, not moving your hand from where it rested in his. There were freckles on his cheeks, spreading down his neck like the stars in the sky, making you want to reach out and touch them.
“I’m not sure she sees me like that.” He said honestly, looking from your lips back to your eyes.
“You won’t know for sure until you say something to her.” You hum, the pain that lived in your hand faded into the background, along with the hurt you were feeling earlier.
“It’s more than that.” He shook his head. “I’m worried she might find this whole thing inappropriate and think I’m a terrible person.” His face held a genuine concern, one that you had yet to see from him. He was afraid of disappointing you and making you think of him in a way that was all too familiar with his younger self.
“I promise you.” You sat up further, a begging look on your face. “She could never think anything negative about you.”
Steve wanted to accept what you were saying as the truth, but a small part of him was still ridden with some kind of worry.
“I’m still not sure it’s the best idea.” He whispered, his large hand cupping your cheek like it was a snowflake, delicate and light, melting if he touched it too roughly.
“Steve.” You begged, his heart aching so strongly he felt it in his back. You pushed into his touch, rubbing your cheek on the palm of his hand.
Slowly, you moved further to the edge of the desk, pressing your thighs into the sides of his. Your dress rode up, the edge of it sitting in the middle of the doughy part of your leg. You felt him move closer, pressing himself into the wood.
“Tell me this is okay.” He whispered, both hands holding the base of your jaw up to your cheeks.
“I can’t stop thinking about you either…no matter how much I try.” You breath, your hands wrapped around both his wrists.
The longer he stared at you, feeling your breath fanning his face, the softer his expression got and the closer he got to giving in.
“Please.” You say so quietly he almost didn’t hear it. It was the final push he needed to allow himself to give in to the thing you both so badly wanted.
Steve rested his forehead on yours for a second, resting there as he attempted to ground himself. You stayed there peacefully, soaking it up just in case it was the first and last time you were going to be this close to him.
After what felt like a lifetime of waiting, he tilted your chin up, capturing your lips in a kiss so sweet that happiness threatened to spill from your eyes.
Steve took his time with you, kissing you so slowly that it felt like your heart was going to give out on you. His lips moved against yours like they had been there before, knowing each curve of them and exactly what to do to make you feel like you were floating.
Your lips were softer than he ever imagined, and your lip gloss was just as sweet as he was hoping it would be. Everything about you from the tickle of your breath to the smell of your hair was making a warm sensation blossom in Steve’s chest, taking over all of his senses.
Every inch of you was lit up with an incandescent glow, a garden blooming in your stomach, its roots travelling to intertwine around your heart. Steve’s hands on your face, his lips on yours, they were lighting you up in a way you never experienced before.
Your hands travelled down his arms, curving down his neck to rest upon his chest. Right there, a little adjacent to where his heart lived, you could feel it beating against his chest so hard it felt like it was trying to escape from his ribcage.
“You okay?” You grinned against his lips, not being able to stop it no matter how hard you tried. The feeling of your hand resting on his chest made Steve dizzy, making him feel like he was a lovesick teenager again.
“Barely hanging on here.” His smile was impossibly large, causing a giggle to fall from your lips.
Hesitantly, he moved a hand, pressing it onto your chest, over your dress, and above your left breast, holding it there flat. Your eyes were inviting him in, a silent and unspoken way of telling him this was still okay.
“Are you okay?” He whispered with a smile, feeling your heart beating against your chest.
“Hanging on.” A whispered giggled was pushed from your diaphragm. “By a thread.” Your comment was meant to be a playful push back at what he said, only it was the truth.
He rubbed the tip of his nose on yours, the back and forth motion sending a tickle straight through you. The action was filled with care, but within it there was the promise of something more, telling you this wasn’t where he planned on leaving things.
“Have you thought about this before?” He asks. The question would have been innocent if it weren’t for the heat emitting off his body, making the knots of sexual tension between the two of you come undone.
“Many times.” You admit, your fingers playing with the top button of his shirt. Steve leaned into your touch, his hands moving to rest on your covered thighs.
“Is this how you imagined it?” Though his breath is hot against your face, the chill that creeps down your back is cold.
“Sometimes yeah.” Your eyes meet him as you pull the button out of the fabric, fingers carefully moving to the next one. “Usually there’s a lot more kissing.”
Steve laughs softly, planting a kiss on your cheek, then another, and one more after that. He leaves a chaste kiss on your lips, one that has you longing for more.
Another button pops undone, dark brown chest hair peeking out at you.
“Have you thought about this?” You ask him, leaving a sticky strawberry scented kiss on his freckled cheek.
His fingertips glide down, coming in contact with the bare skin of your knee as they creep under the fabric of your dress.
“Many times.” He whispers, his own body suffering from the pain that anticipation brings.
“Is this how you pictured it?” Your voice is gentle as you take out the fourth button, leaving Steve’s chest exposed.
“Normally I’d have you in my bed by now.” He smiles at the noise you let out, a mix of a hum and a whine.
There’s a syrupy smile on your face, a kind of smile you wear when you finally get something you want and are able to hold it in your hands finally.
His hands are up on the dough of your thighs now, thumbs rubbing soft back and forth motions there. The whole thing is intimate and sweet, confessions being spilled between two people who yearn for each other.
As you undo the final button your hand pushes against this bare torso, encouraging him to step back.
Of course he does, letting you know that you’re in control as much as he is. His blood runs cold for a second as you slide off the hard desk, careful to not put much pressure on your hand.
His brain runs crazy with the idea that something is wrong, like the reality of the situation just settled into you and you’re about to go home and never speak to him again.
Steve is too stunned to speak, body turning slowly as he watches you for the first time ever rest your body against his bed. The white of your dress stands out against the darker colours in his room. Your being there added a lightness to the room, a gentle beauty that he alone could never bring into the space.
“Now I’m in your bed.” You mused. The way he was staring at you was making you nervous, palms growing clammy as you waited for him to make a move.
He hides a smile as he nods, walking over to where you’re laying. You feel the bed dip beside you, one of Steve’s knees pressing into the mattress between your legs. He rests a forearm onto the pillow beside your head, his face inches from yours.
“And now you’re in my bed.” He beamed, kissing you slowly.
The kiss was a bit more rushed this time but still as gentle as it could possibly be. Your lips parted slightly, allowing him to slot his tongue into your mouth, earning a soft moan from you.
You pushed the wrinkled fabric of his shirt off his shoulder, pleased as he tried to work it off his body without removing his mouth from yours. Once it was off you ran your hands along his naked shoulders, ending your movement at the back of his neck where you scratched his skin kindly. The sound that leaves his throat is a groan that he tried to swallow, the noise getting caught in his throat.
His palm smoothes over the skin of your thigh, fingers bringing the light fabric of your dress up, exposing your panties to him. He doesn’t break away to look at your body, instead letting his fingertips explore the new land that was your skin.
Steve’s fingers trace where the lace rests on your hip, making his way around to where it rests below your tummy. There’s butterflies growing everywhere he touches, fluttering their wings against you where the feeling of his fingertips linger.
There’s an ache that starts in your stomach, extending down to where you need him most.
Right when you think he’s about to give you the satisfaction of a small touch, his hand makes its way back around to your thigh, squeezing your skin.
“I’m gonna take these off, baby.” It’s both a statement and a question as he hooks a finger under the band of your panties.
“Okay.” You say, reeling at the sound of him calling you something so sweet. You lift your hips for him, making it easier for him to slide your panties down your legs.
He rewards the action with a kiss to your knee, a silent ‘thank you’.
You didn’t realise how wet you actually were until the sticky lace was pulled from your core, a string of slick falling onto the sheets below you. You would have been embarrassed in any other situation, an apology forming on your tongue but quickly fading as you hear a guttural moan from Steve.
“God, you’re beautiful.” He spreads your thighs open, leaving you on full display for him. His thumb runs along the edge of your dripping cunt, his mouth ajar as he watches how easily you open up for him.
“Steve.” You whine, his mostly unintentional teasing becoming unbearable. Your hips jerk up off the bed, searching for his touch. He firmly presses them back into the bed, his hand holding them down as he eases down to lay beside you.
“I’m right here.” He hums, holding your thighs open. “I’ve got you.”
Before you can take another breath you feel his fingers gathering some of your slick, dragging it through your folds up to the bundle of nerves at the top of your cunt. He rubs your clit slowly, circling it with just enough pressure. A sharp sound of pleasure falls from your parted lips, eyebrows knitting as you relax into this feeling.
Steve’s face is above yours, his elbow propping him up over you slightly. He’s watching every move of your face, enjoying every small sound you’re making while he strokes your cunt. Your body is still slightly rigid, he can see how hard you’re trying to stay still.
“Sweetheart.” He whispers, moving toward you so that his body is resting against your own. He lets himself rest on his forearm again, pressing it above your head. “Breathe for me.”
You move as close as you can get to him, turning your body so you’re facing him, a leg resting over top of his. You let out a shaky breath, holding his face loosely with your hand. His fingers and moving down every so often, the tips of them dipping into you before pulling back up to your clit as if he was playing an instrument.
He kisses you delicately, pink lips moving against yours with tender care. His middle finger slides into you with ease, your body accepting it greedily. You keep kissing him, small hums vibrating through your body as he works his finger in and out of you. When he slips in a second finger, you break the kiss, moaning right into his open mouth as he curls the digits deep inside you.
“That feel good, honey?” He asks with a smile, lips ghosting over yours as he continues the exact same motion.
“Uh huh” You mewl, letting your swollen lips brush on his. You can barely think with his fingers inside you, the feeling of them blurring your thoughts almost completely.
“You wear such pretty dresses when you come over.” His voice is deeper than before as he looks from the material back up to your eyes. “Are they for me?”
There’s a new confidence in his voice, comfort and trust settling in, allowing him to say everything he’s wanted to for months.
His fingers physically can't get any deeper, so he brings his thumb up to brush against your clit. You’re giving him the sweetest sounds he has ever heard and he hopes he can remember them forever.
“They’re for you.” You manage to say at the end of a deep breath. “Wanted…” A whine rips through you. “Wanted your attention.”
“That’s real sweet, baby.” He presses a long kiss to your forehead. The kiss is filled with love rather than lust, your words making Steve burn with the urge to care for you.
He moves his hand a little faster, the sticky sounds of your cunt hitting against his hand filling the bedroom. He’s still managing to curl his fingers inside of you, your nails scraping against the slope of his shoulder.
“You always have my attention, hm?” He tells you truthfully, feeling you arch into his hand. You can’t reply, only gasping at the feeling blooming in your lower abdomen.
“Think about you the whole time I’m out.” He murmurs. “Come home early just to see you again, I can never help myself.”
Your head is leaning against his shoulder as you sob out an obscene noise, your eyes shut tight. You’re clenching around him hard, your walls closing with every word that leaves his mouth.
“S-Steve.” You swallow, breath ragged as the feeling below grows stronger. “I want you…I want you inside me.”
Your words make his cock harden in his pants, straining against the black material uncomfortably. He so badly wants to let you have him, but he knows better than to try and fuck you without making you cum atleast once.
“Need you to cum for me.” You’re rolling your hips against his hand, searching for more friction. “You’re so fucking tight, honey. You won’t be able to take it if you don’t cum for me.”
“Can take it, Steve.” You pull your face from his arm, a weepy look on your features. “Please let me have it.”
You’re desperate for him and you’re desperate to cum, the combination making you relentless to get what you want.
“You gonna be good for me?” He looks at you, eyes gente but stern as he speaks. “Be good for me, sweetheart, come on.”
The thrusting of his fingers keeps up, giving extra attention to the skin over your clit. Your thighs are shaking slightly, the muscles getting tight as you try and focus on letting yourself go. Steve whispering something to you that you can’t make out over the ringing deep in your ear. He’s doing everything he can to help you get there, his lips kissing your cheek repeatedly.
There’s a high pitched whimper of his name as you tip over the edge, unable to control any of the noises you make. Your body feels heavy then light again, toes curling and calves aching as a delightful feeling spreads through you. You know Steve is gonna have red marks on his shoulder from how hard your nails are digging into it.
“That’s it.” He praises. “There’s my good girl.” You can feel him smiling on your skin, his voice dripping with pride.
Slowly he moves his hand from your cunt, your face pulled together as you adjust to the uncomfortable emptiness. You close your thighs around his hand, trying to make the shock waves of pleasure slow down.
“Steve?” You breath raggedly, suddenly aware of how hot you are, your dress feeling suffocating. He can sense that you’re uncomfortable, a few lines of worry forming on his forehead.
“Yeah, honey?” He looks at you sweetly, noticing the thin layer of sweat on your forehead.
“Can you take my dress off?” You request, leaning into him so that you can kiss his stubbly chin.
“I can do that.” He says, pulling his hand from your wet thighs. “Think you can stand up for me?”
Steve’s making his way across the bed and onto the floor beside it before you can answer, reaching out a hand for you. He looks incredibly handsome right now. His tan skin is glowing more than you had ever seen in the past, styled hair now a bit rustled up but you know he could care less right now. The thick patch of hair on his chest makes you throb with need again, your eyes unable to look away.
He sees you staring, a breathy laugh leaving him as he watches you slowly getting off the bed with your eyes attached to him.
“You’re really handsome.” You whisper as you settle in front of him with your back turned to his chest. It makes his cheeks glow a soft pink as he kisses your shoulder softly, happy that you can't see his face.
“And you’re the prettiest little thing I’ve ever seen.” He hums into the shell of your ear, thick fingers working to pull the zipper of your dress down.
“I am?” You ask as he pushes the fabric down your shoulders, watching it cascade down your body. His hands are rubbing your back soothingly as the dress finally falls to the ground. He kisses your naked back a few times, a gesture that makes everything ache from your lungs to the space between your legs.
“You are.” He confirms, his touch running down your sides before pulling your body into him. “Too beautiful for this world.”
You feel something hard against your ass, pressing into you with need. You moan quietly, placing your hands over his as he moves them around your body.
He urges your head to the side, tilting it so that your neck is on full display for him.
“Too beautiful to let just anyone touch you, honey.” The first few kisses on your unclothed neck are innocent, starting by your ear and travelling to your shoulder.
To let anyone but me touch you. Is what he really meant, afraid to let the words fall out.
The kisses that follow are darker, his lips sucking on each spot of your neck they stop. He finds a spot he likes, biting at the skin there tenderly, his tongue running over the spot after each bite that is harder.
“Feels like a dream to be this close to you, can’t believe it’s real..” Your mouth is open but there's no sound coming out, jaw slack at the bliss you feel.
His hand runs over your tummy, greedily trying to get a feel for every inch of your body as he sucks and bites at your sensitive skin. The urge to touch him is overwhelming, it was completely tangible, yet it took everything to pull yourself out of the moment.
“S-Sit down.” You request, secretly wishing he would never stop kissing you. “Please, Steve.”
He reaches to hold your hand, not wanting to be away from your touch. Backing up slowly he sits on the edge of the bed, his eyes alight with elation as he pulls you closer to him. You couldn’t help but notice how much softer his eyes got whenever he looked at you, the golden hazel colour becoming a comforting light brown that felt like a warm drink on a cold day.
“What’re you doing, baby?” He’s amused but curious, hands grabbing the backs of your thighs once you get close enough for him to do so.
You stand between his legs, bending down so you can kiss his toned shoulder.
“Showing you this is real.” Your voice is angelic, light and golden as you whisper in his ear.
You kiss along his tan shoulder, taking the time to kiss each freckle that adorns his skin. Your breath along his skin was amiable, heating him up both physically and mentally. The open mouth kisses you trail up and over his Adam's apple are wet and a little sticky from what barely remains of your lipgloss.
His hand moves to the back of your neck, not to hold you there but to massage you and remind you that this was all okay. Somewhere along his neck your kissing turns into a gentle nipping, biting into his skin enough to make his pulse quicken.
When you pull away you look at his skin, the beginnings of broken blood vessels present, but nothing that will leave much of a mark, unfortunately for you.
“I don’t know how all of those women didn’t fall at your feet, Steve.” You run your fingers down the hair of his chest, your thumb running down to above his belly button.
You duck your head down again, kissing the soft skin of his tummy.
Steve groans like you’ve never heard. It starts out as a choked out word, transforming into an inaudible sound of disbelief. He sounds like he’s stuttering, trying to form a sentence but the pleasured noises from his diaphragm keep cutting him off.
You look up at him with half-lidded eyes, the sight above you is so intense you have no choice but to kneel into the ground between his legs.
His chest is heaving heavily, cheeks a burning red colour, beginning to look the way they did that morning when you saw him on his run. The way he’s looking at you is something you had never experienced. It’s hungry and sinful, but at the same time it’s gentle and beautiful, two things you were sure only lovers experienced together.
Humming softly you close your eyes, continuing to leave feather-like kisses on his stomach.
Steve felt as if he was about to have a heart attack. He didn’t find himself in bed with people often, and when he did he was always left emotionally unsatisfied, even physically sometimes.
But this was putting him into overdrive, all of his senses being overloaded at the same time to create a feeling that was burning him to his core. He feels energised but completely weak at the same time. He wants to give you everything right now, but for the first time since the fall of 1984, he’s okay with the idea of letting someone, you, love on him for a moment.
“Steve.” You whisper, the sound causing his eyes to blink open again to look at you. Your hand is on the button of his pants, thumb rubbing over the small details on the front of it. “Can we take these off…”
“Of course.” He sits back up from where he was leaning, cradling your chin in one hand. “Go ahead, my girl.”
My girl.
Your stomach twisted into a knot, heart beating in your ears so persistently that you were sure you must have misheard him. His words are so gentle, stare so intense, but instead you decide not to dwell on words that were most likely created by the heat of the moment.
The button pops open, the zipper coming open slowly. You can’t pull them down anymore without help, looking at him with the beginnings of a pout on your lips.
“Come up on the bed, honey.” He kisses you once you stand to your full height, guiding you onto the bed.
You kneel into the middle of the firm mattress, shamelessly watching as he starts to take his pants and boxers off. He shakes his head as you make eye contact one last time, your lips turned up into a soft smile.
He pushes them down completely, stepping out of his pants and coming onto the bed next to you. You aren’t even looking at him, gaze caught on how his hard cock rests on his stomach when he lays down.
The tip is bitten pink, one thick vein running down the side of it, he easily has the biggest cock you’ve ever seen, the size of it alone makes your stomach twist with need. The longer you looked at it the more you understood his persistence on making you cum before he fucked you.
“Steve.” You swallow thickly, face struck with disbelief. There’s a hint of fear in your voice, a sound that he doesn’t like.
“What’s wrong?” His eyebrows twist along his forehead, placing a hand on your thigh.
“I’m not…I can’t.” You shake your head and place your gaze back to him. “I can’t do it…you’re too big I can’t take it.”
Steve can’t help but smile, clicking his tongue in his mouth as he rubs your thigh.
“You can do it, sweetheart.” He whispers, pulling you into his lap. “You’re such a good girl, I know you can do it.”
“I can try.” You whine, melting in his arms like it’s nothing. “But I’m sorry-”
“None of that, no sorries.” He kisses your cheek gently. “We’ll go so slow, yeah? Stretch you open nice and wide for me.”
Your uneasiness fades into nothing, being replaced by the need to be close to him. You can feel yourself dripping on his abdomen, the slick connecting your cunt to his body. You feel hot, like if you don't get him fast enough you might just start crying.
“Can I be on top?” You ask him, hands already locked around the back of his neck.
“Yeah? You wanna fuck yourself onto me, baby?” He teases, managing to sit up a little bit with you on top of him. “Are you sure you can do it? Be a big girl for me?”
Steve takes notice of how hard you whine when his words are a little condescending. Your focus drifting away, eyes closing as you smile gently and nod your head, trying to find the words to say to him. He never would have expected you to like it so much, but he’s not complaining whatsoever.
“I can do it.” You nod, trying to find a stronger voice. “Need to feel you.”
You placed your knees on either side of him, your hurt hand holding onto his shoulder. The feeling of the gauze there makes Steve feel it off him, checking that the bandage was still okay.
He only looked at you, checking in on you silently the same way he did when your car broke down and he took it to Eddie’s shop for you. The room was loud and busy but even through it he gave you that reassuring look, reminding you he was right there if you needed him.
“It feels okay. I promise.” You say quietly, earning a squeeze on your arm as he places your hand back down on his shoulder.
You reach a hand between your bodies, taking his cock in your hand. It feels even bigger now that you’re holding it, one of your hands not being enough to wrap fully around the top half of it. Steve hisses when you rub your thumb over the slit, pushing the clear liquid leaking out around his burning skin.
“Lift your hips a bit for me.” He suggests, opting to hold the back of one of your thighs to support you through it. You guide the tip of his cock to your entrance, the mere prodding of it against you makes you moan.
You sink down slightly, letting his cock into you just enough to catch him there. Already your cunt is burning from the stretch, the wind being knocked out of you as you manage to fit the tip of his cock into you.
“Look at you, baby.” He praises. “Already takin’ me so well, aren’t you?”
The noises you were trying to conceal break free after that, a loud shaky whimper that has you opening your eyes to see his reaction. He’s staring at you the same way he always does, like you’re what makes the world turn on its axis, causing the sun to set and rise again.
You try to sink down further, the burning sensation only getting worse. Steve can feel how much you’re stretching around him, your walls so tight around him that he’s moaning pornographically. He’s about halfway inside you now and you already feel full, having no idea how you’re meant to fit the rest of him inside.
“Oh god.” You whine, pussy clenching around him tightly. “It’s s’big, you’re so big.”
“I know, honey, I know.” He was rubbing your skin in any way he could, doing anything to ease the pain you were in.
Your voice is almost as weepy as your cunt, dripping down his shaft more with each huff of air you let out.
A little bit more of him pushes in, making your whole body tense in a way that has you pouting in discomfort. Steve knew this was bound to happen, never in his life had anyone taken him with ease on the first try. He hated knowing that this was hurting you, and by the choked up sounds you were making, he knew it was becoming a lot for you to handle.
“I can’t.” You say, feeling embarrassed. “It’s too much, I can’t.”
You had never had anything this big inside of you, your walls not knowing how to with it. The frustration bubbled up with the realisation that you wanted to move, to take him fully, but it felt impossible for a second.
“Hey hey.” Steve whispers quickly, sitting up so he can tug you into his chest a bit. Firm hands rub your naked back, trying to calm the repeated whimpers you let out.
“So brave, hm?” He tells you, letting you tuck your head into his shoulder. “Why’re you embarrassed, baby? I’m so proud of you, doing such a good job.”
He feels you relax into him, shoulders untenseing, your gummy walls opening up for him once again. Steve chuckles as he hears you whine, pulling your face from his neck and looking at him again. Even though it's the first time you’re having sex with him, he knows you well, he knows what you want.
“You were so sure of yourself with my fingers in you.” He taunts, feeling you sliding down his cock at a painfully slow rate.. “Not so tough anymore, huh? My cocks too much…what did I tell you, honey?”
Your head falls back, a loud sigh escaping you when you’re able to take more of him, making Steve groan. He reaches to tug on one of your nipples, the sensitive bud hardening under his fingertips almost immediately.
“I can do it.” You argue, walls fluttering around him with need. “Want it all.”
You let out one last shaky breath, relaxing your body as you take the last bit of him. The fullness you feel is overwhelming, making it seem as if he was in your stomach. You’re gasping as you let him sit in you fully, trying to remember how to breathe properly.
“That’s it, there you go, sweetheart.” Steve grunts. “You feel so good for me, your pretty pussy keeping me nice and warm.”
“Oh my- mmm” You pant, fingernails scraping the back of his neck. Your head is a mess, thoughts floating around so fast that you can’t catch them.
The burn of the stretch begins to fade slowly, clit aching with how much you need to move on him. He’s so big, but you know it’s gonna feel heavenly when you start to bounce on his cock, letting him really split you open.
You try to move, try to lift your hips and move back down onto him but you can’t. Your thighs are shaking, buzzing with a cramping sensation with every move you make. Your hands move to his chest, trying to get leverage but they end up clenching into fists.
“Oh you poor thing.” He teased. “Never been fucked this well have you? Don’t even know what to do with yourself.”
“N-No.” You shook your head. “I need you to help me, Steve, please.”
He’s grabbing one of your legs and untucking it from where you kneel, telling you to wrap your legs around him. It’s a bit awkward trying to manoeuvre your body when he’s inside you, every movement making you wince. The new position has the tip of his cock hitting deep inside your channel, rubbing on that sweet spongy spot that makes your eyes roll back into your head.
It’s a sticky mess between your bodies, your slick coating everything below it from your inner thighs to Steve’s balls. Once you're seated fully on him, you can't stop moaning, feeling every single inch of him pressing into you. His thick arms wrap around you, practically hugging you as he kisses you over and over again, letting you whine into his mouth.
Slowly, he begins pulling your body into him, moving his cock inside you for the first time. It’s sinful how easily your bodies slide together, the motion happening with no struggle at all. His chest hairs are brushing against your breasts, tickling your nipples each time you’re pulled back into his body.
“O-Oh.” It’s a high pitched whimper. “You’re so…you’re so deep.” The way his cock is nudging against your cervix has you reeling, toes curling harshly.
“You’re so fuckin’ wet, honey.” He murmurs, his nose nudging against your throat. “Feels so good around me.”
His hair is a mess now, sticking out a few different ways, his lips are swollen a mean red colour, cheeks stained with a rosy blush. You wondered if he only looked this good when he was inside you, something you intended on putting to the test in the future.
You move against him, not caring how much your legs hurt. The way his cock is sliding in and out of you is too good for you to not try and chase more of it. His fingertips are digging into your hips, holding you there as if he was afraid you were going to try and escape.
“You hear that?” He whispers, looking at you with soft hazel eyes. “Hear how much she likes me?”
He’s talking about your cunt, and it makes you dizzy. The lewd sounds from it are intense, a sticky squelching that fills the room every time his cock thrusts in and pulls out again. It’s delicious, and fuck does it feel good.
Your moans have turned into sobs of pleasure, they’re desperate and breathy, begging him to not stop. It’s too late before you realise how fucked out you are, your emotions getting the best of you as you begin to mumble something that Steve can’t quite make out.
“What is it, baby?” His fingers trace your spine, scratching lightly.
“Am…Am I..” You choke out. “Am I your girl?”
Steve’s face softens, pulling you back into his chest as he shushes you sweetly. Practically hugging you he starts whispering to you, not wanting you to be embarrassed for needing reassurance. He thinks you might be overwhelmed with pleasure, needing to hear him talk to you.
“I’m right here.” He breathes. “You have me, I'm right here.”
He can feel you shaking your head on his neck, fighting his biceps to let you look at him again. There’s a hollow feeling in your heart, a worry that he avoided your question for a reason.
“Steve…Am I your girl?” Your eyes are glossy, lip caught between your teeth. “You called that earlier and…” You trail off, looking at him as you try and fight off the moans that threaten to spill.
“Shh.” He whispers, one hand leaving your back to hold your face. “You’re my girl, honey. Ever since I saw you on my driveway you’ve been my girl.”
He watches your expression soften into relief.
“You’re so sweet and so perfect.” He tells you with confidence. “I don’t want anyone else.”
With your bodies intertwined like this and the words leaving his mouth, Steve can’t stop feeling like maybe he had been wrong about love all this time. Maybe it wasn’t hot and cold or black and white.
Loving you was warm, it was golden, like daylight.
Both of your arms tighten around him, hanging onto him like your life depended on it. His fat cock is still dragging in and out of you, only adding to the immense love you’re feeling for him. He knows you’re content with his response by the long whiny sigh you let out into his ear.
Steve can’t help but to reach down and search for your clit, rubbing the still sensitive bead as delicately as possible. The feels makes the pressure in your stomach grow faster, all the pain you felt before dissolving into a sugary sweet bliss.
“Feels…feels good.” Is all you can get out, making Steve chuckle.
“I bet it does, my pretty girl.” He growls, his cock twitching inside you. The same feeling is growing within Steve, his balls begging to drain with each thrust of his hips. “Can feel you tugging me in, know it must feel good.”
You know you’re done for when you reach down and press a hand into the space above where your pubic hair would grow. You can feel the head of his cock against your hand, tapping it each time Steve pushes into you.
“I-I…oh my fucking god.” You sob out. “I can feel you…”
Steve’s hand is replacing yours before you can think to show him, licking his pink lips as he laughs.
“Shit, baby.” He mocks, pressing his hand into it. “Can feel me in your tummy, huh? Pretty pussy…she's swallowing me whole.”
Everything feels snug right now, from the fit of Steve’s cock in you to the space between your bodies. The bliss growing in your stomach is nearly tipping over the edge, making it hard to breathe in a normal pattern. The sound of Steve moaning and growling your name is making it impossible to keep off your orgasm, teary eyes dragging to look at him.
“S-Steve.” You vibrate, body shaking again as you try and blink the tears away.
“Yeah? Crying over my cock, sweetheart?” He’s taunting you again, knowing the impact it carries. “Just so bent out of shape, huh?”
You don’t get a moment to think before you’re cumming again, white hot pleasure pulsing through your veins. The sob you let out is a scream, followed by several smaller ones back to back to back. You swear your ears are ringing, only being able to hear the small whispers from Steve.
“There’s my good girl.” “Cum on my cock, that’s it.” “So sweet for me aren’t you?”
As you come down your fingers tangle in his brown locks, letting him bite on the skin of your neck again as makes it to the finish line himself. He goes stiff against you with one final hard thrust, staying there as he paints your walls with his release. He thrusts a few times after that, letting his cock cool off from the overload of bliss.
You stay tangled together for sometime after, catching your breath while you draw patterns into his skin. There’s a lingering fear in the air from both of you, not knowing what’s gonna happen when you lift your heads and see eachother again.
He feels you move a hand over his heart once again, feeling it beating.
“Are you okay?” You smile softly just how you did earlier.
“Never been better.” He places a hand over your heart once more, feeling it for a few seconds.
“Are you okay, honey?” He asks you.
“Hanging on…by a lot more than a thread.” You whisper, letting your forehead fall against his before kissing him with the same gentleness as the first kiss you shared tonight.
You felt at peace for the first time since you met Steve, not having to guess how he felt about you through shared glances and stolen touches. He was finally letting you in the way he dreamed of, feeling less scared of the idea of being loved by someone in this way.
“Stay the night.” He whispered as he broke the kiss.
Your chest burned with happiness, your eyes smiling as well as your lips.
“Is this to make up for all the nights you didn’t let me sleep here?” You asked with a light laugh.
“Mm, yeah.” He nodded, pulling you closer. “And you know…you are my girl after all, right?”
“Yeah…yeah, I am.” You whispered, looking at him fondly.
twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)
HOUR SEVENTEEN
in which you watch a movie about dragons with eddie, but there's something deeper beneath the surface to battle. to train. to tame.
→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn
→ warnings: strong language, upside down does not exist, minors dni
→ wc: 3.7k+
→ a/n: omg they still haven't slept they're just like me fr <3 thank you for all the kindness and endless patience you have all had with this story, and for sticking around for the ride. deftones scene that has haunted me for months now will be next hour! and the return of the gc! see y'all next week (maybe)
masterlist.
spotify playlist.
◁ previous part, next part▷
17:00 ─────────ㅇ────── 24:00
HOUR SEVENTEEN - 8:00 AM
“Are you crying right now?”
“No, I’m not.”
“Oh my God, you are.”
“I’m not.”
“Eddie, those are goddamn tears on your cheeks-”
“Oh, fuck off!”
The credits for How To Train Your Dragon roll as background noise to your bickering.
“It’s okay to admit that you were, y’know,” you coo as you lean across the spanse of both your laps, moving to pinch at his cheek as he leans back and moves it further out of your reach, “It’s a very moving ending.”
You’d situated yourself at one end of the couch when you two returned inside, while Eddie had seated himself on the opposite end. Initially, you’d been disappointed, worried about that sudden distance. But the distance disappeared rather quickly as Eddie had fully turned his body, back against the armrest and legs spread out of that empty space, and encouraged you to do the same. A messy entanglement of knees and ankles and calves all pressed together, touching at every interval possible. Anywhere your leg could manage to graze his, it was. A plethora of gentle and minuscule touches, all adding up to something bigger – something that still grows in your chest amongst the vines and beneath his waves.
It was the very thing that made this easy. It wasn’t awkward, neither of you seemed uncomfortable given that the last time you’d used this couch, it had been in very delicate and very different circumstances.
It was all part of being his friend. You were Eddie’s friend.
“Don’t be so condescending,” Eddie’s scowl is adorable, tugging on every infantile bloom gathered on the greenery in your chest.
Boundaries. Your lungs and your vines and your bones had found respectable boundaries amongst themselves, and it was finally easier to breathe around Eddie again.
“I’m not!” you shift your legs, sliding your bare skin against that of his flannel pajamas. He’s quick to wrap a hand around your ankle, thumb pressing into the hard bone as if he’s scared you’re about to run from him again. You’re not; you’re not sure how to convince him, but you can’t imagine there’s anything he could tell you now to send you running once more, “I liked the movie, Eddie. It was… it was really good.”
You’re a terrible liar. You can’t remember half the movie. All you can remember is the way Eddie would animatedly add commentary for you, how there had been a point in the movie the two of you paused for nearly fifteen minutes for him to go on a ramble of his explanation as to why he’d named his bike Nightfury (as if it hadn’t been obvious from the way his face lit up the moment Toothless appeared on screen). All you can remember is how you only wished the movie would never end, so the look on his face would never fade.
“Tell me your favorite scene,” he demands with a knowing smirk. He knows you didn’t pay attention.
“You know…” you pause, racking your brain for a single scene to mention, “The… one…”
“Go on,” he scoots his heels back towards him, elevating his knees so he can prop his elbows up on them and cradle his face mockingly, acting completely enthralled by whatever your answer may be, “The one…?”
You panic, blurting out, “The one with the dragon.”
You miss the pressure of his thumb on your bones. A physical reminder of his grip on you, not just all mumbled metaphorical ones that now reside in you.
“Half the movie was scenes with a dragon.”
“The one where he’s training the dragon.”
That earns a cackle from him. One that pulls from his chest, sends him leaning back from his sarcastic pose and makes him squint his eyes until crinkles appear beside them. You almost consider counting each laugh line, but just as quickly as they appeared, they disappeared.
“Awesome,” he breathes out, stretching his legs out, bumping them back against yours once more, “So specific. You should really be a professional movie critic, you know that?”
“Oh, yeah,” you nod giddily, “Feast your eyes, pretty boy. The next Robert Ebert in the making.”
He’s red. Terribly, terribly red. It’s not a surprise he fights fire with fire as he replies, “Sweetheart, respectfully… who the fuck is Robert Ebert?”
It’s your turn for your cheeks to burn. You’re unsure if he catches it, the flash of sudden shyness at that nickname now. It once sent rage burning down your throat, but you now revel in it. You’d burn for it.
“You’re killing me here, handsome,” that does the trick – a small squeak sounds off from deep within his throat, and he tries to cover it with a cough, “He was a famous movie critic. My newest role model.”
You expect him to go on with the bit, to force your hand and make you expand on it. Your mind is already reeling with ways to insert more innuendos, more nicknames, more ways to drive him as insane as you already had become thanks to him. It was only fair that you return the favor.
He doesn’t.
He’s like a schoolboy, fidgeting beneath your attention. You swear you feel a tremor in his legs that are tangled with yours properly again, and when he grabs your ankle, when he gives it another squeeze and he lays his thumb into that bone again as if he might find a divot specifically worn out just for him, you realize he’s not going to go along with the bit. Your innocent nickname has left him defenseless. Flustered, vibrant pink and crimson red from the bridge of his nose to the tops of his ears.
Oh, this is fun.
You move the foot he’s not holding onto for dear life, shifting it too quick for him to stop you before you sharply prod his exposed stomach with your toes, “Earth to Eddie?”
He jumps at the contact. It happens so fast, you almost can’t keep track of him with your eyes as he’s sporadically jumping up off of the couch, away from your foot and legs and you.
Oh, that’s not fun.
“We should watch another movie,” No, we really shouldn’t. “How’s Scream sound?”
He doesn’t even let you answer him, already rushing towards the entertainment center and dropping into a crouch before the shelves holding some of his movies. His hand moves to his knee, the hand that had once held to your bone, the one that burned a lingering touch into it, and you watch as his fingers start to tap along to a silent beat.
A clear sign of anxiety. Even if you hadn’t come to observe Eddie and learn his ins and outs over the last seventeen hours, you’d know he’s on edge.
“What are you doing?” you baldly ask him, in no mood to beat around the bush.
He’s on edge. All you did was call him handsome, and he’s on fucking edge.
“What do you mean?” he asks over his shoulder, not even so much as looking at you as his fingers trail along the spines of titles, occupying himself with finding a movie you still hadn’t agreed to.
You sit up on your knees, kneeling on the cushions. It almost reminds you of when your knees had last pressed into this couch, “I mean, why the fuck did you get up like that?”
“Like what?”
It’s funny, how easily your previously warm contentment can start to fan into flames of agitation.
“Oh, Jesus-” you cut yourself off, standing just abruptly as he had. You walk with purpose towards him, and he finally turns his face to look at you, “What did I do? Did I cross a line?”
His brows furrow, “What?”
You wave your hand towards the couch, finally stopping off beside him, cocking a hip to accommodate your other hand that rests on it, “The way you just- we were just sitting there and talking and you just-”
You just completely pulled away from me. Physically, yes, but I’m terrified it also be emotionally. You pulled away, and it feels an awful like you’re running away.
All the words you can’t say – all the words you don’t know how to say.
“You jumped up like I said something wrong,” you quietly finish the thought only half truthfully. It’s better than nothing. It still offers a sliver of honesty.
“You didn’t say anything wrong,” he remains crouched, looking up at you with big and wide eyes, face smoothing into shock, “I just… I want to watch another movie.”
“I thought we were past that.”
“Past what?”
“Lying.”
His blush lingers and so does the tapping of his fingers, “Why do you think I’m lying? I’m being serious – you didn’t do anything wrong! I just… You said you haven’t seen Scream, and mentioned something about killing, so I thought-”
“And if I don’t want to watch another movie?” you drop to your knees beside him, and he physically retracts, “See! Jesus Christ, Eddie, be honest with me right now or so help me God-”
“I have been plenty honest tonight, thank you very much,” he scowls immediately. You scoot closer to him on your knees, and this time, he isn’t flinching away, “You didn’t do anything wrong, alright? I… It’s me. My problem, I’ll deal with it. Please just… let me deal with it, okay?”
“Deal with what-”
It’s your fault, really. You scoot even closer on your knees, you’re ignoring the carpet burn sure to remain, when your balance fails you. One moment, you feel as though you have the upper ground with him and this entire argument, and the next you’re falling forward.
You’re falling forward, and Eddie doesn’t hesitate to earnestly attempt to stop your collision with his floor. Attempt being the key word.
It happens slow enough that both of you should have been able to stop it, in retrospect. Because Eddie is successful in catching your elbow, pausing the fall momentarily before he loses his own balance. He falls onto his ass and out of his crouch with a soft oomph, eyes widening comically before he’s collapsing backwards and dragging you with him. Your body drapes over him, cheek pressing into his bare chest, and neither of you move for a second.
A familiar position. From the first few hours, when Eddie had tried to wrestle his damn porn magazine from you. That warm weight that once rested between your hips now digging into him, ribcages once more pressing together with erratic heartbeats pounding against each other through walls of flesh.
You don’t move at first, keeping your face smashed into his chest. The perfect role reversal. At least his face isn’t in your boobs this time.
“I…” Oh, it’s painful to hold in your laughter, words choking up as your mouth quivers in the force of fighting a shit-eating grin, “I-I’m sorry.”
He’s quick to recognize your amusement, “Don’t you dare laugh.”
“I’m not going to!”
“Yes, you are!”
“No, I’m not!”
“Bullshit,” he shifts beneath you, sitting up and bringing you back up with him. His arms are loose around your waist as you slide off of him and sit onto the floor beside him, “Who’s the liar now?”
Another twitch of your lips, another glare shot your way, “I’m…” He raises his eyebrow in a dare, “Okay, yeah, I was going to laugh.”
“Fuckin’ knew it.”
He’s still wrapped around you, even as you sit side by side. Awkward angles and all, he’s clinging to you just as he did on the couch. As if he always needs to be touching you now, as if that line being crossed has made him open his eyes to a million realizations and opportunities.
When he’s not running away, of course.
You want to bring it up, reiterate that you’d like to know what exactly Eddie was ‘dealing with’ as he so eloquently put it. But you can’t, especially not when his thumb finds your soft skin beneath his shirt and strokes it thoughtlessly. An instinct. You wonder if he’s even conscious of it, if he even knows the effect it’s having on you.
Can he hear your heart when he’s this close? Can he hear it’s thunder that shakes your very foundations?
“I was serious,” you finally speak up, realizing you two have spent far too long sitting on his living room floor and just looking into each other’s eyes. If past you knew you ended up in this position, she would have been disgusted, not fawning. “I don’t feel like another movie.”
“Even Scream?”
“Even Scream.”
It’s a hard sentiment to force out, because the idea of getting to sit through another few hours of watching Eddie glow with excitement, to watch his expressions as he tumbles over words of adornment for something he loves and is passionate about, is tempting. But you’re pretty sure if you end up on that couch again, his thumb stroking your ankle as he attempts to keep your attention tethered to a motion picture you could never follow along with sincerely, you’ll just fall asleep.
Sleep deprivation is a bitch.
“What do you want to do instead?” he asks you. He makes no move to stand; you don’t either.
Your eye trails over the entertainment center to avoid his stare, when something catches your eye on the shelf above the movies, “You never did tell me who Deftones are.”
Eddie glances at the shelf of CDs that caught your eye, “You… want to listen to Deftones right now, rather than watch Scream?”
“Yes. I want you to rock my world with Deftones right now rather than watch Scream.”
“What about sleep?”
“What about it?”
“Do you not want to rest? They never said we couldn’t. Actually, right now, they’re assuming we are.”
Amongst the quick back and forth, you have to bite your tongue. You want to scream, no. No, I don’t want to sleep, because if I sleep, I’m missing this. I may never get this again; I can’t risk this.
You shrug, and stand as his arms fall from around you. You miss that weight – you always miss the fucking weight of him. Just like a child with their favorite stuffed animal or blanket, you’re growing too attached too quickly. It’s going to be your downfall. It’s going to be your goddamn reckoning once these hours have slipped away.
Even more reason to not sleep. Even more reason to cling to your time with him.
“No rest for the wicked, am I right?” you force a careless grin and hold out a hand. You silently plead for him to take it, to give you this win just once.
He stares at your hand, then at you, then back to your hand. “You’re a fucking idiot, you know that, right?”
“Yeah,” you sigh out unintentionally when he hesitantly starts to reach out for your hand, grasping his palm to yours. A sudden burst of confidence overrides your system as you say, “But for these final seven hours, I’m your idiot.”
His grip turns steady and firm. A wicked grin crosses his face to match your own.
“That you are, sweetheart. That you are.”
—
As it turns out, Eddie’s radio is broken. He tries to explain what happened, animatedly waving around his hands as he pulls all of the Deftones albums he owns and tries to give you the backstory to the night he broke the poor thing, but you just grab your phone and wave it in front of him instead.
“I’m about to change your life and single handedly convince you to get a smartphone, Munson,” you tease as he takes a seat on the couch beside you.
You’re sat criss-cross, bare knee bumping his thigh as you open your Spotify app.
“I do know what Spotify is,” he grumbles, “I’m not completely lost on the times.”
“You still use physical copies of porn. Excuse me for assuming you don’t know what Spotify is.”
That shuts him up with ease.
He’s completely silent, almost unnoticeable if it weren’t for the warmth radiating off of him and the bounce of his knee beside you. His eyes are watchful, though, as you search up this mysterious band and click on their music profile.
Just as you open your mouth to ask which song you should play, thumb already hovering over their top song of Change (In The House of Flies), he sticks out his open palm.
“What?” you question, looking up from where you’d been focused on the tiny screen.
He wiggles his fingers.
You know that he’s asking for you to hand over the phone, but you still recall the thrill from teasing him earlier. The rush you got from flustering him, from getting under his skin.
Maybe you don’t have to shower him with abundant flirtatious nicknames to do that. Maybe, you can pull back an inch or so, lay off the compliments, figure out a new way to get under his skin in a way that makes you both smile until your cheeks burn, laugh until your stomachs ache.
Instead of giving him the phone, you send your hand out to his and smack it. A punitive attempt at a high five with the angle given.
“Wha-” he starts, staring at his palm you’d just smacked in gentle astonishment, “I wasn’t asking for a high five.”
“No?” you bite down on your inner cheek, reeling back in your smile as he wiggles his fingers again, inching his hand closer to the phone.
This time, instead of slapping at his hand, you smack your hand down into his and lace your fingers together.
A giggle escapes you as he tries to shake your hand from his, and even as he tries to grimace, you catch the smile he’s fighting.
“Sweetheart,” he chastises, “Give me the phone so I can show you the damn band.”
“Ask nicely.”
He gets his hand free from yours and tilts his head in your direction, raising an eyebrow. You only raise your own brow in return.
“Stop being a brat and give me the phone, please,” he repeats himself in a nearly condescending tone.
You’re managing it. Aching cheeks, soon-to-be aching stomachs, as you crawl beneath his skin. “Make me.”
Two simple words are all it takes to finally burrow into him. Literally. You nearly drop your phone when he’s quickly shifting positions, hand no longer be held out for the device as he suddenly dives it into your sides. Your body instinctively curls up protectively, and his forearm is caught against your torso as he begins to do exactly what you had enticed from him. He’s making you.
The asshole is tickling you.
“Eddie!” you screech, no care for how thin the walls of his apartment might be, “Ed-Eddie, stop!”
He’s cackling now between your gasping laughs. Your phone does take a tumble, dropping to both your feet as his second hand joins the torture. You can’t follow the path of his fingertips up and down your sides, only continuing to yelp out as your eyes tear up and you try to fight back. He props himself with a knee on the couch, other leg stretched to the floor as he cowers you into the cushion and your sides begin to ache.
“Stop it! Stop it!”
If you really wanted him to stop, you probably could manage to kick him off of you. One slip of a knee or thigh with intention towards his groin, and you’re sure it would send him flying. But you don’t. You let his body cover yours as your forehead bumps against his shoulder, you let him curl back into you and entrap you so willingly. You let that overwhelming scent of boy take you over.
You let his waves drag you under. You don’t even have to take a breath before it happens; his essence is enough to keep your lungs from collapsing.
“Stop?” he laughs, fingers momentarily slowing but not quite stopping, “Have I made you yet, baby?”
Your laughs die silently. All the air finally leaves your lungs, and you officially can only breathe in him.
Baby.
He senses the change in you immediately. The tickling stops, and he’s leaning back, shoulder leaving your forehead feverish. That’s what it was, it couldn’t possibly be the warmth that glows in your chest from that nickname.
Baby.
You get it. Oh, God, you get it. His quick escape when you’d called him handsome. You’d forgotten that this game of getting beneath his skin and bantering with light teasing goes both ways. You’d forgotten he has as much power over you now as you did him.
Wide, brown eyes meet yours. He’s close enough to kiss. One impulsively lurch forward, and your lips would be back on his. His tongue in your mouth, his hands on your hips, his own hips settled between your thighs – all of this is so, so palpable. And all it would take is one movement.
You hesitate. And he moves, lurching the wrong way. You almost call out, wait. Come back.
Baby.
An echo you can’t grasp onto quickly enough, and it leaves right along with the weight of him.
He leans down and grabs your phone that had fallen, and sits back down beside you as he clears his throat, “Anyways. Um, where were we?”
You kissing me. Me kissing you. Us, kissing, here on this couch.
“Deftones?” you manage to whisper out questioningly instead. You swallow down that desire, a fiery weapon you should probably tamper down anyways.
“Right. Deftones.”
He opens your phone, putting in the code you quietly hand over to him without any hesitation. It was all wasted on that brief look, that moment where you nearly had him back in your grasps and he only slipped away again.
You don’t even care as he deliberates which song to show you first. You think there’s a notification from Steve, a text message in the groupchat, but it’s lost on you.
Baby.
You like the way it sounds, you like the way it fits. You wonder how steep of a price you’d have to pay to hear him say it again.
✶What happens when Eddie tries to hide the less-than-fun side of being a single parent from you, and you discover Miss Mouse can't always save the day?✶
NSFW — angst with a happy ending, reader wears eddie's hoodie, comfort, kissing, 18+ overall for smut, drug/alcohol mention/use
It was January 31st, 1988, and Wayne had come in to check on him again. And maybe he had a reason to when Eddie continued to stare at the pockmarked ceiling, dressed in the same clothes as three days prior, laying on the same bedsheets last washed by well-meaning, pre-aged, liver-spotted, wrinkled hands gnarled from factory work after being tanned on a big rig’s steering wheel for decades.
No music played from the stereo record player; The Doors still sat with the album art turned, stopped mid-spin. The paperback on the nightstand remained unfinished, its dog-eared page trapped as a placeholder from New Year’s Eve. Dust and cigarette ash clung to the room as if saving it in a time capsule of the morning he was arrested, and any movement would disturb the illusion.
“Eddie?” Wayne called out to him with his Free name; one that shouldn’t hold a stigma, because Eddie was a free man, wasn’t he? He was innocent. Even if they hadn’t caught the other guy yet. “You okay if I go?”
Tracing the bumpy lines of the most recent tattoo on his stomach, he answered, “Yeah, I’m fine,” and his uncle breathed as he usually did when he was wringing his mouth with indecision.
Wayne twisted the doorknob, uncertain. “If you’re sure.. And, uh, I’ll stop by the hardware store and pick up somethin’ for the spray paint on the trailer if the cookin’ oil trick doesn’t work, don’t you worry about it.”
Whatever rude thing someone wrote this time, Eddie hadn’t gone outside in days to know.
After a long silence, Wayne cleared his throat and gave a gruff, “I’ll see ya after work,” and left, as foretold by his rackety truck fading further into the night, and the deadness of winter taking over. A staleness of midnight inactivity in the crisp air invading the guitars and amps and magazines Eddie never touched anymore; the ceramic of his bedside lamp, the model car next to his lighter, the binders stacked on his desk with a pencil he hadn’t sharpened since it broke six weeks ago. He didn't get much relief from his routine of ignoring, shutting down, isolating, and desperately trying to get tears to form when he had none left to give, so he wept agape and dry, spiraling downward.
The phone rang.
He wasn’t going to answer—he hadn’t since December unless under obligation—but in case it was Wayne, he did.
“Hello?” The other end of the line was equally hesitant to answer his unrecognizable voice, gone hoarse from disuse. “Hello?” he repeated.
“Eddie?” A beat. “I guess I’ll get this over with. Look, uh, do you remember selling to a girl at Brad’s party a couple months back? Not the Halloween one,” they said, definitely a young woman’s voice, but with each word spoken she lost her fluttery nervous edge and replaced it with a direct tone, leaving no time for him to dawdle.
He hurled his mind into searching his memories before the ones made in the weeks prior, only grazing past the details which haunted him, and registering the question he was asked. “Uh, yeah, yeah I think so. Ah, Sarah? Something generic like that. Sold to her a couple times before. Why?”
Her severe silence loaded the chamber. His forthcoming nature pulled the trigger, never learning when to shut his mouth and keep information to himself. There was no telling who he was speaking to, or what happened to the girl he sold to, or why he was the subject of interest. His stomach clenched in knots at the whiff of gunpowder. He was too relaxed at the prospect of a normal conversation. He said too much. It was happening again. The police sirens would wail any minute now. Whatever happened to Sarah—or whoever—was bad, and he incriminated himself. Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.
But it was her next words that fired the shot. Rang in his ears. And he knew then, as the cold sweat took over his body and bile stung his throat quicker than his heart leapt black spots to his vision, life as he knew it was over.
“I’m pregnant, and it’s yours.”
————
In the beginning…
It was March 7th, 1988, and Eddie walked out.
It was better than listening to Wayne blame himself for not doing enough, or being involved enough, or whateverthefuck he was saying about failing Eddie, because soon those judgments would turn into nags about how Eddie’s irresponsibility got himself into this mess, and those arguments would become shouting matches about his lack of preparedness for raising a baby, and Eddie would end the fight with his fist through the hallway closet door, where his piece of shit father’s jacket swung on the hanger and fell to the floor.
Following the Munson name.
————
In the beginning…
It was April 29th, 1988, and Eddie left his motel room to drive forty-five minutes outside of Hawkins to sit across from a woman in a dimly lit restaurant with her hand laid atop her round belly, and his cold chicken alfredo. The cheese in his oval shaped dish had coagulated, but he wasn’t hungry anyway.
The entire time his mouth ran sentences, he kept his gaze focused on a crumb dirtying the white tablecloth as the candle flickered shadows through their untouched water glasses. Yet, his tone remained animated and optimistic, though a bit hollow. “—So, uh, with the money from workin’ at the gas station, and what I have saved from that graveyard shift I picked up at the laundromat, I can afford the crib no problem. Maybe you could, ah, come with me to pick it out! I don’t really know what I’m supposed to be looking for, but whatever you want, you got it. And—And I’ll start stocking up on diapers, and stuff. Y’know, different sizes. Some clothes. Could even get a nice baby blanket, or somethin’. I guess cribs have those teeny mattresses, so we’ll need sheets for that, too. Um, one of those, y’know, things that hangs over it and spins, puts them to sleep.” His lips hinted at his first smile in weeks at his dumb explanation for a mobile. “And with your job, you have health insurance, don’t you? That’ll.. That’ll really help us out,” he emphasized by bugging his eyes, and nodding. “There’s a position open at an auto shop in town that I’m gonna apply for, but I don’t think insurance will kick in until I work there for a certain number of days. Sucks, but it’s decent money. Better than what I make now, anyway. Um..” Thinking, he sorted through his plan for the future in his head, making sure he didn’t forget anything important—
That’s when he made the mistake of looking up, and a different type of heartache wrung his chest.
Indifference powdered her shimmery beige eyelids, darkening to smoky apathy at the outer corners with a touch of heavy mascara weighing her eyes half-closed. She appeared bored—he wished she appeared bored—but in the eternity he glanced at her, she resembled a loaded chamber moments from cutting him off.
Continuing, he said, “I can also handle the small stuff like bottles, and bibs, and pacifiers. Depending on how much the crib is, I can probably swing the carseat too, just gotta sell my other guitar, and—”
“Eddie,” she stated. He winced.
There was no trace of his smile left on his lips; trembling and licking at the sore metallic-tasting spot he bit out of habit. The first sign of rejection welled behind his eyes. A sense of shame clogged his throat, but he tried, “Are people still bothering you about me?” he asked, so meek and defeated.
Her words were a merciless killing, “Does it matter?” He shrugged, running the side of his hand along the table’s edge, concentrating on the crumb. “And don’t bother buying anything.”
“Why not?” he faltered. “I’m not gonna be some deadbeat who doesn’t provide, okay? I’m good on my word.”
“You know why.”
The cruelty, the truth he denied, struck him.
“You don’t want to try?” His voice went watery, and the candles swam in his vision. “We’re having a baby together, and you don’t want to try and work something out between us?” There was a reason he avoided addressing where the crib would go, or what the arrangement was after coming home from the hospital. In the first few calls they had, she seemed interested when he rattled off the list of cheap apartments he found around Hawkins scribbled into his notebook, and when he lightened the bleak mood with a joke, she laughed, sort of.
Though, he was always the one to call her, and her answers were refined to short words such as yeah, or no. And she did pick up the phone less often, but she was busy with University or her career or there was a family thing that had come up or she was just headed out the door, so he stuck with planning their future by himself, aware of the ugly reality twisting his stomach with dread.
Maybe he was being naive, but he thought she’d come around by now. See how responsible he was being, and maybe.. maybe..
“I’m not interested,” she dismissed him in monotonously stern frankness.
“I thought you said you liked me,” he reminded her, on the verge of something pathetic, “at the party.”
The corner of her jaw twitched from an emotion she ground between her teeth.
That was the final straw.
She swung her gaze around the restaurant, releasing a hard sigh of frustration, and shaking her head. Dropping her hand to the bottom of her belly, she leaned forward, and eviscerated any hope he had for them being together. “I’m not interested,” she hissed under the susurration of nearby tables, “in raising a baby with someone whose reputation is for giving girls discounts when they flirt with him.”
Eddie shrunk into himself, not expecting the hit below the belt.
“You’re just the loser dealer that all the guys send their girls to because they know you’re too lonely to turn them down. I wish I stuck with flirting, because let me tell you, having a couple of smarties to get me through last semester wasn’t fucking worth it.” She motioned at her stomach, he assumed. “I almost missed my finals because I couldn’t stop puking.”
Fat drops wobbled his vision. Anxious sweat from holding his breath prickled his hot face. His knuckles hurt from clacking them against one another, punching bone-on-bone in his lap to distract himself from letting the venom win. Biting impressions of his teeth into tongue from the weight of his one chance at normalcy slipping through his fingers.
The ache of deep-seated rejection stung worse, built worse, escalated worse with every heartbeat echoing in his head: not even someone who’s having your kid wants to be with you.
Chairs skid across the tiles behind him, and a family stood to leave. Eddie faced the stained glass window as they passed, pretending to admire the intricate details while warm tears spilled over the dam, and onto his cheeks in steady drops like rain. Drip, drop, drip, drop..
Embarrassment, failure, freak..
Even before he was wrongfully arrested, his reputation was trash.
Pathetic loser not good enough for his dad, his uncle. Can’t pass fucking high school, or get a girl to stick around for more than a few weeks; just long enough to feel the safety of attachment, learn their likes and dislikes, what their favorite flowers were, and then they’d leave too..
“Doesn’t matter,” she exhaled. One, two—she took two calming breaths through her nose while his was running, and he was trying to not sniffle through the grossness of crying.
Composed and diplomatic, she sat up, smoothed the buttons of her burgundy maternity blouse stretched across her swollen middle, and informed him “I’m giving her up for adoption.”
Eddie froze.
Her.
Tiny tines of salad forks ceased clinking on plates. Silly dull knives unworthy of much else sank into whipped butter, and stopped. Pretty laughter faded, leaving red lipstick kisses staining the rims of wine glasses.
Her.
He froze. A strange cliche to explain how his body reacted. How his heart pounded, and tears splashed onto his clenched fists. How his brain latched onto one word, one word only, and the blood drained from his cheeks to pool liquid rage in his empty belly. How his temper surged like a wave, and crashed, again and again on the shore of fate. How he was thinking sharper, seeing clearer, smelling the raw flame of the candle being snuffed out from his sudden movement.
The tableware rattled when he planted his elbow next to his forgotten dinner, and pointed a stern finger at her stomach. “That’s my daughter, and you will not—”
“C’mon, Ed—”
“No,” he cut her off. He didn’t give a damn if another tear rolled from his wide eyes when he said it, he put conviction behind his voice even when it cracked, “That’s my daughter, and you are not giving her up for adoption.”
“Be serious,” she spat back. “You don’t have the means to take care of a baby. I’m doing this as a favor for the both of us. Mostly for you.”
Eddie sucked his bottom lip inward and chewed the flesh. Shivers of indignation trembled his body, and his nostrils flared from the absolute power he invoked to rein his voice from the snap, bite, snarl his upper lip suggested. “I don’t care what you think is best,” he maintained through the viscous tar coating his refusal in the abhorrence she deserved. “That baby.. She’s mine.” He nodded until the motion was ingrained, and her expression changed. Pointing to himself, now. “She’s mine, and I want her.”
There wasn’t much thought put behind his decision. It was done. It was innate. It was automatic, and her soft warning—”You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into,”—was as heeded as the candle’s flame.
He paid for the date. It cost five hours of his minimum wage. That was all his money. He was hungry when he got back to his shitty motel; opening the door to darkness, and a suitcase of dirty clothes he’d need to sort before going to work at the gas station at the edge of town where his boss cut his hours last week because it was making customers uncomfortable to see a criminal serve them at the till, and a new sound replaced the ding of the cash register: loser, loser, loser..
Already, he couldn’t afford diapers.
Already, he failed.
Already, he was worthless.
Already, he was alone.
Not even the woman he was having a baby with wanted to be with him.
——Now——
Eddie hung up the phone, and you watched his shoulders rise and fall for long moments, listening to the rain pattern shift above. The storm spilled its sorrows on the tin roof, uncaring if the structure could handle the stress of another trial when it was weak and susceptible. It poured, and poured. Ruthless. Vicious and brutal as nature could be, targeting the vulnerable and strong alike.
His back broadened with a breath, and finally, he dropped his hand from the yellowed plastic, staring at the dial pad as his arm went limp at his side. Absorbed by his thoughts as the old night rolled into another low growl of thunder, and whatever was on his mind reflected heavily in his vacant appearance.
“Ed?” You waited for him with a kind lift to your brows, but as soon as his glance landed, your chest tightened.
The emotion in Eddie’s eyes was heavily guarded, communicating little as to what caused the tenseness in his jaw when he averted his gaze to the floor, walking fast and purposefully away from you standing half-dressed in his kitchen, and stopping at the front door with his head down. Going through the motions of buttoning his pants, and buckling his belt, rigid and rough, snapping the leather against itself.
“Is Adrie okay?” you asked, voice coming out painfully shallow, like when you were using it to diffuse a customer service issue with the breeze of happiness and a plastered smile.
Leaned over, he shoved his feet into his boots, and began lacing. “She’s fine.”
Blunt, and closed off. Not like your Eddie from an hour ago. And you didn’t know how to navigate asking him what was wrong, and easing him into opening up to you, coaxing him back to that place of union and understanding.
Left feeling confused, you gleaned that this wasn’t the time to bother him about it, and mumbled, “Okay,” and assumed the rest. You dragged the whispery ends of the blanket across the floor, and picked your sweater off the carpet, having that particular sense of embarrassment as if you’d missed a cue, and should’ve read the room sooner, and been clothed and leaving without him asking.
You dressed in silence, doing up the buttons on the cardigan he so skillfully slipped you out of. Treading over linoleum to wash the evening off your hands and mouth. Making yourself small to fit next to him in the entryway, and putting on your shoes in a state of quiet obedience, missing the warmth of his hands and the comfort of his lovesick grin. Wilting under the coldness of his attitude, and wanting nothing more than to reach out, and soothe that bit of regret knotted between his eyebrows.
He regarded the exposed skin of your upper chest, and handed you his black hoodie from where it hung next to his canvas work jacket. “Here.”
Here wasn’t much of a break in the distance he resurrected between you, but you pulled the heavy scent of cigarettes and cologne over your head, and he almost found himself braving eye contact to tell you, “I’m dropping you off first.”
“What? No,” you blurted, “I’m going with you to pick her up. She’s just scared of thunderstorms, right? No big deal, you can drop me off after.” Which seemed like the right thing to say; that you were fine with Adrie crying, but when he set his gaze on you, a small image of yourself swam in his endless pupils, and your stomach clenched at the animal warning in his unbreakable stare.
Eddie shook his head an imperceptible amount, only enough to loosen the curtain of curls tucked beneath his jacket’s collar, and shift the lamp’s glare at the edge of his bitter coffee eyes. It was a threat to back off. Leave well enough alone. Stop encroaching on the parts of his life he hid, and keep the illusion intact.
“I wanna go,” you assured gently.
However, your support fell short when challenged against the aggressive shine swallowing you whole. He looked at you. Really looked at you with the same intensity as when his hands were on your hips and you rocked yourself in his lap, chests flush together with a lazy prayer of your name on his tongue; when nothing mattered more than honoring each other with lips and teeth, tasting sweat on necks and sucking bruises until moans were spilled from heads thrown back. But instead of unraveling you in shocks of pleasure, the ignorance of your child-free lifestyle softened the harsh lines of his face, and slowly, slowly, the shine dulled. The fight left him.
He saved his apology until his back was turned, and the squeaky doorknob gave under his heavy palm—turning it with too much force—and he cracked open the world beyond the two of you, dousing the lingering tenderness of your affection on his skin with frigid mist. “Sorry tonight ended this way.” The door banged open on the rusted iron handrail, caught on a gust.
The trailer park was bright with daylight. Flash, after flash.
Eddie’s silhouette eclipsed the doorway, outlined in lightning. He stood impossibly taller—like the animal threat still lurked within his structure, and caution stayed within your subconscious, altering how you perceived his lanky frame into something more imposing. His shoulders carried many burdens, bulked from five years of hard labor, possessing strengths you couldn’t imagine. He stepped to the side, insisting the door stay open with the spread of five fingers only, and his body no longer shielded you. You were exposed to the cold splash of rain on your shins. His palm was firm at your lower back, and you peered up at the hard set of his jaw feathering the muscle at the corner, sweeping the bone in a mature edge of stubble. Strands of his frizzy hair whipped in the wind. Droplets speckled his nose like freckles. His gaze, anchored on his car through the downpour, brewed with resentment.
His deep timber resonated in your chest beneath the safety of his hoodie, “Car door’s open, I’ll lock up behind you.”
And you were pushed.
Beaten down to a hunch, you took careful strides in your heeled shoes down the concrete steps and into the soft mud, covering your head as best you could from the cloud’s assault, and flinching at the closeness of the strikes darting around the boundary of treetops surrounding the trailer park. You tried the handle, and the car welcomed you into its dry insides. Guilt followed your tracks of caked on mud, leaves, and dead weeds on his nice red interior, but when you shivered to the bone, you didn’t care as much. Curled in on yourself, you spied Eddie’s vague shape through the waterfall blurring the windshield, and listened to his heavy boots trudge up to the door, and soon, the car sank with his weight too.
The engine roared to life. Heat wouldn’t come from the tiny AC units for some time, but the promise of such gave you hope. Eddie, beside you, drenched beyond measure, did not match your enthusiasm. Shadowed streams snaked across his pinched expression, swimming down his heavy brow, and splitting his raw lips. His bangs stuck to his forehead, and his cheeks trembled from his clacking teeth.
Soft music played from the radio station.
Riders on the Storm.
Two booms of thunder ended your small attempt at a smile from the timing.
Leftover adrenaline pulsed in your veins, fumbling your grip on the seatbelt. Wet earth and unease stroked your skin like skeletal hands, muddying your tights, and soaking his hoodie, weighing it down to your crushed sweater beneath. You wanted to speak; to poke, to prod, to press him to talk to you. The questions were there. On your tongue. At the ready; inviting him to tell you why his mood soured over a situation out of his control, other than the obvious weather.
But Eddie’s face was carved with irritation, baring his teeth as he attempted to buff circles into the icy fog on the windshield, only for it to cloud over in an instant. “C’mon..”
The wipers couldn’t keep up with the powerful current, and the tires struggled to find traction. “Fucking—damnit,” he said, interrupted by him slapping the steering wheel, cascading water off his work jacket, and onto every surface around him.
You twisted your hands in your lap at his mild slip in temper.
Now was not the time to bother him.
In a lurch, your shoulder bumped the door, and your head rocked side to side from the car backing over the swell of mud behind the tires. With another frustrated stomp on the gas, it evened out on paved road, and though the visibility was low, you were off towards the nicer side of Hawkins.
For once, he drove responsibly. Street signs could be read before he passed them. Fallen limbs in the road could be avoided, not ran over. His rings tinked off the glass when he rubbed at the thin fog, and the music was dialed to a somber ambiance behind the deep sighs through his nose. Dark stretches of treetops bent to the wind’s will. Short buildings sat so dim beyond the faint streetlights, they might as well have been deserted. Each red light was a necessary break for him to shove his fingers in the air vents to thaw them.
He never spoke. Never looked at you. He kept himself busy with tasks, and when those tasks were over and his hands were defrosted and the windshield was mostly clear, he regressed within himself. Unnervingly quiet. Turning onto streets with heavier regrets sagging his features the longer he crawled in front of white picket fence houses, and stopped.
The two story home was lit beautifully by the ornate sconces placed on either side of the doorway. Their lawn was manicured, and the sidewalk was free of weeds. No cars were at the mercy of the storm, they were parked inside the two-door garages. There was activity behind the embossed curtains hung in the living room of the residence. Presumably, the biggest shape was the father who called over the phone.
Someone who wore a business suit to the preschool’s Thanksgiving play lived here.
Eddie stalled. He remained seated forward, hands gripped at 10 and 2, squeezing the steering wheel as rain echoed in the belly of the car, battering the roof inches above your damp hair. There was a pause in his movements, his breathing. An awareness in his silence at the questions you didn’t ask. Tension in his pursed lips, rubbing them together as he surveyed the street.
He opened his mouth. Then, he thought better of it, and got out.
Your earnest call of his name was swallowed by the sea cleansing his body of your night together.
Leaping up the bullnose brick stairs, Eddie raised his hand, but before he could knock, the artisanal stained glass shimmered with movement. The immaculate door opened to a winced face. The man’s glasses were askew on his aged eyes, and his peppered hair hung over his eyebrows, no longer gelled back. He exchanged a few tight words with Eddie as Adrie was handed over, and Eddie, of course, shuffled into a meek posture, dipping his head, apologizing profusely. Almost bowing to this man dressed in matching pajamas and a robe. In horror, you watched the door close during one such apology. You could tell it happened in the middle of him speaking, because you had to sit through the agony of Eddie animatedly explaining something only for him to look up, straighten at the realization, and stand there for a few more seconds until the sconces dimmed off.
Worse, still, he cowered in the nook as cruel rain belted his back, doing his best to bundle Adrie in her tattered quilt and securing her on his hip, keeping all of her dry except her little legs wrapped around his middle. She buried her face in his neck, and he hesitated on the balls of his feet, judging the distance between the house and the car. His large palm covered the blanket over her head. All he had was his jacket.
Lightning revealed his weary frown.
At the clap of thunder, he sprinted.
Back in New York, at the going away party your friends threw in your and Robin’s honor, they warned you about moving to the Tornado Alley, and what to look for if one were to appear—green skies and all—but most importantly, they told you an incoming tornado sounded like a train. Being city dwellers, they wouldn’t actually know, but Robin confirmed it. And now you could too, because the piercing wail coming towards you could only belong to a natural disaster, not a four-year-old girl.
Murky water flooded to Eddie’s ankles from where it rushed against the sidewalk, sloshing in with his boot stomped to the floorboard for balance as he ducked inside amidst the fuss. He got Adrie into her carseat as quickly as possible. In the chaos, her overnight backpack fell somewhere in the dark, her quilt was chucked aside, and he cursed when the buckle bit into his thumb. She had a fistful of his hair, tangling it, making it harder to see what he was doing. He may have even threatened her full name to let go. It was hard to hear on account of the shrieking.
“Daddy!” The vowels were elongated, broken by hiccups. He shut the door, and in the small space with no escape, her big emotions rang louder. “Daddy!” Again, the y was screamed with the full power of her lungs, which would be impressive for their tiny size if it wasn’t for the pounding in your skull. She hollered louder when he sat heavily behind the wheel, “Daddy!” He didn’t shush her fourth tantrum spilt on his name; he accepted it, knowing it was futile.
It took all your strength to blink. Sat half-turned in your seat, frozen, gaze unfocused, marveling at your brain’s ability to function. You shifted your attention to Eddie’s face, a surprising few inches from yours.
The heat of his concentration scorched shame to your cheeks.
Avoidant no longer, your reaction to Adrie’s meltdown was the sole subject of his interest. Zeroed in on, dissected, and picked apart by just his eyes alone. Didn’t matter which eye you shied from, you were pinned in both, your discomfort blatant for him to witness. Your clamped mouth, your apologetic withdrawal, your fidgety fingers on your skirt; all of it. All of it was captured in his periphery because he didn’t dare break sight as he turned the key in the ignition, and started a raucous engine you couldn’t remember being turned off.
Humbled by the girl assaulting your senses, your questions were answered.
This was why he didn’t want you to come. This was why he slighted you with a pointed look from the recesses of his annoyance when you trivialized his daughter’s behavior as ‘No big deal.’ This was why he kept you separate from his parental sphere where everything wasn’t made of sunshine and rainbows. This—coming to terms with your inexperience staining each uncontrollable contortion of your unprepared expression—was why he never let anyone near his heart.
Adrie could no longer form his name through her open-mouthed cries, resorting to plain, wet screams which trilled past your eardrums, resulting in a throbbing headache.
At that, he grasped the gear shift, put his boot to the gas, and cut fat lines through the river overflowing the pampered neighborhood streets.
Eddie’s anger was a presence. His embarrassment, too. Just like at the auto shop when problems stacked and stacked into an unbearable weight on top of his sleepless nights and long mornings, he turned inward to delay his outburst. To feel everything so fully in his fists wringing the leather covered steering wheel until it creaked, and teeth gritted until they begged no more. Just that one second to release his frustration, and then it was suppressed from sight. But you felt it. His ire rested below your braced muscles, beneath your clammy palms and in your shallow breath. It invaded the tidy home you kept behind your ribs, taking up residence in your hammering heart.
The humiliation of having the date end when it did paid its dues in his bad mood. Disappointment radiated off his narrowed eyes, and slack frown. “Adrie,” he warned in a low tone.
She bawled louder, shriller than the crack of lightning.
The immense pressure to adapt was upon you. There was no sense in parsing what he expected you to do in this situation, it was clear he was soured by your ineptitude the moment you let it show on your face, but.. Only two short weeks ago, he relied on you to divert Adrie’s meltdown before DND night. And sure, she had already stopped crying by the time you got there, but you could come to his rescue again, couldn’t you?
You twisted around in your seat, proud of yourself for thinking of a solution, and showed him you could handle a modicum of parenthood. “Adrie, look!” you tamped down your children’s television host voice to a delightful, excited cheer, “I’m here. Miss Mouse is—!” Shocked with your hand reaching towards her, shooting pain traveled up your arm from her swift kick to your wrist. You recoiled, rubbing at your forearm without blame. It wasn’t her fault. She wasn’t even looking at you. Her fit was directed at the window she couldn’t peel her attention from, dropping tear after tear from her swollen eyes at the thunder shaking the car. “Adrie?” you tried softer, but she beat her hands on the carseat harder. Wailed until you were defeated to a wince. Yelled until you accepted a unique heartbreak you weren’t prepared for.
Miss Mouse couldn’t always save the day.
Acute twists of rejection wrung your chest. Eddie wasn’t the type to say I told you so, he wasn’t mean like that, but when you sat forward and your gazes moved past one another, never quite meeting, you knew what he was thinking.
Little else stung worse than his obvious cynicism at how this date was concluding.
Exacerbating the issue, Adrie escalated to screeching her distress. Every open sob of hers pulled your focus, invaded your brainspace, overpowered any thought before it began, and set your teeth on edge from the high-pitched squeals you swore vibrated in your bones. Her behavior seeped into your nerves, winding them up, scratching them with the very tip of a brittle nail, inciting a riot. The need to flee crawled under your skin. Breathing was uncomfortable. Your ankle hurt. There was to break in between the blinding pulses of your headache. The car was too hot, too cold, too swerving from the high winds buffeting it sideways. Your tights were too tight. His hoodie too stifling. Itchy yarn from your sweater chafed your damp neck. Alarms of panic battled inside. Louder, louder, louder—Adrie cried louder. Eddie’s lips tugged down at the corners, chin wrinkled, tensing his face from a sadder response. Your lashes fluttered from the chokehold his frown had on you. Fingernails bit your palms. You tried to bide your time, to resist snapping. Dug down deep for something, something you could do, something.. innate. Some answer within you to fix it all. To get her to stop. To get him to relax. Something, something, something—instinctual.
“Pull over!” you barked; Eddie had every right to whip his head around at your sudden demand, but in your panicked state you only cared about the road ahead. “Ju-Just—just—” You scanned the dark parking lot outside the hardware store, and stabbed your finger on the cold window, pointing past it. “The gas station! Under the roof-thing.”
When it wasn’t clear he heard you, you turned towards him at the same time he leaned forward to catch your eye. Justifiable skepticism burdened his brow, tightening the edges of his crow’s feet. His lips hung parted with a confirmation hesitating between them; however, it was silenced after you maintained your need, and the fight against the wind won.
Soppy pebbles scraped wet asphalt, muddied in the bump and grind from Eddie turning too sharply into the sloped driveway, banging into a pothole, and rattling the innards of his already rocky cargo. He careened towards the closed convenience store with its row of dim fluorescent lights inside. Pulling up alongside the gas pumps, he slammed the breaks. A second later, he slapped the windshield wipers OFF, violently shushing their grating squeak.
His patience strained thinner. Working through the sensory overload festering like infected wounds on blistered skin, he rumbled a shallow apology past his aching teeth. Quickly, it devolved into a barrage of doubt. “Look, I’m sorry she—Wait, where’re you—?” The instant fear of rejection shot past his octave. “Wait! Please don’t—”
Cruelly, he thought; heartlessly, he knew; the sun-faded black cotton draped about your shoulders was the last image his adrenaline latched onto, playing it over, and over, door slam and all. He wasn’t parked for more than a clock tick, and you hurled yourself out into the storm, leaving him behind. His first assumption was gentle. Kind whispers stroked the angst in his chest, telling him you needed a break from the noise, that was all. Then the hatred of abandonment gutted his center.
“Giving up already?” he asked aloud in a conclusion only meant to hurt himself when no one was there to answer.
As if sensing his hopelessness, Adrie sniffled into the worst of her hyperventilated cries. Broken disjointed things. Sinking him deeper, deeper into his seat, crossing his arms over his caved chest, shuddering at the hot sting wobbling his vision at his own inadequacy.
Never good enough for anyone to stay.
Tremors of repressed memories wakened the churn of nausea making him sick.
“Baby, baby, it’s okay,” soothed a voice behind him, trickling in with the splash of faraway drops. “It’s okay, sweet baby, I’m here. I’ve got you. I’m here.”
Eddie jerked his chin up and stretched his neck to see into the rearview mirror. The wall of water teetering on his lash line made everything blur, so he tugged down the slick skin beneath his eyes to suck back the tears, and almost allowed them to spill at the scene behind him anyway.
In the reflection, you crawled across the backseat and unbuckled Adrie’s carseat, learning how to maneuver the straps from watching him. She reached for you, your hair, your clothes; small fists belying their strength. You didn’t care. You calmed her struggles with pretty words. “It’s okay, yeah, you can hold on to me, baby. Let’s get you wrapped up nice and warm. There we go.” Shhh. “Let me see your face, so I can clean you up.” Shhh.
“M–M-Mizz Mou—se,” Adrie got out between body-wracked sobs.
“Mhm, I’m here.” Shhh. “Miss Mouse is here.”
—Oh.
“Baby..” So modest was his whisper when so resolute was his yearn.
He leapt into motion, flushed with adrenaline.
The ripple effect of your actions caused tidal waves to swell and crash over him; body hitched in the place where his past convinced him he lost it all, only to collapse into a stuttered exhale of acceptance, understanding there was someone out there who cared about him to this degree; throat constricting with gratitude he could only express by stumbling out into the foggy cold, throwing open the door, and sliding into the backseat with you.
His fingers grazed the baby hairs at your nape on their way to the side of your head, using his wide palm which took up too much room to cradle you steady with a gentleness unknown to his tough skin. He trusted you to forgive him for how hard he knocked his forehead to your temple, and smashed his nose to the soft of your cheek. He need not worry. Beautifully, you adjusted to the bulky arm behind your neck, leaned into the crook of his body he hollowed out for you, and filled the familiar place at his side. You worked diligently to clear his daughter’s face while he passed a strong hand over her back and dropped it to shape his grip at the end of your thigh, curving his fingers in and slotting them to the underside, behind your knee.
“S’okay, Adrie,” you cooed, wiping at the sticky grossness clinging to her nose. “I’ve got you,” you continued the mantra, albeit with a lapse in motherly tenderness as a result of trying not to gag too hard.
Outside the car, the gas station’s tall canopy provided enough coverage to stop the rain from pounding the roof. Harsh winds howled past, encouraging the woeful sobs dropped onto your breasts, but the lightning stayed within the clouds, and the thunder faded in the distance. “Look at me,” you guided, sweeping the hoodie’s cuff over her puffy cheeks glowing splotchy red from the neon beer signs in the postered up convenience store windows. “We’ve got you. Nothing bad can happen when we’re here.”
Eddie lips pulled thin against your skin, breath stuttering damp and thick on your neck like a smothered cry.
“Nothing bad can happen when we’re here, okay?” Repeating the union of you and him, you went on, “We’ve got you. You’re safe with us. Nothing bad can happen when we’re here. Right, sweet bean?” You tucked the quilt around her feet, and held her close. “We won’t let anything bad happen to you, ever.”
With her hands latched into the folds of fabric around your neck—cotton, yarn, and canvas—her big coughs were cushioned by your arms snuggling her to your front while Eddie’s chest was at her back, embracing her between your two bodies converging to protect her in a toasty nest. Warm air hummed from the vents, shooing off the stale chill clinging to the backseat, now disturbed by activity and plucky guitar strings playing over the radio.
Across the Universe.
Undertaking the complexities of the man rubbing his forehead into your hair with the same sort of neediness as his little girl wringing your clothes, you assumed the responsibility of consoling them both. “Nothings gonna change my world,” you mumbled the lyrics into the patchwork quilt covering Adrie’s curls. “Nothings gonna change my world,” you sang to Eddie, face tipped up and eyes falling closed, seeking out his nose to trace the tip of yours along the soft bumps in a devoted offering after the turbulent events causing you both inner strife.
His fingertips became an imposing force spread across the scope of your cheek, turning you toward him, capturing you in a deeper kiss than you were ready for. It was demanding, hard with desperation, misaligned and urgent. Born out of necessity in the moment. He kissed you in front of his daughter, where she could see if she picked her face up from your chest, and a dart of surprise lit your heart at the recklessness. You kept a level hand atop her head in case he’d come to regret the decision, but he didn’t seem to notice, or care. He sighed into a second helping, and at the sound of the wet smack, she stirred.
Adrienne hooked her fingers into your collar and sniffled hard, soothing herself from further cries by hugging you tight, huddling into your comfort, oblivious to what was happening around her.
Easily, you fell into the third kiss. Became what he needed, mouths mashing together at the odd angle, your lower lip plush between his. Dizzying amounts of reverence manifested in his spontaneity. He packed a lifetime’s worth of bottled up feelings into the affection he was privileged to. Giving, and taking. But his impulses were still a puzzle. When he’d drank his fill, he squeezed your leg, broke apart from your lips in a silent slick slide, and drew a deserved breath.
“Sorry, no one’s ever just.. done that for me before.” He shrugged his hand off your thigh at the poor summary of the millions of things on his mind, and left it at that.
Spurred by the praise, you seized the opportunity for communication. “Remember how before we played DND that night, I told you to call me first next time you needed help?” you reminded him, and something vulnerable, maybe even pleadful, entered your tone. “I want to be someone you can rely on, Eddie.”
An unfortunate amount of complicated emotions passed in his eyes. There wasn’t much to garner from them, nor his soft grunt when he dropped his nose to the column of your neck, above Adrie’s head, and regressed into his quiet self. Reserved. Hard to decipher. He did speak up once to warn you she would fall asleep with how you were holding her—same as he did most nights on the couch while Late Night with David Letterman aired—and you embellished your promise to him with a kiss to the stringy curls frizzing at his scalp, “That’s okay.”
And it was okay, truly, when the storm raged heaves of rain against the car, spraying the windows with shocks of water. You dabbed Adrie’s cheeks. Wiped her nose. Rocked her in the same tempo as the backs of Eddie’s fingers stroking your cheekbone, flexed bicep behind your neck. Thunder occurred. Lightning happened. But with your quick thinking, lulling gestures, and genuine effort to speak past the fondness clogging your throat, you calmed her. Calmed her so well, in fact, her hands went limp and her body relaxed, fatigue claiming her victim to the numbered sheep hopping over fences in her dreams. After her tantrums, she was taxed out. Drained.
Stuck in the cramped middle between Eddie and the carseat, you rearranged your legs before they went tingly numb from her weight on your lap, and shifted the pressure off your heels. It was sweet having her fall asleep on you. Her slow breaths filled your arms as a reward for your efforts to hush her. The quilt smelled of their home, cozying itself in your lungs and sweeping you in a sense of longing for the humidity in his kitchen after making soup.
Though, as much as you thrived on the temporary role you played as parent—taking over for Eddie and dwelling on the fact Adrie slept propped on your chest like the many times she napped on his stained coveralls—you could do without the additional pain of him leaning on you too.
You groaned at the sharp twinge in your spine from slouching sideways, and conveniently, your movement roused his consciousness. He launched into a sleepy inhale. Robust, filling his lungs to the brim, too loud, too silly and sweet. He primed you for a solid press of the bridge of his nose to your jaw by thumbing you towards him, after which he pulled away, separating himself from you fully.
Eddie rolled his shoulders, stretching out from the uncomfortable position, and faced the window. He commented in a sincere tone, “You’re good with kids.”
“I know how to entertain kids,” you corrected him. “I don’t know how to do any of the hard shit you do.”
The streetlights painted strokes of dotted orange on his complexion cast in shadow. He played with the tips of his fingers, squishing each one in a line as he ruminated, staring elsewhere, perspiration blurring the outerworld, sealing yourselves in this crowded car together. “You do a good job,” he reassured, petering out in a hoarse whisper.
Ceaseless nerves gnawed at his absent-minded ring spinning. Not a big production like when he wrung his hands or bit his nails, but enough to show he was getting anxious. You’d expected his leg to be bouncing by now, but it was laying softly against yours. Something big was on his mind.
You bumped your knee into his. “Talk to me.”
Talk to me. Yes, you asked the world of him. You knew it, too. Encouraging his gaze to flick to Adrie bundled in your arms, and back to the window. His eyes weren’t wide with fear, just larger than normal at the subtle confrontation. It was time he opened up to you. There wasn’t a concrete ultimatum if he didn’t, but there was a mutual understanding that if this were to continue, he needed to trust you to be there for him. No more reluctance.
He extended his hand towards your knee, patting twice before claiming it in the great breadth of his palm, stroking his thumb over the thin pantyhose; bridging the gap from his earlier behavior, but not yet apologizing for the soreness he caused.
Sorting his thoughts, his throat bobbed twice on the swallow.
And of all the questions he could ask, of all things he could say, of all the topics he could choose, he picked, “Did you ever want kids?”
Heat swam to your cheeks, blood rushed to your ears. Buds of true belonging bloomed at the question, adorning stems of untended longing first planted during the Christmas party at work, ever growing. Your heart pumped faster at the inherent past and implied future of the subject. His curiosity was a mild prod, perhaps not meant to encourage these leaps in logic considering he announced it in the same buckled cadence of someone who was asking about the weather—and yet, the hold it had on you was impossible to deny. A blend of you, Adrie, and him, just like now, but in different contexts—different meanings other than sitting in the back of his car—something domestic, like being piled together on the couch watching Disney movies; that’s what was pushed to the forefront of your mind.
But, despite those instantaneous fantasies, this was a place for honesty, and the significance of your pause between his question and yours was an entity of its own, stiff like his posture.
“Are you ready for this conversation?” you checked. He fostered an anxious glance and nod. “Having kids is not something I ever saw for myself, no.” The consequence of your answer marked his immediate dropped eye contact, but ever patient with him, you continued strongly, “With how I dated and moved around, I didn’t think it was for me, that sort of lifestyle. It’s just not something I put a lot of thought into except when my friends were having kids, and really, they kinda turned me off of the idea. Pregnancy sounds.. daunting. Or—you know—really fucking scary. They’d always talk about how awful it is, all the complications you could have, the risks, the near death experience in one case,” you broke off in a squirm. “And then you don’t even get the relief once the baby comes. Like, seriously, taking care of a newborn sounds straight up terrifying.”
Eddie cracked. His hiss of laughter was a welcomed reprieve, especially when it sank to his chest, gripping his shoulders in a hearty shake. “Y-Yeah,” he got out, face crinkled in all the ways you adored, “it is straight up terrifying.”
You giggled in the softest way, careful to not disturb Adrie’s shallow breaths, and careful to not swoon too head-over-heels over the image of him rocking a baby. “It seems easier when they’re older, though,” you said, broaching the real crux of the conversation with your chin dipped to the top of her head. “Like it’s not as bad when they can actually communicate why they’re crying, or tell you what’s bothering them.”
“Not necessarily easier, just different,” he clarified. “It’s less about making sure this little tiny thing that can choke on its own snot survives the night, and more about the emotionally draining problems like her telling you about her day at preschool, explaining a situation where a group of kids kept giving her tasks to do that sent her away, and she’s smiling so big when she’s telling you, thinking it was a game, but deep down you’re just waiting for the heartbreak years down the line when she realizes they gave her errands to run because they were excluding her, and the reason they were laughing every time she came back was because they took joy in being mean to her.”
Wilt tinted your faint, “Oh..”
“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He upped the pressure he used to pat and rub your knee. “S’part of life.”
Consumed by his side profile, you studied the scope of his impassive expression set on the premature lines edging his face. The urge to find the right thing to say amidst the convoluted churn of anger on his behalf, and sadness on Adrie’s, itched something fierce beneath your skin. Ultimately, no words of inspiration came.
Eddie took an anticipatory breath.
The radio garbled advertisements for the station’s sponsors.
“Still wouldn’t trade it for those first months when she was a newborn, though.” Pursing his mouth thin, he rolled his lips inward with a hardened brow, releasing and scrunching tension around his nose as he shook his head slowly, addressing the memories of those days with a shine of pain to his eyes, and a loud smack of his tongue. “The moment I found out Adrie’s mom was pregnant, I wanted to do the right thing—y’know?” He took his hand off your leg to demonstrate the narrow path he followed. “Kept my head down, stayed focused, didn’t bother anybody, got a real job, and kept my mouth shut. Lotta places didn’t wanna hire me, obviously, but I applied anywhere I could, and when I got the job, I’d go get another one on a different shift, and another one on a graveyard shift. Sold whatever I had—guitars, ‘nd shit—bought what I could with the money. I wanted to be a good man. Be a provider. Be worth something.” Scrubbing his shaky fingers over the stubble on his chin, he aimed to calm himself, but when bringing up the Hell he went through during those times, there was little to stop his pitch from wavering. “Still wasn’t good enough.”
A verdict aimed at him flippantly, yet the impact on his self-esteem was immeasurable.
Gathering himself, he licked the inside of his cheek, and explained, “In the beginning, when Adrie was born, I tried to make it on my own. Locked in this little motel room with a crying baby. Couldn’t go to work. Didn’t have anyone to call to watch her for me, y’know, didn’t.. didn’t have anyone to rely on after walking out on my uncle, and isolating myself from my friends. The people at the bullshit resource center said I wasn’t eligible for benefits because they were for single moms, not dads. And child support was taking too long to kick in. Not like it mattered when it couldn’t pay for a single canister of Similac. I didn’t have fucking anything. Or know anything.”
His shame was only beginning to unravel.
“There were these free classes at a clinic for expecting parents, but I..” He dropped his knuckles to his thigh and fed them along the coarse cotton, using the friction to burn away the guilt. “I-I didn’t go. I didn’t want to go alone. Be the only guy there, by myself. Have all these people w-who might know who I am fucking.. fucking staring at me.” With how he was looking down at his lap, rocking slightly with his movement, he stood no chance against the wall of tears damming at his lashes. “I didn’t want to go because of my sense of pride, and my baby suffered because of it.”
“Eddie, that’s not true—” you stepped in.
Three effective beats of his fist on his leg, and you were left to witness his face crumple from the utter contempt he had for himself.
“It is true,” his volume fluctuated in jumps. “She wouldn’t eat. She wouldn’t fucking eat and keep it down.” Droplets splashed his jeans in unyielding splats. Drip, drop, drip, drop.. They slipped and spread in splotches of salty remorse he couldn’t wipe away quick enough. “Nothing worked. Couldn’t get her to latch onto a bottle, and, and—I didn’t know, I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to microwave the formula, but she wouldn’t take it room temp, so if it was too hot she’d just scream at me until it wasn’t, and I–I just—I was having these breakdowns, I don’t know. I blacked out, and next thing I knew, I was at Harrington’s, and Nancy was taking care of her for me.” The emphasis alluded to much, though the fact their son was only a year older, and Nancy would still be producing milk said it all.
Frantic breaths which wouldn’t catch were pulled past grimaced lips parted on the unrefined sob his confession emerged on. “I never wanted to be with Adrie’s mom, but proving what she said was right, th-that I was a fucking loser who didn’t know what he was doing, it-it-it.” In a desperate flourish, he pointed at his temple, It lives in here, and another tear clung to the tip of his nose, smeared by the back of his wrist.
Stunned useless by the suffocating urge to help him, you blanked. Sat still while your favorite mechanic reduced himself to the wrong opinion of others; the same person who showed his gentle nature by picking worms out of the garage after a heavy rain so they didn’t dry out. Remaining frozen while silent pain wracked your friend’s held breath, heaved and shuddered out as a cough into the same palm he used to catch your ankle when he challenged you to a race on the creepers, and he had to cheat to win before you beat him to the service door. Saying, “Baby, no,” to the man who snuck a smirk over his daughter’s head when he caught you doting over her as she sat on his hip, and the smell of Christmas potluck embedded itself into the memory of Eddie’s eyes hinting at a deeper glint than the tease on his grin.
“I am a fucking failure,” he seeped out his regret. “C-Couldn’t give her what she needed. I still can’t. Still can’t give her what she wants, ever. T-T-Tellin’ her I can’t get her something when she asks for it—and the disappointment. Just a piece of shit who disappoints her. Never good enough—” There was another high-pitched stutter, but it was muffled behind his trembling hands covering his face, and smothered by your intervention.
“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie,” you shot out, hand and voice working together to untangle the trauma his knotted fingers attempted to hide. “Listen to me.” No please, but no lack of kindness, either. “You are not a disappointment. Not then, not now, not ever. Do you hear me? You’re not any of those things.” You tugged at the canvas jacket around his stiff arms tucked tight to his body, and rocked him away from his huddle against the door.
In the aftermath of your scramble to comfort him, Adrienne startled awake. Her soft hmm? became a grunty whine when the sensation of slipping backwards disoriented her. “Daddy?” One of her fists found your hoodie for balance, but her groggy curiosity dealt a heartbreaking blow.
She traced the wet trail on his cheek, encountered a tear in its path, and broke the droplet’s surface tension on her finger, wondering aloud, “Why’s Daddy crying?”
Thinking quickly, you used your muscles earned through unloading car parts from delivery trucks, and scooped her from your lap onto his, diverting the nuance of grown-up-problems by fumbling out, “Daddies cry sometimes, too. Have you told him you love him today? Can you tell him? It’ll make him feel better. Please, Miss Adrie?” Whether or not it was the perfect phrasing wasn’t important. What mattered was the unsuspecting gratitude laden at the base of his frown.
“I love you, Daddy,” Adrie said, latching her arms around his neck. “I love you.”
“You’re a good man,” you added, and rolled onto your hip, fitting your body to his side. You nosed through his long, frazzly curls, and spoke earnestly, but softly into his ear, “You’re a good man, Eddie. Look at how well you take care of her. Look at how well fed, clothed, and happy she is. You make her so happy.. You make me happy, too. You’re the best dad I’ve ever met. No one else compares.”
He dragged a sniffle from his last sob into an unintelligible mumble.
“I’m here.” Shh. “I’m here.” You included Adrie in your hug as you brought your hand up to the other side of his flustered hot face, blending your fingers through the hair stuck to the sweat and stubble on his jaw. “We’re here for you. We’ve got you. Nothing bad can happen when we’re here.” Sweet with conviction, “It’s okay, handsome, I’ve got you.”
Overwhelmed by the small I love you, Daddy, on one side, followed by You’re a good man, on the other, his inhale shivered, and he cuddled Adrie to him for a watery, “I love you, too.” Croaky and real, and mouth agape on an ugly cry he let you witness until his needy reach cupped the back of your head, and smushed you to his wet cheek, scratching the same sentiment into your nape, just like you were rubbing it into his scalp, exchanging the affection without words.
Us and Them funneled through the car, mellowing the heightened emotions with its dreamy saxophone opener.
“I’m so glad to have met you,” you prized in tender sweeps of whispers and thumbs. “I actually look forward to coming into work because of you, even when you hide my pen cup, and tickle me when I go to reach for it on top of the Coke machine. Which is unfair, by the way.”
“Yeah?” he asked for dear reassurance, and distraction.
Humming against the intimate corner of his jaw, you nudged the prickly scruff, and melted into his uncoordinated pets over your ear. “I see your sacrifices, and trust me, Eddie, you’re doing a great job at raising your daughter. Stuff like buying her toys, or cookies, or whatever doesn’t matter. The love you show her is better than any of that. She’s so lucky to have you.”
Another tear dropped to the tattered quilt. Another, another dropped. He squeezed his eyes shut and more fell. Hindered breaths let go in stuttered huffs shook his chest, swayed his damp hair. You circled your thumb over the rivers on his sensitive skin, and found a dry section of your sleeve to clean the price he paid for being a good father without the proper support he needed. Soothing him with fond shushes and feather touches. Forming a ball of comfort around him: cramped in the tiny car, a cast of solid fog on the windows for privacy, Adrie’s blanket draped about your jumbled legs, and her lanky arms wrapped around his neck where precious words were stoked from the embers of a fire which he built. “I wanna color with you to-mah-rrow,” she pronounced. “You can have the dinosaur book, because I want the kitty cats. Deal?” Deal, he nodded.
Your bottom lip introduced a blessing at his sideburn, “You deserve to see yourself how we see you.”
Recovering from the unbearable throb his stuffed sinuses drove to his headache, he tried—“Thank you, baby,”—though the letters were mashed together, and further pulped by the thickness in his throat. Loud, however, was his hug. Crushing you both to him with honed strength; flexed forearms demonstrating the power lying dormant in the track of muscle he snaked around your waist. Groans were earned from his expertise. Bones protested the gesture, begging to be released. It took several seconds of your heartbeat pumping visibly at the edge of your vision, but he let go. Afterall, there was no praise to be had by flattened lungs.
“That hurt,” Adrie complained.
“Ow,” you agreed.
“Sorry,” he said in non-apology.
At a change in tone, you fawned, “But that was a nice hug.”
Adrie rated it, “An 8 out of 10.”
Crowded together, the bond was unmatched. His arms were spread like a greedy dragon hoarding its wealth. Chest open, collecting his most remarkable treasures to the roaring furnace locked within the confines of his body, ready to share the warmth to those who could appreciate its value. Clasped in your hand was Adrie’s ankle, gaining squirmy kicks for each smile and giggle traded under Eddie’s chin. Dressed in his well-loved hoodie, the crook of his elbow fit to your figure, and the backs of his fingers strummed your bicep in a trained motion. None of it was perfect, no. The hoodie could smell less like cigarettes, his forearm stuffed behind you meant you couldn’t recline comfortably, and when he patted your hip, he awakened the dull throb of the bruising grip he left during earlier events.
Those weren’t bad things, though. They were as real as human flaws. Accepted as such, too.
“Are you feeling better?”
Sporting a grin favoring one cheek more than the other, Eddie’s eyes were framed by clumped together lashes after being stripped to his barest self and given the grace he needed. “Yeah,” he answered Adrie in fondness, “I’m feeling better now.” Not forever. He wasn’t cured. But with time, he guided his gaze to the velcro shoe you were wiggling back and forth onto her heel, and climbed his soft study up to the plump concentration on your bottom lip after you released it from between your teeth.
Perceiving his attention, you clocked him with a sneaky grin. “We’re a sardine family.” Brightening at the bewildered noise he made, you tapped Adrie’s knee, and imparted your wisdom as if he should know it too. “Yeah, you know, you, me, and Adrie. Jammed packed back here like a tin of sardines. All squished together.”
They blinked at you. You blinked back.
“And I thought I was supposed to be the one with bad jokes,” Eddie offered after some thought. You cut him a look. “But I like the image,” he amended.
“I like sardines,” Adrie chimed. She didn’t know what sardines were, but you appreciated her enthusiasm.
The conversation waned from there. Drowsiness from the old night seeped into your collective huddle, slouching you all towards one another. Heavy limbs went boneless. Tender brushes of thumbs came to an end. The sound of deep breaths were heard between the local ads for Indiana’s finest antique mall and an uptick in the rain smacking the paved street. Near the edge of sleep, you convinced yourself to get Adrie up and into her carseat. Eddie sat back and watched you go through the steps of buckling her in, listening to her plea for Fluff in her backpack, tucking the quilt around her just right, and hitting your head on the roof in pursuit of making her happy. Taking care of his kid. You collapsed beside him, far closer than would be proper for coworkers, and basked in his approval, noting the pride in his charged gaze. The emotional rollercoaster of the evening took its toll on his swollen face—nevertheless, romance novels could learn a thing or two from the way his stare rendered you weak.
“Should get you home before the storm gets worse,” he warned in an attractive thrum of sternness. He might call you lil’ lady next. Or remind you he promised your father he’d have you back on time.
Floating in the fizzy pool of your crush's attention, you nodded your dizzy head, and observed without need, “Yeah, should get home before it gets worse.”
He laughed. You swam in his laugh, in the instinctual desire based in his mood after watching someone nurture his young. A silly thing to rock you into a sultry sweat considering the outcome of your second date. Luckily, when you stepped out of the car, the frigid mist stole your focus, hosing you down and keeping you from reading too much into the odd chemical imbalance that must be happening in your brain.
The night was really fucking long.
Driving with the radio on low, Eddie drifted his ringed fingers over your forearm whenever they weren’t being used on the stick shift. A small gesture letting you know he was thinking about you when there wasn’t anything to talk about, not that it was needed. The calm was nice. The storm behaved en route to the Buckley’s, avoiding the occasional tree limb blocking a lane. He removed his touch from your person, and with a glance, you were assured it wasn’t the last.
“You didn’t have to walk me to my door,” you gasped, posing with your arms stuck out, useless against mother nature sagging your soaked clothes.
A puddle formed on the wood planks where he wrung his hair. “And make you do this run all by yourself? C’mon, sweet stuff. I’m a gentleman.”
Shivering on the covered porch, your shoes were partially to blame for the slipping incident(s) in the muddy driveway. The lack of the house lights on was another, slowing down your sprint into a crawl. A yellow cast from a lamp in the back room lit the hallway, but other than its soft glow, that was it. Clearly, no one expected you to come home.
“Is it okay if, uh,” you began, “Is it okay if we kiss in front of Adrie?” Oh, how your awkward pointing from yourself to the car came to a charming halt, fingers caught in the stiff fabric of his jacket, under his spell.
Plush pink lips warmed by vented heat promised your worries away.
“I think she’s asleep anyway.” His voice was playful, tugging syllables in the way his lopsided grin ought. “But,” he softened, “yeah, we can kiss in front of her.”
The permission washed over you. Weeks and months in the making. Brewing tension under the surface in your daily interactions—and now? You kissed him. Just for fun, just to show off. You kissed him again. Gentle, pretty brushes. Tame, refined, and for the sake of exploring the lack of boundary before saying goodbye.
Working man arms defined your waist.
Fingers calloused from gripping pens grazed his steady throat.
He swallowed, and spoke endearments with his busy mouth, “Could kiss you all day, baby.” Your lips kicked into a smile which he devoured, kiss after kiss. Neat little things. Virtues, maybe.
“Could’ve kissed me since the day we met,” you answered, feeling the squeeze around your back when his belly pressed you into his embrace. Though, his dismissive snort caused you to frown. “I’m serious. Coulda had me back then. Or at least you could’ve kissed me when we were slow dancing in the garage, or standing under the mistletoe at the Christmas party. Like, seriously, way to make me feel rejected.”
His wide passionate eyes shared common ground with his genuine smirk at your feigned agony. “Excuse you, but I am not having our first kiss be at work.”
“Then why not at DND when everyone left?”
“Because, sweetheart,“ his cadence loved those two words most of all, “I knew I only had a few minutes with you. And I needed a helluva lot more than a few minutes with you.”
“Or, what about when—”
Crazy how you strove to be silenced by his mouth. Craved it like no other, provoking him into eager unions, fulfilling the itch and providing the scratch with your bottom lip between his, just how he liked.
You shifted. Your inner thighs rubbed through your ripped tights. The untimely circumstances bringing you to Robin’s door lived on the surface of your chilly skin; ushering you to reality, and he as well.
“I’m sorry for how all this turned out.” Eddie’s sincere apology pitched his voice to something sorrowful, something deeper, and maybe you underestimated how much the night ending when it did upset him as a man.
“There’s nothing to be sorry about.”
He shuffled his stance, scraping his boots in dissatisfaction. “Baby, you didn’t even get anything,” and you knew what he meant. And it annoyed you he’d even brought it up.
Combing your fingers up from his nape through his hair, you drove him into you, chasing the molten ooze pooling at your center in effort to shut him up. Wet, hard, nipping kisses at his plump lips until they were raw like his tear-stained cheeks. You forwent air. Mouths melding as one, then apart as two, then one, then a set of awake eyes boring into his drunk ones. “Our date was perfect. We needed this.” The trust, the experience, the uncomfortable glimpse into his life and how you handled it. His breakdown, his shame, his face when he finally let go and ugly cried in front of you. “I don’t regret how our night turned out.”
Nodding into a nudge of his nose stroking the side of yours, he was honest with himself, “I don’t regret it, either.”
“Well, you might regret it in the next half-hour if this storm keeps up, and you’re stranded with Adrie in the car because a tree fell across the road.”
“Shit.” Indeed, the weather was turning again. If luck were on his side, he could deal with the high winds and sheets of rain until he got home, but, more likely, he drained his luck over the course of the date, and lightning was about to start again.
Eyeing the sky with hesitance, he asked, “Can I call you tomorrow? Or—today?”
“I’d be upset if you didn’t.” Acting as an endorsement to get going before things worsened, thick forest branches creaked in the distance, popping like warnings. You followed it with snappier affections doled between your palms fitted to his jaw. “Please be safe, Eddie.”
“I will, I will. Kay?” Urgency swept him from kiss to kiss—needy, and intense, treating them as the last. “I adore you, baby. Tell me you adore me.”
Mushy under his tender affirmations, your body went pliant and he accepted your weighty lean on his chest, making it harder than it already was for him to leave his sweetheart behind. “—dore you too, handsome,” you moaned into his mouth, sending him off on a proper goodbye.
“Jesus Christ, woman.”
Ever the lovestruck fool, he stayed rooted on the porch watching your figure move from shadow to light within the home, eyes glued to sways and curves as you met the hallway and bent to peep inside Robin’s room. It was the single lamp being turned off which broke his greedy gaze, and ended his fun. Oh well. His Monday morning was booked with penciled in meetings for his admiration and your assets.
Eddie spun on his heel and stopped stalling. He didn’t bother throwing his arms over his head, he accepted his fate, and ran. Sloshing through puddles, slipping in mud. He wrenched open the door, and fell inside the car. The heater made him sticky warm in the gross way, so he turned it down, and got comfortable behind the wheel, adjusting, adjusting.
Pulling oxygen into his outkissed lungs, he heaved a solid breath, and sank into his seat, unable to comprehend the recent events carving out a new path for him to consider where there wasn’t one before.
——Then——
In the beginning…
Summer died to autumn, and it was time to move on from Steve's. Eddie tried to make it on his own in the motel room over the three day weekend break from work, but his wallet was empty, his baby was dressed in another family's blue sailboat onesie, and come Tuesday morning at 7AM, he needed someone to watch Adrie who wasn't an overworked Nancy Harrington.
Infant in hand, pride left behind in his boyhood, Eddie knocked on his uncle's door, and in Wayne's usual manner, he answered by clearing his throat when neither words nor greetings failed to repair the strained relationship.
“Can I live with you?”
Taking in the marks of fatigue under his nephew's averted eyes, Wayne said, “Of course, son,” and welcomed him inside with a swung gesture.
The walk to the single bedroom humbled what spirit Eddie had remaining. Or, crushed what was left of it. He passed by the kitchen table which still had his chair cocked out, noticed the patched-up hole in the closet door, and flicked on the lightswitch, grazing the curled edge of a poster he hung over a decade ago. His stomach sank at the familiarity.
Blazed by the ornate lamp hung in the corner, standing out like a behemoth beside his white desk, was the crib he was never able to afford.
Adrie grunted awake in her carseat. Looking down at her would spill his tears, so he cranked his head back to stare at the ceiling, steeling himself after spotting the new bedsheets stretched across his mattress, and he knew—he knew—if he turned around, the pullout bed in the living room would still be set up.
His uncle never took his room back.
Defeated by the routine pang of worthlessness, impressed to have any self-esteem left to be stolen from him at the point, Eddie sank to his childhood mattress with his three-month-old daughter at his feet, undressed himself from his boots, and made a clear spot for them both on the bed, away from blankets or pillows. He laid on his side, legs crossed and knees bent with an arm beneath his head. Same position he assumed on the motel’s carpeted floor yesterday when Adrie experienced a milestone: rolling over. Not from her back to her stomach, she wasn’t coordinated enough for that yet, but with enough powerful kicks and wiggling, his paranoia coaxed his other arm around her.
He molded himself to be her protector. Chest sunken on a shallow breath, forearm spooned to her side closest to the edge, and gaze trained on her chubby cheek. Her babbly noise of happiness brought him a sense of reward, and though the newborn smell had faded in the weeks where motor oil stung his nostrils, he put his nose to the top of her head for a whiff of a sweet scent that wasn’t there, and felt the peace it brought him anyway.
Wayne shuffled into the room with a sizable stack of chunky hardcover books between his hands. “I, uh, checked these out from the library. Been doin’ some readin’ while you were gone.” He set them down on the bedside table, and pointed at a few of them. “Learned a lot from the one on the bottom, but they were all, ah, educational, I s’pose.. Some lean more religious than others,” he grumbled. “But, uhm..”
The expectant pause in his uncle’s speech drew Eddie’s awareness.
“Can I hold her?” Wayne asked.
“Yeah.” He almost had the strength to clear the rasp from his throat. “You can hold her.”
Putting his new knowledge to good use, Wayne first worked his palm under Adrie’s head before scooping her into his folded arms. Eddie took his shame in small doses, glancing at his uncle meeting his grandchild for the first time, and looking away when he cooed over her. Three months and his only family member had yet to meet his baby. Three months spent avoiding this trailer, and depriving his uncle from making these memories.
Self-loathing boiled under Eddie’s skin, and still, there was a fleeting desire to brag about Adrie’s neck strength, and how it wasn’t so necessary to be wary of her head falling back.
But he stayed quiet. He pushed his overgrown bangs out of his eyes, and read the book’s titles, wondering what sparked enough interest for Wayne to stuff receipts between the pages, or mark them with paper clips if they were particularly interesting.
Speaking in his gruff smoker’s voice with an edge of seldom heard unease, Wayne introduced a conversation, “I read in that yellow book there that babies shouldn’t sleep in the same bed as the parent. Dangerous, with how tired you are, ‘nd all. Should I put her in the crib?”
As gingerly and delicately as one could be when discussing the reality of a child suffocating to a parent who was well aware of the risks, Eddie regarded him with an annoyed expression, and Wayne shut his mouth in apology.
“I’ve gotta do her night routine again, so I’ll be up for a bit.”
“Yep.” A solid statement, and conclusion, to the conversation.
Bending down, Wayne positioned Adrie in the hollow Eddie created for her, and mentioned there were leftovers in the fridge on his way out. He shut the door behind him. It didn’t take long for tiny fists and tinier fingers to find a lock of his hair, and pull it into a drooly mouth. Didn’t take long, either, for his exhaustion to kick in and for the emotions to crash through his walls.
Tears slipped sideways along his features. Cresting over the bridge of his nose, colliding with his other eye, and joining the wetness at his hairline, dotting the bedsheet. He pressed his face to his baby who was too innocent for this world. “Daddy loves you,” he whispered, tasting the word for the first time. Daddy. It didn’t feel right when Steve stepped in as a father figure, but he could acknowledge it now. He was a dad. A momentous occasion followed by, “I’m so sorry you’re mine.” An apology uttered on a wet hiccup—borderline unintelligible—but after coming back to this trailer, and enduring his memories trapped between its thin walls, he promised, words slurring to a constricted squeak in his throat, “Daddy’s gonna get us a nice house, okay? Your own room. Your own bed. Daddy’s gonna do it. Just give me some time, okay? I’ll do it, I swear. Daddy loves you so much. So fucking much.” The promises bred dread even then, living in the pit of his stomach as future disappointments, knowing he would fail.
Perhaps sensing his distress, his little girl used the last of her energy to kick his arm in a fair warning before her face scrunched, and the wet coughs preluding her wail for food began.
He dried his face on the bedsheet. In this moment, it was hard to continue crying when he had another human relying on him. It was time to move on. Time to bury the pain, and move on. Time to neglect himself, and move on. Time to give up, and move on. Kiss her chubby cheeks so fucking much he feared he’d never be able to stop, and move on.
——Now——
Now, he checked the rearview mirror and Adrie was looking back at him, possessing a curious pinch between her brows at his reflection.
“You were kissing Miss Mouse,” she accused and questioned.
“I was,” he confirmed.
“What does that mean?”
“It means, ah,” he filled the pause with another ah while he searched, “It means we’ll be seeing more of each other. She’ll be coming around more, and stuff. Hanging out with us.”
Ever ponderous, ever candid, ever blunt, she asked, “Does that mean she’s my–”
Crazy Little Thing Called Love blasted their eardrums.
Eddie’s fingers slipped over the volume dial by accident—totally by accident—as he reached for the stick shift, turning the music on high and drowning out the last word of her sentence.
—Mom.
No way in hell was he ready for that conversation after the emotionally grueling night he’d had.
“Whoops,” he pretended, “Sorry, couldn’t hear you—but, uh! Hey, do you wanna start our bedtime story early? Should I go with the princess one, or the Sesame Street gang running their own bakery? Hmm.." He drew out his hum until he was in the clear of the Buckley's mailbox, swearing he wasn't the reason it was laying flat in a ditch. "How about we pick up where the princess one left off? So! The firbolgs have declared alliances with Toadstool Kingdom, and.." Throwing it into first gear, Eddie raced home as quickly, but responsibly, as possible, talking non-stop. His parched throat begged for a drink by the time he pulled into the trailer park—a scratchy pain made worse by his nervous chatter in the elusive quiet of his parked car.
He wrapped Adrie in her quilt as best he could while securing her on his hip and booked it through the rain, unlocking the front door and ducking inside right as an unlucky flash of lightning came.
And when nature’s nightlight died, he blinked and blinked at the spots in his vision.
It was unfathomably dark in his living room.
Stumbling over a small shoe in his way, he patted the wall for the lightswitch, and flipped it. And flipped it again. And harassed it some more. Sighing heavily in defeat, he grabbed the giant flashlight on the kitchen counter, and lit the way. "Looks like we're camping tonight." (Their codeword for when the power was knocked out.)
"Okie dokie," she said, ignorant to the cruel world of no pancakes for Sunday breakfast when the electric stovetop was out of commission.
In the meantime, he got them both ready for bed with the added pain of doing it by a single wobbly light source, ready to pass out the second his body sank to the mattress and his head hit the flat pillow—
But of course, Adrie rocked his shoulder incessantly, goading him into giving her attention at her whim, sanity be damned. "Mm?" he grunted, coating the noise in mild annoyance.
"Daddy?" she checked.
The wait for her question grew excruciatingly long.
He almost wasted an eye roll. "Yes, my child?"
"I wish Miss Mouse was here."
Surprised more so by his yawn than the request itself—and then surprised again when his heartbeat remained calm when confronted with the reality of Adrie noticing too much—he struggled to stay awake in his best interest, perhaps giving an inappropriate answer, and unwittingly feeding into her inner wishes, "I do too." He was fading, and quick. The hard rain had returned, droning white noise on the roof, soothing his eyelids closed over the dry sting they drew. Rolling, fighting the stiff sheets tucked around them both, he threw an arm over her before the doom-roll of thunder came. Sweet dreams greeted him in a pair of tiny arms folded to his chest. Brain shutting down. Night, night. Asleep.
summary: after grabbing dinner with steve, you get a call from him asking if you can go pick up a drunken eddie from the bar.
content (18+ for eventual smut): mostly angst, mentions of drinking and addiction (reader is sober now), taking care of a drunk eddie. if i missed anything, please let me know! and as always, MDNI
a/n: umm i am so overwhelmed with all the love i’ve received on this story so far. thank you so much, i am platonically kissing you all on the forehead 🥹
chapter: 2/? [wc: 3.2k]
You were sat in Benny’s for about an hour now, staring down at your half-eaten burger and fries as Steve rambled on about what he had been up to these past eight years. But if you were being honest with yourself, you hadn’t absorbed a single word he was saying; and if he noticed you were too distracted in the purgatory of your own thoughts to pay him any mind, he didn’t complain. He’d only pause to take a bite out of his burger and sip his milkshake before resuming his ramblings.
And you would have enjoyed listening to every word the King of Hawkins had to say—a feat your younger self would’ve never believed, not in a million years—if it weren’t for Eddie.
The last eight years had been its own form of hell. Between shitty boyfriends, shitty jobs, shitty friends, restless nights that landed you a brief stint in rehab because the only way you were able to fall asleep, to temporary drown out the guilt, was by sneaking into your aunt's liquor cabinet, you weren’t exactly living the high life. And the only person you could blame was yourself.
The day you left Hawkins was the day you knew Eddie couldn’t be in your life anymore. You thought it would be easier that way, to get over him and move on. You had made a choice you knew would cost you the one person you truly loved with every ounce of your soul but were too scared to admit. All those sleepless nights, your hand hovering over your phone, picking it up only to put it down and replace it with a bottle of whiskey when you could have been talking to your best friend, was the proverbial nail in the coffin of your relationship.
However, you had kept one promise and called him when you arrived at your aunts cabin in the dreary hours of a Sunday morning, just needing to hear his voice one last time. He was quick to answer the phone, and when you heard his voice—hoarse with sleep, a deep timber that resonated in your chest—it felt like someone was squeezing your heart with an iron fist.
“S’weird. You not being here and all,” Eddie had said.
You sighed, your eyes fluttering and sinking back into your bed. “It’s weird for me too.”
There was shuffling on his end, and you could just picture him in the kitchen, bleary-eyed and yawning, leaning back against the counter as he shoved his hand in a box of Honey Combs, his unruly mop of brown curls escaping the confines of the scrunchy he had borrowed stolen from you, his tongue darting out to swipe up the crumbs of the cereal that clung to the corner of his mouth, and taking a hearty swig of Yoo-hoo to wash it all down. It was the little things about Eddie, the finer details no one cared to notice, but you’d committed to memory, never wanting to forget what made Eddie so undeniably Eddie.
“Hey, y’know, less than two years till we graduate and we’ll finally be free. Got big plans for us, baby.”
You could just see the smirk on his face and the smug wiggle of his eyebrows. “Oh yeah?” you entertained. “What kind of plans are we talking, Munson?”
“Soon as I hop off that stage, I’m getting the fuck out of this shit town and picking you up. We’ll drive cross country, just you and me, just like we always talk about.”
The fist around your heart squeezed a little tighter. It was getting harder and harder to breathe and you had to force the words out of your throat before the dam broke and your tears threatened to expose you. “Yeah, just like we always talk about,” you echoed, your vocal cords quivering with just enough sadness to be noticed by Eddie.
“Everything okay?”
You hummed. “I’m fine, Ed’s, just tired s’all. Long drive.”
“Right, yeah, sorry,” he said, an awkward breathy laugh following his words before he grew quiet. Serious. “You should probably get some rest. Talk later, ‘kay?”
Your throat tightened, tears slipping between your lashes as you pinched your eyes shut, and all you could manage was a mumbled mhm, yeah before you slammed the phone down on your receiver and curled into yourself, pressing your face into your pillow as your body shook with a sob. Your phone rang again, undoubtedly Eddie calling back because he just knew something was wrong by the sound of your voice, but you didn’t pick it up.
And as the days, weeks, months went by, the phone rang less and less until it stopped ringing altogether. Eddie had eventually surrendered to your silence, admitted defeat, and realized you weren’t there to answer his call and never would be.
“So, what do you do?”
“Huh?” you said, blinking once, twice, snapping your eyes to meet Steve’s curious ones.
“For work,” Steve elaborated. “What do you do for work?”
You cleared your throat, shifting in your seat and sitting up straighter, and tried to maintain an appropriate and friendly amount of eye contact as you spoke, not wanting to seem too distant from the conversation. “Oh, uh, I’m a freelance writer. I work from home most days, so that’s cool.”
But Steve saw through it. Saw right through the façade masking the guilt you were grappling with. He leaned forward slightly, a sympathetic expression flickering across his face, and in a gentle tone said, “He’ll come around, you know. Eddie, I mean. He just needs some time to…process you being back and all.”
You nodded and reached into your shirt collar, untucking the guitar pick necklace Eddie had given you on the day you left, absentmindedly playing with it between your fingers. You still wore it after all these years. “Guess he told you I’ve been a shit friend, huh?”
“Not exactly? He just told me to never mention you. I knew you guys were close. Shit, the whole town did. Wherever you were, there he was, not far behind.” He sipped his milkshake, slurping the remnants with a satisfied hum. “Anyway, I asked about you after I moved in, just making small talk while he was helping me paint my room—well, your room now—and he made it very clear he did not want to talk about you. Thought he was gonna bite my head off when I asked.”
“Can’t say I blame him,” you mumbled, wanting to kick yourself for being so stupid. “I really fucked up. Big time. Only took me eight years to realize that.”
“I assume he’s the unfinished business you were talking about?”
“Yeah, yeah, he is,” you replied and left it at that, but not before asking the one question that had been burning in the back of your mind since arriving in Hawkins. “How’s he been?”
Steve pursed his lips and leaned back into the cushion of the booth, drumming his fingers against the table. “Works part-time as a tattoo artist. Spends his Friday and Saturday Nights performing in Indy with his band. So I guess he’s as good as he can be considering…”
Fondness swelled in your chest at the mention of him performing with his band, a soft smile tugging on your lips. Memories of you and him sitting on his bed as he plucked out a tune to the new song he had written played in your mind like the sweetest melody. He’d be filled with childish excitement to show you. Your opinion was the only one that mattered to him regarding his craft (as he so charmingly called it), and you’d indulge his ego every time he asked, “Do you like it?” Because, yeah, you fucking loved it, you loved him, and you especially loved how he would light up at your praise—his big, chocolate eyes widening, cheeks turning your favorite color of pink, a goofy grin plastered on his boyishly handsome face, the sweet way he would look at you the antithesis of the scowl he wore just hours before.
You felt your eyes welling up at the memory. Now wasn’t the time or place to drown in your sorrow, and you silently chastised yourself for it. But thankfully, Steve bore enough of a distraction to help keep your head above water.
“Can I ask you something?” Steve said, narrowing his gaze at you.
“Sure.”
“How’d you know Eddie would still be living here?”
You shrugged and plucked a cold French fry from your plate, biting down on it. “Call it intuition.”
Right. Intuition. And not something called Google.
xxx
The call had come a little after midnight.
You had been lying in the itchy motel bed, restless and mindlessly scrolling through your e-mail filled with writing projects you had to tend to sooner than later, when Steve's name flashed across your phone screen. You picked it up after the second ring, and before you could get a single hello in, Steve’s words were stampeding over yours in a fit of panic.
“I need your help.”
You quickly sat up, the panic in his voice carrying to your heart. “What’s wrong?”
“Eddie went on a bit of a bender and is too drunk to drive home. The bartender at the Hideout called me to pick him up because he’s refusing to take a taxi, but I’m already back at my girl's place in Indy, so—”
“So you want me to go and get him?”
“Please.”
The desperation in his voice was palpable, and though the last thing you wanted to do was step foot in a bar, you figured this was as good an opportunity as any to start rekindling the friendship you burned, no matter how selfish it may have sounded. “Yeah, I’ll pick him up.”
His relief was just as palpable. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. You have the key I gave you to the house right? Because the chances that Eddie lost his are very high.”
Shoving your legs into your jeans, you patted your pockets and pulled out the shiny object in question, protecting it in the folded palm of your hand. “Yep,” you said and slammed the motel room door, getting into your car. “I’ll take care of everything.”
And that’s how you found yourself in the cramped dive, pushing through a crowd of drunks, shoes sticking to the floor as you searched for the reason why you came here in the first place. It didn’t take you long to find Eddie’s slouched form at the bar, his forehead pressed against the wooden-top of the counter, swaying side to side. Your heart broke at the sight, the urge to coddle him growing stronger with each step.
“Eddie,” you breathed out, bellying up beside him while maintaining a comfortable distance, setting the first boundary of your tentative relationship.
He slowly lifted his head and glared at you through the dark curls that obscured half his face. “You’re not Steve,” he mumbled, his words sticking together like glue, but the disappointment in them was loud and clear.
“I am not,” you concurred wistfully, looking down at your hands. “But he called me and asked if I could take you home.”
He snorted and sat up straighter, downing the last dregs of his beer. He slammed the empty bottle on the counter and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand in a dramatic flare that was only kin to Eddie. “Oh, so your phone does work. Guess just not for me, right?”
Your lungs deflated with a defeated sigh and risked a glance in his direction. He was staring at you, his eyes bloodshot and glassy, heavy with exhaustion. Sweat had his bangs clinging to his forehead, a few pieces pushed up haphazardly from when he was resting his face against the counter, and his cheeks flushed, probably from the combination of the alcohol and the humidity saturating the air.
As he was waiting for your answer, he clocked the familiar guitar pick around your neck, and you suddenly became very, very hot.
“I just—” You started, trying your best not to sound like a petulant child. “Can we please go home? You’re drunk, and this is not the place to talk about—”
“What’s the rush, sweetheart?” He pouted, the pet name meant as a jab and not a term of endearment. He laid on the sarcasm thick. “You just got here. In fact, we should be celebrating that we’re together again. Roomies. Aw, why the long face? Don’t wanna be seen with the freak. S’that it? You really hate me that much that you’d rather—”
“No, Eddie, it’s not that.” You closed your eyes, chewing the inside of your lip to distract you from the tears stinging behind your lids, and you couldn’t help how pathetic you must have sounded when you spoke again. “I don’t hate you. I just can’t be here. In a bar. The alcohol, uh, y’know…I can’t…”
Drunk or not, Eddie heard the tremble in your voice, caught the implication immediately. He noticed how you wrung your hands together, took deep breaths to ground yourself, and gently rocked on your heels the way you always did when you were anxious. And just like that, he softened for you, opening the curtain of vulnerability he hid behind (a privilege only ever extended to you), yearning to take care of you, even if he was the one who needed to be taken care of.
Even if you were the one who hurt him.
The sound of the chair scraping against the floor startled you, and your eyes sprung open to see Eddie towering over you. Not in a threatening way, but in a way that said I got you; I’m here. Pink lips parted, brows furrowed with gentle care and concern, saying everything without having to say anything at all. You didn’t deserve this—his kindness and understanding—not after the pain you inflicted upon his already fragile heart. But you accepted it, grateful for his mercy, and led him out to your car with shaky hands.
xxx
This was not how you planned to spend your first night back in Hawkins. While you had left a few of your belongings (not that you had many to begin with) in your new room, you had told Steve you would stay at the motel for a few days to try and give Eddie some space. But given the drunken vision before you, clad in all black, leather, and chains, that wasn’t going to be happening.
You managed to help Eddie inside without much trouble, disposing of him on the couch and padding to the kitchen to retrieve a cold glass of water for him, thankful you paid enough attention to Steve while he showed you where to find everything. Albeit, the house wasn’t that hard to navigate. It was cozy and small; a kitchen, two bedrooms, one bathroom, and a living room all spitting distance from each other, the place certainly having a very Eddie quality about it.
But you’d have time another day to gush over the intricacies and Eddieness of it all, not when he was only a few feet away in a state of intoxicated bitterness.
Upon your return to the living room, Eddie had shucked his jacket off and was working on unlacing his boots, proving to be very difficult in his woozy haze. Part of you wanted to offer him help but thought better of it, not wanting to intrude on the boundaries you had created.
“God damn fucking boots,” he mumbled, opting to toe them off and kicking each one across the living room, the leather smacking the wall with a loud thud. He closed his eyes and sank back into the couch cushions with a sigh, throwing his arms around himself in a pseudo-hug, leg bouncing up and down.
“Here,” you said softly, holding the glass out to him. “I don’t want you to get dehydrated.”
He peered up at you and took the glass from your hand, gulping the water down before handing it back so you could put it on the coffee table. The tension was the third presence in the room, dominating, suffocating any emotional reprieve you chased after, leaving you to be crushed by the burden of your own shame. Too many things to say, too many ways to say I’m sorry, but there would never be enough sorries in this world to fix what was already destroyed.
You drew in a deep breath and let it go. “Do you need anything else before I—”
“I needed you.” His lips quivered. Two stray tears dragged down his cheeks. “But you weren’t there. You never were.”
You nodded silently. The knife twisted a little deeper. “You’re right. I wasn’t.”
“I needed you and you abandoned me.” He hiccuped, spit collecting in the corner of his mouth. “Did our friendship mean nothing to you?”
“You meant—no—you mean everything to me, Eddie. You mean so fucking much to me,” you urged and clutched your necklace in your hand as if it were your whole heart.
“You promised you’d call. But you never did,” he mumbled.
You frowned. “No, I didn’t call.”
“So I called and called and called and called. Called so many fuckin’ times and called some more after.”
“You did.”
“Then I stopped.”
“I know,” you cooed.
“‘Cause it hurt too much. I…I—” More tears. He was crying a sea of them now, and so were you. You reached out to him, and to your surprise, he took your hands and pulled you in closer, causing you to collapse into his tattooed arms. He cradled your waist and sobbed his soul into your stomach, a storm of pain behind his anger, tears and snot soaking your shirt.
You let him be vulnerable, whispering I’m so sorry, Eddie. I’m here now. Please let me be here for you, and relished in the tender way his hand scratched your back, clinging to you tighter, taking care of you just like he always had. The way he always needed to. You knew by morning when he had sobered up and reality came crashing back he would close the curtain again, shut you out, reject your apologies, brood a little longer, be a little meaner. But you were okay with that because right now it was your turn to take care of him for once.
He was the first to pull away, wiping his nose on the sleeve of his t-shirt, too drunk to care.
“You should get some sleep,” you said and swiped your thumb across his tear-stained cheek.
He nodded and chased the touch of your finger, his eyes fluttering closed. “Please don’t go.”
Those words made you ache. “I won’t,” you whispered. “I promise.”
And you didn’t leave. Eddie laid down, and you covered him with the blanket that hung off the arm of the couch, tucking it right under his chin while gently telling him to turn onto his side. You refilled the glass of water, even cracked open the window because you knew he always ran hot when he slept. When you made sure he was comfortable, you sat on the floor beside him, your cheek pressed into the cushion, and stroked his hair until you both drifted off to sleep.
warnings: nothing rlly, partying, drinking, kissing, fluffy fluff, angsty if u squint!, high mention?, drinking games!!, truth or dare bc im such a cliche <3
summary: a truth or dare game with eddie reveals some truths between the two of you.
authors note: omg i feel like i haven't posted in forever and this so LONGG and if u can guess which show i was heavily inspired by when i wrote the closet scene i will give u thousand of kisses. as usual i kinda hate this and the ending but this took forever to write and idk i just love friends to lovers eddie SOO MUCH. this is proofread but i only read it once so pls ignore any mistakes !! also if u guys enjoyed this pls LEAVE FEEDBACK, come talk to me in asks, requests r open!! ily all sm, mwah, em!
You scoffed as you made your way past the drunken slimy bodies, pushing everyone out of the way until you finally made it into the kitchen, having no idea how Steve had managed to throw a bash this crowded and your head was spinning too much to care now.
Stumbling a bit your feet picked you up toward the drink stand, shaking the empty bottles, you sighed. "Really? All of them?" you huffed annoyed as you turned around, spotting Robin with a bottle in her hand, you smirked.
"Robin! You are my hero." You giggled as you approached her, grabbing the bottle despite her protests as you chugged a huge sip, your face contorting at the taste.
"Jesus, slow down! You're going to get black out drunk again and then complain all day tomorrow." Nancy came up behind Robin as she scoffed, this is what you had been doing all week, and Nancy was starting to get worried but you rolled your eyes at her, while Robin gave her a 'don't say that' look.
"C'mon Nance, let her be. She's got enough on her plate as it is!" Robin made a suggestive look as you took another sip, turning to face her.
Nancy pursed her lips as she shrugged. "And what does that mean?" You asked, knitting your brows together. Robin pointed towards Eddie, and your eyes followed.
He was chugging the beer he had a firm grip on, face contorting as he took more and more sips, your heart dropped to your stomach at the sight, you knew he would be here, yet you couldn't help the tingles that overtook your body when you saw him.
You were so stupid.
"I don't know what you mean." You shrugged your shoulders, lying through your teeth, Eddie had been sort of avoiding you for some time, and now, for a whole week, he was acting as if you didn't exist.
You didn't know why or how, but it was eating away at you.
Spending your days drinking and smoking away your feelings had become a regular habit ever since he had started avoiding you, and Nancy and Robin had started to get worried about your current coping mechanism.
To say you were feeling hurt would be an understatement, you and Eddie were supposed to be friends, best friends even, in the last four years, you had grown close to him, so close that being away from him even for a second hurt.
And now this distance, his cold attitude, not returning any of your calls, and eventually pretending as if you didn't exist, was eating at you, your own insecurities were bubbling up at the surface.
What was so wrong with you that Eddie couldn't even tell it to your face?
"I mean, it is weird, I've never seen the two of you apart for an hour, let alone a week." Robin spoke up, mentally cursing herself for not being able to stop blabbering and Nancy gave her a look, one that meant, 'not the fucking time' and you narrowed your eyes, hurt twinging in your chest.
"Shutting up now?" Robin asked awkwardly, shrugging her shoulders in defense, "I hope." You replied, trying to hide the hurt in your tone.
Your eyes searched for Eddie again, he was now conversing with Argyle and Jonathan, he looked uncomfortable, he could feel your gaze on him and he was doing everything in his willpower to not meet your disappointed eyes, he knew he would soften up the second he saw you.
"I think I have a plan." Nancy muttered to Robin behind you as they quickly left your side, you were too busy to notice anything as you leaned on the wall chugging the bottle again, face feeling numb.
You meant to talk to him, ask him why he was avoiding you, but you were afraid of his answer, what if Eddie didn't want to be your friend anymore?
What if Eddie was going to tell you how much he started hating you and that he never wanted to see your face again?
You would much prefer the distance rather than be shunned by him. You doubted you could handle anything without him by your side.
You knew what you felt for him was far beyond friendship now, but you never could fully admit to it.
For months, Nancy and Robin had been trying to get you to admit to it, but you had always refused, saying the two of you were 'just friends.'
But you knew, and they knew that people who were 'just friends', didn't do what you two did, friends didn't have movie nights where they ended up cuddling each other and falling asleep in each other's arms, sometimes, Eddie would even place a kiss on your forehead when you fell asleep, tucking you in as a grin took over his lips, seeing how peaceful you were.
Friends didn't have dates in Eddie's van, seated in the back as the both of you ashed a joint, wasting away the night before you watched the sunset with him, his childish grin as he told you all of his stupid jokes feeling like a kick in your stomach now.
And you knew, you knew, friends didn't look at each other the same way both of you looked at one another.
So, you were nervous, nervous that you had fucked up the only good thing in your life, nervous of what he might say to you.
But this apparent nervousness was nowhere to be seen when you had drunk this much. Before you knew it, you found your two feet dragging you to his side, unable to take control of yourself, the drunk you had decided that you had enough.
You slid past the drunk bodies standing in the way of Eddie, your fingertips anxiously fiddling with the bottle, you could barely balance yourself, smushing yourself against the wall near him.
"Hi." You intended for your voice to come out soft but your words were slurred, and Eddie almost stilled when he heard it.
His heart was thudding inside of his chest, he knew you would be at Steve's party, but he never thought you would actually talk to him, not when he had been a complete asshole to you for a while now.
His gaze was avoidant, almost as avoidant as he was and your stomach was churning again, and this time it was not the alcohol.
It was all him.
"Hey." His greeting was short, your mouth had dried up, and the drunk version of you didn't have the tolerance you had for the past week.
Your eyes narrowed as you straightened yourself. "Hey? Is that all you have to fucking say?" You almost snapped, you hadn't meant to sound so sharp, the words left your mouth like word vomit, it probably wasn't fair how you spat them at him, but his coldness to you wasn't fair, either.
You knew once you brought the subject to him there was no turning back, you were afraid of the possibility of him never talking to you again but the liquid in your system gave you enough courage to do what you feared, ripping the band-aid off, and you thought maybe, maybe, ending the friendship would cause you less pain than whatever he was supposed to be doing.
"Hello?" He attempted to joke, and if you weren't this stupidly smitten over him, and maybe a bit buzzed, it wouldn't have worked, but it did. All it took for him to soften you up was a stupid joke, causing you to giggle drunkenly, as you leaned into the wall again.
"Really?" You shook your head, "That's the best you got?" You tilted your head to the side, giving him a warm smile, you couldn't help it, it was the most you had talked with him this week, and you were already putty in his hands, you hated him, and you hated the effect he had on you.
He shrugged, it was obvious he felt more comfortable, his eyes not leaving yours. "Made you laugh, didn't I?" you nodded, you didn't mean to get this soft on him this quickly, but you couldn't help it, not when he made you feel at ease this easily.
You hated and loved how everything with Eddie made you feel at ease, feeling safe with him like you could bring your guard down for once.
You huffed, mind more mellow as you eyed him. "Missed this, ya know?" Your words were slurred again, you knew it wasn't the alcohol talking, but at the same time without it, you never would have had the courage.
Eddie's eyes were glossy and riddled with remorse as they gazed into yours, you could sense it, sense that he was feeling guilty, you bit the inside of your cheek when he looked at you like that.
"What?" He asked, dumbfounded.
"Missed this-" you pointed between the two of you, "Just missed being with y-you." You couldn't help it when your words were tangled with each other again, it made you scared to admit any of this, while Eddie just gave you a sigh.
"You're drunk?" He questioned. "Again?" If you didn't know how Eddie had been treating you the past week you'd think he was worried about you, considerate even, but the way his actions changed made you doubt his sincerity.
Eddie had been aware of your new coping mechanism, his mouth felt dry when Steve told him how badly you had been taking Eddie's new demeanor.
"Mhm." You hummed, signaling to the bottle as you attempted to chug it again but Eddie shook his head, quickly taking it away from your hands. You gasped as you straightened yourself. "Rude."
"You will get shit faced and have the worst hangover, and I'm sure you'll curse us out for letting you drink that much." He raised his brows to warn you and you pouted at him like a child.
"You sound just like Nancy." You scoffed, biting back the insult you had at the tip of your tongue about how he decided to care about you now, instead settling on making him chuckle, and just with his laugh, you felt a tinge of pride swell in your chest, it was pathetic how desperate you were for him.
"No fun, I'm crossing you out." You whined as you draw an 'X' in the air, with pouty lips and soft eyes, Eddie had a foolish grin on his face when he was comfortable with you again, almost at peace with how your soul embraced his.
He felt like an asshole, and so fucking stupid for the way he acted, but it was the only thing he knew how to do: running away from his feelings.
"Come on, where the hell have you guys been, we've got some drinking games going on!" You were startled by Robin's loud voice, and as turning to face her, you heard Eddie's groans behind you.
"No way." Eddie shook his head and you threw him a puzzled look.
"No?" You furrowed your brows. "But, you love drinking games."
"Yeah, you love drinking games. Don't be a buzzkill, Munson." Robin interrupted, she shot a look at Eddie that made him confused but intrigued, and he couldn't say no when the two of you dragged him to where everyone else was gathered.
You sat down next to him and felt your hazy drunken state get worse, it was as if everything was becoming all too real.
Realizing that the conversation you just had with him meant nothing, not after he had been avoiding you for a week, and now your mind was swirled with the thoughts of what was going to happen when you two finally had 'the talk', anxiety riddling over your body again.
"What game are we playing?" You asked in an attempt to shake off your thoughts, it didn't help when Eddie's gaze landed on you and you could feel your cheeks burning with his gaze alone, causing you to chew on your bottom lip out of nervousness.
"We just played endless rounds of 'Never Have I Ever'" Nancy sighed, almost annoyed.
"Turns out Steve the King is bit of a slut." Robin semi-whispered as Steve gasped, holding his heart to be dramatic.
"Really, Robin?" He furrowed his brows. "Well, it's not my fault you hooked up with the half of—" Robin was interrupted by Eddie's groan.
"C'mon you guys let's just play whatever this is and get on with it." His voice sounded annoyed, you turned to face him, but Eddie was already avoiding your gaze again, he looked nervous, and you wanted to roll your eyes, he was being an asshole, again.
You could feel anger bubbling up inside of your chest, and Robin could feel the tension in the air. "Okayy, truth or dare it is!" Robin interrupted with a nervous giggle.
"I thought we were playing Never Have I Ever-" You were shut up by Robin's shushes.
"Yes and now we switched to Truth or Dare, keep up, sweetheart." You furrowed your brows and giggled, turning to Steve as if to ask what was wrong with Robin, but Steve put his hands up in defense, shrugging.
Something weird was going on and you couldn't put a finger on it, and to be honest, your mind was too fuzzy to figure any of it out, filled both with alcohol and the thoughts of Eddie. Robin grabbed the bottle and spun it around the circle, the anticipation of it made her fiddle in her place, and when it landed on Steve, she groaned.
"Steve! I think you should pick truth, are you a virgin? Oh wait, you are not! Let me spin it again." Robin talked so fast that even Eddie threw her a look, you were usually used to her fast-paced actions but she was giving you a whiplash now.
"Robin, what the hell are you—" Eddie's words were cut short by Robin's shriek.
"Wow! It landed on Eddie, what a surprise." Robin rubbed her hands together almost like a villain in a cartoon.
"So, truth or dare, Eddie? Oh, also you can't say truth because Steve just picked that." Robin hit her hand against her forehead in a fake manner, and you giggled again at her actions, unaware of what was coming next.
"Okaa...ay, dare?" Eddie asked unsurely, and Robin mimicked a thinking face, you had no idea what was coming next, but you doubted anything Robin would dare him to do could fix whatever was going on with Eddie.
"I dare you to..." She paused for a minute.
"Go into that closet and not come out until you and Y/N make out." Robin's words were like a slap on your face, and she had that stupid grin on her face that you wanted to wipe off.
"Excuse me?" The two of you said in unison and you were afraid to look at him now.
"I mean... a dare is a dare." Steve shrugged, and Robin nodded quickly causing you to sigh.
"You are a child, Robin." You threw her a death stare, your mind was still hazy as you began to get up, and Eddie was still where he was sitting, he twisted his rings, an action you knew he did when he was nervous.
"Well, are you just going to wait around all day?" You snapped, not knowing what came over you when you were this drunk.
"You're okay with this?" Eddie's face was almost red as he looked up at you, hating the way a nervous tingle formed in your stomach with how he looked at you.
"It's just a d—dare, let's get it over with." You meant to sound confident but your words came out as a murmur.
"This is so stupid." He scoffed as he followed you into the closet, Robin following up behind the two of you. She locked the door when the two of you entered and she sent you a smirk before she did so, making you scoff.
"I swear I'm going to kill her." You said sharply, turning your back on the door.
When you finally faced Eddie you realized how close he was standing to your face, his tall figure towering over you was enough to make your breath hitch.
"Hi." was all he muttered as he looked down on you, making you realize how much you missed the warmth of his soft gaze and you hated yourself for how enamored you were with him.
"Hi." You managed to let out when you caught your breath, the room felt suffocating, and you could barely swallow the lump in your throat.
The possibility of him kissing you made you want to scream, both from excitement and fear.
"So... we have to kiss?" He said awkwardly, scratching his head, almost as if it were a question and you nodded quickly, knowing he was too nervous to make the first move so you had to take matters into your own hands.
"What's the big deal? It's just a kiss. We've been best friends for years, we can do it." You said, with a nonchalant tone, but the hint of nervousness was still visible.
"Let's just do it!" You announced excitedly, "kiss me, Edward Munson!" Eddie chuckled at that, making you realize how much you had missed that genuine laugh.
"Edward..." He tilted his head, "Really?" He raised a brow, causing you to pout.
"Yeah." You giggled softly, offering him a smile, knowing how much he hated someone saying his full name, he gave you a light chuckle.
“Okay, yeah, I think I deserved that." He attempted to joke, the air still tense but filled with your giggles.
"Let's do this...” Eddie added cooly, his hands at his side as he leaned towards you, licking his lips.
“Why are you licking your lips?” You questioned, making Eddie chuckle, as he stopped leaning in further.
"Should I not?" He raised a brow, "I mean do you want dry lips?” He asked sarcastically and you shook your head chuckling.
"No, no!" You protested, face burning from embarrassment. "Never mind..." You chuckled.
“I didn’t think it was—” Eddie started but you interrupted, “No.. no it’s okay.. I just..” You were a stuttering mess now.
"Let’s do it.. I—I’m ready.” His tone was soft when he spoke, he was less nervous and you nodded frantically.
You started leaning in but then abruptly stopped, making Eddie furrow his brows.
“Do you want tongue? Are you like a tonguer?” You asked, your face was serious and Eddie's eyes widened.
“Am I a what?” Eddie asked baffled as you chuckled, shaking your head.
"Fuck..." You cursed, giggles errupting in your throat from nervousness. "I didn't mean it like that, I just meant—" You were babbling, your heart hammering inside of your chest.
"I mean do you like tongue in kissing? I just— I wouldn’t wanna use tongue if you don’t want to..." You trailed off.
“Let’s just do it!” Eddie exclaimed interrupting as you let out another giggle, your nerves were getting the best of you.
“Yes, sorry. Are you ready?” You asked, weight of anticipation settling heavily in your chest as Eddie nodded, “Yes.. I’m ready.. let’s just do this..” Eddie let out slowly, scratching his head from nervousness as you nodded once again.
You barely moved when he leaned towards you, almost frozen in place you stared at him, stared at the sickly sweet brown of his eyes, stared at his dark hair that messily laid on his forehead, and you couldn't help it when your eyes lowered down to gaze at his lips, adoring the curve of his mouth.
Your gaze was stuck on him in a way that made your eyes glimmer with an array of emotions, not knowing if this would be your first and last kiss with him, trying your best to etch this sight of him into your mind forever, unsure of whether you could ever see him up this close again.
and as if Eddie could read your mind, he realized, he realized the weight of how you were staring at him. With more he studied your face, the connection between the two of you deepened, unraveling what he most wanted. You.
“Fuck— You.. you can’t do that!” He exclaimed, desperately, and you knitted your brows in confusion, “What... what did I do?” Eddie was being ridiculous now.
"Jesus Christ, you can't just do that to me." His face was burning up, he thought maybe, that this dare would be good for him, maybe the best way to get over his feelings was to kiss you for once, but the way your eyes glimmered was enough to make him want to stare at you forever, and he couldn't do that when he was trying to keep his feelings for you bottled up, forever.
Now, he was regretting the dare as he could feel the pressure building and you looked so pretty that Eddie felt his heart sink in his body, if he kissed you, he knew he couldn't contain his feelings for you no longer, he sighed, shaking his head.
“You can't do that thing with your eyes and face!” He exclaimed as you scoffed, “What the hell are you talking about?” You almost yelled, getting frustrated by his stand-offish attitude.
“Okay that’s it.. I— I can’t do it!” He huffed as he reached for the doorknob, struggling with it.
“Let me out guys!” Eddie yelled but Robin just chuckled, “You have to kiss her, you idiot!”
“Let me out of here, Robin!” He yelled louder this time, but instead of Robin answering this time Steve, Nancy, Argyle, Jonathan, and the gathered crowd answered to him, chanting “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” and Eddie rolled his eyes, cursing.
“Oh come on Eddie, let’s just do this! Just one kiss!” You said annoyed, and you felt a bit rejected at how much he wanted to leave.
Eddie turned around to meet your gaze, “No, I’m not gonna fucking kiss you.” His words were bitter and you bit the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from crying in front of him.
“Eddie we've been best friends for four years! A little kiss isn’t gonna change anything.” The words that left your mouth stung him, it wasn't easy on you but the emphasis on the two of you being best friends and how a kiss wouldn't change a thing between the two of you was the exact reason he was avoiding you.
Eddie knew if you had rejected him, and told him that you didn't reciprocate his feelings, it would eventually lead to the two of you not being friends.
And he couldn't handle that idea, he couldn't handle not being around you. That's why he tried to stay away from you, just so he could contain his feelings for you, at least for a while.
His gaze on you was agonizing, “Stop looking at me like that.” He muttered as you rolled your eyes, and crossed your arms around your chest, annoyed.
“God, will you just kiss me already!” You blurted out, now getting annoyed with him, not being able to comprehend why Eddie was making such a big deal out of this when it was just supposed to be a dare.
"No."
“Why not?” You questioned, eager to know why he had been acting this way, Eddie ran his hands across his hair, ruffling it before he gripped your shoulders to get your attention fully, “Because..." He took a deep breath as he put his trembling hands into his back pockets, he was trying to hold himself back, but he couldn't, not when you looked at him that way.
"Because I don't want to kiss you like this!” He almost snapped, his feelings taking over before his logic could, and you went rigid with his words.
His own reaction was delayed as his eyes widened at his own words, and he was standing close to you, so close, that your breath hitched when he said that. “What.. what does that mean?” Your head was spinning as Eddie looked down, almost as if he was embarrassed.
“Nothing! I didn’t— I just... That’s not what I fucking meant..” Eddie stuttered over his words, he felt like his desperation had trickled into the very air he was breathing in, his own words suffocating him and your gaze mocking him, he couldn't handle it further as people outside the closet started chanting “Kiss! Kiss!” again.
Eddie scoffed again, “Shit— just, excuse me..” He cursed out as he tried the doorknob again.
“What are you doing?” You asked curiously, you wanted to talk to him now.
“Just need some air” He murmured and tried the door again.
“Robin, just open up!” Eddie yelled out making Robin groan, “Did you kiss her?” Eddie rolled his eyes, and he got ready to curse Robin out but you placed your hands over his mouth, shushing him.
“Yes, yes Robin! We fucking did, we even french kissed! You happy?” You yelled out as Robin giddily chuckled unlocking the door.
You threw her a dead stare as Eddie just brushed past her, hurrying his way out and you followed quickly behind him.
"Eddie, just wait!" You called out after him, you were curious to know what he meant, why he was acting this way, none of it was making sense to you and you were still very buzzed.
"Just leave me the fuck alone, Y/N." He didn't even turn around to face you and it hurt.
"No! I'm not going to fucking run away this time." You yelled, catching up to him, and Eddie turned around swiftly.
"What are you talking about?" He asked, his tone curious and not annoyed like before.
"I'm not playing your stupid game anymore, I don't care if you tell me you hate me, Eddie, just tell me what's wrong, tell me what I did to make you push me away this much. You can insult me and tell me to 'fucking leave' but I won't leave until you tell me to my face what I did to make you push me away, you fucking coward!" You spat out the words, rolling your shoulders as you felt your anger coming out to the surface.
Eddie rubbed his hands against his face, you were asking for him to be vulnerable, and he knew that if he opened up to you, you would probably laugh in his face.
"I just—" He scoffed, "I don't wanna do this. Not right now." He sighed, and he drooped his head, his gaze fixated on the ground now.
"Just tell me what the fuck is wrong, Eddie." You almost yelled, feeling your face hot with anger. "What did you mean by when you said you didn't want to kiss me like this?"
"And why have you been avoiding me, why can't you even look me in the fucking eye right now?" To say you were frustrated would be an understatement, liquid courage had worked a little too well and you were pouring your gut out to him.
You crossed your arms against your chest, feeling your cheeks burning up with anger, you were filled with fury, and nothing Eddie could do was going to change that.
In fact, it made it worse when he kept avoiding his gaze. "Fuck you." You spat out, index finger pointed towards him, hostility written all over your face, your feet picked you up before your mind realized, and you brushed past him as you angrily left his side.
"Just— fucking wait!" His words rang in your ears but you didn't care, you kept walking while Eddie was right behind you.
"Let me just explain!" He yelled out after you. "Jesus— you're fucking fast." He added as he tried to catch up to you.
You stopped in your tracks, and your back was turned to him. "Eddie, just get it over with." You crossed your arms against your chest again, feeling your insides twist as you waited for him to pull the band-aid off.
"What?" He raised his brows in confusion, and you didn't dare to look at him.
"You realized it, didn't you? I mean it took me a while to realize it myself." Your voice was timid, not trusting yourself enough that you wouldn't break down completely in front of him.
"And you realized you didn't reciprocate them, and you're trying to let me off easy by avoiding me." You could feel tears prickling your eyes but you shook your head to make them go away.
"I know you hate confrontation." Your voice was cracking now, and Eddie hated it, he hated being the reason you were about to cry, he hated being the reason you doubted yourself because of him.
"What are you talking about? Reciprocating what?" He didn't dare to turn you to face him, he was still shocked at the possibility of what you were hinting at.
"Feelings, Eddie. My fucking feelings for you!" You turned around to face him now, and his eyes had softened, he blinked slowly to process what you were saying. The air between the two of you was filled with unspoken emotions, your body ridden with anticipation and anxiety.
But Eddie felt stupid, so fucking stupid. He spent this whole week bottling up his feelings for you, and avoiding you to do so because he thought he wasn't good enough for you, he thought you would actually mock him.
He should've known you would never do that, he should've told the insecure voice in his head to shut the fuck up.
Because there you were in front of him, saying exactly what he was feeling, and he felt like the biggest idiot in the world.
"Your... what?" His eyebrows furrowed, and he wanted to laugh, he wanted to laugh at how stupid he was being.
"Just— let's just pretend this never happened." You could barely look at him, nervously fiddling with your fingers.
"Nope." He shook his head.
There was no fucking way he would pretend this had never happened, he had been waiting, for years to tell you how he felt, every night he would give himself a pep talk, encouraging himself to finally open up to you, but when he finally saw you in the morning, and you gave him that warm smile and those doe-eyes, he always backed out, scared of losing you forever.
"No fucking way." He shook his head, and a chuckle escaped his lips.
The look you threw him was filled with disdain, "Oh, so this is funny to you?" You were quick to judge him, turning around and muttering curse words as your feet began to pick up again.
"Jesus Christ, will you let me speak!" He yelled out again and you shook your head, walking faster. Eddie scoffed, "So. Fucking. Stubborn." He muttered under his breath.
He caught up to you once again and this time he reached out to your free hand, and he grabbed it in a tight firm, spinning you around to face him, you were about to cuss him out again, and throw him a death glare, but his gaze was so gentle that you couldn't help it, your eyes were mellow, sickly sweet, as they met his.
Your heart reacted before you could, thumping in your chest. Eddie was leaning so close towards you that you sensed his heavy breathing against your face, you didn't dare to move, not until his tender fingertips brushed against your cheeks, he leaned over so agonizingly slow that you couldn't help but close the gap between the two of you, soft lips clashing with each other as you whimpered the second your mouth met his.
Eddie's chest fizzled with warmness, the smell of your perfume mixed with alcohol dizzying him while your head was still pounding as you were trying to process what was happening, there wasn't enough air in the world for your lungs to pull in.
You deepened the kiss when Eddie's hands slowly cupped your cheeks, parting your lips as his tongue explored yours, shuddering at his touch.
Your brain didn't process any of it, not until the initial shock wore off, that's when you pulled back slightly, catching your breath as you blinked confusedly at him, unable to find the words to speak.
Eddie licked his lips as they twitched to form a smile, speaking up before you could. “In the closet.. when. I said I didn’t wanna kiss you like that... I meant that I wanted something like this..” He gave you a slight chuckle as you returned it with a warm smile.
"I'm sorry for the way I acted." He gulped, feeling guilty for his actions in the past weeks, but he always poorly reacted to things that involved his feelings.
"I thought if I just stayed away from you, if I just pushed you away for a while, I could bottle up my feelings for you and—"
"You have feelings for me?" You asked, interrupting, eyes widening despite the kiss being undeniable proof of that but you still couldn't believe it, you still couldn't believe that the man you had been in love with was actually reciprocating the feelings you harbored, the feelings you tried so hard to contain inside of you.
"Are you kidding? Of course, I do." Eddie affirmed. "I mean how could I not?" He chuckled, pointing towards you. "Jesus, you're so beautiful, so fucking pretty..." he flashed you a mischievous smile.
"You're nice, and god, so fucking kind that it makes me sick sometimes. And shit— you get along with Wayne so well, I think he thinks of you more as his kid than me at this point." You gave him a light chuckle.
"Also... you are funny sometimes too." He added, giving you a light nudge with his shoulder as you pointed towards yourself mouthing 'Little old me?' sarcastically, making him smile.
"Fuck— if it wasn't for you, I'd be so lost, sweetheart. I'm so glad you came into my life." Your heart warmed at his words, gaze softening as your lips twitched into a smile.
"And you're always fucking there for me... even when I don't deserve it." He nervously fiddled with his fingers, he didn't deserve someone as perfect as you.
"Like right now, even though I've been an asshole, avoiding you, and even more of an asshole in the closet, you still came after me." He looked down, embarrassed that he had pushed you away, he knew you deserved better, so much better.
"You didn't deserve any of it, you just deserve every fucking good thing there is, and I'm just none of those things." You shook your head, opening your mouth to speak but Eddie didn't let you.
"Can you even picture it? You and me together? You— god, you are so fucking perfect." Your heart pounded against your chest, the rhythm of it erratic and suffocating because of his painful words, if only he knew how much you loved him.
"I'm just me, Eddie. I'm fucked up, a 'freak', a fucking drug dealer." Deep lines etched his forehead, he chuckled bitterly, and your heart throbbed at him describing himself as anything but good.
"I guess I just decided I wasn't good enough for you. Fuck— I chickened out." He eyed you nervously, and what he didn't expect was you slapping him on the shoulder, harshly.
"Ow!" He yelped, "Eddie never, ever make decisions on my part ever again." You chided him and he nodded quickly, "Jesus, that hurt."
"Good, because I also don't allow you to speak that way about yourself either, you're the best thing that has ever happened to me Eddie and I mean it. You're not fucked up." You affirmed him.
"God, you really are the best thing that has ever happened to me, Eddie. I don't think I've ever been happier, or more comfortable with anyone but you, you helped me realize so much about myself and have been there with me through everything." You didn't blink once, and Eddie's mouth was agape, he couldn't believe that someone —and not just anyone, you— saw him as anything more than a fuck up.
"I love you, Eddie, and I mean it, I love you so fucking much." You added, your eyes glimmering. "I can't stop thinking about you, ever... and it physically hurt being away from you for just one fucking week."
"I'm sorry for that..." He muttered again, embarrassed. "I love you so fucking much, honey. And I promise I'll never do something as dumb as this again." He gave you a warm smile, and his fingertips were gentle as they grazed over your cheeks.
You tilted your head in hesitation, "Yeah, I doubt it." You giggled, and Eddie squished your cheeks in response.
"God, you're so lucky that you're so pretty and so lucky that I fucked up big time because I will agree with you on whatever you say for the next few days." Eddie's lips formed a smirk and you raised a brow, "I'm thinking for the next month." You pursed your lips sarcastically.
Eddie chuckled and leaned in once again to kiss you, "Whatever my pretty girl wants." He murmured into your lips.
You whimpered again when your lips touched, both of you groaned when you were interrupted by Nancy's voice.
"See, I told you it would work!" Nancy pointed towards to two of you kissing as Robin and Steve almost gasped.
Robin turned to Nancy crossing her arms against her chest all-knowingly, "Yeah but it wasn't working a minute ago when they were yelling at each oth-" Robin's words were cut short by the glare Eddie and you threw at Robin.
"Sorry!" She yelled out, giving a sheepish smile, making you laugh.
"So, this was all you?" You asked, pointing towards Nancy, but before she could answer Robin scoffed.
"As if I didn't put your stubborn asses in that closet!" She mocked. The puzzle pieces of Robin acting weird all night coming to you and Eddie at the same time.
"You guys are all idiots." Eddie huffed, but his smile never faltered, and the three of them knew that was his way of gratitude.
You turned towards them with a sheepish smile on your face mouthing a 'thank you' to Robin and Nancy, and giving Steve a thumbs up, they waved you off as if to say 'No problem', and you turned to Eddie again.
"Eventful night, huh?" He asked, a smirk playing on his lips, and you gave him a playful nudge. "Shut up."
"So... you ready to go home?" Eddie asked as he threw an arm around your shoulder, you nodded, melting into his comfortable hold.
"Mhmm." You hummed, as he pressed a kiss on your hair. "I love you, pretty girl." He murmured.
Summary: Steve thinks you’re very pretty, and desperately needs your number.
A/N: i love Steve. a lot.
The world stops for approximately 5 second when Steve Harrington first sees you. It’s heavy crashing infatuation that has Steve questioning, is love at first sight real?
He’s never been a believer in this sort of thing, you get to know them, you fall for them. At least, that’s how it was with Nancy. You can’t fall In love with a person you’ve never met, you don’t even know them.
But that’s what Steve found so beautiful, the unknown.
“Dude, why aren’t you walking?” Robin turns from where she stands, realizing Steve is no longer beside her.
“It’s her, Robs.” He breathes.
“It’s who?”
“My soulmate, my pairing, my one true love.” He contradicts everything he believes in.
“Oh my god,” Robin groans annoyedly. “You cannot be serious right now, Steve.”
He nods. “As a heart attack.”
Papers scatter the Scoops Ahoy wheel table you sit at. They’re filled with words and colorful highlighter. Smart, he thinks, I know she’s smart.
“Get your ass over here and keep walking, we’re gonna be late.” He won’t budge. “God, please, Steve.”
“I need her number.” He shakes his head.
“You need one less late clock in.”
Steve whines, breaking his eye sight on you for the first time. “Let me have this, Robs.”
“I’ve let you have 3 late days, one more and Kieth said he’d fire your ass.”
“Kieth says a lot of things.” He turns his head to her. “How do I ask? Name first? Number? Age?”
“Well typically you introduce yours-“
“Fuck off, Robin, I know what I’m doing.”
He takes a moment. Maybe he should’ve let Robin finish her advice, he’s never been this nervous to ask out a girl.
“This level of melodramatic is a new low, Steve.”
“Fuck off.” This pushes him to walk into Scoops.
When he reaches the table, it’s an obvious realization that you’re studying. The papers are neat despite thrown around, and there’s a highlighter key next to your elbow. He feels guilty interrupting.
Be normal! Repeats in his head like a mantra. God!
“Hi,” he starts, he feels like he could throw up. “I’m Steve.”
You startle. “Hi, Steve.”
He laughs nervously. Robin rolls her eyes so hard her head tilts back and her hands come up to cover her face exasperatedly. You smile. Steve doesn’t.
He takes a look around the room awkwardly. How could he ever stand these blue and red lights? “I used to work here yanno.”
You nod. “You work in the video store now.”
“That I do.” He bounces in his new shoes, “Wait, have you been in?”
“Yeah, I come every Saturday.”
“No shit.” He breathes. You look taken aback, a little confused, a little offended.
“I mean! No shit, I would’ve remembered a face so pretty.”
“Good one, dingus.”
“Take a walk.” He replies quickly.
“Do you.. need something?” You ask carefully. His face crumples and something sick in your heart twists. “Not to be rude! I just- English 101 doesn’t finish itself.”
“English 101! You go to Hawkins Community? I was gonna go, I just wanted a taste of hardworking minimum wage life first” his eyes widen, “not that what you’re doing isn’t hard work!”
Can the world just cave in on him now? Shoot me.
“She asked a question, Steve-o” Robin puts in. Unhelpfully.
He glares at Robin. “I was wondering if I could get your number? It’s okay if not!” He adds quickly. “Just like- maybe we could go out sometime?”
Your head spins, pretty boy comes and asks for your number? You can’t mess this up.
“You like movies?”
“Uhh duh,” Steve laughs. Robin doesn’t know how much more she can take of this. “Totally.”
“You pick a movie,” You smile, “and come over Saturday. I’ve got a really big tv.”
Now Steve may be nervous, but he wasn’t born yesterday.
“Yeah!” He seems overeager. “Yeah,” he fixes. “I’ll pick out a movie.”
“Okay.” You smile up at him.
He juts out his wrist. “You can write it.. here.”
Your laugh cuts through his nerves like a sharp knife. “Yeah, okay.”
Pretty pink highlighter seeps into Steve’s unblemished wrist. He watches you write your number moonstricken. Your fingers press into his skin warmly and something turns in his tummy, you’re so pretty.
“Well I’ll be seeing you..” He looks at his wrist, “Y/N.”
“I’ll be seeing you, Steve-o” She takes from Robin.
He laughs, turning to walk with Robin again. “Steve-o” he mouths.
Robin is sure to have an aneurism. They were supposed to clock in 3 minutes ago.
steve harrington x afab!reader (32k)
Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3
warnings: steve and reader are little jerks to one another; 18+ (minors dni) for later parts; swearing
summary: You and Steve have been together for five years. He's seemingly the perfect boyfriend, kisses on the cheek, knowing your orders at restaurant. A great lover. Too bad you've had enough can't stand him.
a/n: inspired by You Deserve Each Other by Sarah Hogle
The morning sunlight snuck through the window, stealing your plans to wake up later. You scrunched up your face, attempting to block out any light, but the effort failed. A soft whine came out of you as you tossed over.
A long breath in, the smell of laundry detergent still clinging to the bed sheets mixed with sea salt and wild cypress. You let your eyes flutter open, waiting for them to adjust, taking in the sight of the shirtless boy laying on his stomach. Soft muffled snores came from him that made the corners of your lips tugged upwards.
You did your routine and counted the freckles on his back as a way to wake yourself up. Twenty-seven. Not including the freckle on his shoulder. But you saved that one for last, always placing a soft kiss before getting out of the bed.
However, you had refrained from doing so for the past month.You rolled out of the bed, leaving your boyfriend sound asleep. You glared at the window, annoyed. You had asked Steve to hang the curtains you bought three days ago. Yet the box was still sitting on the dining table– unopened.
It was Saturday, and all you wanted to do was sleep in until ten. But now you were in the kitchen making breakfast at 8:30 in the morning. The scent of freshly brewed coffee stained the entire apartment. It must have woken up Steve because you heard the bedroom door creak open. His footsteps padded down the hallway.
You felt his presence enter the kitchen, turning around to see him do his morning stretch. He scratched his bare stomach, taking a deep sniff of the aroma. “Mornin’,” he grumbled. His hair hadn’t been brushed, strands sticking up. He rubbed his eyes, squinting at the scenery around him.
“You need to wear your glasses when you don’t have contacts in.” It was always the same. He refused to wear them, and you nagged that he needed to.
He had been prescribed glasses six months ago and loathed them. He said that first it would be the glasses and then next it would turn into bifocals and he wasn’t having it. His ego would be destroyed and that was more important being able to see clearly.
He grunted at the comment, walking over to the coffee pot that had just finished brewing. “You were asleep when I came home last night.”
You didn’t answer right away, trying to pretend the bacon sizzling was too loud. “I tried to call the shop, but it kept going to the answering machine.”
Steve poured the coffee in his #1 Dad mug you gave him as a joke when you first started dating. “Yeah,” he drew in a breath, like he was walking around eggshells, careful to say anything that might ensue an argument. The last thing he wanted to do was start his day arguing. But recently, that’s the only thing you had in common. “Went out to the Hideaway with Ed. He had a hard day. Went to go tow a car and the lady demanded someone else… who hasn’t been a suspected murderer.”
You saw him look at you through the corner of his eye, testing the waters. He knew Eddie Munson was your weakness, and he knew you’d feel like an asshole if you started an argument because of him. So instead, you let out a deep sigh. “That’s fine. But next time call to let me know.”
“I’m sorry. It was last minute.” He took a sip of the coffee.
You made a sound, but didn’t reply. It was a minor silent treatment.
He noticed immediately. “You know this wouldn’t be an issue if we got those mobile phones.”
“Okay, let me know when you have the money to do that.” You gave him a sarcastic smile, teeth and all, and you can see frustration flash in his eyes, like a bolt of lightning.
He’s the one who doesn’t say anything now. But his jaw was clenched. He sat his mug on the counter, the clink against the surface sounded passive aggressive. He turned around to walk away, ending the conversation.
You took in a breath, turning around as well. “Steve, wait.” You licked your lips which suddenly became too dry. “I’m sorry. Today is stressful because I feel like I have a million things to do around the apartment. And then we have that dinner with your parents tonight and you know how nervous they make me.”
Steve had faced her again, his expression softer. He ran his hand through his hair. “No, I’m sorry. You were right. I should’ve called you from the bar.” He stepped closer, putting his hands on your arms, rubbing them up and down to comfort you. “Tell me anything you need me to do today. I’m all yours.” He gave you an assuring smile.
Relaxation washed over you, but his touch somehow felt strange. You gave him a soft smile, regardless. “Can you please put the curtains up? That’s all I ask.”
He rubbed a hand over his face, realizing his mistake. “Yes. Yes. Of course. I’ll get right on it after breakfast.” He placed a kiss on the top of her head. “Which smells absolutely delicious by the way.” He reached out and took a piece of already cooked bacon and shoved it in his mouth. “Mmm, babe you bacon me crazy.”
You scoffed, nudging his chest playfully. “Do you have a bad joke for everything?” You continued to cook the rest of the food.
“You’re the one who has been dating me for five years, shouldn’t you know that already?” He teased and snaked his arms around you.
You were glad how he couldn’t see the sad expression on your face. You slipped from his grasp, playing it off as getting spices for the scrambled eggs. He seemed slightly hurt, but brushed it off and decided to pour himself a new cup of coffee instead.
You both had finished your breakfast when the phone rang. Steve was the one who answered it as you took the dishes to the sink to wash them. “Hey, man.” He was hushed, like he didn’t want you to hear. But you could. “Come on. What about David?” Steve looked over at you. “Listen man, I can’t today. I know. I know. But…” His silence was loud. The “but” was you.
You turned off the water to sink. “Just go.”
Steve’s mouth fell agape, covering the mouth of the receiver. “Sweetheart, it’s fine they need to learn that I can’t come to their rescue all the time.”
You strode over, taking the phone out of his hands. “He’ll be down in thirty minutes.” You hung up the phone and gave him a pointed look.
He avoided your eyes, looking over somewhere behind you. “I don’t have to go.”
Yes he did, because his shop was like a mother with her first child. One minor bump, and it’s like it’s the end of the world. You wouldn’t say that to him though. “You do have to go or we both know the shop is going to be hell next week.”
“Sweetheart-“
You stopped him. “Just be home in time to go to your parent’s together. You know your mother freaks out when we show up in separate vehicles.” It was fake, but you gave him a sweet kiss on his cheek and went back to washing the dishes.
Steve stood still, wondering if he should do something before he left. His eyes wandered to the box with the unhung curtains. He had to break his promise for the fourth time and it killed him. Nonetheless, he retreated back into the room to get ready for work.
***
H&M Auto Repair was Steve’s most prized possession. Three years ago him and Eddie had one too many special brownies that Argyle had baked. They ended up laying in soggy wet grass outside of Eddie’s cabin. They didn’t know their friends had been looking for them for thirty minutes. But they were there, reminiscing when the stars used to look bigger.
It was Steve who asked Eddie if he could do anything, what would it be.
And it was Eddie who answered that he had wanted to fix cars.
So Steve told him, “Fuck it, let’s start an autoshop. Harrington and Munson Auto Repair.”
Eddie’s eyes were pitch black but somehow widened bigger. “I don’t think the residents of Hawkins are ready for Eddie Munson to be the face of a business.”
“Then we’ll name it H&M!” Steve argued back, not allowing his friend to make an excuse.
Eddie blankly stared at Steve who had a stupid grin on his face. “But what about you?”
“What do you mean?”
“What do you really want to do?”
Steve’s smile turned bashful, grinning. “I want to marry her.” Eddie noticed the adoring look Steve made when he looked back towards the cabin. “I’m gonna make sure she doesn’t have to worry about anything.”
And Steve thought three years later that would be the case. He’d be married to you, living in whatever dream house you wanted. And maybe, just maybe, he’d convince you to start a family.
But instead, he was only scraping by, living in a dingy apartment. And he really wasn’t sure if you really wanted to be with him anymore.
He sauntered inside his office after having to help his workers. Two of them had called out sick, and there was only so much Eddie could do. He sighed loudly, getting him a cup of water.
Eddie stomped in, his face covered in soot. He opened the mini refrigerator, grabbing a beer out, popping the tab against the edge of Steve’s desk, the cap rolling somewhere in the room. He sat in the rolling chair on the other side, exhausted.
Steve flipped through the finance book, shaking his head, and squinting because he had left his glasses at home.
“Need a beer?” Eddie leaned over in a stance that would let him get up easily.
Steve wanted to say yes. He rubbed a hand over his face, looking up at the clock above the office door. He closed the finance book and pushed away from the desk, rolling a bit while looking up at the ceiling. “No, I can’t. I need to go or my girlfriend is going to kill me.”
Eddie wiggled his brows. “Ah. I forgot. It’s the big dinner with mom and pops today. You nervous?”
Steve pretended not to know what he was talking about. “Why would I? We’ve had dinner with them before.”
Eddie snorted, taking a long sip. “But this dinner you’re going to ask your dad for the ring.”
Steve looked at the ceiling fan above him. It was turned off but he could see the built up dust. “We should hire a secretary.”
“No no no. You’re changing the subject.” Eddie set the beer bottle on the table. He reached behind him and tightened his ponytail. “Which makes me believe Lord Harrington is nervous about being betrothed to his fair maiden.” It was only a matter of time for Eddie to break out into dramatics. He always did when it came to romantics.
Steve grumbled, standing up from his chair. It was so unlike him to be so passionless when it came to the subject of marriage. Before, he’d blush and stumble over his words because he couldn’t contain his feelings. Now, it only felt like he had to marry her. It seemed right because after five years, what else was there to do?
Life seemed so stagnant. He hoped popping the question would change that. Steve looked out the window of his shop. He could see Eddie’s Uncle outside with another one of his workers, Bill Higgins, smoking cigarettes, waiting for their next task of the day. Hawkins had been in a long recovery process since Vecna, but Steve hated to admit he missed feeling needed.
“Why don’t we call it a day? I’ll set up the answering machine and put a sign out that we closed early.” Steve shimmied off his work vest, placing it on a hook.
Eddie rolled his eyes at his friend’s indifference. He tilted his head, trying to make out what was behind the blank look as he gathered his belongings. “Alright, just let me know on Monday how everything goes.” He plopped his hands on his legs loudly, pushing himself up.
He then picked up the half-drunk beer, chugging the rest before tossing it in the bin. He was about to walk out until he looked back, mouth open to say something else. He decided against it when Steve was already messing with the answering machine. He looked up at Eddie, giving him a flat smile and waved goodbye.
***
Steve watched as you bounced your leg up and down, chewing on your bottom lip. “Sweetheart, the pie is going to fall on the floorboard.” He placed his hand on your knee. Which only made things worse because you jumped in the seat. “Woah.”
You let out a shaky breath, gripping the apple pie you had made earlier that day. “Right, don’t want your precious floorboard to be ruined.” It was only a joke, but it came across as passive aggressive.
“Really? You want to start an argument right now?” Steve noticed a couple of rain drops on his windshield. He wondered if there was an umbrella still in the back.
You closed your eyes. “It was a joke.”
“Didn’t sound like one.” He shot back.
“It’s not my fault that your parents make me nervous.” You recalled the first time meeting them. His mom called you Nancy three times by “accident”, and five years later it still felt like she was comparing the two of you. Hell, she was probably comparing anyone Steve has been involved with to you.
Steve clenched the steering wheel. “Not my fault either.”
You almost had to bite your tongue. “Never said it was.”
“My parents like you. How many times do I have to tell you that?” He looked at you briefly, almost forgetting to turn right.
You laid your head on the headrest, groaning loudly.“I don’t really want to talk about it right now, Steve.”
“When do you ever want to talk about it?” His voice had risen, and you noticed the vein on his neck protruding. Rarely did you ever see it appear, only when he was agitated from work or when Dustin was around. You had pursed your lips, fighting back tears. He noticed immediately. He sighed and in a calmer voice spoke again, “Hey, I’m sorry… I’m on edge too.” He didn’t explain why. But he knew you’d come up with your own conclusions. “Can we just listen to music and not talk the rest of the way there?”
You didn’t say anything, just nodded, still upset. You reached over and turned on the radio, tuning out the melody drifting from the speakers. You felt him give your knee a squeeze. You wanted to pull it away out of protest, but that could possibly lead to more tension. So instead, you played the part of good girlfriend, slipping your hand in his.
For a brief second you felt at ease. His palm burning into yours, making your stomach twist like the first time you had held his hand. His hands had become more tough because of his work at the shop. You remember when it had first opened and you kept getting scratched by the calluses that formed. He would chase you around the apartment, trying to tease you by touching your bare skin. You smiled.
The Harrington household had not changed over the past five years. It was still big and enveloped by cedar trees, taunting the rest of the town. The only damage to their house from the earthquake was a crack in the pool.
You sat next to Steve at the big oak table in the dining room of his parent’s house. The surface was so glossy you could see your own reflection. Mrs. Harrington smiled at you, setting down a large bowl of chicken stew. She gave herself a tiny clap, beaming. “Connie! Dinner is ready.” She called out to Mr. Harrington who was in the kitchen on the phone.
The three of you sat awkwardly as you waited for Steve’s dad to come into the dining room. When he did, he grunted in lieu of a greeting. Only smiling when he saw the fresh food steaming on the table. He sat at the end, tucking his napkin on his lap.
It was quiet at first. Mrs. Harrington had made her husband’s plate and then her own. She frowned when Steve had made his own plate, but kept the comment to herself. “This is delicious, Mrs. Harrington.” You were the one to break the ice.
She smiled, thanking her and then looking at the two men who were eating like it was their last day on earth. Steve had a mouthful of a buttery roll, smiling at his mom. He swallowed. “Yeah, this is great, Mom.”
Mrs. Harrington tsked and shook her head. “My poor son. I noticed you were a bit thin. Have you been eating properly?” She glanced at you.
“Stop pestering the boy, Martha. He looks fine. He’s been working hard, that’s all. The numbers at the shop have been doing great the past three months.” Mr. Harrington patted Steve aggressively on the shoulder. “I guess my investment wasn’t a complete waste, was it?”
Steve awkwardly chuckled. “Guess not.” He looked down at his food, hiding the sad expression.
Empathic, you slipped your hand underneath the table, placing it on his thigh, sending a silent comforting message. He received it because he looked at you through the corner of his eye, a half-hearted smile on his face.
Mr. Harrington then turned his attention towards you. He had always had a sweet spot for you, making sure you were having a good time. “How has your first semester as a teacher been?”
You grinned. “Great! It is a little strange to be working with teachers who have taught me. I’m hoping they move me to the high school next year.”
He pointed his spoon at you. “Anyone would be lucky to have you as a teacher. I bet if you had been Steve’s he would’ve done a lot better in school. Hell, I would’ve too.” Mr. Harrington’s laugh was so obnoxiously loud that it shook your glass of chardonnay.
“Conrad!”
“Dad!”
Mr. Harrington looked between his wife and son, unsure what he had said wrong. He held up his hands defensively.
You laughed, changing the subject. “Well, I did tutor him. He’s a lot smarter than he leads on.”
Steve blushed at your comment.
“I remember when you had excellent grades whenever you were with Nancy.” His mother chimed in. It was like she was holding a fully loaded gun, cocked and ready since the beginning and had finally found the perfect opportunity to pull the trigger.
You kept your composure, still smiling, although you were metaphorically bleeding out. “I think that’s because she promised him favors if he did well. Where I decided to hold him accountable to do his work.” The fire slipped through your teeth.
Steve’s expression faltered, eyes wide.
She scoffed, looking at her husband. “Accountable? He nearly had to retake his senior year.”
“Because he was going through stuff.” You couldn’t let her have the last word. “Maybe if you had been home more you would’ve seen that.”
Mrs. Harrington scowled, her nose flared. And for a second you felt as if you had finally won the battle. However, she sat up straighter in her chair and cleared her throat. “If I remember correctly, Steve wanted to marry Nancy two weeks after being with her. Yet, here you are… five years later.” She glanced at your bare hand, not needing to say more.
She smiled in satisfaction, taking a sip of her wine as you looked down at your hand, slipping it in your lap. You looked over at your boyfriend who was avoiding any eye contact. It was always the same, never taking your side. You angrily threw your napkin on the table and pushed yourself away from the table. The legs of the chair screeched against the hardwood floor, making the two older Harrington’s cringe.
You glared at Steve, giving him one more chance to say something.
Anything.
You scoffed in disbelief. Tears pricked your eyes. “Enjoy the fucking pie.” You turned around, storming out of the dining room.
Steve looked at his mother, “Really?”
She only shrugged, unashamed.
He took a deep breath in before also scooting his chair back, standing up. As he was about to walk out to follow you, he turned back around. “Tonight was important to me.” His voice was full of disappointment.
“Steve…” His mother closed her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
He didn’t give her a response.
You were already inside the car. Rain was plummeting down, bouncing on the sidewalk. The droplets soaked into his sweater, and he cursed not grabbing that umbrella from the back of his car earlier. He opened the door and hurriedly climbed in.
You didn’t give him a chance to say anything. “I don’t want to talk to you. Just drive.”
He did exactly as he was told and only drove. This time there was no music. No tears. It was only the sound of the windshield wipers and pitter patter of rain against the roof of the car. The silence between you, however, was louder than both of those things.
Not once did he feel you glance at him either. You stared straight ahead, arms crossed, chest moving up and down like you were trying to control yourself. Your expression was unreadable, and if it weren’t for your flared nostrils, he wouldn’t have known you were furious.
He pulled into the parking lot of the apartment, your car door had already opened and slammed shut by the time he had turned off the ignition. He had to jog to keep up with you, afraid you might get inside the apartment first and deadbolt it.
But you didn’t. In fact, you had kept the door open behind you.
As soon as you heard him close it, all hell broke loose. “Why didn’t you defend me?”
He sighed, turning around. “I was in shock.”
You laughed, except you didn’t really think it was funny. “But you always do that. You always let her get away with saying those terrible things. And you always make up excuses.”
“You weren’t saying the nicest things either.” He recognized his mistake as soon as it came off his tongue.
Your eyes flared, glassy and wide. “You will never understand, will you? Every single time I see her, it always feels like a test.” You gasped with realization. “And… oh my god… I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it.” You threw your hands up in the air, as if you had had a breakthrough. An epiphany. “I fucking hate it!”
Steve held out his hands, trying to calm you down. “Sweetheart, of course I understand. I feel the same way when it comes to my dad. This dinner was important to me-”
But you weren’t listening. “I think we should break up.”
And suddenly it felt like Steve had forgotten how to speak. He had wondered if had heard you correctly. Or if you had misspoke. “Huh?” His bottom lip started to quiver. “You want to…” He couldn’t finish the sentence.
“Look at us, Steve. Neither one of us is happy. All we do is argue. I don’t even remember the last time we’ve had sex.” You rang your hands together and bit your bottom lip. “I mean don’t you think if we really wanted to spend the rest of our lives together we would be married by now?”
Steve had suppressed a sob at the back of his throat. He walked past you, running his hands through his hair, panicking. He caught sight of the box still on the table. “Is it about the curtains? I can hang them up right now.”
You started to cry. “Steve, it isn’t about the curtains.”
“Then what is it? Don’t give me that we’re unhappy bullshit.” He choked, tears fell down his face.
You wept, looking away from him because it was harder to think to say out loud. “But we are! We’re miserable. And I feel so lonely, Steve. Even when you’re here. Do you not feel it? Can’t you see we’re not in love any more?”
The air was unbearable to him. The remaining life he had in him had been sucked out. His heart had dropped and he wondered if he was still alive. He felt like he was in that bathroom at the Halloween party all over again. He had almost forgotten how those words shattered his entire being in less than a second. “Okay.”
You furrowed your brows. “Okay?”
Steve looked around at the apartment, taking it all in, remembering everything. “Yeah, okay.”
You wiped your face unsure what to say. He locked eyes with you one final time. His honey colored irises shattered. It made you want to run up and envelope him in a hug, telling him you were only kidding. But your feet betrayed you, too afraid, and too stupid to move from where you were. He took his car keys out of his pocket, clutching them hard enough you could see his knuckles turn white.
He gave you a curt nod. And he left like he was a stranger.
***
Eddie Munson lived with his Uncle Wayne fifteen minutes outside of Hawkins. Their cabin was tucked away in the woods and you could only get there by an unmarked dirt road off the highway towards Indianapolis.
The government had given them hush money when the trailer park had been destroyed, along with settlement money from a defamation of character lawsuit against the town of Hawkins. Wayne thought it was best to use the opportunity to get out of Hawkins, but Eddie wanted to stay, having finally found people who had accepted him.
They rarely had any visitors besides wildlife. So it came to much of a surprise when Eddie and Wayne were at the dining table playing poker, they heard a sharp knock on the front door. Eddie was the one who answered, eyes furrowed when he saw none other than Steve standing there.
His hair was drenched, clinging to his forehead and in his eyes. He was breathing rapidly, and his eyes were blood stained. He didn’t even greet Eddie. He stormed past him, dragging water inside.
He went straight to the kitchen, ignoring the hello Wayne had given him. He opened the refrigerator, grabbed a beer, popped the tab, put the top to his mouth, and threw his head back to take a large swig. The two Munsons gave one another a look and turned their focus back to Steve who had let out a sigh of relief, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth.
“Am I a good boyfriend?” Steve finally spoke, looking at Eddie.
The long haired boy blinked trying to process what Steve had just asked. He looked over at his uncle, silently asking what to say. But Wayne was already standing, putting his hands up. “I think it’s time for me to call it a night.”
As Wayne walked out, Eddie silently muttered, “Asshole.” He looked back at Steve. “What happened?”
Steve shook his head, taking another sip. “Five years. Five years and this is how it all ends. Would you marry me after five years?”
“Woah there, lover boy. You need to take me on a date first before we start talking about marriage.” Eddie smirked. Steve wasn’t impressed, blowing a puff of frustration through his nose. He finished his beer, opening the refrigerator to get another one. Eddie registered that whatever had happened was serious. “Hey, what happened? Did dinner not go well?”
Steve laughed. A full guttural laugh, almost manically, like he had snapped. It went on for a minute, slowly fading out, turning into a sob. He looked up at Eddie, broken, shaking his head. “It’s over.”
Eddie wasn’t sure what to say. Sure he knew they had been squabbling for a few months now, but he hadn’t realized it was that bad. He refrained from asking about the ring or if he had even gotten that far. He had never seen Steve so dejected and erratic. He felt bad for him. So he did what Steve had done for him five years ago when his life had turned into shit. He offered a hand, giving him a place to stay for the night.
Three days later, Robin burst through the cabin door. “Where is he?”
Eddie greeted her, his face full of relief. “Thank god, Buckley.” He motioned for her to follow, leading her to the guest room. “Wasn’t sure you were gonna show.” He admitted.
“I knew it was bad if you were begging me to come.” Robin was right, her and Eddie had a… complicated friendship. They had nothing in common, always bickering about music and how to live life. Eddie had been just as relieved as Robin when she had decided to attend Ohio University, three hours away from Hawkins, only coming down every other weekend. So for him to call her for help meant it was urgent. “I didn’t beg.”
She hummed, opening the door to the guest room, cringing at the pathetic sight. Steve was dramatically sprawled face down on the bed, only wearing his boxers.
“Jesus…”
“I know,” he whispered. “Uncle Wayne and the others have been covering for us and I’ve held it off as long as I could, but I need to go back today. Except, I’m afraid to leave him alone.”
Robin rolled her eyes. “You baby him.”
“Hey! He’s heartbroken, I’ve never seen him so…” He waved his hand, trying to find the word.
“Miserable? Pathetic? Pitiful?.” Robin suggested.
He snapped, pointing at her. “Yes!”
“You two are loud.” Steve grumbled, shifting to look over his shoulder.
Robin looked at Eddie, motioning for him to go. Her expression let him know she can handle it.
He put his hand on her shoulder. “Good luck.”
Robin leaned against the door frame, raising her brows. Steve made a raspberry, plopping his head back on the pillow. “I’m fine.” His words were muffled, but still loud enough for her to hear.
“Fine, my ass. Steve, you look worse than summer of 85’.” She entered the room, clothes scattered the floor, but none of them looked like anything Steve would wear. She kicked a Def Leppard tee out of her way. She opened the blinds, letting sunlight wash the room. The manchild on the bed groaned, mumbling incoherent profanities.
Robin nudged his shoulder. “Get up dingus.”
“Let me die here.” He looked up at her. “Alone.”
She hit him with a pillow. “Stop being dramatic. Your girlfriend broke up with you, it’s not the end of the world.”
He narrowed his eyes. “How’s Vickie?”
She smiled, not taking the bait. “Nice try, bud.” It was a staring match, a battle, and whoever blinks first, would lose and do whatever the winner asked. Steve held his eyes open as long as he could, but he had tried too hard, they began to dry and he felt his eyelids droop down. Robin smiled in victory. “Get up.”
“Why?” He still wouldn’t budge.
“Because you’re taking advantage of Eddie’s hospitality. And I drove three hours straight to get here, missing one of my favorite classes. And I’m tired of seeing you look like a talking corpse.” She poked him in the side, his kryptonite. “Get up and get dressed.”
He flinched, giving her a dirty look, sitting up. “Fine.”
She scrunched up her nose. “Jesus, take a shower too.”
He flipped her off as she left the room so he could get ready.
Steve hadn’t been out in public the entirety he had gone rogue. Small town life meant being recognized and greeted by all of Hawkins. But today, he was irritated by everything and everyone. He hoped his ray bans would disguise him enough to not be approachable.
Robin, who had finally gotten her license four years ago, was the one to drive them to Kitty’s Cafe. It was a fairly new spot, but they had the best burgers in all of Indiana. She was not going to miss the chance to have one before she went back to school tomorrow.
Steve picked a booth far in the back, hiding his figure behind the oversized menus. Robin snapped at him, pushed the menu down, yanked his sunglasses off, and scolded him to stop acting juvenile. He went back to sulking, crossing his arms. Silently deciding not to eat in protest of being dragged there.
After ordering her food, Robin allowed the silence to brew, letting Steve grumpily stare at the wall next to him. She took a sip of her Dr. Pepper. It had all been tough love to get him out of Eddie’s cabin. But now, she was able to empathize, feeling the grief he was holding. She reached over and grabbed his hand. “Do you want to talk about it?”
For the first time in three days he had relaxed, shoulders dropping, his vulnerable state peeking from the stony appearance he had been carrying. He swallowed the thickness, like molasses, in his throat. “I- I think I fucked up.”
“Why do you say that?” She slipped her hand away, but not in anger. She knew he trusted her.
He put his face in his hands. “It doesn’t matter.”
She still didn’t understand. “There’s been so many times that she threatened to break up with you for being an asshole. Can you not sweet talk yourself out of it? Give her flowers or whatever you did to convince her to be with you for five years.” Robin had never beaten around the bush. She was a senior in college and it had turned her more rational, and as irritating as it was to others, it also kept them grounded.
Steve frowned, feeling that slight pull back to the ground by her words. Except one fact that there were no flowers or sweet talk that could fix the problem. “She doesn’t love me anymore.” He went quiet, regretting that he was too stubborn to order food.
If Robin had another opinion on the matter, she didn’t say it. “Do you still love her?”
He was taken aback, leaning over in the seat, tapping his finger against the table. “Robin, I was going to propose. Of course I love her.”
There was a beat of silence as their waitress put Robin’s food on the table. She thanked her and poked her burger. “Does she know that?”
Steve’s mouth fell agape, speechless. His body drifted backwards, back hitting the cushioned booth. “Well… I… how could she not?”
“Men,” Robin whispered under her breath. “What are you going to do then? Move back in with your parents?”
“Why would I do that?” He reached over and stole one of her fries.
She pulled her plate closer to her, out of his reach. “Because you can’t live with your ex. It’s weird.”
“You only say that because Nance still lives with Byers and she tells you everything.”
She flicked her eyes elsewhere. She swallowed another sip of her drink. “Then where will you go?”
Steve pondered for a moment. He hated that she was right. If this was a real breakup, he couldn’t live with you. He sure as hell wouldn’t move back in with parents. His only option was Eddie, and he had already overstayed his welcome. “I’m not leaving. She’s the one who broke up with me.”
Robin laughed in his face. “You really think she, of all people, will let you kick her out?” She laughed again, clutching her stomach.
He narrowed his eyes. “My name is on the lease. I have just the right to be there.”
“Steve,” she warned him.
“You know, I think I have a right to stay because I was there first.”
“Oh my god.” Robin dropped her head. She didn’t like the manic tune in his voice.
“Don’t worry, Buckley. I’m not gonna kick her out.” His smile was painted with mischief. “I’m going to make her feel so miserable living there that she’s gonna want out.”
Robin wasn’t sure if she should laugh or be worried about Steve's plan. It sounded ridiculous and implausible to turn out how he wanted it to end. “Is your sudden retaliation a defense to her breaking up with you?”
Steve put his hand up. “No, you’re not doing that psychological bullshit on me.”
“That ‘psychological bullshit’ helps.”
Robin was passionate about psychology and she always casually attempted to dissect Steve’s mind. Much to his disdain. However, he hated to admit that he secretly meditated on whatever she had to say, eventually. But it was not that day. His mind was flooded with confusion, hurt, and anger.
He had tried to remember the past five years and pinpoint when the relationship started to tarnish. He had missed the crack, apparently, because it was like an avalanche, unexpected and now he was trapped, trying to figure out how he had gotten there. It was frustrating because everything he had done was for you. Did you forget that?
***
You had had a long day. You loved to teach, but middle schoolers were exhausting. It seemed like although they were just kids, they were bored of it and wanted to act like adults. You wondered if your mother had thought of you that way. You had hoped not.
You walked into the empty apartment. It was always normal to be the one to come
home first. But the silence was almost deafening. You let out a heavy sigh, placing your purse on the counter. It was to fill the air with something other than the fire alarm that needed a change of batteries.
It was only Tuesday, but it somehow felt like a Monday masked with another name. You sauntered into your bedroom, stripping bare from your work clothes. Who knew taking it off would feel relieving.
You remember days like this when Steve would come home and see that tired expression on your face, he’d force you to take a shower. You decided to do that, letting hot water stream down your back. You had hoped it would ease your muscles, but a few minutes had gone by and they still felt pinched.
You remembered it wasn’t the shower itself that had washed away the tightness in your back. It was because he would join you. He would start massaging your neck, slowly working any knots out all the way to your shoulders.
Nothing about it was sexual or dirty. He would ask you to talk about your day, placing soft kisses on your wet skin, hugging you from behind, promising to one day get you a house with a bathtub. And it helped, because it was Steve.
But now you were in the shower alone. Staring at the tiles on the wall fogging from the excessive heat, unable to reach your back. And all you wanted to do was cry.
However, your moment of solitude was short lived. You jumped and nearly slipped when the door to the bathroom slammed open. Your mind raced with thoughts on how you survived years of monsters but it would be being murdered as your way of going out.
In shock, you closed your eyes, bracing yourself for the knife that would soon slice you open.
It took you a minute to realize that whoever it was had not pushed the curtain aside yet. You looked down at your body and couldn't see any open wounds or blood. Your brows furrowed when you heard a small stream that wasn’t the shower.You slowly peeked behind the curtain, gasping at the unbelievable sight in front of you.
“What the hell, Steve?” You shouted at him.
He didn’t jump or acknowledge the fury you shot at him. He just stood in front of the toilet. Taking a piss. When he finished he finally looked over his shoulder at you. “Sorry, I didn’t know how long you were gonna be and I really needed to go.”
You laughed in disbelief. “So you barge in here with no announcement? I thought you were a killer!”
Steve zipped his pants, fully turning around. His arms were crossed against his chest. He was wearing the same clothes the last time you had seen him, and the hair above his lip had grown out into small wisps. At least he looked like he had taken a shower recently.
“Why did you think I was a killer?”
You clutched the shower curtain tighter, because all of a sudden it felt wrong for him to see you naked. “You haven’t been home in three days. How should I have known who it was?”
A beat went by.
“You’re wasting water just standing in there.” He flushed the toilet and exited the bathroom.
You yelped in surprise when the water turned cold. It was like icicles piercing your back. You quickly shut off the water and tied your blue cotton robe around your body. You found Steve in the kitchen, rummaging through the refrigerator. “What the hell is your problem?”
“Hm?” He picked up a brand new container of milk. Twisting the cap off, he brought it to his lips and took a long swig from it. He smirked when he brought it down from his lips, wiping the liquid with the back of his hand, finally looking at you with pointedness.
Your mouth fell. You were in disbelief. “You’re doing it on purpose, aren’t you?”
Steve belched, putting the milk back where it belonged. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“You’re purposely trying to piss me off.”
“Are you saying I’m pissing you off?” His face fell. And for a split second you thought he felt guilty. Until he smiled. “Good.”
You were at a loss for words, watching as he walked over to the couch, sprawling his body on it, his shoes still on his feet. You tried not to go over and rip them off of him. “Why are you here?”
He put his hands behind his head. “I live here, remember?”
“Yes, but… we… it’s weird.”
“Yeah, it is.”
“So, you came to get your stuff?”
Steve chuckled, shimmying deeper into the cushions. “Nope.”
You pinched the bridge of your nose. “We both can’t live here.”
“I agree.”
You were flabbergasted. You knew Steve was stubborn and sometimes difficult, but not once had you seen him act so defiant. “You are such a child.” He didn’t answer. You took a deep breath in, holding the frustration bubbling inside you. You were sure that’s what he wanted to happen. You were not going to play his game. “I’m not leaving either.”
He shot up. “Then what’s the point in breaking up if neither one of us wants to leave?”
You looked away, avoiding his gaze because you didn’t want him to be right. “It’s more than that.”
“Right.” He threw his hands up. “I completely forgot about you not being in love with me anymore. I guess you and Nancy do have something in common.”
You could tell he was trekking in dangerous territory on purpose. The one insecurity you had, even after being with him for five years, was her. And it wasn’t like you and Nancy weren’t friends, or that she ever made passes at him. But she was the only girl he had ever had a serious relationship with before you got together. It was intimidating. “You’re an asshole.”
He scoffed, narrowing his eyes at you. “Yeah, well at least Nancy wasn’t a bitch.”
You had fought a 7-foot demogorgon before, but nothing hurt worse than the words that came out of his mouth. It was like his tongue was loaded with tiny spears, hitting you all over. You noticed how he immediately felt guilty. His face was softer, and he called out your name in an apologetic tone.
You, however, closed your eyes and took a deep breath. “Fuck you.” You pivoted and stormed into the bedroom, slamming the door, locking it with an aggressive click.
Steve must have been not too far behind you, he wiggled the handle, knocking frantically. “C’mon sweetheart. I’m sorry. Please open the door so we can talk about it.”
You almost did as he asked, your hand hovering the lock. You laid your forehead against the frame, fighting back a sob. “N-no.”
“Please.” He begged you. “Please.” His voice was weak and cracked.
“I don’t want to see you right now,” you spat. He didn’t know it, but if you did open the door you’d engulf him in your arms, asking him where it all went wrong. “I can’t stand you.”
The door fell silent. You stepped backwards, watching as his shadow paced back and forth in front of the door. He finally turned off the light and you could faintly hear him settle on the couch. You swallowed, walking to the bed, which now seemed way too big. You fell backwards on it, grabbed a pillow and screamed into it.
You weren’t sure when you had finally gone to sleep. You kept tossing and turning. Your mind wouldn’t stop shouting at you. And any time you had closed your eyes all you could hear was Steve’s words. You flopped over in the bed, looking at the empty space, scoffing to yourself. If he was going to act like an asshole, then so be it.
Steve Harrington was not going to win. You would make him feel so miserable living in the apartment he would be the one begging to leave. By the end of the week he would have his bags packed, hustling out of the room. And even though you don’t remember the time you finally had shut your eyes, you remembered the wicked smile that lifted at the corners of your mouth.
***
Steve woke up to the smell of dark coffee infiltrating his nose. He opened his eyes slowly, stretching his body. It ached from the uncomfortable couch. He sat up slowly, rubbing his neck.
He looked over at the chair in the corner, his mouth fell agape. You sat crossed legged, reading a book and drinking something out of a mug. You were only wearing a big t-shirt, the hem riding up your thigh.
For a moment, he wanted to spring from the couch and carry you to the bedroom, but he remembered why he had been on the couch in the first place.
You looked up from your book, smiling sweetly. “Good morning.”
He cleared his throat, looking somewhere else. “Uh-huh.”
You smirked, closing the book. “I made coffee.”
Steve looked over at you again. His brows were knitted together, clearly confused. He wondered if you had thought over everything last night. He stood up, walking to the pot of coffee slowly, occasionally looking over his shoulder, feeling you watch him. He grabbed a mug and picked up the pot, frowning. “It’s empty.”
You sucked in your teeth. “Yes.”
Steve set the pot down. “You said you made coffee?”
“Yes.”
“But there’s none in here.”
You raised your mug. “All I said was that I made coffee. Not that I made you coffee.”
Steve faced the wall, closing his eyes. He was right. You had thought over everything and clearly you hadn’t changed your mind. Instead of giving into your morning antic, he opened the cabinet to get what he needed to brew a new pot. He frowned when he saw the usual spot where the coffee sat was empty.
You made a noise which resembled the mix between a gasp and a giggle. You joined him by the counter. “I’m sorry! Forgot to mention I used it all.” You gave him your best apologetic smile, but Steve could smell your bullshit.
“You hate coffee.” He glanced over at you, hoping you didn’t see him look at your bare legs.
You scrunched your lips playfully, looking at the mug in your hand. “Guess not anymore.” You brought it to your lips, sipping loudly.
He noticed the small cringe of disgust flash across your face when you swallowed. You had really come to win the war. He gave you a toothy smile. He still wasn’t going to give in. “That’s alright. I’ll make myself a coffee once I get to the shop. I can pick up some more on my way home. Do you need anything?” It was a domestic question that people in real relationships asked each other. Except Steve was unsure if you were even friends.
Your own sarcastic smile never faltered. “I’m good.”
He stood there a moment, glowering at you. His gaze flickered towards the clock, seeing that you only had an hour before you had to leave. You noticed his shift, and looked behind you to see what he had been looking at. He took the opportunity and sprinted to the bathroom. He could hear your quick footsteps behind him, but he had been successful, locking you out.
He didn’t need to spend thirty minutes in the bathroom. But that’s how long it took for the hot water to run out in the shower. He stood leaned against the wall, watching the mirror fog from the steam filling the room, not once stepping under the running water.
He spent the time trying to imagine your expression once he opened the door. He knew you liked being on time. In fact, you always made sure the two of you showed up thirty minutes early to everything you were invited to.
He wasn’t sure if it was anxiety or you hated the idea of leaving a bad impression on people. Truthfully, he never saw the difference. The two of you always showed up to his parent’s house early, and his mother still treated you the way she did.
He ran his hand under the water, satisfied with the coolness. He turned it off and walked out of the bathroom. You were sitting at the edge of the bed, arms crossed, jaw clenched. You looked up, scanning him up and down, taking note that he was dry from head to toe.
If you were furious, you didn’t show it. You smiled. “Enjoy yourself?”
He noticed how you were already dressed. Even your hair was styled in a neat manner. He didn’t take into account that last night you had already taken a shower. He felt like he was three moves behind in this unexpected and unspoken war the two of you were in. It was like you had been masterminding it subconsciously and he didn’t know it.
It felt like he didn’t know a lot of your plans recently. For example, your plan on breaking up with him.
He watched you walk into the bathroom, leaving the door wide open because all you had left to do was brush your teeth. Once you finished you looked at the watch on your wrist. He had given it to you on your second year anniversary. It was dainty and on the back it had his initials. You smiled to yourself. “Look at that. I have time to spare.”
You left the room, a new sway to your hips he had never seen before. He wanted to pout and kick out his frustration. But if he did, you’d have more time to think what to do next.
It felt silly acting like this all because of an apartment where the pipes groan in the middle of the night. The walls are thin so he can hear the neighbors. The paint was chipped and peeling because it had been built in the 70s, and no one had taken the time to refurbish it. Yet, it felt like his duty to stand guard.
But you knew the weakest spots in his armor. You knew where to exactly punch. And that’s why after you had been long gone to work, he couldn’t find his car keys.
At first, he thought he must have misplaced them when he rushed in last night. Maybe he had laid them in a spot that they normally don’t lay in. But when the sunlight bled through the window, reflecting a shiny glimmer on the kitchen table, Steve groaned.
They were a pair of car keys. They were not his.
His car had always been off-limits. Only in case of emergencies. And he wasn’t aware of any urgent matters at the moment.
He thought about driving to the school, parking in the furthest spot from the front door, and exchanging their keys. That plan was scratched when he turned on the car and noticed the gas gauge was a hairline away from being empty. He was always getting onto her by waiting until the last minute to get gas.
He ignored it as it yelled at him to be fed and drove to work.
When he pulled into his reserved parking spot, he grumbled obscenities when his employees had confused looks on their faces when they saw him climb out. He slammed the car door, looking at them, scowling. “Get back to work.”
They hadn’t even opened yet. But they were scared, and obliged by messing with random tools in the work shed. He swore he saw David take the broom and sweep the walls.
He stormed inside his office, going straight to the coffee maker. He didn’t have to look behind him when he heard the door open. He knew it was Eddie. They must have forced him to check on the boss.
It was silent at first. He just watched as Steve aggressively prepared the coffee maker. “Nice ride, Harrington.” He couldn’t hold it in any longer, snickering.
Steve wanted to snap around and strangle his friend. Exactly what you wanted him to do. Instead, he took a deep breath. “Yeah.” He stepped back, grabbing his vest off the hook.
“How’d things go last night? Robin said you were a bit…” He waved his hand trying to find the word. He didn’t finish. Steve wasn’t listening to him. “Is everything okay, dude?”
Steve opened a drawer with paper coffee cups, pouring himself a fresh batch. He didn’t even wait for it to cool down before taking a sip. “How hard is it to wire a car so that when you press the brakes the horn goes off.”
“Uh-”
“Ooh, even better. Is it possible to make it where reverse goes in drive and drive goes in reverse. Or is that too dangerous?” Steve turned around, taking another sip of his coffee. Internally cringing because it was nowhere good as yours. His eyes were serious and somehow innocent.
Eddie scratched his head, his curls bouncing because he hadn’t put his hair up yet. “Listen man, I don’t know whatever is going on between you and the misses, but I’d rather not get roped into it. Especially if it involves me potentially going back to jail.”
He frowned. Eddie had ruined his next move in your game. Lesson learned. Next time he’ll keep his plans to himself and figure it out. He bet David or Bill would’ve done it, no questions asked.
Steve gloomily walked to his desk. He still needed to go over the finance book and there was a stack of paperwork that needed to be done from the three days he was gone. But he couldn’t think clearly. Not with you in his mind.
Maybe if he banged his head hard enough on the desk all his problems would go away. But in reality, it wouldn’t. He would still be broke, sort-of single, and would have a major headache. He groaned out loud, putting his face in his hands. “She- she’s insufferable! The worst person I’ve ever met. And I had plans to marry her.”
“So, you’re not going to marry her?” Eddie asked him.
Steve looked up, as if he had just uttered blasphemy. “Of course I’m going to marry her.”
“But you said-”
“She thinks after five years we’re just going to call it quits and that’s it?” He laughed out loud. “Oh no no no no.”
Eddie felt like he was when Steve first showed up to his house four nights ago. He was scared. “How are you going to convince her to stay with you if you rewire her car?”
Steve leaned back, plopping his feet on the desk, hands behind his head. This entire time he had tried to fight the blazing fire with more fire, forgetting that this entire time he could be fighting with gasoline. “We still have those full jerrycans in storage, right?”
Eddie’s eyes widened. “Oh my god. Steve I know you’re upset but you don’t need to burn anything down.”
He threw his head back and laughed. “Eddie, I’m not gonna burn anything down.” He stood up pointing at the car in the parking lot. It was a piece of junk on four wheels, but you were okay with it because it got you around. Steve smiled, looking back at his friend. “Her tank is empty.”
***
You had driven Steve’s car about as many times you could count the number on your fingers. On one hand. Most of those times it had been because he was too drunk to even register what year he was in. And once because he had gotten in a fight during a graduation party after some kid had called you a whore. You wondered where the Steve who defended you when someone looked at you wrong was. Not that you wanted him to punch his own mother. But simply telling her to shut up would suffice. Was that too much to ask?
You sat in the parking lot of Kitty’s Cafe, stuffing your face with too many fries, purposely passing the time. You had gotten off of work an hour ago and would be home by now. But you wanted to marvel at being behind the steering wheel of the BMW.
You fully expected the police to show up and arrest you for stealing a car. But then again, if Hopper had been the one to receive the call from Steve, he would’ve laughed in his face and hung up. You had been driving all around town, sinking into the leather seats. The windows were all down, the sharp air kissing your cheeks. Your car’s windows had stopped rolling down six months ago, it was refreshing. At one point you had driven all the way to the “You are Now Leaving Hawkins, Indiana”. It took everything in your power not to step on the gas, leaving Hawkins in the rearview.
But unfortunately, you had turned around and made your way to your favorite burger spot.
Steve had taken you there on your first unofficial date. It was unofficial because originally it had been a double date and the two of you weren’t together. You couldn’t even remember the name of your date, but you remembered Steve’s. Patty Evans. The big haired bimbo who had an annoying shrill laugh and was way too handsy.
Both Patty and your date conveniently had to go to the bathroom at the same time. You and Steve sat in silence for twenty minutes. You looked at the bathroom door and finally said, “I don’t think they’re coming back.”
Steve swallowed his shake, staring at his plate. “No. They left about fifteen minutes ago in his car.”
You had kicked him under the table. “Why didn’t you tell me? He was my ride. I need to go call my mom.”
“Or you could stay and finish our food. I’ll take you home.” Steve moved his empty basket to the side, grabbing Patty’s.
You stared at him. The neon sign from the window illuminated his face. He looked so young and handsome. You couldn’t tell him that of course. He was only a friend– so you thought. You had had many lunches, dinners, and car rides alone with him. But that time it was clear something shifted between you. Because the rest of the night it was stolen glances, heated cheeks, and touches held too long.
You sighed thinking about how you didn’t remember the last time you had been on a date with him. The memory which was once happy turned into resentment. You crinkled the fry in your hand, sprinkling it all over the passenger seat and floorboard.
Steve would already have an aneurysm if he saw you eating in his car. Just wait until he sees that. You wiped your greasy hand over the steering wheel, like it was a leather napkin. Satisfied, you opened the door to throw away the bag, but decided to throw it in the back instead.
When you walked into the apartment, your nose was hit with a delicious flavor. For a second, your stomach cursed at you for already eating. You walked up to the stove, taking in the sight.
“Where have you been?” Steve’s voice cut into your curiosity. You turned around and almost laughed. He stood there, hands on his hips, wearing a ridiculous polka-dotted apron. “You got off work an hour and half ago.”
“So?”
He scoffed. “So? So, why didn’t you call to let me know you’d be home late?”
This conversation seems strangely familiar, you thought. Did you sound that ridiculous? “Sorry, mom.” You smirked at your comment.
He didn’t think it was funny. He ripped off the apron and threw it to the side. “I won’t even mention the fact you took my car without asking. But when you hadn’t come home, I thought you were dead.” Steve ran his hands through his hair, clearly worked up.
“Did you think I was dead or were you worried I did something to your car?”
“Unbelievable!” Steve proclaimed. However, he paused for a moment, clearly wondering if you might have actually done something to his car. “I’m tired of you always bringing up my car into arguments. We could be talking about random shit like cows and somehow you’d bring her into it. She’s not the problem.”
You laughed. “Her?”
He ignored the comment, continuing on another tangent. “I filled up your tank by the way. I also changed your oil and rotated your tires. You know, things I told you you needed to do months ago. I even came home early, washed dishes, hung the curtains up like you asked, and made dinner. Yet no word from you.”
You threw your arms up, your voice going up an octave. “I guess you know how I feel when I spend the whole night alone, having to watch your dinner get cold because I don’t know when you’ll be home. You thought I was dead because for once I took some time to myself? For the past three years I’ve wondered the same damn thing about you. You have no idea how many times I’ve almost put in a missing person’s report.”
“Sorry to break it to you sweetheart, but sometimes I don’t want to come home. In fact, I dread walking in the door because immediately it’s, ‘Steve, take off your shoes. Steve, don’t forget to put the toilet seat down. Steve, put the curtains up.’” He tried to imitate you as best he could. “It’s always nagging from you.”
“I wouldn’t have to nag you if you just did it!”
The two of you were both shouting at one another. You were certain you had woken up the neighbors, practically seeing the outline of their ears against the wall. “It’s never ‘Steve, how was your day?’” He rummaged through the cabinets, trying to find the tupperware.
She sighed, walking up to the other side of him, opening a cabinet and pulling one out, handing it to him. “You never ask me about my day, either!”
He poured in the food that was never touched into the container. “I do ask you! But you always answer ‘fine.’ So, I stopped. Because what’s the point if you don’t want me to know. It’s like you stopped wanting me to know.” He paused for a moment, closing his eyes tightly, taking in what he had just said. “I never understood whenever I heard my parents arguing, and my mom would yell at my dad, ‘Conrad, I don’t know who you are anymore.’” He looked over at you. “I do now.”
Your face fell. It felt like it was the meanest thing he could ever say. “You really want to know me? For starters, I hate that green turtleneck you wear. You look like a giant booger.”
Steve furrowed his brows, clearly hurt. He loves that sweater. You had been too afraid to let him know that green was not his color. “I hate that new perfume you started to wear. It smells like my great-great grandmother.”
The perfume in question was from a co-worker who sells Avon. You had forgotten the name, and you hated to agree it made you smell like an old lady. But now that he said that, you were going to buy ten more bottles of it. You would lather yourself in it. If you had a bathtub, you would bathe in it. “You know what I really really hate? When we have ramen for dinner, and you slurp so loud. Sometimes I sneak off to the bathroom to finish eating because the noise is so unbearable.”
“That’s disgusting. You’re going to die of an infection if you keep doing that.”
“Good then maybe if I’m dead I won’t be able to hear your noodle slurping!” Your voice had raised again.
He chuckled, placing his hand on the counter, leaning in. He dropped his voice into a low growl. “Sweetheart, you’d be going to hell if you died. The devil would make you listen to noodle slurping for eternity.”
Your nostrils flared. You were furious. It felt like steam was pouring out of your ears. “Before I die I’m going to pour that perfume inside your car.” You laughed maniacally. “Maybe it’ll cover the smell of french fries.”
He started to argue back, but stumbled, his eyes wide. “French fries? What do you mean french fries?”
You gave him a smug look, pushing his hand that was on the counter. He lost his balance holding himself up, his elbow hitting the surface. He clutched it in pain. Satisfied, you started to walk away. But he wasn’t finished. “You have terrible morning breath.”
You gasped as if it was the worst thing he had ever said. “We broke up. Why does any of this matter? Why won’t you surrender and leave.”
You had seen Steve shout before. Many times. But you had never seen him seething. His chest was rising up and down, and his jaw clenched tightly. He pointed aggressively. “There’s a difference between we and you. You broke up with me. You never gave me the chance to have my say. A relationship is two people. And we’ve been in this relationship far too long that I don’t think it’s fair you made the decision for the both of us.”
Your mouth fell open. The only other time he had made you speechless was when he had said I love you for the first time. Your mind buzzed with different responses and even some retaliations. You swallowed whatever words were on your tongue and just gaped at him.
He took a breath of air, like everything he needed to say was out there. He took the food, opened the refrigerator, and placed it in there. He turned back around, facing you. “I’m sleeping in the bed tonight.”
You think you nodded. He didn’t say another word, retreating into the bedroom. And unlike you did last night, the lock clicked softly. But it felt like the sound vibrated against the walls, bouncing all over the apartment, ringing in your ears. It felt like a sharp knife cutting into you. It felt like a three-course meal of regret and guilt was for dessert.
But you agreed with him. He didn’t know you. And you weren’t entirely sure whose fault that was this time.
summary: [4.2k] you and steve fall apart, then fall back together.
pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader
warnings: so much angst, best friends to exes to lovers, language, gratuitous taylor swift references
a/n: exes to lovers is one of my fave tropes so i hope i did it justice! reader is vaguely asian-coded by accident (though there shouldn’t be any direct references to r's appearance!) lmao happy AAPI heritage month to all my fellow asians
masterlist
The day after your breakup, Steve shows up at your house with a bag of takeout and a six-pack. He kicks off his shoes at the front door while you’re in the kitchen, already grabbing napkins and chopsticks. The light on the floral rice cooker on the counter just turned from cooking to keep warm. Steve is nothing, if not right on time.
To most people, the situation would seem peculiar. But you and Steve were best friends before your break up and you had promised that you would stay best friends after it.
You settle in on opposite sides of the worn-down loveseat, a rerun of Golden Girls playing on the television. You’re just about to ask him if he remembered to get extra sauce for the chow mein when Steve, seemingly anticipating your question, silently hands you a small cylindrical container.
The night goes on as it usually would, with Steve lamenting Keith’s tyranny and Dustin’s antics. He helps you clean up when you’re done, scooping the leftover rice into a Tupperware container saying I gotta get myself one of these, it’s so convenient! He even does the dishes, washing while you dry, never commenting on the fact that you have a perfectly good dishwasher that you never use.
Once he’s standing in the entryway, shoes back on and keys in hand, he instinctively leans in for a chaste kiss goodbye.
You flinch, turning your cheek at the last second. The moment becomes a sobering reminder as to why you decided to break up in the first place. Instinct over time starts to feel like routine. Routine over time starts to feel like a chore. Another thing that you have to cross off your to-do list.
For a while, it was grounding. It felt good to be normal. Normal felt like warmth, like coming in out of the freezing cold and cozying up next to a blazing fire. But you knew from experience that the cold always comes back. As the days drew darker, the once roaring hearth settled into a pile of ashes. Being grounded can feel like being tied down. It’s only natural to want to break free.
You didn’t realize freedom would feel like this.
“Right.” Steve huffs out awkwardly, swinging his car keys around his index finger. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He shuffles out the door while you offer a weak goodbye. You know you’re letting the cold in by watching him as he gets into his car. You do it anyway.
–
Steve and Dustin have taken to visiting you while you’re on shift at the coffee shop. You’re not sure why. The arcade next door seems much more fitted to their shared interests, but they still come and visit you all the same. Usually, when you come upon them, they’re standing on the other side of the till having a whispered conversation that dies the moment they notice you’re there.
“A latte for me, and hot cocoa for the kid.” Steve says, ruffling the younger boy's hair.
“I’m fourteen!”
“Oh, I’m sorry Mr. Maturity. Did you want a coffee? I’m sure our girl over here has some great recommendations.”
Dustin only grumbles in response, muttering insults under his breath. Steve refuses your offer to comp their drinks, paying and dropping his change in the tip jar.
You set both drinks down on the counter when they’re done. One is a simple steaming cup. The other is piled high with whipped cream and sprinkles, decorated with a tiny plastic snowman left over from the holidays.
“Thank you,” Steve says, leaning against the counter. “Y’know, you’re my most favorite barista in the whole world.”
“I’m pretty sure I’m the only barista you know, but you’re welcome.”
“So, would you be interested in movie night tomorrow?”
“Wow, let me think.” You feign contemplation, sarcasm dripping from every word. “I’ll have to check my schedule. I have a meeting with some venture capitalists but I might be able to squeeze you in.”
“It’s a date.”
“So… you guys are back together?” Dustin darts a confused glance between the both of you, his irises going back and forth as if watching a ping-pong match.
“No!” You and Steve both blurt out at the same time. Then you both take a moment to look at each other as if to say, I know why I said no but why are you saying no?
Is it really over?
Dustin, as observant and tactless as ever, gives off a little shrug. You mutter something about needing to go to the back to do inventory. As you’re walking away, you hear Steve say something that sounds a lot like Nice going, doofus!
–
Dustin answers the door when you ring the bell. Steve’s house has the usual suspects for movie night. Max and El are cuddled up together on the floor, practically laying on top of each other. Robin and Nancy are on the loveseat to the left, so wrapped up in each other that they barely even register your arrival. You presume that the sounds coming from the kitchen are Mike, Will, and Lucas, no doubt making one too many bowls of popcorn in the microwave.
Steve is sitting, his arm draped over the back of the couch. Before, there would’ve been no questions as to where you would sit. The empty couch cushion practically had your name on it. You would’ve already bounded across the room and snuggled up to the boy that felt like home.
You search the room for another option, but come up empty. Unless you want to pointedly avoid sitting next to him by crashing on the floor with the kids, which would undoubtedly draw attention to the very thing you want to ignore.
Taking a seat next to Steve, you toe the line between platonic distance and romantic distance.
“What’s on tonight?” You ask no one in particular.
“The Princess Bride.” Lucas replies, coming from the kitchen with a bowl of fresh popcorn.
He barely gets a chance to put it down before the three other boys tumble onto the floor and begin shoveling the savory snack into their mouths. Max and El whine about their lack of civility, yelling at them for having spilled popcorn on the floor before the movie has even started.
“Ah, that’s my favorite!”
“I know.” Steve finally speaks up beside you.
“We’ve only seen it like a million times.” Max says, rolling her eyes and resting her head on El’s shoulder.
“Hey! Little shits who eat my food and use me as a taxi service don’t get to complain about my movie choices.”
“Whatever, Steve.” The redhead remarks, with an unmistakable fondness in her voice.
You settle into your seat. The January cold has seeped into the house and, despite the heating being on full blast, you’re freezing. Steve notices, tugging the comforter in his lap over your frame, enveloping you in a warmth you didn’t realize you missed so much. You murmur a quiet thank you that you’re almost sure goes unheard until he turns, giving you a small smile before returning his attention to the screen.
In order to properly share the blanket, you have to scoot in even closer. You tell yourself that it’s a perfectly reasonable platonic distance, that you used to do this all the time before you were dating. If Steve is experiencing even a fraction of your inner turmoil, he doesn’t show it. He just keeps looking ahead, paying far too much attention to the film. The palm that would usually come to rest upon your shoulder stays gripping the back of the couch.
Sometime after Buttercup and Wesley enter the forbidden forest, you fall asleep.
It’s hard to make out anything through the dense fog. The trees around you loom large, foliage so lush and thick that it blocks out the sky, making it unclear if it’s day or night. The only light source comes from an oil lamp.
The lamp casts a shadow over the face of the person holding it, emphasizing his strong brow and straight nose. You go to move toward Steve, but you can’t. You’re stuck. Ankle deep in sand, coarse and with the consistency of molasses, that slowly creeps up higher and higher. It takes you a moment to realize; the sand isn’t getting higher, you’re getting lower.
You’re sinking.
Desperately, you begin grasping at anything and everything that might get you out. It’s futile. The more you move, the further you fall. You’re waist-deep now. Steve is still standing there, stone-faced, oil lamp flickering. He turns, walking into the fog and taking the light with him.
You open your mouth, wanting to scream. Needing to scream. But only one word echoes throughout. It does nothing to stop Steve’s retreating figure.
Stay.
“Hey,” Steve is tugging on the sleeve of your sweater. “Wake up.”
The fog dissipates. Feeling slowly returns to your limbs. The first thing you realize is that you fell asleep on Steve’s shoulder. The second thing you realize is that, due to your impromptu nap, the distance between the two of you is practically nonexistent. You recoil, sliding yourself as far away from him as you can. Steve flinches at the sudden movement.
“Are you okay?” His voice is soft and comforting, like a childhood blanket that you can’t sleep without. “It seemed like you were having a bad dream.”
You blink your eyes furiously, trying to shake the sinking feeling that has settled deep into your stomach.
“Where is everyone?” You ask, avoiding his question. The once lively living room is now empty. Remnants of movie night surround you in the form of stray pieces of popcorn and a nearly empty tub of Red Vines.
“They all went home about twenty minutes ago.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You seemed so comfortable. I didn’t wanna wake you.” He shrugs, saying the next words gently. “Are you having nightmares again?”
Before, you would tell him yes. You always talked to Steve about your nightmares. Most of the time he was there to witness them firsthand, waking up to your shouting and thrashing. Some nights, he would be able to coax you back to sleep with soothing words and tender touches. Other nights, he would stay up with you for hours, talking about nothing. The next day, the deep bags etched under his eyes would serve as another reminder of just how tiring you could be.
“I’m fine.” You wipe the corner of your mouth, cringing at the slight dampness you find there. Great. Not only did you fall asleep on Steve but you also drooled on him. “I think it’s time for me to head out.”
Leaping from the couch, you get to the foyer in record time. Your shoes are already halfway on before Steve appears, standing in between you and the door.
“You don’t have to. You know the guest room is always made up for you if you want it.” He bargains.
“I— I have to go. I’m sorry. Goodnight Steve.”
“Please, you’re tired. At least let me drive you.” He’s practically pleading, already moving to grab his car keys.
“Just let me go, Steve!” Your outburst echoes throughout the empty house.
Steve takes a step back away from you. “I’m sorry.”
Regret washes over you like a tidal wave. You can feel yourself being ripped under the current. You curse yourself, not for drowning, but for dragging Steve down with you.
“No, don’t apologize. Fuck, I’m sorry. I just—”
“Have to go?” He supplies.
He sounds dejected like this is another battle with you that he’s already resigned himself to losing. You fumble through another apology, another goodbye.
You don’t dare to look behind you as you make your way to your car. It isn’t until you’re halfway down your street that you spare a glance at your rear-view mirror. Steve is still standing there, the door wide open.
You don’t know why you keep having dreams where you ask Steve to stay.
You’re the one who is always leaving.
—
“She was totally flirting with you!” You scream whisper, keeping in mind that the diner is mostly empty aside from the loyal patrons that come in every weekday for a hearty serving of beef and potatoes.
Steve showed up to the coffee shop today, sans Dustin, asking if you’d like to grab a bite to eat after your shift. You obliged, hoping to make up for your outburst from the other night. He still hasn’t mentioned it. For your sake, you hope that he won’t.
“No, she wasn’t.” You thought Steve’s obliviousness when it came to romance only extended to you. Apparently, you were wrong because he was completely ignoring the way that the waitress was batting her eyelashes at him.
“Yes, she was!” You take a fry from the basket and Steve pushes his strawberry milkshake toward you, already knowing that you were going to subject him to the gross combination and he might as well get it over with. “Y’know, if you wanted to ask her out you could. Don’t let me hold you back.”
“You’re not holding me back. Anyways, isn’t it weird, having your ex-girlfriend be your wingman?”
“I’m still your best friend. Besides, you totally helped me out with Brandon so I just thought I’d return the favor.”
“What are you talking about?” Steve asks, causing you to furrow your brow at him. Despite having loved him for a long time and having known him for even longer, his inability to read a room knows no bounds.
“Last week at Family Video?” You utter the words with slow precision, but recognition fails to make its way across Steve’s face. “Brandon Clayborn asked you for horror movie recommendations and you sent him to me.”
“And he asked you out?” Steve gapes at you from over the rim of his milkshake. The idea of grabbing the glass and slogging the pink confection at him crosses your mind, but instead, you clench your fists at your side.
“Is that so unbelievable?” At your response, Steve’s brows pinch together. He toys with the wrapping paper of his straw, folding it over and over again.
“And what did you say?”
“I said yes.”
“Oh.” Steve finally stops fiddling with the piece of paper. It’s shredded to pieces in a pile in front of him. He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out the bulging leather wallet. “I’ll be right back.”
With that, Steve slides out of the booth and walks up to the counter. The giggles of the waitress can be heard throughout the diner. You turn toward the window so that you don’t have to see her scrawl her number on the receipt, and you catch your muddled reflection. You don’t know if you look like you’ve seen a ghost or if you’ve become one.
–
Due to unforeseen circumstances, your second date with Brandon had to be rescheduled. A literal rain check. He’d sputtered out numerous apologies over the crackling phone line, saying how the picnic he had planned didn’t account for a torrential downpour. You promised him that it was fine, that you didn’t even wanna leave the house in this weather. You didn’t think anyone would want to leave the house in this weather, which is why you grew shocked at the sound of the doorbell ringing.
Then you promptly remember that this is Hawkins and that anyone or anything could be behind that door. Grabbing the old wooden bat you keep under the couch for emergencies, you inch toward the door. The frantic ringing of the bell matches the beat of your heart. Peering through the peephole, you sigh in both relief and frustration before flinging the door open.
“Are you insane?!” You practically scream at the soaking wet boy. “You scared the shit outta me.”
Steve stands in the threshold, shaking his head like a dog would to get all the water out. You flinch as the droplets inevitably fall on you. The fine mist and wind that he’s brought in with him chill you to the bone.
“Sorry.” He smiles sheepishly.
“How did you even manage to get this wet in the twenty feet from the street to the porch?” You ask, peering behind him to look for the familiar maroon vehicle. It isn’t there.
“I walked here.”
You balk at him. Sure, Steve has been known to act recklessly from time to time, but never without reason. Instead of taking the time to berate him for being so stupid, you take one look at the soggy shivering boy and shut the door, turning on your heel towards your bedroom. You don’t need to look behind you to know that he’s following you.
“C’mon, you’re gonna catch a cold if you stay in those wet clothes.”
You rummage through your drawers, managing to find a t-shirt and sweatpants that you had stolen from him long ago. Now is as good a time as any to give it back, right? Stuffing the items in your arm, you thrust them into Steve’s hands and direct him to the bathroom. He doesn’t need direction. He knows the floorplan of your house just like he knows you–all too well.
While Steve is in the bathroom, you go to shut the drawers that you had left open in the rush to find him something to wear. The bottom drawer has always had a problem, getting stuck at the most inopportune moments. Lifting it just a little, you slam the drawer back into place which causes the contents on top of your dresser to shake with the force. The silver picture frame falls on its face and you go to place it right side up.
It’s a photograph of the two of you from last summer. Robin had pointed the camera at you and at the very last second Steve grabbed you and placed a sloppy kiss on your cheek, causing you to squeal in delight. The memory stings. You almost want to put it face down again so that you don’t have to be reminded of what once was. Instead, you’re interrupted by the sound of a lock turning and quiet footfalls on carpeted floors.
The moment Steve steps into your bedroom, you’re drenched in nostalgia. It’s been months since you’ve seen him like this–standing in his pajamas in your bedroom. It’s moments like this that are the hardest. The ones where you can feel how everything and nothing has changed. It feels like relief and restriction.
You realize you’re still standing in front of the dresser and go to sit on your bed. You need to put space between you and Steve. He has this insane gravitational pull and you know that if you stay around him like this for too long, you’ll end up back in his orbit.
He steps cautiously around the room like he’s afraid of stepping on a landmine. One wrong move and everything could blow up. Standing in front of the dresser, he takes the dreaded picture frame into his hands. He’s still using a towel to dry his hair when he finally speaks.
“It’s a good picture.” He says, simply. The pads of his thumbs wipe away the layer of dust that coats your sunbleached faces.
“It is.” You manage to choke out. “Why are you here, Steve?”
He places the picture frame back down on the dresser. It’s perfectly angled towards you. The ghost of your smiling face taunting you in your own bedroom.
“It’s funny, y’know?” Steve lets out a mirthless laugh.
“What is?”
“We broke up and the only person I wanna talk about it with is you.”
All of the air has been sucked out of the room. Steve has always been good at taking your breath away.
“I mean, I get it. I get why we broke up. I do.” He lets out a deep breath before continuing on, not giving you a chance to interrupt. “Except, I don’t. I can’t wrap my head around how one day we were fine and the next day we weren’t. I know that I’m not good enough for you–I’ve always known that. I guess I just wanna know when you finally figured it out.”
His words make you ache. A tightness blooms in your chest and spreads all the way down your arms to your trembling fingertips. You want so badly to reach out to him. He’s on the other side of the room but he might as well be on the other side of the world. You don’t know how to bridge the ravine that you’ve put between the two of you. You know for him you’d make the leap, uncaring of the abyss below. The thought scares you so much that your fists tangle in your bedsheets, hoping for something to keep you from falling back in.
“The last thing I wanted was for you to feel like you weren’t good enough for me. You’ve always been good enough, Steve.”
You can tell from the shake of his head that he doesn’t believe you.
“I thought that maybe you just needed a little space, a little time. Then I have to watch you go on dates and move on like it’s easy. Like the fact that we’re not together anymore doesn’t eat you up inside.”
“It’s not easy! It’s killing me!” Tears collect in your eyes, blurring your vision. “I don’t know why I can’t just be happy with you. I want to be happy with you.”
“What are you so afraid of?” Steve begs, his question punctuated by a boom of thunder and a flash of lightning.
You found solace in the eye of the storm. Once the storm passed, you didn’t know what to do with the wreckage. Calm didn’t provide comfort. Instead, it only reminded you that there was likely another storm to come. Steve has always been better at picking up the pieces and patching things up. You didn’t want to become just another thing he had to fix. So, you pushed him away.
He still came back.
This time he brought the storm with him.
“I’m afraid that the minute I actually enjoy everything, it’ll all get taken away from me.” You confess, roughly wiping away your tears.
Steve crosses the room and kneels in front of you. His hair is still slightly damp, a stray strand hanging in front of his forehead. You brush it out of the way and he catches your wrist, placing a kiss in the palm of your hand.
“I’m not going anywhere.” He murmurs, lips still brushing your skin. He says it like a promise. You wish the words were tangible, that you could close your fist around them and hold them close. “Tell me what I can do to fix it.”
The words simultaneously endear and exasperate you. Here is this boy who loves you, sitting in front of you telling you to let him love you. Here you are, about to tell him that he can’t.
“What if you can’t fix it, Steve? What if I’m unfixable?”
He doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he takes both of your hands in his, rubbing his thumbs over your knuckles.
“Then I’ll still love you anyway.”
Steve looks up and the clouds part. You’ve been so caught up in your doom and gloom, that you’d forgotten what it felt like to see the light of day. You lean down, closing your eyes, pressing your forehead to his.
“Why?” The question comes out watery and wanting.
“I can’t help it.” He breathes out.
You understand the feeling.
You bridge the gap, uncaring of the abyss that lies below. You’d fall through eternity if it meant you got to do it with him. His lips feel exactly like you remember them–like home. He kisses soft and slow, hands anchored at your hips as if to prevent you from floating away. When you break apart, both of you gasping for air, there’s uncertainty in his eyes. It fades away as soon as you lean back on the bed, pulling at his sleeves and dragging him with you.
The night is composed of soft apologies and even softer sighs, accompanied by the din of rain against the roof. It isn’t until far into the night that the storm finally subsides, leaving the pavement to glow in the morning sun.
Waking up next to Steve is a revelation. You don’t know how you ever survived without it. He’s all sleepy smiles and tired eyes, drowsily pulling you closer to him. Resting your head on his chest, you’re soothed by the rhythmic thump of his beating heart.
“Y’know, you didn’t have to walk in the rain just to say that you wanna get back together. You’re so dramatic.” You joke, hoping that it isn’t too soon to start poking fun.
His chest rumbles with laughter, the reverberations quelling your fears.
“In my defense, it wasn’t raining when I started walking.” He says, voice still thick with sleep. “Besides, you love it.”
You smile contentedly to yourself, not offering up a response besides a hum of agreement. He’s right. You do love him. Rain or shine.
likes are appreciated, comments and reblogs are cherished ♥️
warnings: warnings: no use of y/n, exes to lovers, cursing (plenty), angsty, mentions of alcohol and reader throwing up, reader and steve arguing (just a bit), angst mixed in with humor (my personal fave), reader crying (she does a lot), mis communication, uses of a home phone and answering machine, stupid idiots confessing their love <3
summary: you never would have thought that steve harrington could ever break your heart...after all, he was all that you wanted. however, after a sudden breakup you find yourself struggling to move on from him. moving on was always easy for you to do, but you just don't understand why you can't get over steve. after a night out with nancy and robin you question if love really is a thing or if it's just a complete lie.
Two weeks.
Fourteen days.
The most grueling three hundred and sixty-six hours of your life, and here you were sat at the bar with your best friends on either side of you. The two of them buying you drinks and talking shit about your ex-boyfriend to try to make you feel a little better.
But in all fairness, it’s the best you felt in those two weeks, so you’d take a night full of shots and half-drunk euphoria over one full of tears and sadness in bed.
“Another round?” The bartender glided over with a smile on his unshaven face as he compiled the shot glasses on a plate.
You swung your head, cringing as you bit down on the lime slice to chase the vodka burning your throat. The three of you were on a roll, drinking ever since you entered the club without a care for stopping.
Nancy hiccuped in, looking between you and Robin, knowing you should cool it on the drinking, “M-maybe some water?” she requested as the two of you nodded in agreement.
He laughed freely at all three of you girls’ halt on shots. “Coming right up,” he spun around, grabbing a few waters and clean glasses.
Robin turned her eyes towards you, her fist lazily reinforcing her head as she could feel the alcohol slowing hitting her, “Are ya having fun?”
“Hmmm…” You pretended to think for a moment before putting on your best smile, “’course I am, you know I always have fun with you two.”
Robin and Nancy shot a concerning look at each other while you were distracted by the water pushed towards you, downing the glass.
They knew things weren’t easy for you, at least right now. They had spent the last few days trying to convince you to go out and try to have fun in hopes of helping you get over the untimely breakup. After spending the first week locked up in your apartment, wallowing, they had tried to get you to come out and get some much needed girl’s time.
And for a minute they thought that they had cracked you, getting you to tag along at the beach, but unfortunately the experience just made you feel worse about yourself. Seeing too many happy couples splashing in the water or writing each other’s initials in the sand around a big heart—you were totally broken hearted.
Nancy and Robin had to practically drag you back to your apartment, a sobbing mess. What they didn’t know was that the last date that you and Steve went on was to that exact beach. Memories of you and him running barefoot across the sand and splashing each other with the salty ocean water.
Thankfully, you had gotten your shit together, or at least tried to for tonight. You were grateful to have friends who were so committed to making sure you were ok in times like these. But they could also see through the facade. You hadn’t mentioned his name all night. The first in the last couple of days where all you could think and talk about was him.
“I know, but you can also talk to us about anything you’re feeling,” Nancy started, her hands coming up to warmly caress your shoulder, “We’re always gonna be here for you.”
You inhaled, eyes glittering with a sheen of salty liquid and a genuine smile creeping onto your face as you threw your arms around her neck and pulled her into a hug. You could hear the muffled laughter of Robin’s voice behind you through the music, feeling her wrap her arms around the two of you and join in on the hug.
“I love you guys.” You murmured, feeling their smile and giggle on your skin, reciting it back to you before they stretched away.
Again, the bartender stood behind the bar, arms crisscrossed over his rib cage as he rose his brows towards you, “So what did he do? Cheat or ghost you?”
Your eyes squinted at him, evidently taken aback by his intrusion as you set your glass down, “W-what?”
He snickered inwardly, leaning closer to the bar, nearly face to face with you before you scooched back, “No group of girls just comes to a club on a Friday night crying for no reason, y’know?”
The bartender tried to be silly, laughing at himself and towards you and your friends like you’d even give him a giggle. Instead, you wanted to reach over the table and give him a piece of your mind. That yeah, maybe you were here sitting at a bar crying over Steve Harrington, but Steve would never cheat or ghost you.
Never.
But before you could even begin explaining that to him, Nancy cut in. Both of her palms resting on the surface as she pushed herself forward, face to face with the man, staring him down and watching him cower.
“Look it’s none of your business. We’re here to have a good time, not to explain ourselves to an eavesdropper.” Her voice spiked with firmness, standing her ground while the bartender smirked, holding his hands up in defense, and backed away.
You felt a squeeze on your shoulder coming from Robin who gave you an encouraging smile, but you could tell that beneath that she was worried for you. Most times you wouldn’t hesitate to put someone like him in his place for being so invasive, but these days it just felt like you didn’t have the energy for anything, let alone picking fights with strangers.
Nancy settled back comfortably into her chair and you mouthed a “thank you” towards her, and all she did was shake her head and give you those comforting eyes that let you know that she would’ve done it either way for you.
You didn’t want to feel like you needed to defend yourself, but part of you wished that you didn’t have to be here in the first place. That if Steve didn’t break your heart, you’d just be with him and the rest of your friends back at your apartment watching a shit-load of movies until you fell asleep.
But instead you were here, moping and trying to numb away your pain with drinks, like a goddamn rom-com. Except your prince charming wasn’t going to waltz in any minute and beg for your forgiveness.
You wished you could’ve just spent your night forgetting this interaction with that stupid bartender even happened, but as swiftly as the privacy came, it died once again with him invading your personal bubble.
A tray of freshly poured shots slid its way towards you, along with the cough of the man who gained your attention. “The shots are on the house and it’s my bad…I didn’t mean to make you girls angry.”
You took a deep breath, shoulders dropping heavily, only reaching for a glass and toasting it up to him, “It’s whatever…no hard feelings, dude.”
With that you chugged the alcohol, not bothering to even chase it with lime or salt, like you had been doing all night. Nancy and Robin did the same, mumbling a “thank you” to the man and taking their own shot.
He should’ve left it at that, but of course just like any other man, they always had to go and ruin it.
“Buuut…” his tone condescending with just that one word alone, “love is a complete and utter lie anyway so try not to think so hard about it.”
His lips twisted up in a smirk as if he had just played you, but you were really just not having any of it anymore. You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol beginning to really kick in and give you an edge or if you were really just ticked off, but you didn’t think twice before reaching for Nancy’s half-full cup of water and chucking the rest of it at the man.
“You’re such an asshole!” You slurred noisily followed by the gasps of the other bystanders who watched it unfold.
“Oh, my god!” Robin shrieked, clamping a hand over her mouth as she watched the man completely lose his shit over some water.
It all happened so fast, and you really were about to go across the bar and throw every single drink at this man just so you could release all this pent up sadness and frustration, but something stopped you. That familiar tune beginning to play over the speakers. That song that was Steve’s favorite blaring in your ears and it just made you want to cry.
You never would have thought you’d ever throw a drink into any person’s face. Never ever. Sure, you’d fantasize about it, and wish you could to ever rude person you met.
But you never did…not until tonight.
You don’t know what overcame you, but it all just felt so wrong.
Nancy quickly helped you up out of the barstool, while Robin exhanged a few curse words and thrown middle fingers at the man before following you two outside of the club before you would have been escorted out by security.
You couldn’t control the sobs that were leaving your mouth and tears slipping down your cheeks. This isn’t what you wanted at all, and this wasn’t how the night was supposed to play out.
You had it all planned out in your head.
You three would just spend the night drinking your worries away and dancing to overplayed club music until your feet hurt and you would have to hail a cab barefoot down the street.
But of course, nothing was ever how it was supposed to be.
“Here, let’s sit,” Nancy suggested, wandering a few blocks away from the place and helping you sit down on the curb.
“Oh honey,” Robin murmured, coming to the other side of you and wrapping her arms across your shoulders, “Don’t listen to that prick. He has no idea what he’s talking about!”
Nancy ran her palms up and down your arms, trying to warm you up from the chilly night air, “Mhm! He’s probably just angry because he’s never been in love before.”
With your breath uneasy, you lifted your face from your hands, revealing the mascara smeared cheeks where the salty tears continued to pour.
“Love isn’t a lie! It can’t be…”
You looked at them in disbelief like this breakup was so catastrophic…because it was and it was painting you blue. The kind of messy and discolored shades of every blue fusing together and turning your soul into grey goop.
You were a mess.
Nance gulped, not really sure of what to say because your emotions had never got this bad. Back in the first week of the breakup, she and Robin would hold you while you cried and told them how lonely you were, but this was something different.
“A—and no one is saying it’s a lie! Love isn’t a lie, hun.” She told you, stroking your hair back from where it was sticking to your wet cheeks.
You couldn’t help collapsing into Nancy’s lap, hiding your face and hands on top of her where you wept violently. She felt the strings tugging on her heart, watching you break down, rubbing circles on your back to try to get you to calm down.
Her eyes narrowing towards Robin and mouthing, “say something to make her feel better!”
Robin wasn’t so good with these emotions, either. Smacking her hand on top of her forehead and opening her mouth to try to form words, but she struggled a bit, but not before Nancy smacked her leg lightly, begging her to say something quick.
“Y-you know…ummm love isn’t a complete lie…it’s just that ummm, you know sometimes things just don’t work out, but when you meet someone and it feels right, you just know…you know that it’s love.”
You rocked your head in your hands, your heart being pulled in a million different directions, yet still falling apart because you knew that you only ever had that feeling with Steve. He was the person who felt right. And you feared that it was always going to be him.
Nancy and Robin continued rubbing reassuring circles on your back, and you even felt the warmth of a Robin’s jacket being draped across body. There was no good reason as to why your two best friends should be doing this right now. And you probably wouldn’t have blamed them if they had just left you here to fend for yourself because you were a total mess and you really felt like your sadness was contagious—infecting them and ruining their night.
They had their own significant others, Jonathan and Vicky, who probably would have given them a better night than tonight. At least, they had people coming home to them, probably thinking about what they were up to, maybe something fun and looking forward to receiving one of those drunk calls asking them to come and pick them up. But no, they were here, already sobered up and comforting their heartbroken wreck of a friend.
“B-but what if it’s really a lie?” You hiccuped quietly, withdrawing your head from Nancy’s lap, and struggling to swipe away at the never ending puddle of tears.
Robin adjusted her jacket over your shoulders, hugging you firmly and Nance doing the same on the opposite side.
“Don’t think like that, babe…you know you’re a total romantic.” Robin replied
You sniffled, glancing over at her with a crushed presence, “I don’t know a-anymore, maybe love just isn’t meant for me,”
“No, no, no, don’t say that.” Nancy scolds gently, moving to hold on to your hand where you take a shaky breath and look up at the sky.
You wished that there was a shooting star, just so you could make a wish and rewind time. You were so pathetically drunk yet sober off your ass and feelings right now.
“It’s true! Maybe Steve will find a new girlfriend who will give him the world and take my place and love him the way that I—”
You swallowed thickly, not even wanting to finish that sentence because it made you so sick. Your senses were just filled with all things Steve and even when you closed your eyes to try to forget about it, all you could visualize was Steve laughing and kissing another girl who wasn’t you.
It was your deepest fears coming true in the bounds of your imagination, yet maybe it was true. Maybe Steve already found someone else who was better than you, the girl who you could never be. Maybe he was already moved on, meanwhile you were letting him make a mess and a fool out of you.
It made you sick.
The lump in your larynx rose despite your attempts to swallow it, and out of nowhere your hands forced outwards, shoving Robin and Nancy away, while you jerked forward and threw up on the street.
“Oh, Jesus.” Nancy sighed, hastily rising up and backing away to give you a minute.
Meanwhile, Robin clenched one hand over her mouth, while the other gathered your hair and held it back for you.
“Yup, just let it all out.” She mumbled, grimacing as you continued to do so.
Nance searched around, catching a payphone a short walk away, “I’m gonna call her a ride and try to find her some water.”
“Be quick, please.” Robin hailed out before she jogged off to the payphone.
She really didn’t know who to call, and for a second she contemplated Steve, but after everything that had happened tonight, she didn’t want to put you in a situation that you quite literally weren’t ready for.
Jonathan would have been an option, but she knew her boyfriend and at this hour he was probably dead asleep and would not wake up.
Then there was Vicky, which would have been a great option, however she still didn’t have her license and the last thing they needed was for her to get pulled over for not having one.
So she dialed the numbers, hoping that the person would be up and willing to come into town to pick you up.
“C’mon, c’mon, please, pick up.” She tapped her foot impatiently and the phone continued to ring, for a moment she was about to lose all her hope and hang up.
But thankfully, he picked up, “Munson residence, what can I do for you at this hour?”
Nance could practically feel the smirk on his face once he answer, “Eddie, you need to get your ass down here before she quiet literally drops down drunk on the side of the road.”
There was a heavy sigh before she heard some shuffling in the background, “I’ll be right there.”
How Nancy got a bottle of water from the same bartender that you threw a glass of water at was kinda funny, but nevertheless you were thankful. You were half drunk, drowsy, propping your head on Robin’s shoulder while Nance occasionally prompted you to drink some more water, trying to get you to sober up quickly. But what you really needed was an aspirin and your bed.
Thankfully, after what felt like the longest twenty minutes of your life, you could hear the sighs of reliefs coming from Robin and Nancy as they followed the white van coming closer down the street.
“C’mon, hun, time to get up,” Robin declared, wrapping one of your arms across her shoulder and Nancy did the same, trying to get you up on your feet without you flopping down.
“What the fuck!” Eddie hollered out the passenger window, hitting the brakes and placing the van in park before getting out.
You heard him, more than saw him, due to the fact that you were still buzzed, but could barely raise your head to meet his eyes. Instead, just seeing a distorted view of his converse that he always wore.
“Now’s not the time for a tangent, Edward—fuck!” Nancy winced, struggling to keep you up.
“Jesus Christ, just give her to me,” Eddie sputtered, drawing your full weight and essentially lugging you to the passenger side of the van where Robin opened the door wide.
He turned to the two girls, looking at them seriously, “Before she goes in, did she already throw up?”
Nancy nodded, pointing to the side of the road where your barf still stayed in a pile that made everyone want to gag, “Like everything in her system.”
“Okay, I’ll get her home safe and make sure she calls you before she heads to bed,” He told them and they nodded, watching Eddie gingerly place you in the passenger seat and buckle you in.
“Feel better, babe, we’ll talk to you in a bit.” Nancy exhaled, giving your thigh a pat while Robin opted for a kiss on the forehead before shutting your door quietly.
You could only barely hear the conversation that the two girls and Eddie were having outside. Their voices a subdued murmur, not wanting to disturb your journey to sleep, but also not wanting you to hear them explain the situation that had happened that lead up to this. But you really paid them no mind, just resting your head back against the cushion and listening to the low music that played.
It was only a few more minutes before Eddie finally got into the driver’s seat, glancing over at you. “Ready to go?”
“Hmmm.” You uttered, keeping your eyes tight and feeling the van begin to move.
You weren’t really sure where things stood between you and Eddie, considering the fact that he was closer to Steve and even let him crash at his trailer after you two had broken up and you kept the apartment. You weren’t even sure if Eddie liked you all that much. After all this time dating Steve, he was one of the friends that was hard to read.
Sometimes he’d be super friendly and other times he’d be a little closed off. It just depended on the day, but you had a feeling that you were the last person that Eddie wanted to see tonight.
“I’m sorry for making you drive all the way down here for me…I-I should’ve just told them to call me a cab—”
He grunted, swaying his head and peeping over at you shortly, “And what if that cab driver was a creep? Just—just consider it a favor and let it be done.”
“D-do you hate me or something?” You opened your eyes, looking at him blankly.
“Don’t be ridiculous, you dated my best friend since like forever…I can’t hate you.” He chuckled to himself, but still you didn’t seem convinced.
“But we’re broken up now, so technically you can hate me.” You responded, pushing yourself to sit up rather than slouch.
He looked over at you, perhaps thinking you were about to yack again, but you just looked at him, waiting for a response.
“Look,” He sighed heavily, “You made Steve really happy, the happiest I’ve ever fuckin’ seen him in our whole friendship. There isn’t a goddamn reason for me to hate you for doing that. If anything, I owe you because him being that happy made him a better friend, alright. So stop thinking that I hate you, because I don’t.”
You were a little shocked to be honest, because Eddie never really got deep when it came to you. So maybe Eddie really didn’t hate you. That at least made you feel a little better.
When you didn’t respond, Eddie spoke again, hoping that you would at least say something for the rest of the drive.
“You know, Steve isn’t doing so well, either. He’s still crashing at my place and when I got the call from Nance tonight, I contemplated telling him it was about you, but…I don’t think right now either of you are ready to talk at three in the morning.” He snickered, smiling a bit when he saw you scorn jokingly and brush back your hair.
“And so, what did you tell him?” You marveled out loud, turning your eyes to the road, “That you had to deliver some weed?”
“Maybe, something like that.” He shrugged feeling so predicable.
Eddie honestly didn’t know what to make of this whole situation. A part of him feeling a little bad for not telling his best friend that his ex-girlfriend was totally wasted and needed a way home. But he also understood that you were really vulnerable right now and to tell Steve would blow the whole situation out of proportion and probably would’ve made everything between the two of you even worse.
If there was any hope for reconsolidation, it would be best for the two of you two meet when you weren’t wasted and the other worried out of their mind about your wellbeing.
The drive to your apartment wasn’t long or as awkward as you thought it was going to be. It was actually quite comfortable. Eddie made jokes every once in a while when you got too quiet, wondering if you were about to throw up and that he would never forgive you if you threw up in his van.
“Home sweet home.” Eddie announced, guiding you into your place and shutting the door behind you.
You flickered the lights on, cursing at the sudden brightness that only made your head hurt even more than it already was. Eddie looked around that the space and a lot of the areas were bare after Steve had packed up his things with him. It wasn’t a complete mess, but there were boxes of tissues scattered around the coffee table and kitchen area. And there seemed to be more wine bottles behind the kitchen—your way of coping.
“I’m gonna get out of these clothes. Just grab anything you want to eat or drink if you’re hungry.” You waved off, stumbling towards your bedroom to grab a fresh pair of clothes to change into.
Again, with your energy so depleted you just didn’t have it in you to take the time to shower, so instead you opted for a makeup wipe, brushing your teeth, and changing into sweats.
“Here she is.” Eddie spoke with a half full mouth of cereal, passing the phone to you once you came back out to the living room.
You rubbed at your eyes, yawning loudly, as you placed the phone beside your ear, “H-hello?”
“Hey hun, you feeling a little better?” It was Robin on the other line.
“Just a little, gonna take an aspirin and head to bed…and look, I’m sorry for—”
“Nope!” She cut you off quickly, “don’t apologize, sometimes it happens, but I’m just glad that we were there to make sure you got home safe.”
You nodded, drawing a deep breath, “Yeah, thanks for that too.”
Robin could sense the tiredness in your voice and knew it was time you head to bed.
“Get some rest and I’ll call you tomorrow ok? I love you, sugar!”
You laughed faintly at the kissy noises she made, “Love you too, Robs.”
When you hung up the phone, your eyes followed the ruckus taking place in the storage closet beside the kitchen. You got up, seeing as though Eddie has pulled from the bottom layer of your paper towel tower and caused a few to come plummeting down.
“Sorry, you were all out of some in the kitchen.” Eddie apologized while you bent down, helping him pick up a few rolls and stack them back up.
But something peeking out behind the stack caught your eyes, a dark blue piece of fabric that had been wedged behind it. You rose your brows, tugging at the garment until it came out into view and just like that you wanted to cry all over again.
It was the stupid blue bucket hat that Steve had been wearing on your last date at the beach.
You couldn’t remember why it was there to begin with, but it was just like another memory of him seeping back into your life. You had thought that he packed away everything, all his clothes, his little trinkets—leaving no trace of himself behind, yet this stupid hat was still here.
“A-are you ok?” Eddie asked slowly, watching your eyes being to water, and you went stoic.
You sniffled, shaking your head, and rolling your eyes at yourself for being so dramatic. “It’s the hat that Steve wore on our last date.”
“Oh…umm, I’m sorry.” He said, cursing at himself for being so clumsy and causing you to find it.
You shook your head, lips sealed closely as you tried to breathe through your tears, “No, it’s fine, I just thought he took everything with him and now it’s just like, right in my face and it sucks.”
“I-I can give it back to him if you want?” Eddie offered, holding his hands out ready for you to want it as far away as possible, but you didn’t hand it over.
Instead, you wiped away your tears, shaking your head again while you examined it, “I’ll keep it…you know, for memory and whatnot.”
He didn’t question for how weird that must sound, but instead reached forward and wrapped his arms around you, giving you a hug. One that he knew you probably needed. The one that he rarely gave you when you two were friends. If this breakup was hard for Steve, it was even harder for you, and just by the looks of it, he could tell that was true.
“You rest up and feel better tomorrow, alright?” He said, pulling away from the hug and looking at you through your teary eyes.
Your lip quivered, trying to control the sobbing from happening because you knew Eddie couldn’t be of comfort like Nancy and Robin. He told you goodnight, before giving you one last hug and letting himself out. It felt lonelier than usual, locking up the place and heading to your bedroom where you couldn’t even find it in yourself to sleep on Steve’s side of the bed.
You always stayed on your side, wishing that he was there to fill that empty space. To just hold you tight and tell you that everything was going to be fine.
And so maybe his side of the bed was still empty, but you still had a small piece of him there with you. With that, you clutched that stupid hat close to your chest while you faced towards his side of the bed. Tears still slipping and being soaked up by your blankets as you cried yourself to sleep.
Sleep seemed to be the only place where you’d find an ounce of peace, but only for a little, because as soon as a dream would begin, it would only end in a nightmare that woke you up. It was no different, except for the fact that this time you dreamed of that beach, the one where you and Steve walked hand in hand, telling each other anything.
It felt so real, seeing him there and feeling his hand against yours. His laughter was still contagious, just as much as his smile was. Then, like that…he just disappeared, like he had been swept away in the current.
You were left on that beach all alone, feeling the warmth of the sun piercing through your skin like a death by a thousand cuts and the sand beneath your feet burning you with each lonely step you took.
“Fuck,”
Groaning, you looked at yourself in the mirror. Hair disheveled, eyes swollen with bags under them, and you totally looking like you just had the life sucked out of you from the night before. You knew that it wasn’t acceptable even if you were so heartbroken. You spat out the mouthwash and immediately got into the hot shower, trying to scrub off any memories of last night and let it go down the drain.
You pulled on some fresh clothes, hoping that a little bit of self-care would make you feel better and tackle on the rest of the day, despite you waking up at nearly noon, but the effort was what mattered.
Walking into the living room, you passed the home phone, noticing the alarming amount of red numbers flashing, indicating you had some messages that Robin and Nancy probably left after calling you all morning. And you were right, more than half were from Robin and Nancy, calling and checking in, telling you to call them as soon as you got the message, and if you didn’t that they’d be stopping by to check on you.
You pressed play on the next message, already assuming it was one of them, but it wasn’t.
“Hey, sorry, I know you’re probably still asleep and you have a massive hangover, but I might have accidentally told Steve about what happened last night and now he’s—”
“Fuck!”
Your eyes enlarged at Eddie’s message and you immediately picked up the phone, dialing his number and hoping you could get him to retract that statement he passed on to Steve because you really didn’t want him to know you were crying over him last night.
One. Two. Thee. Four. Five rings and still he didn’t pick up.
He was probably telling Steve everything about last night and how reckless you were. Throwing a drink in a stranger’s face? Throwing up on the side of the road? Being so wasted you couldn’t even lift yourself off the ground? And for godsake, sobbing over that stupid hat?
You were totally done for.
Sitting on the couch with your face in your hands, you were in disbelief.
How could Eddie just go and spill about what had happened?
You thought he was your friend?
Maybe that was just all a part of his plan?
What if Eddie only accepted giving you a ride home so he could tell Steve about how you were handling the breakup, only for him to make fun of you for how stupid you’ve been acting?
“God, I am such an idiot!” You shouted at yourself, shaking your head in your hands, before hearing the familiar key turn in the door.
It was obvious Nancy or Robin with their spare key you gave them. It had been hours since they left the message and they were here to check on you. Thank god they were because you felt like you were going insane and you didn’t know if you could do it alone.
The high-pitched squeak that came from the knob turning prepared you for your friends who would probably bombard you with questions before you got to tell them anything. You were ready for it, hearing their shouts of, “why didn’t you call?” or “we were worried sick!” but you didn’t hear that.
Instead, you heard the familiar footsteps of the person you could never mistake. He always had a way of walking, especially when he tried to tiptoe because he didn’t want to wake you up. The floorboards creaked a little, and you heard a hiss and then you turned your head.
It was Steve.
You stood up, hands glued to your side where you stared at him, not knowing what to say or how to feel. He looked like he felt the same, standing there and looking around in order to avoid the prolonged eye contact you knew he couldn’t hold.
“What are you doing here?”
You tightened your lips, staying still with your arms crossing behind your back. You pinched and pulled at your fingers trying to get yourself to stabilize your heartbeat that felt like it was pounding out your chest.
Steve stuttered for a bit, really contemplating if he should have knocked instead of using his key, but he was worried out of his mind and thought that you were passed out in the bathroom choking on your own vomit. But obviously he was wrong and now he looked like a total creep, breaking into his ex-girlfriend’s apartment.
You rocked your head at him somewhat, prompting a response that came faster than he could formulate the words in his head.
“I, uhh, I didn’t mean to break in but, Eddie told me what happened—” He paused, squinting his eyes at himself, as he backtracked, “well, actually he didn’t really tell me, I forced him to tell me or else I would have flushed the rest of his stash because I knew he was lying.”
This son of a bitch.
Steve shook his head, cursing at himself for getting carried away, “Anyway…he told me, and I just wanted to come here and check on you because you never really get wasted like that, and I wanted to make sure you were alright.”
Your jaw clenched in a way to try to block the tears from sliding, because if you didn’t have the strength it in you, you would’ve sunk down onto the floor, breaking down and telling him that you were in fact not fine at all.
“I’m fine…can we just pretend like this didn’t happen?” You spoke under your breath, stepping away and trying to pick up random things lying around in order to avoid looking at him any longer.
He sighed, kicking off his shoes, and faltered behind you. “Why are you being like this?”
You rolled your eyes, brushing past him and throwing away the stray wrappers into the trash bin, “Like what?” you countered, still not meeting his views.
“Avoidant and stuff. You just keep acting like you want nothing to do with me.” He huffed, bending down to meet your stance.
Now that ticked you off and made you snap your head back towards him, eyes shooting daggers at his boldness.
“If I remember correctly, you’re the one who wanted nothing to do with me and packed up your things and left.” Your voice dripping with a mix of resentment and hurt as you brushed past him harshly and made your way back into the living room.
His mouth opened in an “o” not knowing how to respond to that, because he really did do what you said, but it wasn’t what he meant.
“J-just let me explain myself alright, I swear that was the last thing I wanted to do—”
You let out a sarcastic laugh, biting your tongue. “Yeah, sure, I guess everyone just breaks up with their significant other for no reason.”
He threw himself down onto the couch, tugging at his hair, “There was a reason, alright! I was scared…terrified that you wanted more in life but didn’t know how to tell me and I was just holding you back.”
That was the first time you had ever heard this explanation. For the past two weeks, the only thing that kept replaying in your mind was Steve sitting you down in this very living room and telling you he wasn’t sure if it was working out anymore and wanted you to venture out into the world. That was it. No other deeper explanation or closure, just those words, and the scene of you frozen on the couch with tears in your eyes as you watched him pack and leave.
Right now, you were frozen in front of him, standing with your arms crossed and tapping your foot against the wooden floors, not knowing what to say.
He was the one who spoke, letting up on his hair and resting his hands on his knees instead, “And, you know, I’m not doing too well either, I still think of you and worry about what you’re doing and if you’re—”
You turned your nose up, voicing cracking as you cut him off, “And all I do is cry every day and I don’t understand why…why I can’t just pick up the pieces that you left here and move on.”
Steve knew you like the back of his hand, and that familiar croak in your throat let him know that you were only seconds away from crying, but still he didn’t stop you. He knew that there was so much that you needed to say and after the way that he had left, it was only right he sat here and listen to you.
“It’s…it’s like I’m just waiting for a bus that never comes—”
He furrowed his brows, “Are you using metaphors right now?”
You looked at him in disbelief, sighing as you threw your hands out in the air and nodded, “Jesus Steve, yes, I am, ok! I’m using fucking metaphors because I’m trying to tell you that I’m still in love with you and I don’t know if I’ll ever stop.”
He followed you, pacing the space in front of him, back and forth, with your fingers running through your hair as you spilled your guts out to him.
“I don’t get why I’m like this and I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Why can’t I just accept the fact that you broke up with me and move on with my life? And the funny thing is, I should be able to! I should be able to just rip the bandaid off and act like an asshole and pretend you and I never existed!” You turned to him, swallowing thickly as you laughed to yourself, hating the situation you were in right now, but you never stopped talking.
Then you looked up at the ceiling, tugging at your own roots as you continued.
“I mean, for fuck’s sake, in the 8th grade Ben Pritchett broke up with me right before winter formal and I thought that it was going to be the end of the world because I thought he was the love of my life. I thought that I was going to spend the rest of 8th grade miserable and crying my eyes out over him, but I didn’t!”
You looked at him with a hopeless smile and you could see a glint of his own, wanting to laugh at how ridiculous you sounded for comparing him to your 8th grade boyfriend.
“I moved on with my life! Just like that!” You snapped your fingers and watched him blink a bit, “But with you,” your fingers pointed and you stared at him unsure, you shrugged your shoulders, “with you I just can’t…”
The waterworks began, and you finally didn’t care about staring at him for so long. If you could, you would jump into the ocean of his eyes because of how they made you feel. That even if you were standing here ranting to him about unnecessary shit, his eyes still brought you that sense of relief that you had been dying to feel for the last two weeks.
Steve moved forward gradually, taking your hands and holding them, rubbing circles on the tops of your skin, while you closed your eyes and bit back a sob. You let him keep his hands on yours, not daring to back away or drop him because you didn’t know if this was going to be the last time, and if it was you wanted to make the moment last as long as possible.
“I—I see you everywhere…every corner of this apartment, in all the faces I see—I see you. Everything leads back to you for some reason. All of these fucking questions that I’ve been asking myself. Why can’t I get over Steve? Why is this heartbreak hitting me differently than the one I experienced when I was thirteen?”
You squeezed on his hands, opening your teary eyes to see him through the film of salt, “Because it’s you, Steve…I’m still in love with you and I can’t get over you.”
That four letter word: Love. That’s all that he needed to hear, and it’s the word that had been dying to come off your tongue again. You loved Steve with every single ounce of your being. As if he was a drug running through your veins and you needed him to survive. You needed the one person who believed in you when no one else did.
You needed Steve, but you were terrified that he didn’t need you anymore.
“You didn’t listen to my message did you?” Steve asked quietly, letting go of one of your hands and bringing them up to wipe away at the tears on your cheek.
“W-what?” You ordered dumb-founded, feeling as though Steve didn’t hear that whole monologue that you just made up out of nowhere.
He grinned lightly, withdrawing his hand from your cheek and blindlessly, reaching over to the phone and clicking the play button on the leftover messages you had left.
You felt your breathing stop when you heard his voice echoing through the staticky speakers. There was no way that Steve called you last night. You had played the messages on your machine, and all you got were messages from Nancy, Robin, and Eddie. But you also forgot that your outdated machine sorted your messages from new to old, meaning Steve must have called while you were out last night.
“Hey, it’s me….I don’t know why it’s taken me so long to pick up the phone and call, maybe it’s because I’m a little scared that you’re going to delete it once you hear my voice, but I just really have a bunch of things to say and I guess it’s better now than never right?”
You fastened a hand over your mouth, whimpering quietly into it, while you shook your head, not believing that you could have missed this. If only you had stayed home last night, you would have been there to pick up the phone and talk to him. Steve clutched your other hand still, pushing up his glasses that fell down the bridge of his nose while he watched your reaction to the rest of his message.
“I’m an idiot for the way things went down and I should have explained myself better, but you know…I suck at communication—but that’s still not the point! I made the biggest mistake of letting you go like that and just assuming that’s what you wanted because I know deep down it’s not….it’s probably the last thing you ever wanted, and it’s all my fault.”
There was a pause, him clearing his throat and sniffling as he was crying softly.
“But I’m going to make an even bigger mistake if I don’t tell you that I’m still in love with you. That yeah, I might be the dumbest guy out there for letting go of the most amazing girl, but I’m not about to lose her if there’s still a slight chance that she might still feel the same. I love you and I don’t think I’ll ever stop.”
Then he hung up the phone with a loud clank.
And as quickly as Steve had broken your heart, he soon patched it back together. There was a softness to your eyes now, like you had accepted everything. And Steve looked like he was awaiting for any sort of reaction good or bad, due to your silence.
“I-I don’t expect you to take me back that easily. I mean after all I’m an idiot but I just hope that—mph!”
You clutched his face, pressing your lips against one another, feeling like a wave of happiness washing over you the second you got to be this close to a feeling that you thought that was almost gone forever. Steve didn’t hesitate to move his lips against yours, pulling you closer to him until you were toppling on top of him, and lost in everything that was you and Steve.
“You’re an idiot..but mine.” You muttered against him, feeling his smile creeping against your skin before you laughed, kissing him again.
And again. And more times than you can count.
Relishing him and forgetting about the sadness. And sure, maybe you were equally the idiot who took him back too easily, but if there was one thing that the two of you were sure of, it was that this kiss and this love hit a little different because it would always be you two.
A/N: My first full length fic since i've been back!!! im super proud of this one and want to thank @translatemunson for giving me the idea <;3 i love you effie!!!! hits different is also one of my favorite songs and i wonder if taylor really did scrap it off the face of the internet because it's going to be in the Barbie movie--what do you guys think??? anyways, again thank you all for the outpour of support and reblogs, comments, and likes would be greatly appreciated!!! 🌃🕯💘
leave a comment and let me know if want to be added to my taglist!!
It was Eddie’s second cigarette of the morning. Not completely out of the ordinary for him; sometimes he needed a second one when Adrie gave him trouble before preschool, or if he had a bad night’s sleep and relied on nicotine to help delay the impending headache, but that’s not why he was smoking again today. Adrie woke up, got dressed, brushed her teeth, and told him she loved him in the carpool lane. She was a dream. His nightmare, on the other hand, was coming to fruition. Because of course he couldn’t remember where he’d set his wallet if it weren’t chained to his pants on a sober day, but drinking enough to where he should’ve been plastered? He remembered it all. He remembered it all.
Oh, he remembered it all.
And when he heard the front employee door to the auto shop unlock, he held his breath, and counted down the routine seconds for you to pop your head out in the alleyway and greet him, and when it didn’t happen.. He knew you remembered too.
The morning smile did not come. No greeting. No laughter. Just nothing. Nothing happened except for the glass door to the lobby opening, and you going inside.
He fucked up. He fucked up. He fucking fucked up.
He made things weird, and now you were avoiding him, as you had every right to after he tried to initiate phone sex without warning— Consent? Consent. Both of you were inebriated to some degree, and he’d never felt more like a creep.
Oh, God.
His knees went weak.
Anxious bile sloshed in his seizing stomach. His face broke out in a cold sweat. Knots constricted tighter. Heart beating in his throat. Decisions—mistakes—put stars in his vision. His world was ending, and it pounded at his temples. This was it. This was it. He fucked up.
“Good morning, hand—Oh?”
Eddie froze.
You leaned more than your head out the door, and stepped onto the concrete slab. All your tender attention was on him, studying his pale face, and his hunched form. Your eyebrows swooped in worry at how he was crouched to the reedy weeds instead of standing tall with his back against the gray bricks. A frown slighted your smile, insulting your beauty when you saw him bent down, knees to his chest, holding his head while his other hand shook hard enough the cigarette pinched between his fingers fell amongst the rocks.
“Eddie? You don’t look good. Are you okay?”
His lips parted.
Was he dreaming? Was the lift of delight in your tone when you first went to greet him, and then the drop to concern ebbing your voice deeper when he appeared ill a figment of his imagination? Were you about to call him handsome? Was this the second chance he didn’t deserve?
“Eddie?”
“Yeah!” His exclamation helped him stand, and the twitch of your lips battled his nausea. “Yeah, I just had a long night,” he lied.
Lightheaded, he concentrated on keeping balanced in his woozy lurch towards the wall.
Sharp edges of rocks slid against one another under your winter boots. “Aw, I’m sorry.” Your apology was sincere, as was your silly quirk of swinging your arms to point finger guns towards the garage. “I brought donuts this morning, and went ahead and made coffee, so they’re both fresh if you’re the type to dunk.” You mimicked dunking a donut into a mug of coffee. “Maybe it’ll make you feel better?”
Endearing. Genuinely, honestly, so fucking adorably endearing.
“Yeah, that sounds great right now.” The pet names returned to their restricted status for now. He had to know for sure. “Did you, uh, like playing with us Saturday?” It was a coward’s way to dance around the real question burning his esophagus, but it was a valiant introduction.
“I did! It was a lot of fun. I’m glad you invited me. And, hey, uhm, I didn’t say anything weird to your friends, or anything like that, did I?”
“No, you didn’t,” he responded in an even tone, stomping his curiosity from fluctuating his cadence with hopefulness when you chose that of all things to ask him.
“Good! My memory went a little fuzzy after my fourth drink, you know, when Lloyd kept trying to get us to sing along to that adventuring song he made up. I didn’t know if I said anything weird, or rude, or something by accident.”
Salvation reigned upon him.
Eddie’s lungs allowed him to breathe at the kindness alcohol spared him, and finally, he could relax. Your fretting stemmed from making a good impression on his friends, and with his reassurance, you stopped fidgeting at your nails, and the color returned to his cheeks. “You don’t need to worry about that. Seriously, they loved you.” His grin struggled to blossom. “Do you not remember anything else?”
In contrast, your grin was a field of wildflowers swaying under the summer sun.
“Not really, it’s pretty spotty around the time they left, but I do remember a few things,” you said, taking another step towards him. “I remember you throwing a napkin at the back of my head. I remember falling asleep in Robin’s car. I also remember asking her to pull over on the side of the road. I remember waking up in the living room, on her dad’s recliner of all places. And boy! do I remember being hungover.”
Closing the few feet of distance remaining, your confidence was established in your ability to pinch the sleeve of his coveralls and tug at it in a playful, flirty way, coasting your frosted sigh over his embroidered name patch.
You claimed him, heart and soul, “But I remember us dancing, too. I’m so glad I remember us dancing.” Softer, “You’re the sweetest person I’ve ever met, you know that?”
“I’m the sweetest?” he repeated in a mumble, complying with the tug to open his arm in a curve, which you fit into.
“Of course you are. You sure you’re not sick? You still look like you’re about to puke.”
As if your grip on his tricep wasn’t enough of an anchor on reality, the backs of your fingers gliding down his cheek were, checking his temperature like he was worthy of being doted on. A fortunate thing, a blessing; having your hand guide him from the river Styx with a simple brush, thumb tracing the edge of his lip.
Yeah, his heart clenched. “I’m okay,” he rushed to whisper, wanting the words to sprint after your fingers falling from his chin. He kept the connection alive by copying the stroke along your spine, over your denim jacket.
The wintry redness returned to his face, he knew. His racing pulse brought it there, splotching warmth to his skin. There was not enough bravery in the world to ask how much of the dance you recalled; whether your memory ended at your head on his chest, or your wrist to his lips, or your foreheads together with your noses smashed to the other’s cheek, but he did gleam one thing for certain.
You beamed up at him with eager eyes, as if those intimacies flashed in the sun’s reflection, and you wanted more of them.
He said, “I think I’ll feel better after a donut. Or three.”
“Or a nap, or three,” you countered.
“Sweetheart,” he exhaled, a rasp present in his throat from smoking, “I’m not gonna waste my time napping when I could be eating donuts with you.”
A wry laugh played at your lips. “How romantic.”
“I’ve been known to be romantic from time to time.”
You hummed in interest, arching an eyebrow. It was a challenge. Oh, really? you asked. Show me, then, you said.
Stepping back, you dragged your hand down his arm and embraced the motion, seeing it through to his elbow, forearm, the heel of his palm. Feeling but a faint outline of his form beneath the thick sleeve of his canvas jacket and light blue coveralls, yet still clinging to him as if he were your heater. Your warmth. Another body laying next to you in a cold bed.
“C’mon, handsome.” You urged him inside by your feeble grip around the stretchy knit cuff covering the plastic bead bracelet around his wrist. “Let's see if getting some caffeine in you helps you look less like a corpse.”
He snorted, and obeyed. “Whatever you say, dear.”
By all means, it seemed you didn’t remember the phone call. No doubt you were stone cold sober for the bad jokes, dorky innuendos, and inappropriate behavior that would be frowned upon at work, but you didn’t bring those up, so he didn’t either. He was in the clear.
Fate forgave him. And now, he could move on with the ‘thank you’ he owed you in good faith.
————
It was days later when your stapler ran out of staples.
You clamped it shut a few more times until you realized, and opened the second drawer on the short filing cabinet beneath your desk. After a cool slide of metal on metal came a rattle. Instead of your extra sticky notes, folders, and office supplies being visible, a foreign object sat on top of them. Perplexed, you reached in and grasped the lime green box. An index card was taped to it, and removing it jolted the waxy candies inside, sliding them against the cardboard in a merry cascade.
Setting the Mike and Ikes aside, you read the thin, angular handwriting on the note, written in red.
DO YOU WANT TO GO ON A DATE WITH ME? (circle one)
YES or NO
ARE YOU ONLY SAYING YES BECAUSE ITS YOUR POLICY?
YES or NO
By outward appearances, your mouth was tugged downwards at the corners, but make no mistake, it was not a frown. No, no. What your expression was overcome with was so sentimental, so empathetic, you had to pout.
Besotted, you hugged the card to your chest, and reflected on the heaviness of his expectant gaze when he passed by your desk this week. The longer eye contact, the anticipatory lift of his eyebrows wrinkling his forehead when you waved at him. He must’ve put this in your drawer days ago, and you had kept him waiting by accident, poor guy.
You weren’t about to keep him in suspense any longer.
(Though, maybe he should’ve put it in the top drawer, which you opened daily for your highlighters, if he wanted a quicker response.)
Pen to paper, you selected your answers, jotted a line, and tucked the notecard inside a manila folder with two invoices he needed to fill out. You pushed your rolly chair away from the desk, and dug through your purse before going to the breakroom where Eddie sat hunched over the round table, shoveling a chicken Rice-a-Roni meal in his mouth (haphazardly) with his left hand while writing in his DND notebook with his right.
You stood at the vending machine with your hip jutted out, sinking to one side with utmost concentration on your pursed lips, perusing the rows of choices. There were just so, so many categories to choose from. Chips, candy, chocolates. How could you ever decide? You crossed your arms, and tapped your chin at the dilemma, taking your time. This was a wise use of your work hours, of course. Flirting with your coworker by passing notes, and watching the side profile of his smirk break through his curtain of curls in the glass reflection.
Finally, you settled on F4, and slotted in your quarters, punching those buttons.
The Kit Kat bar was deposited in a loud clunk.
“Hey, didn’t know if you saw,” you started casually, and held the manila folder out to him with an imposing grimace, “but you forgot to fill out a couple of lines at the bottom of these invoices. Can’t have you slipping up, and not finishing your paperwork before working on your little roleplaying game, now can we?”
Eddie shifted his gaze from the bulky folder failing to stay pinched closed, to your face. Fawning, he arched into an overly apologetic expression to match your performance, and placed a hand over his heart. “Oh, no, sweetheart. I’m so sorry. Did I forget to do that? Silly me.”
“Better not let it happen again, Mr. Munson,” you warned, placing it on the table and leaving.
“Never, never,” he promised.
Back at your desk, you sat in your chair, calm and poised. And approximately two seconds later, you kicked off the floor into a fierce spin, dizzying the lobby around you. The place was a blur, your stomach swirled, and still, your goofy grin refused to wane. But, you did stop eventually. The antics had to come to an end. You did have work to do, afterall.. Which you ignored when you heard him rip into the foil wrapper in the other room, and you couldn’t possibly concentrate on calling a warehouse to check on an order of headlights when your ears were tuned to the flimsy chair scraping across the tile, and his heavy work boots stomping down the hall.
“Filled out those forms for ya, sweetness,” Eddie said with a wink.
There was a weight to the manila folder when he dropped it on your desk, and tapped twice on his way out to the garage. Not a physical weight, but a gravity that wasn’t there before, now concentrated in his keen eye contact. An invisible significance.
The relationship had changed, just then, in the trade off of boring invoices.
Opening the folder, the index card was deemed more important than the paperwork. Your gaze stalled on the thick circles around YES, and NO. Yes, you’d go on a date with him, and no, it wasn’t because of your policy. Below them, your thick handwriting flowed together.
what did you have in mind?
I RETURNED THOSE KIDS MOVIES FOR YOU.
YOU CAN THANK ME FOR SAVING YOU
THE LATE FEE BY WATCHING SOME
HORROR WITH ME AT MY PLACE
PICK YOU UP SATURDAY AT 6?
Fighting back another sickeningly stupid willowy sigh at his charm, you wrote a lovesick reply.
In usual Eddie fashion, he left the very last box on the second form blank, so you had to go out to the service area, and address the mechanic bent over a car engine. Not that you were complaining. The back of his coveralls hugged the slight curve of his ass, and his hair was not only pulled into a low bun at his nape, but he wore a bandana tied to keep his bangs off his forehead.
“Hey there handsome, couldn’t help but notice you left the date box on this form blank again.”
“Oh, did I, pretty girl?” He spun, and rolled his eyes to mock himself. Wiping the grease from his hands on his coveralls, he took your pen. “It’s my old age, y’know. Things always slippin’ my mind.” Mumbling to himself, he pressed his palm to the back of the folder, and sketched out a sentence into the page longer than a few numbers warranted. During the arduous process, he looked at you with sorrow, and complained, “These dates are just so tedious to write out, it may just take me all night to complete.”
You refused to give him the satisfaction of a smirk at his (possible) insinuation.
All night? He wished.
Eddie surrendered the folder and pen, and smiled at you, stretching the streak of soot on his chin and cheek. “There you go. All filled out. Not a ‘T’ uncrossed, nor an ‘I’ left undotted.”
“Thank you,” you over-enunciated as a goodbye.
The very second the glass door came to a slow close behind you, you sat at your desk with the folder, and threw a subtle glance out the window to the garage to make sure Eddie wasn’t watching you lose your mind over two short words exchanged in quick succession.
sounds perfect :)
YOURE PERFECT =)
For the second time since you moved to Hawkins, you had a date. And judging by Eddie’s sway from foot to foot with his hands laced behind his neck and his head hung back, listening to the traffic outside echo off the cement walls, he was thrilled for his second date, too. He dropped into a steady bob at music that wasn’t playing. A too-large grin teased at his mouth as he paced to the motor he was repairing, and bent over it. His boyish excitement spilled like an overpoured mug of coffee into his unabashed giggle, and glance in your direction.
Eyes locked, he didn’t steal your breath. You gave it to him willingly.
————
Saturday’s setting sun was just another audience member to your date night routine. Robin and her mom leaned in the doorway of the bathroom the entire time you were shaving, and due to the opacity of the shower curtain, you were unable to convey your glare to the degree it deserved.
“Well, why doesn’t she wear this instead?”
There was a shock of laughter mixed with Robin’s scoff. “Mom, if she wore that Eddie would pass out on the spot. What if he hit his head, and they had to call an ambulance? You know she can’t drive him to the hospital. No, this bra still gives sex appeal without causing an injury. And besides, calling 9-1-1 would put a damper on them—”
“Rob,” you groaned.
“—spending a wonderful evening together,” she finished.
The thunk of a walking cane neared, and her dad’s hoarse voice sounded from down the hallway, “My! The rowdy Munson boy is getting lucky tonight, is he?” he proposed in a faux British accent after watching BBC nature documentaries all day. “Do you think he’d have dinner with us tomorrow? We haven’t seen him since Robin threw that New Year’s party years ago, and almost set the roof on fire.”
Oh dear God get me out of here.
Once you were finished with your shower, freshly scrubbed and smelling nice, you humored them by wearing the outfit they picked out. It was pretty much what you would’ve worn anyway. A short black skirt made modest by nylon tights to stave off the chill from Eddie’s trailer, and an oversized crocheted cream cardigan with tiny pink flowers, the hem of which hit you at your waist, showing a tempting preview of your stomach when you raised your arms to fix your hair. The pale lavender bra (the reason for their debate), was covered by the aforementioned sweater, and you weren’t sure if the sheerness of the lace mattered much when Eddie’s daughter may be present, or in the next room over. It didn’t occur to you to ask if he’d have Adrie with him, so, such is life. The bra may stay a secret despite their efforts to doll you up. But the sudden realization he may see you in it tonight clenched your stomach with excitement..
The clock struck 5:55, and an ominous roll of thunder put everyone on edge. It electrified nerves, and stood hair on end, setting forth premonitions of bad weather and foul fortune. Doom, it was; and it came, and came, neverending. Except.. It wasn’t thunder. It was Eddie Munson’s brutal music.
His little black car came flying down the road, and swung into the driveway, screeching to a halt heralded by flung rocks spat by his tires, and a flock of songbirds splitting the sky.
And yet?
Charm bowed before Eddie’s easy strut. Pebbles dodged his stride. Clouds of hellish dust evaded the shine on his laced up boots. His tight jeans flaunted the subtle flex of his thighs, and his belt sloped on his narrow hips with each uneven stride, daring the world to stare at the extra length of stiff leather flopping outside the confines of the belt loops, attracting all the attention he desired to the places he wanted.
You were still in the living room struggling with the buckle on your Mary Janes when the intense, raw screams of his heavy metal music stopped, and the muffled guitars faded away. He showed up, shockingly, on time, and you shot out the door before the heavy slants of sun breaching the leafless trees could beat down on his trademark jacket rattling with dainty chains.
“Hey there, sweetness.”
“Hey!” you blurted in a huff, racing down the steps. Flustered by his punctuality, you made the first move of the night by snatching his hand and dragging him away.
Slighted by your absence of drooling over how cool he looked, Eddie grunted in objection, but let himself be steered away. He glanced over his shoulder at the three faces peering at him from the window, and spared them a tentative wave. They were nosy, but not in the unkind way he was used to, and for that, he was thankful.
You apologized at a hurried pace, “Sorry, but if you step foot on the porch, they’re gonna ask you a bazillion questions, and never let us leave.”
“Ah,” he said, short of a laugh, “but let me get the door for you. Wanna impress them.”
“Impress them?” Dregs of sleepy sunlight highlighted the twist of your lips. “You come in here like a bat outta hell, blaring your music loud enough that I’m surprised you’re not hard of hearing, and you’re worried about impressing Bobbie’s parents?”
Refusing to let your fingers slip from his when he felt your grip go weak, he tightened his hold, and opened the car door with his other hand, sidestepping awkwardly to avoid the wide swing, towing you around him.
“Is that so strange?”
“It’s a little strange.”
“Good.” He established the bond of your palm cupped to his until you sank into the red plush passenger’s seat. At the groan of the hinges, and a hard slap on the metal, he finished, “I like being strange—” Punctuated by the door slamming shut. His cackle was far away. Shrieking silence filled your ears, interrupted by your elevated pulse pounding in your chest, and the tink of a pebble pinging the bumper when one was unfortunate enough to come into contact with his boot as he strode around the front of the car with his hands in his back pockets, stretching his shirt over the curve of his stomach.
What a lovely thing he was, truly. To lord the power of sheer captivation over you, and still ground you with a humble gaze and tender smile through a windshield flecked with dirt, as if stealing one of your five senses was a normal feat and returning it to you wasn’t an act of benevolence.
He folded himself into the seat beside you and staggered his legs until he could relax fully into the position, and turned the key in the ignition. His music took residence in the sense he stole. You tensed in anticipation, but it wasn’t offensive. The previous song was ending, and with you being boxed in with the speakers bullying your ears from every angle, you heard the animalistic screams as something more haunting, more beautiful. They were organic. Emotional. Conveying a longing which flowed into the next track; a restrained piece laced with sweltering lines, where each croaky utterance heated your cheeks fiercer and fiercer. Carnal of a different nature.
Intentionally avoiding eye contact with Eddie, you twisted enough to see the carseat behind you was empty. “No Adrie?” you asked to confirm a suspicion.
“She was invited to a sleepover for one of her friend’s birthday parties tonight,” he said.
You reeled at the information, but not for the reason you assumed. “Wait, what? There’re people out there willing to have a hoard of five-year-olds running around their house? Like, with the screaming and everything?”
“Crazy, right? Some people still have their sanity, I guess.” He stamped the gas and clutch, revving the engine with an amused answer poised on his plump lips. “Or enough downers to get them through the night.”
The guitars increased in ferocity, drowning out his wistful reminiscing on such substances helping him through the day, pre-Adrie.
It was then you noticed an interesting detail about his compact car you didn’t fully appreciate last time you were in it: there was no center console. You didn’t need to check. The lack of separation was confirmed by the heat radiating from his heavy palm draped over the gear shift, and the blunt edge of his nails skimming your tights when he clicked the stick into a lower slot, dragging it along your leg. The armrests were raised, and they too touched at the base. It was no surprise when his long hair swept your clothed shoulder as he twisted around to look out the back window and put the car in reverse, avoiding the Buckley’s dented mailbox, and lurching you against the seatbelt.
The lyrics peaked in sultry aggression.
So, no Adrie. “Am I meeting your uncle, then?” Oh, how your question was thin against the strong note the singer held. His wavering timbre penetrated you in waves, releasing a ripple of tingles from head to toe. Creating a change in the tension existing between you and Eddie when he answered in a deeper register.
“No, he’s uh, he’s gone for the weekend,” he said, drumming his rings on the steering wheel, squeezing his fingers over the gear stick to shift it into drive. “Out playing poker with his friends. So, uh, it’s just you and me. S’that cool?”
So, no Adrie, and no uncle.
“Yeah—Yeah, that’s cool,” you replied. Whereas his voice went lower, yours went higher at the acknowledgement. Fainter, wispier. Fluttery with the nerves in your stomach. Restless like butterfly wings beating on gusts at the explicit implication matching the subject matter pumping through the speakers.
Tonight was your first real date with Eddie, in his trailer, alone.
Soon, the dense thicket of rural Hawkins was replaced by houses and population; gone were the fields of deer, and approaching in a blur were stout brick buildings, and stop lights swinging in the slight breeze.
He slowed at the intersection where Family Video’s neon sign struck red over the black pavement, and stopped. Eddie, being an opportunist, saw the boring wait for the light to turn green as fortuitous. It granted him the ability to gaze upon you as he wished, ready to take you in after your rushed greeting. You had robbed him of the movie-esque scene where he’d walk up to your door, knock three times, greet you with a stunning grin and compliment you until you were giggling and swooning in his arms. It was only fair he drank you in now, in the low liquid blue of the early night.
Beyond bewitched, he didn't register how methodically he traced his eyes over your body; devouring details the generous neckline of your cardigan allowed him, reaching the narrow channel of shadow where your bra assisted your chest, and the small gaps the tiny pink flowers woven into the yarn created in the chain loops, gifting him a charitable preview of the delicate lavender beneath. Appreciating how below that, your skirt wrapped your legs snugger than his arms had ever been privileged, and your tights graced skin he’d never felt. Perhaps he even lingered on the strap of your Mary Janes draped around your ankle, wondering if he’d be lucky enough to circle his fingers there one day, too.
Flattery raced your heart. You’d never been the subject of someone’s study to this degree, as if you were artwork to be admired. Not from any of the dates you’d been on, anyway. Not in a meaningful way, consumed wholly by someone you considered a close friend. And not while a man sang about vulgar acts in a gorgeous way.
Eddie remembered to breathe when green flashed in his periphery, and his gaze evened the playing field when he caught you dedicating entire prayers to the indecent crease at his hip and inner thigh where he rested his large palm.
“Baby, you’re beautiful,” he exhaled.
Not you look beautiful. You are beautiful.
Meeting him head-on, you smiled. “I don’t have the lexicon to describe you.” His expression faltered to a confused pinch between his brows, and you reassured him, “Handsome isn’t good enough anymore. Never was. No words are. They need to invent new ones.”
Leaning in, he scrunched his nose, and teased, “You can just call me hot.” Which would’ve been a decent line; imposing himself so near his words caressed the gloss on your lips, and finishing the hard plosive—Hot—with the bite of his charismatic wolfish grin. But the aggravated honks killed the mood.
Two cars behind him laid on their horns, and he was startled into the reality of holding up traffic. You openly laughed at his change in demeanor, at how he scrambled to get the car going before they got angry again, all flustered and stomping too hard on the gas, sending you both slamming backwards in your seats.
“Yeah, real hot stuff you got goin’ on,” you teased in return.
He stuck his tongue out in concentration as he checked the rearview mirror, speeding to put distance between him and the other cars. Dangerously, he slid his gaze to you once more, prioritizing you over the road. “Are you really gonna deny I'm the hottest guy you’ve ever met? Even with all your city boys, actors, and freaks who’ve been on bigger stages than me? Guys who took you to fancy sit-down restaurants in a suit and tie? Men who drone on about finances because they chose a viable career not covered in grease? Are they really hotter than me?”
His tone was flat, and his face neutral, cracking a cavern of curiosity wide within you.
Your instinct was to treat the insecurity as genuine, but the moment you opened your mouth to restore his confidence, he smirked.
“Just kidding, baby,” he broke the act. “I know I’m the favorite.”
Glowing with confidence, he took his hand off the gear shift to jab at your ribs, but he underestimated how thick the crochet was. Instead of tickling you, it was more of a soothing stroke along your side. And he didn’t stop. He kept up the intimate gesture, brushing the fabric with his curled index finger three times. Giggling, himself, at nothing other than his own thoughts.
Gone was the swell of empathy clogging your throat. “My favorite idiot,” you corrected in an exasperated mumble, yet leaning into the shy affection.
The cassette played static, then began a new song. Angsty still, but not quite as on the nose as the last. This, along with another dig at each other, eased the pressure preventing you two from relaxing into the evening. The awareness revealing itself in nervous glances and dry swallows digressed into your normal dynamic as friends with the benefit of flirty innocence without the stress of expectations. Those motives could stay locked between your clenched thighs, and aching against his jean’s zipper. Tonight was the first foray into real time together, and if you watched movies and it ended there with no moves made, or romantic elements explored, then so be it. There wouldn't be any unnecessary impatience, or snap decisions made to cross those final platonic boundaries if one of you chickened out. This date would be perfect, regardless.
Right?
You could endure another day of him acting confident in front of others, only for him to buckle under the pressure and pussy out before kissing you, right?
..Right?
Whatever. The night was young, and oh, how Eddie’s giddiness for spending time with you emerged. The instant he arrived at the trailer, he jammed his thumb into the seat belt latch and commanded you to stay put. Naturally, this didn’t go without a snort from you, but it escalated to true laughter when he stumbled out of the car, and sprinted around the front in a flustered jangle of chains beating on jeans, only to play it off as cool once he reached your side and opened your door for you. “You’re silly,” you commented. His chest rose with a panting breath, and his lips jumped into a playful smirk at his own oddities. He stepped back, and swept his arm in a classic bow.
The friction burn from the seat belt slipping through your grip was balmed by the chilled leather beneath your fingers when he offered his elbow to you. You set your heeled shoes on the uneven ground, and wobbled on the deep tire tracks scoring the dried mud, and again, he was twisting this way and that, trying to figure out the best gentlemanly way to help you balance. Not that his brave palm on the small of your back wasn’t warranted in the treacherous battle of shadows in the underripe evening, but even you couldn’t stop your snicker when he, too, met you with a side-ways glance.
“Nervous?” you asked, bringing attention to the situation for what it was.
“Me? Nervous?” He arched his eyebrows up, then brought them into a swift furrow. “Nah, never. I’m just making sure my girl doesn’t twist her ankle before I get to cook for her on our second date,” he ended with a suggestive tone, canting his head to yours. Foreheads near.
Ah, the buzzing of springtime bees was trembling your fingers again, gripping him when the hive in your stomach fed honey to your hungry heart, pumping, pumping a sugar rush.
Acknowledgements. His girl. Cooking. Second date.
He was sweet. And you were trapped in the sticky nectar thrumming in your veins. It was a futile effort, after all, to convince yourself you two could act as normal friends do around each other. Truly, you lost that war when you inclined your head to his, and divulged in the same grin he wore.
“Cook for me?” you repeated in a voice of ambrosia, which he partook.
“Mhmm,” he hummed amongst the drone of television programs filtered through bug screened windows. “I wanna watch movies with you, cook you somethin’ nice, and remind you that I’m not the guy I was at the movie theater—” He flinched at the last part, accepting your weak slap to his chest. Pleased with himself for finally swooning you, he trained his gaze on your giggly sway, and squinched his eyes with mirth.
“Eddie, I’m well aware you’re not that guy.”
“Oh?” he lilted. “But aren’t I? Still got the outdated haircut, stick in the mud attitude, and leather jacket.”
You slipped a finger beneath the jacket, and poked at the macabre skull on his tee. “Got a different shirt, though. Last time you were wearing a rattlesnake, now it’s..?”
“Metallica,” he finished. A softer expression deepend his dimple. There may have been a particular meaning behind it you were missing, but he didn’t share. “Good memory, but may I also bring to your attention that it’s fucking freezing out here?”
Overcome by a shiver, you retracted your prodding, and he removed his hand from your lower back. The warmth was sorely missed. You agreed, it was fucking freezing and pantyhose were not a replacement for snow pants.
Eddie jostled the keys from his pocket and unlocked the front door for you to enter first, trailing behind you with a welcome to his humble abode, as if you hadn’t been there several times before. But you supposed the circumstances were different when he showed you in, and a certain coziness defrosted your cheeks. The trailer was lit by a singular lamp in the living room and the nightlight from the bathroom. An electric radiator generated heat near the armrest where his pillow stayed, and at the other end of the couch was a messy pile of blankets in varying textures and thickness. A stack of three VHSes sat on the coffee table near a collection of never-used cork coasters. In the kitchen, a spread of groceries occupied the counter, along with a page from a magazine, but Eddie stole your attention before you could puzzle together the ingredients he laid out.
“So, which one do you wanna start with first?” Eddie asked, drawing your gaze to the VHSes fanned in his palms, fingers stretched wide to contain the movies.
Subtly, he wiggled the one on the end. The green HORROR sticker on the cover appeared new; unblemished, without creases or dirt. You recognized the drippy blood stylized title as the same one printed in the local newspaper warning mothers of its gore and perversions. Less subtly, he darted his eyes to it, and made encouraging noises while presenting it closer to you. It's not like you cared what order you watched his surprise selection in, so you went with the new release he was most eager for, as opposed to the other schlocky B movies.
“Sweet!”
Adorably, he told you to make yourself at home, and you both found yourselves bumping into each other in the entryway. You bent to unbuckle your shoes, and he shrugged off his jacket. Maybe you swung your knee into his shin, and he flopped the leather sleeve atop your head in retaliation. And when you stood, he jabbed his elbow into your arm before kneeling to untie his boots, and you picked a long, curly auburn hair off your sweater, holding it out and away from you as if it were revolting. “Is this what it’s like living with you?” you asked with an excessive amount of mock disgust.
“‘Fraid so,” he consoled, looking up at you as he worked the knot out of his laces. “At least—until I go bald.”
You tilted your head as you tried to picture him without his wild haircut, and after some consideration (and curious fingers kept laced tight to discipline yourself from running them through his curls to test the tamability of such rowdy layers cut without rhyme or reason), you concluded, “I think you’d still be the most attractive person I’ve ever met.”
His expression widened at your honesty. Pushing himself upright, he rocked side to side as he toed off his boots, and stepped beyond them, narrowing the distance between his ego and your lifted eyebrow. “Most attractive? Yeah?”
Before his head swelled to hot air balloon status from a compliment he pried out of you, you stopped him.
“Bald or not, you’re still Eddie,” you expressed. “And that’s what I like about you the most; your Eddieness. Regardless of your hair, you’re still that guy that’s willing to trip over his own feet so he can open a door for me.. and cook for me, apparently.”
You drove your gaze to the ingredients on the counter, but he distracted you from venturing into that part of the date.
“Uh-uh-uh,” he tsked. “Movie first, then dinner. I’ve been wanting to see this one, so make yourself comfortable. Get some blankets too, I know the radiator sucks.” The warmth it gave off rarely brought circulation to his toes when he was sleeping, much less kept him from shivering on the windy nights. “Lemme get us something to drink, and I’ll put on the movie.” He chose to fill two bright red plastic glasses with water and bring them to the coffee table. They were the type of textured cup one would find at a pizzeria, and he set them directly on the wood, because why bother with coasters when most of the varnish had been worn away over the years.
Water itself shouldn’t be a surprise, but the fact he chose it over beer stood out.
Interesting. You made yourself snuggly as instructed, and sat in the middle of the couch where two cushions met. Amongst the pile, you picked the thick blue and white striped comforter, and draped it over your not-quite-numb legs. He crouched in front of the TV, and popped open the VHS case, brushing his calluses over the frosted plastic cover, and shut the case with a satisfying snap. Lining the movie up with the VCR slot, he pushed on the flap, and it was accepted into the mouth of the machine—kuh-chunk, slide, whirring reels, a fuzzy high-pitched noise—staticy snow played, then the first commercial started, flickering a woman’s face mid-scream across the screen.
Eddie turned off the lamp, and in the sudden darkness, he slid his socked feet in timid steps across the carpet to avoid a pinky toe colliding with the coffee table, and he fell into place next to you.
The cushions sank with your combined weight. The seams separating you clashed. Hip, thigh, shoulder. Layers of clothing blazed from the heat of his proximity, setting fire to your cheeks. You weren’t touching, not really, not yet, and you both stared at each other with lips slightly parted.
Your voice went unnaturally airy as you offered him the blanket, “Want some?”
And his voice was lost to the sensation of his bare arm making contact with your sweater.
He nodded.
Predictable for the genre, the next commercial advertised a pair of tits before the camera cut away, and the woman was assumed to be brutally stabbed by a masked serial killer.
He shifted. You shifted.
The comforter slid across your lap. He stole the warm pocket of air you were generating for yourself, and replaced it with the cold half of the blanket. It may have been an innocent movement, but him yanking it caused you to press against him more than you already were. His arm went rigid with tensed muscles the further you sloped into the crevice where the cushions met, stiffening against your soft body like a brick wall you had no choice but to lean on. You tried to help the situation by breaking the silence between the next commercial.
“Do you want to know another Eddieness I find endearing?”
During the first part of your sentence he didn’t react. He watched the TV; jaw tight but not clenched; it was only on the last word did he turn his head, and set those big eyes of his on you.
You went ahead and answered, “It’s how shy you are.”
The hint of a deeper emotion eased from his gaze when he closed his eyes in a slow blink, and raised his brows, processing what you said. “’M not shy.” His smile grew at that, stretching half his mouth in shadow, making his nose appear larger, rounder.
“And awkward.”
“I’m not awkward,” he complained, tone soft and playful.
Lit by the soft grain of the movie starting on a scene of a young boy running inside pitch-black house, Eddie’s eyelashes clung to the remnants of light, curling longer, and longer. His lips lifted at the corners, testing a sneakier grin at the idea of you finding him both shy, and awkward. Words he hadn’t heard in years. Descriptors he would’ve called himself when he was still in high school and dipping his toe in the dating pool, but not since then. Not since he dabbled in liquid courage at parties and gained some experience from the confidence alcohol afforded him.. and lost when he discovered the consequences of acting impulsively, and his casual assuredness was ripped from him when his daughter was born.
Or, yeah, maybe he was always shy and awkward as you presumed, he just didn’t care about people’s opinions when he wasn’t invested in starting a future with them. Which was fine by him, you could call him dorky if you wanted, because here he was in the midst of a boyish rush of adrenaline when the lack of stressful music coming from the TV became ominous, and the excitement of his plan working vibrated in his chest.
“Oh! And you’re—” Whatever adjective you were about to use was bitten short.
Paying more attention to him than the movie, you missed the build up of the masked killer’s reflection in a mirror, and were caught off guard by the boy’s sudden blood curdling scream trilling above the heart-racing violin screeches. It wasn’t even a good jumpscare—totally predictable—but you still jolted from it.
Eddie lurched into a devious smirk. “Movie getcha, pretty girl?”
It was your turn to be defensive. You pouted, “No. It just surprised me, is all.”
“Aw, come on,” he implored in a gravelly urge. Under the thinning comforter, between the mountains of compacted cotton from overwashing it, there was movement, and the unmistakable contact of the back of his hand on your nylon tights. He bumped you once. “Here, if it’s that scary, you can hold my hand, okay?”
As snarky as his teeth glinted, as teasing as his words were, both of your chests rose with a mutual suspended breath.
This was the line. The barrier. The emotional boundaries were dust, only the physical ones remained. He invited you over them as gingerly as a grown adult man could when on his first true date in years, and the fresh fear of making a move on his crush spiked his rejective-sensitive nerves.
“Yeah, you’re right,” you exhaled. Holding his gaze with the same fondness which existed in your heart, you found the edge of his hand after some sightless venturing. At the graze of skin on skin, you dropped your head to the side, and appealed to him, “It’s so scary.” Across the room, the TV played a calm, serene daytime scene with birds chirping in the background. “So terribly scary,” you repeated, facetiously pitiful. “There’s no way I’ll get through to the end all on my lonesome.”
But rather than hold hands perfectly between the both of you like the pious churchgoing teenagers you’d felt yourselves become, you went in for the kill.
Drawing back, you wedged your fingers between his arm and his ribs, and after a beat, he understood and lifted his elbow. You snaked your hand along his forearm, and down to his awaiting palm. His jeans were rough; his palm was too, torn asunder by his trade to ensure a roof over his and his family’s head, but the spaces between were softer. Love gentled the joints digging into your bones. Your fingers had to stretch to accommodate him, and the wintery dryness pulled at your unlotioned knuckles, but the twinge was forgotten when you focused on your hand in his hand. Your hand in his hand. Your hand in his hand.
You dragged your attention away from the entanglement of your selves finding a missing half under the blanket, and searched his face. His eyes flicked from the same knot stirring under the comforter, and the wrinkles in his expression flourished. He thinned his lips into a tight smile. His cheeks were never that full, but there was a roundness there you’d give anything to discover by touch. You’d been closer to him before, like in the kitchen when you counted his freckles after your painfully geeky dagger innuendo, but if you leaned in any further, your vision would blur.
An obvious awkwardness dwelled in the intimacy of your entwined arms, and tensed bodies.
“So, so scary,” you promised during the exposition dialogue taking place on a sunny morning between the characters eating cornflakes at a large dining table. “I’ll probably have to cling onto you the entire time with my eyes shut.”
His voice cracked high pitched, “Yeah?” Feathery soft, on the verge of disappearing altogether. “Guess I’ll have to be the brave one, then.”
“So very brave,” you said, sweet as sugar.
He snorted whereas you giggled, converging with heads together, and a laugh shared, hands held so very bravely. A breakthrough. One second at a time, you melded into his shadows, as you belonged. You angled yourself toward him and tucked your legs onto the couch, freely huddling your knees against his thigh. Your joined hands were nudged onto his leg more, and the clasp became sticky from perspiration. That was okay. There was a thrill in being the reason each other sweated. He curled in his fingers harder, nesting them between the peaks of your knuckles, and you returned the honor by hooking your fingers between his, lightly squeezing him back. One second at a time, he sought your sunshine, as he belonged. He made sure the pressure of his arm and elbow boxing yours in against his side wasn’t painful, slouching a bit so the top of his leather belt wasn’t digging into your forearm. He was thoughtful that way. Concerned for you and your comfort. Didn’t matter if his lower back would be killing him by the end of the first movie, you were wrapping your free hand around his bicep and rubbing your thumb under the short sleeve of his shirt, back and forth. Back and forth. Then, you were resting the side of your head on his shoulder.
He heard you—felt you—inhale deep. Why? Was it to fill your lungs with the scent of his deodorant, the cheap cologne he spritzed at his chest, the drip of Old Spice aftershave on his shirt collar? Was any of that better than oxygen?
Curious, he tilted his head as if something in the movie had him stumped, and he put his nose to the top of your hair, and took a small breath.
A different shampoo than usual hit him first, but below that, clinging to your clothes, was the smell of Robin’s home. He was struck with the thought of what his home smelled like. Was it good? Bad? Could, over time, over months, over difficult questions he couldn’t bring himself to ask, could maybe by the end of summer your two homes combine to make one unique scent?
That would be the dream. And a dream, it may remain. But what a lovely reality it would be; you staying, and your scents mixing to create a new one.
So lost in his thoughts, he didn’t predict the fake-out jumpscare of a murder of crows taking flight after an eerie bout of silence, and he was the one to flinch.
“Aw, movie too scary for ya, big guy?” you cooed.
Eddie sealed his lips in a frown, and tucked his chin to create the maximum amount of wrinkles when he looked down at you. “Maybe a little. Good thing I have you here with me, though. Right?”
You nodded most ardently, squishing your cheek over his scorpion tattoo—just another place on his body you made your home—and grinned up at him.
“Of course, babe.” You called him babe. He smiled so fucking hard. “I’m here if you ever need me to hold your hand.”
You squeezed.
He squeezed back.
Scenes went by on the tiny TV across the room beyond the condensation pebbling on the plastic cups threatening to fall on the coffee table where Adrie’s box of crayons spilt into her coloring book. A story unfolded in the flash of blade, a clatter of piano keys, and a quiet neighborhood who knew no better. The movie played, but neither of you paid attention.
Your gaze was keen to the way his lips stayed parted after he licked them. His gaze was invested in your expression, how you viewed him with such kindness he was seldom shown. A tenderness he was rarely given. He tried to show you the same sincerity, but your eyes were fixated on his mouth.
Self-conscious, he asked, “Is there something on my—?” He rubbed the back of his wrist over lips.
You answered him with a belittling pat on his chest. “No, big guy. You’re good.”
Your tone didn’t sound ‘good,’ but you pulled the blanket up to your chin, and laid your head on his shoulder again, wrapping your other hand around his bicep until your fingers were stuffed between his arm and side. He interpreted your change in mood as a signal the conversation was over, and put his eyes on the movie. Though, his brain was busy toiling over why you were staring at him, and wondering if the pats on his chest were still echoing beneath your ear, or if it was simply his heart threatening to strangle him from the angst of not understanding if he did something wrong already.
At least he was holding your hand like a real boyfriend would. That had to count for something.. Right?
~~~
The credits rolled, and neither of you moved until you pointed out a name scrolling by, and a laugh so akin to a man being punched in the gut wheezed out of him, it caused you to erupt into your own embarrassing goose honk laugh, causing you to both double over in a fit.
Somehow, his nose was nuzzled to your hair. His inhale was cool on your scalp, and his words were a humid huff. “Bart Horsedick,” he said, “Whatta name.”
“You should name a character after him in DND.”
“Mm! You know what? I will. He’ll be a local legend with all the ladies, and tries to charm his way into the party by constantly making passes at the girls. Erica will kill him for sure.”
With a groan and a wince, he sat up straighter, and you lifted your head off his shoulder, making similar complaints about your neck. It was tough work being brave during the scary parts for each other, regardless if neither of you were paying enough attention to care about the reveals.
He asked, “How’d you like the movie? Even that last scene kinda got me.”
“Yeah, it was good,” you answered in the same tone, searching for anything to say that wasn’t, If you don’t kiss I’m going to fucking scream. “I wasn’t expecting the second killer to be the news reporter. That was kinda cool. And that final death was super gory, with the guts ‘nd all, but uh, I’m starving, and ready for something campy.”
Heeding his lady’s request, Eddie dashed around the room, turning on a few of the eclectic lamps, and jabbed the backwards arrow button on the VCR until the movie was playing in reverse at a hilarious speed. “Be kind, rewind, y’know.” Once it clicked, he took the tape out, and put the next one in.
You followed him into the kitchen where the groceries were laid out on the counter. Some were things he already had, like the half-empty bottle of olive oil, and two government supplied cans of vegetable stock, but from the fridge he added an unopened tub of butter, a container of mushrooms, and a wedge of parmesan cheese. He put them beside the onion, fresh sprigs of parsley, and special bag of rice. Ingredients he bought specifically for a meal he didn’t know how to make, but knew it was impressive, and wanted to try cooking it for you.
You picked up the magazine clipping and raised your eyebrows at the recipe.
He fidgeted, spinning his rings. His voice was hesitant; falling back on self-deprecating humor as a crutch, “I know you’ve probably been to France, or, uhh, Italy or whatever,” he guessed, “and’ve learned from experts on how to make it perfectly, but I thought maybe I’d give it an attempt and hope it turns out edible. Just forgive my shit knife skills, and if I pour too much broth, or don’t stir it the exact number of rotations, or some pretentious bullshit like that,” he finished, gaze solidly on the floor, toeing at a scuff on the vinyl to occupy himself. “‘M not exactly a chef outside a can of Boyardee, so..”
Some of his mumbling was lost on you as you read the bottom of the page. Narrowing your eyes at the title printed beside a number in the corner, you put your fist on your hip. “Edward Munson.” He snapped out his worrying at the use of his full name. “Did you rip this out of one of my lobby magazines at work?”
He rolled his lips inward to curb his grin. “No, no, of course not, dear,” he promised, finding it the most opportune moment to turn away, and organize the ingredients in no practical order.
“I swear if I go to work Monday and find Better Homes and Gardens missing page 57—”
“Okay, okay—I’ll tape it back in, but give me some credit, will ya? I didn’t rip it out like some animal.. I cut it out neatly with scissors.” He eyed your harmless smirk, and plucked the mushroom risotto recipe from between your fingers. “Now, if you’d like to get out of my hair, you may,” he said, gesturing at the TV with a knife. “Skedaddle. Go watch the movie.”
“You don’t want me to help? Or at least to keep you company?”
It wasn’t often he was tripped up on what to say, so when his mouth hinged on a mute excuse to get you to leave, you registered what he was going on about earlier, and shook your head.
“Wait, Eddie, I worked in kitchens prepping vegetables when the cooks were too drunk to come in on time because they went home with some random woman from a bar, and were too hungover to know what day it was. That’s why I’m like, okay-ish with a knife. You don’t really think I’d judge you for how you chop an onion, do you?”
A few words were stammered. You shushed him from bothering.
If his confidence had trouble surfacing when everything was out in the open and not hidden under a blanket, then you’d give him another nudge; a single stroke of your knuckle along the monster tattooed on his tricep. The muscle reacted to you, flexing the wyvern’s clawed feet. You did it again. And again. Pinching his sleeve and tugging at it, doing all the cutesy, flirty things you’d learned over the years, including dropping your gaze to his pretty pink lips. Employing your best strategies, you laid it on thick; swaying your hips, and bringing in your arms to frame your chest. “You could heat me up a can of Chef Boyardee, and it’d be the best meal I’ve ever had, as long as I got to share it with you.”
Shy, shy, shy. He brought his shoulder up and ducked his face from your view, giggling at your heavy adulation. “You don’t have to flatter me like that,” he mumbled, sounding not unlike he was wrapped in a ball of lovesick yarn. Overly smitten, ooey gooey with the warm fuzzies in his chest. So very, very adorable, sneaking a glance at you with an unbelieve amount of precious crinkles at the corners of his eyes.
How sweet.
It’d be sweeter if he could take the hint and share those kinds of things with you, but you could be patient and wait until he was ready. Again..
Just.. keep making everything so obvious for him, and try to ignore the sting of rejection when the guy you’ve liked for months finally invites you over for a date, and still won’t kiss you.
At least you were saved from the worst of your downward spiral by the bad B movie and its body melting scene.
“Ooh!” Eddie pushed the cutting board away. “That effect was really cool!”
Since he was already making his way to the TV, you trailed at his heels, and crouched beside him, sinking to your knees while he pressed the rewind button, and clicked Stop/Play twice. The lead up to the moment played again. You sat in anticipation, wholly aware you’d just watched this interaction between the college girls putting their best effort into delivering their lines, only for them to fall flat when their acting was off the charts horrendous. Eddie regarded them with the same sort of awkwardness, rotating his hand in hurried circles until one of them got obliterated into a goopy pile of human remains, and you began to dissect the undulating puddle of sludge.
“How do you think they made that one?” he whispered, mesmerized. “The way it pulses like that?”
“I think it’s from a balloon inflating beneath it. Watch the way the flesh cracks, and the blood oozes out. I think it’s something like that pushing it up from under.”
He hummed, and rewound the tape a few seconds. “Yeah, yeah, I see what you mean,” he said, tapping his finger on the thick curved glass. “And look at that bone. It actually looks like a charred, brittle skeleton instead of those cheap femurs everyone gets at the party store for Halloween.” You also agreed with him in a hum. The extra touches of effort were impressive for a low budget film like this.
The movie continued inches from your eyes. You rested on your calves, flattening the plush carpet under your shins. The harsh fibers were dulled by your pantyhose, and if this was a spot Eddie had to scrub clean after Adrie spilled juice, you weren’t aware of the stain; you were only aware of the hair-raising sensation of being watched.
You directed your attention to Eddie’s pointed stare on the side of your face, about to ask if there was a reason behind his adamant inspection when—
He dropped his gaze to your lips.
Sparks ignited behind your ribcage. Hopefulness latched onto each long second wherein he resisted flicking his eyes back to the screen. Each passing breath a choice to follow the gentle curve of your mouth, and stay there to revel in the simple pleasure of studying the unspoken language evolving between you two, sinking into his own warm grin for you to decipher. He was still crouching on the balls of his feet, and you had to wonder if he leaned over to kiss you now, would he lose his balance and cause you both to fall to the floor? Would he catch the back of your head in his palm to soften the crash? Would his hips fit perfectly between your legs? Would his jeans drag along your inner thighs? Would he whimper when you held him? Would he grind down on you at the first sign of reciprocation? Would he already be hard?
Your thigh muscles ached at the racing thoughts, clenched so tight in response to the needy throb between them.
Was the unspoken language shouting now?
Eddie’s throat bobbed on a stuttered exhale; his chest shook at fractions of his inhale, as if he was experiencing the same tightness there from the rosy desire blooming so greatly, struggling to cope with the oxygen in his lungs when there were far sweeter things they’d rather be filled with. “I—” He stopped. “I read a review on the back of the box that said this movie was scary too,” he informed you in whisper, right when a godawful green alien appeared and shot the worst CGI laser you’d ever seen from your peripheral vision. “Better hang out with me in the kitchen, where we can keep each other safe.”
You urged your yearning away from his mouth to the neon colors of a spaceship glancing off his cheeks, to his large nose, to the tips of his bangs skimming his eyebrows, to the bags under his eyes, and finally, you caught the last moments of him roaming your features with utmost care before your gazes locked.
The floor beneath him creaked.
Briefly, you considered closing your eyes.
The carpet flattened in a muffled rustle.
Briefly, you considered uttering his name.
The dry air in the room vanished with his humid huff coasting over your forehead.
Briefly, you considered begging him when he pushed off his knees, stumbled slightly towards you, and stood, offering you a helping hand.
He said, “Gotta make this dinner for you before I starve, sweetness.”
Kissless, you fought against your inner bitterness, and accepted his fingers. To hide your wilting resilience, you put a swing of vigor in your voice, and happiness on your face. “Yeah, watching hot blondes perish into goo really makes one hunger for sloppy rice with mushrooms.”
Well, at least you could always make him laugh.
~~~
Onion skin crunched under Eddie’s heavy chop. The papery layer was discarded. Laying the halves on the textured cutting board, he dragged the knife in long slices out from the root, then rotated to dice it into cubes. He blinked away fresh tears, and beside him, you scraped the sweated mushrooms into a bowl, and placed the pan back on the burner for him to sweep his prepped vegetables into. They sizzled on impact. You stirred the mixture with a wooden spoon, and made sure nothing seared to the bottom.
Steam rose from the bowl of cooked mushrooms. Slippery oil slicked their surface, adding to the smells of onion and garlic. Condensation fogged the tiny window above the sink. The rice began to toast. A burnt popcorny, yet pleasantly floral fragrance mixed with the sour note of cheap white wine bubbling down to nothing, and salty splashes of broth.
Mostly, the continuous stirring was done passively because you were both watching the movie from across the room. When it was your turn at the stove, you grasped the skillet handle and moved the spoon around in some sort of pattern, but your upper body was twisted towards the TV. When it was his turn, you took his place at the wrap around counter, bending over to rest your forearms on it, savoring his body heat baked into the surface under your palms before it faded and was replaced by your own.
The last VHS was inserted. No commercials on this older tape.
You grated the last of the cheese into the rice, and tipped in the mushrooms. Behind you, there were two metallic latch sounds followed by two loud bangs. Eddie sucked in a hiss, and apologized. You were too busy portioning out the risotto to see what in the world he was doing, but the sharp clicks of his lighter were distinct, as was the notch turns of the unnecessary lamps being turned off, casting you in dimmed ambiance.
Garnishing the meal with parsley, you scooped up the bowls and turned.
“Ta-da,” he said meekly, opening up his arms with weak pizazz.
You were stunned at the effort.
The collapsable ends of the green table hung by their hinges, making the surface area impossibly intimate. On top, there were three lit candlesticks to set the mood, and underneath, the seats of the chairs almost touched. The whole thing was incredibly sweet. Thoughtful. Endearing. He had trouble meeting your eye.
Eddie glanced at the unscented candles burning bright for practicality’s sake. The first wet drip of wax joined the others melted down the side since the last time he used them when the power went out. Not exactly romantic. “Has, uhm, anyone made you risotto before?” he asked, and tacked on, “At home?” when the fear of not being the first smacked the words out of him.
“No,” you stated. “No one's ever done something so sweet for me.”
His lower lip twitched, and he ran his tongue over his teeth to quell the giddiness from exploding. And to stop himself from celebrating too soon.
As you carried the bowls towards his attempt to recreate a fine dining experience, he tried to push aside the thoughts of inadequacy—the candles, the fact he couldn’t take you to a real restaurant, the flowers he decided against because he no longer had a vase, the nagging voices in his head that told him this whole idea was stupid—and instead, he focused on anything else. Anything, anything else.
“Here, lemme help you, sweet—Ow, ow, ow, ow—Jesus, do you have hands of steel or somethin’?” The candles wobbled when he dropped the bowl on the table, and you both froze as they teetered back and forth, praying your second date didn’t go up in literal flames.
When they came to a rest, you both sighed.
“Hands of steel, huh?” you mused. “I think they feel kinda soft compared to yours.”
Quickfire, he picked up on the age-old flirt you used on him months ago (back when he was dumb, and genuinely thought he was the one flirting with you by suggesting you come back to him when you found a spider as big as his palm), and he concurred, “Maybe we need to compare them again. Y’know, really get in there and make sure I have the toughest hands in the Midwest.” Adopting a southern drawl, he stuffed his thumbs into the waistband of his jeans, and puffed out his chest. “Can’t let a lil’ lady who answers phones with ‘Yellow?’ have stronger hands than me, now can we?”
You pinged him with a wry expression twinged with cringe, and sat down, scooting your chair in, and looking up at him still standing. “You are so pitifully dorky.”
“I sure am, sweetheart,” he said proudly, falling into the chair across from you.
Your knees collided under the table; bone on bone due to his inability to wear jeans without holes in them. They knocked painfully, and while he did remember to apologize when you winced, he was distracted by the silly notion that his bare knees were the second body part to make contact with your tights. The back of his hand during the movie didn’t lend much to his senses, now he had a better feel of the texture, and how it rubbed against his skin. A strangely marvelous thing. And he was getting ahead of himself, sure, but he wondered how your tights must feel under the same rugged palm he was offering to you upturned on the table while below, his thoughts were erring away from respectful visions of circling his thumb over your knee cap while you were stretched across the couch with your legs in his lap, to something he felt unworthy to ask for.
Oh, but how he ached to be the one who was trusted to keep you warm when you were undressed..
Your chair squeaked. You changed the position to where your legs were bracketed by his wide spread. Perfect, because he brought in his stance and crossed his ankles behind yours, locking your thighs and calves between his, as if you were his possession, unable to escape. Indulging him, you giggled, and squirmed to the edge of your seat, taking his hand. His right, your left. A polite union of criss-crossed fingers. Mountainous calluses mapped against rolling hills of satin. Flickering candlelight dancing off the silver band of his ring. Kind, and sweet.
He gripped his spoon in an unnatural way, dragging it through the risotto, and bumping the ceramic.
“I can hold your other hand,” you offered, motioning at where you could link his non-dominant hand in the space between your bowls.
His voice was made of mushy tenderness, but his clipped tone left no room for argument, “Nah, I like it this way.” If you didn’t understand why yet, you did when you traced his gaze to his wrist. The beads had shifted from where they dug into his flesh. Squares from the blocky letters left indents in his skin, as did the corners of star beads interspersed throughout the round ones. Opposite D-A-D-D-Y, your sleeve was bunched up from cooking, baring the precious nickname M-O-U-S-E.
Your eyelids fell half-closed. The fondness on your lips wasn’t a result of the risotto—as delicious as the first bite was—no, the sentiment was much too darling. Almost as if you could hear the dormant vocabulary you awoke running hot in his veins. My girl, my girl, my girl is wearing the matching bracelet my daughter made for us, and I’ve never wanted anything more than another excuse to call you my girl out loud; I want it so bad I could cry.
“You did such a good job on this,” you complimented the risotto after taking another bite.
Fate. “It only tastes good because I had my girl’s help.” Under no circumstance was he about to make eye contact after saying that. In fact, he avoided sound altogether when he angled his spoon so he wouldn’t scrape it along his teeth a second time, and blew on the porridge-like rice before sliding the richness over his tongue, alighting his mouth with mellowed complexities for such unassuming ingredients. As he ate, he listened to you eat too. As he glanced, you glanced too. As he embellished his grin with a secret, you snuck in one of your own through the mysterious sharpness in your eyes boring into his too. He didn’t question it, didn’t breathe, didn’t make a sound above the panicked yelling happening in the movie in the other room; for now, he was content with holding your hand and calling you his girl.
The pressure to continue conversation waned.
He squeezed.
You squeezed back.
~~~
Dinner was finished in cherished bites. The movie was in the process of concluding, as most of the cast had been killed off by the time Eddie uncrossed his ankles and released you. He blew out the candles and stood, already regretting the act when the imprint of your body faded from his between his legs.
While he filled the sink with soapy water, you put away the forgotten ingredients, and wiped up the counter with a wet rag in absentminded circles, thoroughly invested in the slasher’s “forest chase scene” probably filmed in someone’s mom’s backyard.
Once the frothy bubbles sloshed to the rim with each dish put in, and the clammy air was brightened by the scent of blue Dawn liquid soap, Eddie rolled the stretchy bracelet up his forearm and began dunking the glass cup used for measuring the broth. He ran his hand around the inside to rid it of the gritty residue left behind. Dipping the thin washcloth, he submerged his hands up to his wrists in skin prickling hot water, and brought the cup out, exposing his chafed knuckles to the sting of cold air. He washed it, rinsed it under even colder water, and handed it off to you. You toweled it dry, and put it in the cupboard next to the fridge.
Over and over, he washed, you dried. He washed, you dried.
Routine, monotonous, robotic and quiet.
Outer input died away. No more movie, no more hot water, no more spoken conversation, no more meaningful glances, nor more intimate nicknames, no more inappropriate touches stolen under the guise of a drunken night. Just his thoughts, insecurities, anxieties, and hopes and the instant foreboding stress wrenching his stomach with fear of those hopes never coming true.
The air was thick with awareness.
You were in his home. The date was coming to an end, and so was his bravery. This was his chance, and he was letting it slip by him. Again.
He’d run out of excuses. Or rather, he reasoned with the excuses, and now he was facing the real problem. All the stuff from months ago about him not knowing if you liked him, your flighty lifestyle, the dynamic of being coworkers and worrying if it’d make things weird, the conversation he never had with Adrie; forgoing divulging his hobbies, his music, or his past with you because he didn’t see the point; those things he conquered. Those things no longer bothered him. Those things had answers putting them to rest.
Now, there was nothing keeping him from pursuing you except his own inhibitions..
Sad, how even when he had the courage to get this far with you, the differences in your lives served as a reminder he was just a poor boy from Indiana whose greatest aspiration was owning a trailer of his own so his uncle could have his room back. You had a drama degree—hell, you went to college in the first place. You had real dreams, and achieved semblances of those dreams before coming to Hawkins. A star as bright as you shouldn’t have to peter out in a town in the middle of nowhere. You needed the city to thrive, to perform on stage again. It was your calling, wasn’t it? Munson wasn’t calling you like your previous life, was it? You spoke of your accomplishments so highly. Would you ever learn to speak of him that way? Would he, one day, become one of your stories? A memory you moved on from?
Or did he deserve to ask you to give up everything you loved and earned to settle down in a dead-end shithole that hated him, and help him raise a child that wasn’t yours, tying yourself to his reputation forever?
What if he asked those things of you? Would you say ‘yes’?
Shit.
While the sea of doubt churned in his head, he rinsed off the ceramic bowl you used to eat from, and blinked the sting from his eyes after staring off into space for too long. He waited to hand it to you until you had put a pan away in the lower cabinet under the wrap-around counter, and accepted the bowl, drying it off and ping-ponging to the other side of the kitchen to the upper cabinet above the toaster. You didn’t have to guess. You knew exactly where it went. You were familiar with the precise drawer the spatula went in, next to the cutlery one where you tossed in the spoons. There was a beautiful domesticity to it all; washing dishes with you as if it were a nightly occurrence. Like you lived here. Together. You, him, Adrie, and his uncle—preferably not in that arrangement, and not in this trailer, but the vision.. the vision was there. You and him rejecting the bullshit small town mentality, and creating a life in Hawkins you could both be proud of, free from strife. A do-over, in a way, with you at his side, and his daughter on your hip.
The pit of self-loathing in his stomach yawned.
Those idyllic fantasies were too much to ask for. Too much to even risk speaking out loud. He could feel the rejection welling up behind his eyes as it were, wobbling at his bottom lip. The crushing reality of being a lonely single dad with nothing to offer—
You slammed the cabinet door shut, and tossed the towel aside. “So, are we gonna pick up where that phone call left off, or not?”
Eddie stilled under your loaded stare.
You remembered you remembered you remembered—
“If you adore me so much..” you added.
Jolted into action, the last dish slipped from his fingers, splashing and bouncing sluggishly off the bottom of the sink. Adrenaline hit him in droves. Frantic stings of want pushed him forward. Chores were forgotten. Mind blank. The soft thuds of his stride thundered off the thin walls. Pace quickened. Pulse beating in his throat. Vice grip on his heart. Months, weeks, days, hours of keeping his starvation alive through longing looks and inside jokes and hands brushing hands in fragile innocence, denying the vital comfort he craved to experience with the one person who made him feel special; the yearning reached its peak.
Predatory hunger rushed color to his cheeks at the remarkable sight of his dearest dream going slack with surprise.
He secured his fate with his arm wrapped around your waist, sweeping his hand upwards and dragging your cardigan with it. Water dripped to his elbows, cooling the wicked fever igniting his skin. He poured his strength into bringing you into him at the same time he stepped into you, forcing you back, back, back until the distance keeping you apart was eliminated, caging you where you gave him his final nudge beyond the brink of composure. His hips coaxed you side to side. His legs boxed you in where he commanded. Each motion pressed his strong, needy body to yours, driving the edge of the countertop into your lower back. Sway by sway, a dance of insurmountable patience built over months met its breaking point. You went pliant for him. No fight, only a small noise when he engulfed you in his aggressive embrace.
You gathered the hem of his shirt in your weak fists. His sudden leap over the platonic line broke goosebumps across your exposed midriff, tightening your nipples against the delicate lavender lace. The tremble in your knees was juxtaposed by his steady hand tilting your face up to his.
Sudsy bubbles burst on the peach fuzz beneath your ear from where he cupped your jaw. Droplets trickled to the base of your neck, curving over your breasts, and beading on the surface of your cardigan. He swept his fingers in an untamed stroke over your cheek. He tested a deeper angle, fitting his broad grasp to your chin and compelling you to lean in with the heel of his palm guiding you, drawing you forward, supporting the pout of your bottom lip with the base of his thumb.
His nose whistled when he took a shallow breath. The wet, soapy trails left in his hand’s wake went cold against his sigh coasting over your skin. Again, he tried another breath. Deeper; initiating the unadulterated intimacy of his stomach filling out and pushing against yours. More. The great expanse of his shoulders squared with confidence, and his muscles braced under your tender exploration. Your weak grip left his waist to climb up the confines of his arms, passing over his ribs and the flat plane of his pecs to place the lightest touch at the base of his neck. Closer. The serious glint in his eyes blurred as he neared.
The tip of his nose butted the apple of your cheek.
“Can I kiss you?” he spoke aloud for the first time, words breaking on the whisper.
You answered him in a faint, insatiable, “Yes.”
He imposed himself more. Frame on frame. Unyielding body leaned and curved around your softness, channeling every repressed feeling he’d had since you met into pinning you against the counter. Gradually, he dropped his head into a better angle; grinding forehead on forehead, tracing his perfect nose along yours, tilting so his mouth hovered fractions above a decision.
He teased, “Are you only saying that because it’s your policy?”
You smiled against the edge of his thumb after spying his sly grin through your heavy lashes. “No,” you stressed the single word, speaking through the mild irk of impatience building like an itch that could not be scratched in the marrow of your bones.
Anticipation clung to the prolonged gossamer blinks before they lulled into closed eyes, and slow swallows of air until lungs were poised on a held breath.
Every syllable of his next question dragged his lower lip across yours. “Are you my girl?”
“Eddie—”
The whine. The beg. The genuine plea of his name.
Organically imperfect, he smashed his mouth to yours. It was a harsh collision of teeth to lips, and a startled grunt at the abrupt impact, but neither of you cared. Reservations were off. You clung desperately to his shirt, stretching the cotton around his neck and biting the ball chain necklace into his throat, striving for a needier kiss; sparking a heady rush of awareness to the oversensitive areas reacting to the animalistic push and pull of him gaining control, advocating for his own fight in the flex of his thighs driving you into the creaky doors of the cabinetry. The fervency spurred him on. You combed your fingers through the downy curls at his nape, and he did not hesitate slipping a hand under your sweater to smooth his palm to your bare waist. And fuck, how you arched your back on instinct.
Nasally grunts of pain descended to pleasant hums from the throat.
Unable to divide his attention, the kisses went sloppier. Rushed. Awkward, and clumsy. He slotted his mouth to yours with too much force, to the point of bruising your spit slicked lips, and the wet smack pulled a submissive whimper from the places he’d yet to take. The flush blotching his throat ran hot like flames, heating the Old Spice aftershave on his skin. The scent aided the dizzy lurch in your head, lost to the dull lamplight beyond your eyelids, rocking you onto your toes and falling back on your heels in the swirling give-and-take of his unstated needs reaching levels of crisis only you could solve. A pain you could cure as you crammed your nose to his cheek, spread your fingers firmly against his skull, and kissed your friend harder than he kissed you.
Hums lowered into a depraved moan.
The intensity of your reciprocation fueled his ego. Seeking, he moved his chivalrous hand from cupping your face, downwards. Grabbing, seizing, squeezing. After refraining from so much for so long, he was mesmerized by the curve of your shoulder, the sway of your lower back, the waistband of your scratchy polyester skirt. He roved until he found your ribs, and he molded his fingerprints there, branding you with the sensation of his thumb beneath your underwire bra. It was a messy exploration. His excitement had him bearing his weight down on you, and when your strained feet failed to steady him, your ankle gave. Knees bumped; he stepped on your toes. He fell into you and matched the pain of the counter prodding your tender flesh with the bulk of his leather belt scraping your stomach. No apology. Not with words. It was the safety and protection of his arm crooked between you and the laminate countertop which rescued you, and as a reward, he dropped his forearm from the cusp of your hips and feasted his thick fingers on a handful of your ass, rocking you into him.
There was no other way to react to the blunt suggestion.
Heavy, uneven breaths were panted across the other’s sore lips as you both withdrew to gauge the next step. He scoped your features with urgency, darting from your relaxed brows, to your keen gaze. There was an etching of insecurity marring the honey in his gentle brown eyes when you were too dazed to remember to smile, jumping to conclusions in his worrisome ways.
He really did worry too much.
Bringing your hand out of his curls, you grazed the strained tendon on the side of his neck, and worked your way up. You trailed your knuckles along his cheek, swept them under his wispy bangs, and put your fingertips to his temple, triggering a shivered sigh and fluttering lashes at the new touch.
You answered him as you combed his hair away from his face, “I’m your girl.”
The instant sincerity of his red, swollen lips kicking up into an uneven grin invoked a raw tenderness to his pink nose scrunching in playfulness, and the corner of his eyes going tight with happiness.
“Yeah?” he asked, voice hoarse from the exertion of kissing you senseless.
“Yeah,” you promised in another caress.
For a moment, he held your gaze with the importance of someone understanding what it meant to be by his side and to be seen with him out in Hawkins public; as if he were on the verge of crying from the sheer gratitude of your policy landing you here, in his arms, on this night, wanting to be his.
Eddie peered into your eyes again. His wide pupils and dusky cheeks spoke of the nature of his body, but behind that, lurking beneath his fibrous sinew was the same innate marrow telling him this was okay. This was right. Just let go.
Just let go.
He listened.
As wild as he took you minutes before, he was ready to luxuriate in the nuances of affection. He pressed his mouth closed in a dry swallow, and raised his hand from your ribs, beckoning your cheek into the stifling heat of his palm. The throbbing pulse in his neck beat a rhythm to his chest, rising and falling in a quick cadence until he was able to discipline his attention away from the obvious snag of his zipper on your skirt.
He relaxed into another kiss. It may have been the hundredth of the night, but it was pivotal. Something changed. The frantic clashing lessened, and the cravings heightened.
Consistent as he was in taking things slow, he knew how to make you feel cherished. He took your bottom lip between his and dragged it as he broke the chain from one kiss to the other, as if the extra second he claimed a part of you was crucial to his survival. Truly indulging in the full potential of someone witnessing the many bad days of his life and still wanting to cook dinner with him. Someone enjoying the harmonized hum of your lips converging while you scratched small circles on his scalp above his ears. Someone willing to hear his shameful complaints about fatherhood, and not judge him when he took his lunch break in his car, cranking the seat back to rest his blood-shot sleepless eyes, instead of sharing a coke with them in the breakroom. Someone he’d come to rely on; a constant in his life.
He poured his coffee pot’s worth of trust into you, and you answered him with the blissful endeavor of your fingers scaling his forearm, brushing through the thin hair growing like wheat and pushing the beaded bracelet up to his wrist, cupping your hand over his on your cheek. D-A-D-D-Y. M-O-U-S-E. In turn, you drank his insecurities and added your own, overflowing with the mutual truth that neither of you had been in a stable relationship lasting longer than a month, and this whole thing should’ve been very scary.
But it wasn’t scary.
It was slow and steady.
The heaviness of his body returned. Hands wandered aimlessly. Arms entwined, untangled, confused themselves on who was where. Attentive fingertips glided over woven yarn and cotton, following the dips and curves and slopes; basking in the reverence of married threads and validation. Legs shuffled, spreading and accommodating. Jaws went slack. Languid tongues merged, lazy and hot. He palmed your ass in a lax grip, easing your hips flush against his. You answered with a purposeful roll intending to earn some friction, but you couldn’t reap the benefits on account of one problem..
Your skirt was stretched to the fabric’s maximum allowance, creating a taut buffer keeping him at bay. Any motion was nullified by the hindrance. Noticing this, he shifted to be better cradled by your thighs, and a delicious gift was granted with the tandem action of your bodies joining.
He flattened his hands on the countertop behind you and blessed you with a proper long drawl of his hips; pausing in an open mouthed kiss because the noise you made—the noise you made—the noise the noise the noise you made—
Your quick inhale faltered, flattering the hard press of his cock with a shameless gasp.
Eddie halted at the top of the motion from your involuntary praise, and locked eyes with you. Just like when he made you laugh, he wanted to witness your pleasure, soak in your reverent stare and pride himself on the way you asked for more—by sinking back and away and rutting upwards, instigating a filthy tension on the layers separating you; panties, nylon, polyester skirt, seams on seams on seams of harsh denim, and his choice of boxers; and God, you thrived on the bulk behind his zipper caressing you for the first time where climaxes were born. Your moan hinged on his satisfaction, and in a dare, you pivoted the descent of your roll towards the right, capturing between you his stiff length tenting towards his pocket. And when you arched into a slow grind on the base—sliding him along the curve of your clothed heat—he released his own pretty noise.
“Mm—fuck,” he groaned into your mouth.
Gravitating elsewhere, he left messy kisses on your jaw and brushed his nose over the peach fuzz on your cheek to put his love-bitten lips to your ear. Gravelly with want, he asked, “When did you remember what happened that night?”
A dirty throb pulsed where he buried himself between your legs, striving for the angle which had you grasping at his narrow hips as a silent plea for him to drive into you harder.
“Oh,” you panted into his hair sticking to your mouth. Answering casually as you could despite your face running hot, and your voice straining light with a joke, you answered, “I never forgot. I lied when you asked me.”
“You—?” The word was a quick huff of air against your neck. He pulled away enough to look at you, but not divorce your stomachs from touching. Two deep creases formed between his brows, shadowing his squint with incredulity. “You lied to me?”
A pang of doubt weeded its way into your insecure hands around his waist, forcing you to question if he was really mad at you for pretending you didn’t remember the exact details of last weekend in order to bolster his confidence into asking you on a date instead of wallowing in silent guilt for thinking he did something wrong and end up pushing you away, sabotaging himself from ever acting on this.
You were about to speak your mind—that is, until his lips crooked up, and he invaded your space with his big eyes, big nose, and even bigger grin.
“You lied to me,” he said with a snap of wolfishness, tonguing his sharp canine after the bite of his words; hosting an overabundance of admiration in his half-lidded gaze raking over you, alighting every sinful nerve in your body.
Time to pick up where that phone call left off—
“Yeah, I did.. But you didn’t.” You sank your hand between your bodies, and flattened your palm to the front of his jeans.
His breath hitched.
Skimming, teasing, playing with him, you strung his lust taut, tracking your fingertips over the hardness and sweeping them to the very end, circling an outline around his head like a Siren’s call to his fiery blood. His biceps flexed against your arms. The laminate counter squeaked from his sweaty grip on the edge. Vinyl flooring creaked at his antsy rut into your hand, and you gave in to your own curiosity.
Wrapping your fingers as best you could through the thick denim, a spike of cold excitement washed over you at the sheer girth you struggled to handle—much less the long, long drag of your palm from base to tip—sending an ache to your cunt begging to be stretched by him.
Slightly over seven inches, indeed.
Lacking poise, you blurted an unintelligible word, and his smirk underscored his heavy kiss.
“Told you I didn’t need to overcompensate,” he taunted.
His newfound smugness was allowed. Encouraged, even, by your firm strokes, again and again, creating a damp patch on his pants at every pass of your thumb. You were fascinated by his ability to engulf you in another tender union of lips when your senses were overwhelmed by the impressive size filling your palm. Intoxicated by the gentle glide of his considerable tongue along your bottom teeth. Dazed by his pitiful groan when you increased your pace, building and building the wicked friction burn from his jeans on your soft skin, tending to the flames of your arousal, sensitive nipples peaked and receptive to the warmth of his lean chest pressing down on you.
Needing him, you closed off the kiss and played into your appeal with a saccharine pinch to your expression, and a cloying sweetness to your tone. “You do so much for your family,” you murmured. “You work so hard to provide for them, always staying late at the garage, covered in grease and dirt, fixing cars until your hands are torn and your back aches. Making sacrifices without a second thought. Always putting their needs first.”
Stroking his hard cock, you asked, “When was the last time someone put your needs first?”
Eddie screwed his eyes shut and fit the bridge of his nose to your forehead. When he spoke, his embarrassment influenced his mumble, “S’been a long, long time.”
“Sounds like you need me to take care of you, handsome.”
He tensed to suppress his shiver from your sultry tone, and withheld his whimper at the prospect, meeting your gaze in a nervous flick. “I don’t, uhm.. have..” His assured demeanor ebbed to stuttering shyness. “I didn’t, uh, buy any condoms, and all the stores are closed by now..”
Your face fell flat.
You threw your exasperated stare to the ceiling, and searched the series of events which would lead to him asking you on a date, at his home, at night, without anyone else present, and somehow not think to buy condoms. “Why didn’t you buy any?”
He shrugged, frustration evident in his tone. “I was afraid of being a dumbass and leaving them out in the open where you could see them—like with the groceries or some shit—and give you the wrong impression, like my goal was only to invite you over for that reason, and, I don’t know, think I’m coming on too strong, or something, and make you uncomfortable.”
You gripped your beloved dumbass by the chin with your unoccupied hand, and put an end to his fretting. “Or, I would get the right impression, and we’d have that box opened within ten minutes of me walking through the door.”
He blinked dumbly.
Before he could ask if you were serious, you steered the conversation to its original topic with a gentle squeeze where the dark spot on his jeans bloomed, and said, “We’ll worry about condoms next time.” He throbbed in your palm. Next time. “After all the romantic stuff you’ve done for me, I want to show you my appreciation.” You slid your fingers through his belt loops, and leaned up, nosing your way through his frizzy waves to whisper a fantasy in his ear. “I want you in my mouth.”
You put the power of suggestion in your aggressive tug, snapping your hips together.
Ripples of electric pleasure stood his arm hair on end. The alertness in his expression glazed over. He lazed in the feeling, hardly able to open his eyes to follow the bounce of your eyebrows and the deep cut of your smirk; matching with his own goofy smile going lopsided with enthusiasm.
Since his birth, there were few instances where he felt wanted, or loved, and for his dream girl to waltz into his life and be so brazen about her attraction to him with no hidden motives, empty sweet-talk, or ill intentions—
For possibly the first time in Eddie’s ostracized existence, he felt desired.
Each low tug on his jeans was another boost to his self esteem, guiding him step by step further beyond the platonic line. Deeper, and deeper into new territory. Crossing the threshold from cracked vinyl to plush carpet, and with it, entering the fear of the unknown he wasted countless hours resisting. There’s no going back after this. Acquaintances was a laughable notion, coworkers was a tricky dynamic left to be dealt with on Monday, and friendship was the foundation of him opening up to you.
Every decision persuading you to the edge of his bed was made in careful consideration. Choices were presented and chosen without impulse. Nothing about him was casual. Not anymore. The slow crawl towards this relationship was impeded by his past, and instead of giving up, you stayed true to him. Because you saw him as worthwhile.
Eddie sank to the couch, and before his back made contact with the cushions, he had his fingers cupped to the backside of your thighs, proposing a bend to your knees. In a fluid motion, he dragged his rough palms up your tights and coaxed your legs on either side of him, running his heavy hands over your skirt and up to your waist. He relaxed into the sitting position with an arm crooked around your ass while he treated himself to a handful, gathering you as close as possible until he was satisfied with the places he could reach. Not once did his eyes leave your face. He tipped his head back to watch you go from standing at the end of his knees, to straddling his lap. Wholly enamored.
Blue cast from the TV’s standby mode contrasted the dim glow from the old lamp on the kitchen counter, highlighting his blushy cheeks in eventide colors, and cleaving a defined shadow down his bobbing throat.
Earned muscle and bulky denim and seven inches of bliss prodded the delicate meat of your inner thighs. You sat high on his lap, releasing the tension in your body in increments, settling yourself on top of him. He kissed you. Short and sweet; a brief encounter compared to before, but with your senses amplified by the deeper connection you two fostered for one another, it was the best kiss of your life. And it served as a chaste prelude to his next devotion.
Taking the lead, Eddie moved on from your lips, working downward in a dreamy, drunken daze, reveling in skin-on-skin. Want—more—please. When he couldn’t access the vulnerable underside of your chin, he urged your head up with a determined bump of his nose to your jaw, and continued to praise you in stray kisses and greedy palms. He showed you what he wanted by dragging you forward in his lap, and you didn’t need to be told twice by his white-knuckled grip.
You grinded down on him, and your mouth went slack with a fragmented moan.
“You’re so pretty when you do that,” he slurred, voice husky and low.
The bulge behind his fly parted your aching cunt. With your legs spread wide, you found your perfect middle and worked the stiff seams against your need. Each rut glided him along you, slipping over the nylon and stretching your pantyhose taut. You beared down harder, obeying the faint throbs of desperation, and turned them into inadequate stirs of pleasure, fleeting at each pass.
The first stitch of nylon broke. Then, another.
His generous kisses went wayward, favoring your jawbone as a means to end, tucking his teeth into the pocket beneath your ear and nipping at your vulnerable pulse. You swallowed under the threat, and dropped your head back, revealing the neglected expanse for him to cherish.
Cascades of euphoria flowed down your neck. Teeth grazed, his tongue tasted, the cold tip of his nose drew sentiments on your throat. For every dull sting of his untamed bite, he apologized with a softer, and softer affection. Lessening in aggression. Soothing your sweltering skin with cooling breaths on the streak of spit he left behind. You shivered despite the sudden break of sweat in the humid entanglement and embraced your urges, squirming against his jeans and circling your hips in measured thrusts, tilting into the motion for your own sake and blanketing your thigh over his achingly hard cock by chance. “Christ, sweetheart.” His muffled moan set your blood on fire. Your fingers went tight on his shoulders, digging into the muscle shifting beneath your nails, wrinkling the fabric of his favorite shirt.
More nylon stitches popped.
Too lost in your own efforts, you hadn’t noticed the loss of his possessive hold on your waist until your hard nipples brushed two solid objects.
Yarn fibers tickled overtop the sheer mesh cups of your bra.
Eddie nuzzled at the base of your neck and rested the slope of his broad nose there, moving his lips on your skin when he remembered, but otherwise his attention deviated elsewhere. At his leisure, he thumbed the top button of your sweater through the loop, and drifted to the next. Another, and another, exposing the sheen of perspiration on your chest to the stagnant air in his living room. His deft fingers undressed you with undue ease. Each loosened button raced your heart, and you repaid him by widening your knees and sinking fully onto his lap, laying your plush inner thigh on top of his length in a satisfying squish, and staying there.
A weak whine tinted his pretty, “Feels—good.”
Feels good played off the thin walls stacked with ceramic mugs. Feels good joined the sporadic pitter patter of raindrops on the tin roof streaming to the grassless earth outside. Feels good warmed you like the oil filled radiator at the end of the couch, popping and crackling when the heat droned higher. Feels good manifested in your cardigan slipping from your shoulders and falling to the floor in a mute drop; rooted itself in his ringed fingers dipping into your waistband; was proven by his other palm molding to the curve of your hip as if it were shaped by the same artist; and confirmed by the unambiguous focus to your right side.
Feels so fucking good burst forth in his hand’s unyielding snatch on your waistband and decisive jerk forward, ripping through the last of the strained seam trapped against your satin underwear.
The pantyhose split at the gusset, and your plump pussy spilled out, perfectly framed by the gaping nylon hole presenting your wet cunt to the thick denim. You draped him sweetly. Curved over the immense rise behind the creased zipper, creating a stiff peak before sloping to the soft give of his stomach. It didn’t take more than a single experimental thrust for your thin panties to slide into your sticky need, working them snug to your heat and inciting the first true tug at your core. Whispers of relief roused at your center, but it wasn’t until your second try, when you tilted your hips and Eddie guided you down onto him, genuine satisfaction was achieved.
The low rumble from the bottom of his chest filled you with oozy pride.
You concentrated the friction on your clit, and Eddie concentrated on anything else.
He stopped sealing his kisses, letting the envelope of his lips fall open, slack, and inarticulate, never beginning nor ending the ode to your neck. His mouth hovered wherever his head hung, and in his stupor, he could do little more than use his tongue to cut a fat line through the luster beneath the hollow of your throat, letting the salt sit in his mouth before swallowing, grateful. With each movement, the scratchy grain on his jaw from that morning’s shave buffed your sensitive skin, and he lapped at the rawness he caused in apology. The higher you rose over the swell of his cock, the lower he prized you in sloppy drags of his ample lips. He cupped his ringed fingers to the underside of the lavender lace and used his heavenly tongue to lick the top of your breast, accentuating the curve for his teeth to savor you in a lovebite. Your nipples begged for him, and your back arched for him. Your mouth fell open with a gasp—”Eddie”—drawing out the last set of vowels before they devolved into a whimper. Soon, his head was a heavy burden between your tits, and you wrapped him in your naked arms, cradling him there with your fingers in his hair. Spit from his sloppy kisses smeared on your cleavage, wetting the stubble on his cheeks, and he remained smitten, moaning into them with each bounce on his lap.
He was so wrecked on intimacy.
Loading your lungs with another sigh of his name, you rocked your hips in whichever way felt best, not paying attention to the way your inner thigh rolled over Eddie’s fat cock, again, and again. Satin on denim; faster, and faster, tensing your leg muscles and releasing them like a quick stroke down his length. You embraced him with your chin to his hair, panting over the frizz sticking to your lips. Tender, always. Committed to lauding gentle kisses to his scalp even as you chased the one thing on your mind. Grinding in quicker thrusts. Listening to his muffled praise, but not hearing him go quiet, or noticing his body go still when his thighs edged into a hard flex under your ass. You were oblivious to his hand falling from your bra, and his fingers anchoring onto your waist. You were too engrossed in the act, rutting like animals do. Lurching towards the inevitable one desperate grind at a time, quicker.. quicker.. Heeding what your body wanted. Racing, faster.. faster..
Abrupt pain bloomed where he shoved his palm into your thigh to stop you.
“You’re gonna make me cum,” he panted in a ragged breath.
A new heat rushed to your cheeks. The dirty word spoken from his mouth engulfed you. It tingled and danced over your skin, firing signals of excitement in pulses. With clarity, you realized the few direct strokes during what was supposed to be foreplay had him tensing and trembling, trying to keep his release from arriving too early and making a mess of himself before getting to the real deal. Your nipples tightened at the knowledge, and your legs clenched on instinct. You almost made him cum his jeans. What a compliment.
Your puffy clit was sore from the brief friction, and you felt every centimeter of space he put between you and your reward, but it was like a switch flipped in your brain.
The sharp throbs of his fingers clamped onto the meat of your thigh and his thumb jammed into the soft muscle were forgotten when you looked down at the man who shied under your observation; his face aflame with the awareness he ruined your release as well and his, and his bashful eyes worried with remorse. He was the reason you craved the early dawn, and weekday nights. He was the reason your heart crowded your throat when you woke up and your first thought was to reach for the bracelet on your bedside dresser. He was the reason you took a liking to heavy metal and board games. He was the reason your body reacted to wafts of earthy tobacco in the air, only to be disappointed when the person behind you at the grocery store was just another smoker who hand rolled their cigarettes, as if they had the right to smell like Eddie Munson.
You looked down at the man who lived an isolated and thankless life, who found joy in the small things and loved with his whole heart, who had few outlets to express himself and receive love back, and nothing mattered to you more than giving him a reason to look at you differently come Monday morning.
You thumbed the edge of his jaw with a promise. “I’ll go slow, pretty boy.”
He made a choked off noise in response.
Eddie’s eyes followed the nuances of your movement as you rose from his lap and planted your feet on the carpet. His stance widened to make room for you, chest falling with a silent exhale; peering at you with a question between his brows, as if he were contemplating his luck. When you bent over and placed your palms on his thighs, you stole his gaze from the intimate way your cleavage shifted under gravity, and honored his lips a last time for the foreseeable future, about to show him how fortunate he really was.
You sank to your knees, dropping dry kisses onto his shirt in a path to his belly as you went, and lifted the hem. The bottom of the inked sword and dragon greeted you. Sparse hair fanned as you raised the shirt above his tattooed navel, and pushed it to the crease where his sternum and belly met. His stomach wasn’t as flat as when he stood, giving him a slight curve where it pushed past the edge of his belt—a roundness when he sat relaxed. You laid your elbows on his thighs, and avoided touching the large subject in your peripheral, instead shaping your hands to his hips, and bowing your head.
His muscles jumped under your lips.
Finally, you knew his ticklish spot.
He sucked in a breath, and squirmed at the scattered kisses to his sides. You applied more pressure, mashing your mouth to him with a giggly hum, and teased your wet lips through the thick curls leading downwards. The hairs grazed the sides of your mouth and nose. The warm metal from his belt buckle brushed your chin. You’d never guessed you’d come to know these sensations when you first met him and he made it clear your enthusiasm for life was not appreciated, but here you were, stroking your thumbs up his leather belt, bordering your grin with his happy trail.
Eddie skimmed his fingers over your wrists. “I’m not gonna last long,” he warned.
“That’s fine,” you assured him in a quick peck to the significant outline you’d become obsessed with, feeling him twitch beneath your lips. “We have all night to work on that.”
“What—? Jesus Christ, uh—okay.”
Sitting back on your calves, you held his gaze while you pulled the extra length of his belt through the loops in a smooth rush, and worked it through the handcuff buckle. You tightened the slack and loosened the pin with a nimble finger, undressing him with the ease of an expert.
Asking from a place of your own curiosity, you wondered, “How often do you jerk off?”
His eyebrows disappeared behind his tousled bangs.
Not yet used to you being so forward with him, he stammered on his tongue, but held his composure, much to the surprise of both of you. “Not that often, I guess.. Uh, a few times a month.”
You snorted. “You don’t have to lie to me, you know that, right? You can tell me if it’s everyday, I don’t care. It’s not like I’m gonna judge you.”
The two halves of his belt flopped to either side of his waist. With it out of the way, you pinched at the stamped button at the top of his stupidly tight jeans, but you had trouble getting a good grip on it. Here, let me—he mumbled in a small voice, lifting his hips off the couch to undo it himself, popping it through and revealing the waistband of his forest green boxers.
It was with great determination you aimed your gaze above his obvious grandeur when he started talking.
“I’m not lying,” he said during the sturdy grind of the zipper being tugged down. “Not exactly like I have a door to lock when I need some alone time around here, sweetness. Plus” —he grunted at the freedom his unzipped jeans granted him, pushing them lower on his hips— “I’m usually too worn out after work, and just wanna crash on the couch. Not to mention taking care of everything around here is exhausting. Just don’t have the energy most days.”
Reading the precious draw of sympathy between your brows, he sat on the edge of his bed, and reached into the fly at the front of his boxers. “But, uh, there has been a recent change in my life that’s motivated me to.. take better care of myself. More often.” A certain motivator who sat between his legs with her hands in her lap, piqued and obedient. “Lot more often than a couple months ago, before she started working with me.”
He wrapped his fingers around himself and stroked upward, moving his knuckles against the fabric. He’d been rambling to ease the anxiety from his nerves until only the adrenaline remained, and with his pretty girl biting her bottom lip at his impure thoughts, his stalling came to an end.
Out came his hand—broad palm and thick fingers stretched full—and you stared in silent awe.
The back of his pale wrist and rosy knuckles were the first to show. Prominent blue veins led to his crooked hand, thumb and foremost fingers grasping his base while the last two struggled to collect the rest. His wet tip grazed the top of his boxers, peaking the fabric and dragging it along in a mouthwatering sweep towards the opening, and out it bobbed in flushed hues of pink and needy red. Below, he used his other hand to lower the fly, and cupped his palm to his heavy hanging fruits. They slipped out one plump roundness at a time to display their greatness against his dark jeans in a weighty sway.
Eddie’s cock leaked a bead of anticipation for you.
Starting with a lazy tug, he stroked himself. The arousing sheen smeared around his tip glistened, shining anew with the pass of his fist. As predicted, he curved to the right, and the fact he could hardly overlap his thumb to get a good hold on himself spoke of his size. All of him was beautiful, and you felt beautiful when another drip of precum swelled from his pretty head, threatening to fall before your very eyes.
He was thrilled by your shock. “Want it?”
“Need it,” you responded in a faint exhale.
With a smirk deepening his smoky tone, he kept moving his hand up and down, and granted you permission, “It’s all yours.”
You snapped your attention to his face, and inched forward until you were snug against the couch, eager and motivated by the lustful stretch in your thighs exposing your soaked cunt to the air. Good and pleasing, you clasped your hands politely in the folds of your bunched up skirt, and framed your arms around your chest.
Dipping your head, you lolled out your tongue for his approval.
His expression was the highest compliment; revering you with crinkles at the corners of his heavy-lidded gaze, lips stretched into a genuine smile which emphasized the elusive dimple on his cheek, and defined the bags under his eyes. Strands of his finger-swept messy curls stuck out at odd angles after you had your way with his hair, grazing his high cheekbones, and thick neck.
His heart pounded louder in his chest the longer he stared at your offering.
Weight pressed down on the plush middle of your tongue. It left, then happened again, again. Again, he tapped the fat head of his cock to the sticky wetness, mixing his salty taste with your spit. Bestowing you the gift, and taking it away. Teasing you. He slapped his heaviness down in a dull throb of owning you, and lifted it off to run his fingers over his own length, jerking himself off at an easy pace he wouldn’t cum from before putting his weeping tip to your tongue once more for you to admire, but not indulge. It was the cruelest, and hottest, thing he’d ever done to you.
When he next rubbed his head along the supple muscle and took it away, you tempted him into giving you mercy.
His lungs stuttered at your first demure kiss to the underside of his cock. You listened to his shallow breath on the second, released in a short ahh on the third. On the fourth, you vied for privilege to spoil him. He relented. How could he not?
To give himself a better angle to watch, he propped one of his hands behind him, and dropped his cheek to his shoulder, where his hair poured in a mass of tangles. The broad grin he wore waned to a subtler emotion as you hummed for the silky skin thrumming against your lips, feeling him shift when he lifted his thumb from taming his hard-on down.
Eddie marveled at how you balanced his cock on your pout. Amusement—and an unending amount of tenderness—gentled his features. He was sweet on you. You were sweet on him.
Treating him how he deserved, you rolled your tongue around your mouth to gather spit, and pushed it past your lips to wet his slick head, making your kisses slip against him in a smooth glide. You showered him in small pecks at first. Short kisses with the cutesy sounds pressed to the sensitive ridges which earned Eddie’s involuntary moan; low and thick, drawing from the months of pining for this moment. Venturing into more, you darted your tongue out to test his reaction when you licked the valley between the halves of his plump tip, and you winced. His cock kicked up, and fell in a smack. It was painful, probably bruising the delicate inner flesh of your lips when it smashed them against your teeth. You thanked him in an acquiescent whine.
It was addictive—a daze. With nothing but gravity to keep him in place, you cherished your favorite mechanic’s cock openly and honestly. You flattened your tongue to him in a loving lap, and chased it with a long drag of your lips up the underside to the round head, struggling to keep your eyes open from the bliss of tasting his reward, and suckling noisily for more.
Eddie accepted defeat in a sudden, disappointed grunt, “Yeah.. I’m not gonna last long.”
He fell backwards in a dramatic flourish.
Sprawled almost flat, his shoulders hit the cushions, and his body melted into the position with his fingers laced over his eyes as a shield. A groan of despair reverberated in his throat. Poor Eddie, can’t last long with his favorite receptionist’s mouth around his cock. A giggle bubbled from your chest, and you were about to repeat your promise to go slow, but the words wouldn’t form.
Your mouth had other plans than wasting their time on reassurances.
In his melodramatic moping, his dick left your lips and flopped onto his belly—which was a loss you felt in your soul—but with how he slouched into the cushions, a fruitful endeavor presented itself. Swung, and bounced, actually.
You leaned in, and became acquainted with your hand around his girth; familiarizing yourself with the naked warmth in your palm, and his airy whimper when you did.
The top of his boxers brushed your knuckles as you drifted your hand up in a single stroke. One fluid glide on the cock which belonged to you. He did say it was yours, after all. And though the thought alone had you wishing it was stretching your tight cunt in a blend of pain and pleasure, you had a yearning for what else moved up and down when you pumped your fist.
“Eddie?” you called. He peered at you from the shadow of his fingers. Innocently, you traced the bottom of his sack, and oh so carefully settled them into the nest of your unblemished palm. “Are these mine too?”
A croak broke his speechlessness. “Y-Yeah, those are yours, too. If you want them.”
Please was written in your grateful lurch towards his cock. Thank you was expressed in your lush moan when he entered your mouth.
“Baby,” he whined in a docile sigh.
You sank his cock into the wet heat he needed, but only for the purpose of curving your tongue to his begging tip and bathing him in your spit, using your hand to work it down his shaft. Except, you got carried away. A few strokes in, and you put your lips tight around his head, and already there was a warning forming between his brows.
You backed off. His face went lax in relief.
“Feels too good, sweetheart,” he praised from the depths of his gravelly voice. “Gonna make me cum like that.”
Your pussy ached to be spoken to that way.
Moving your attention away from how pitifully empty you felt, you loosened your grip and twisted your wrist to massage the base of his slick cock; not exploring upwards, just giving him enough friction to keep him on edge without spilling over. A perfect amount of pleasure, you guessed, from his red face emerging from behind his hands, raising them to comb his bangs off the fine layer of sweat beading on his forehead, and blinking himself out of his haze just in time to see you lower your face between his thighs.
You tended to him first with a kiss. An opening, or introduction, to your lips finding the spot beneath your working thumb where the hardness ended and the velvety skin began. He tensed. His legs flexed around your shoulders, bringing his knees in all shy like, like he was self conscious to have you down there. And maybe it was one thing to have his balls cupped in your palm, but it was another to have you nosing around the opening of his boxers when he hadn’t gone through with his plan of trimming back the hedges.
All he could do was stare when you inhaled his scent after he spent the day cleaning his home, running errands, driving across town to pick you up, and sitting next to you during scene after scene of horrors playing on a screen directly across from the terrifying event of holding your hand while trying not to out-sweat his t-shirt.
His bewilderment was apparent, but so was your enjoyment.
You burrowed your nose at the narrow opening of his fly, and tilted his cock to the side, finding the thick thatch of curls growing around his base, and admiring his heavy musk breaking through the perfumed Dove soap. A heavy purr of pleasure rumbled in your throat, coming out as a nasally moan against the wrinkled skin you kissed. So enraptured by his body, you couldn’t hold back anymore. You had to part your lips, and run your tongue along the seam of his sack. It was with a dire urge you stopped at the bottom, and flaunted how big he was by snuggling your nose to the heft and lifting.
You draped his balls over your mouth.
It was silly to him, and you didn’t mind the tss of laughter, but to you, earning his baffled smile while your giggle was buried under his sack was vital to your design. Their ripe heat enveloped you. The stripe you licked was wet on the tip of your nose. His natural scent swaddled you. Both corners of your lips were encumbered by the wonderful weight hanging on either side, brushing your cheeks as you swallowed the taste of his tangy sweat. You kissed up into the excess skin stretched over your face, and they rolled to your chin when you changed the angle you were teasing his cock, disciplining him towards his stomach so you had more room to worship the pome.
Warming him to the idea, you flattened your tongue to one side and ran it along the fullness, curving up, and dragging down in a long caress. In a breath, he placed his hand on his stomach where his shirt gathered, and skimmed the other over his body until it laid on top of his jeans, in the crease between his hip and thigh. You could see his fingers work themselves into the loose denim out of the corner of your eye, and heard them relax when you traced the other side of his sack, ending with a murmur to the textured skin.
“Too much?” you asked—he shook his head before you could finish the question, still hanging onto a suggestion of his fascinated squint at what you were doing to him.
With his approval, you indulged.
The gentle licks evolved to sloppy circles, eager to prize and polish, ensuring there was no part of his balls gone neglected. Lapping at, kissing at, making out with another spot on his body out of a necessity to fawn over every inch of him. Willing to nuzzle your way between the plumpness and have your drool drag wetly across your cheeks in his name. Fully content with messier and messier affections, cozying your nose to the base of his curls until he understood how little it bothered you to be smothered by his nature.
Unable to resist satisfying him how he deserved, you dropped an open kiss to the squish of his sack, and suckled on a small section, checking his reaction.
Not an ounce of protest glimmered behind his lashes, eyes falling almost closed at the intimate gesture between two people who were never supposed to be more than coworkers.
You parted your lips, and accepted a mouthful.
Eddie whimpered.
His toes curled into the carpet at the novel sensation. There was an incredible amount of trust required to fight the instinct to pull away. Even his fingers strained the denim when you drew your lips around one of his balls, and slackened your jaw. It was with great respect you brought him into your mouth, and cradled the weight on your tongue, cheeks stretched full and soft. You held him there for a long second. The rain was a steady noise of the roof, but your exhale was loud in the space between his thighs. Quiet suspense followed your hand climbing his shaft.
You wrapped your fingers around his hopeful tip, and fitted your thumb to the valley on the underside. In perfect sync, and with your eyes steady on his face, you hollowed your cheeks and squeezed each of your fingers at the same gentle pace.
“Fuck, baby—”
At once, Eddie’s unabashed groan inspired you, and his balls jerked in response to the direct touch in the places he needed it. From pinky to index, you massaged his fat head in a smooth pulse—matching the strokes of your thumb—and though your grip was light, he was already kneading his hand along his inner thigh and clamping it down close to your face. You soothed him on your tongue as best you could, and eased him into having more pressure from your lips, sucking harder on the most sensitive part of him.
Concentration stressed a shadow between his brows; chest braced on a held breath.
The telltale sign of his skin tightening in your mouth, along with his clenched stomach and abnormal silence, had you testing his limits. But it was too fun feeling his legs squirm at the effortless flow your fingers performed, coaxing him closer to coming undone and still daring to smear the swells of precum over the pleading edge of his tip, again and again, but slower. Slower. Memorizing the metallic slink of his guitar pick running along the ball chain necklace when you released him, and his chest sank with a sigh.
His voice cracked a notch higher, “Jesus, you’re really into this, huh, sweetheart?” he asked, but you couldn’t answer.
Before committing to his other ball, you spat into your cupped fingers, and put them to his cock, adjusting how you held him until you could look past and see the handsome glint of respect in his eyes, and he could gaze into wealth of adoration in yours.
“Love being on my knees for you,” you mumbled sweetly, kissing your way to the other side of his sack. “Love your cock, Eddie.”
His name, spoken where it was on his body, brought out a smugger twist to his already prideful grin. “Yeah? You like it?”
Rushing at the chance to compliment your man, you straightened your spine, and punctuated your words along the thick vein leading up to the drips of seed. “Love it,” you promised in a syrupy yearn, swallowing the bitter salt. “Love your cock; love it so much. It’s my favorite.”
“Is it the best?”
The question was tonally rich with confidence, but just in case there was any doubt woven into the wording itself, you regarded the man who went to work early on a day he had off for the purpose of leaving flowers on your desk, and smiled.
“Yeah,” you confessed, recalling a memory from the earlier months, after your first failed date, when he shared his can of Coke with you at lunch because the vending machine was out, and two sets of chapsticked lip prints were left around the metal rim. “It’s the best.”
You hugged his cock to your cheek, and nuzzled the warmth as you would any other part of him, humming a sunshiny hum, and parted ways to return to your true calling further down.
This time, Eddie groaned in relief when you settled his other ball in your mouth—”That’s it.”
With your newly slick hand, you slipped your palm over his desperately purple tip with ease. His thighs jumped into a flex, and his stomach fluttered with tension—almost like he was going to lose himself right there—but he exhaled hard through his nose, and became better at existing in the mutual pleasure. This was as much for you as it was for him.
There was a scrunch of determination above his nose, and a strong edge to his jaw, but otherwise, his fingers were gentle on your temple.
“You always know how to make me feel good,” he said, tracing his knuckles downward, lacing multitudes of meanings behind the sentence. Physical, and emotional.
He prodded his thumb into the hollow of your cheek, feeling how full you were of him; how his calloused fingerpad rocked in the same rhythm of your lips sealing around him and sucking; and you leaned into the tender gesture of his open palm, to which he cupped your jaw with a sentiment tantamount to what you were baring.
A sweet man through and through, even as he trembled in your fist.
You curved your tongue around the tight skin in your mouth, and moaned prettily for him. Frequent moans, ardent moans, moans appealing to his ego, moans you’d hear on a tape rented from the backroom of a competing video store with a black curtain separating it from the wholesome movies up front. Performing for him, finding what he liked. Which lick, which whine, which speed had his cock leaking over your fingers. Which trick made the creases between his brows mature, and his mouth fall open: the answer was two fast pumps over his throbbing head, and back down to his base for a respite, prolonging his release with a thank you on his heavy eyelids.
Prolonging, at least, until two fast pumps became a naughty blur of more—Oh, fuck, baby—and his brushes along your cheek went rare, and he licked his dry lips in the fog of his ramping high, and he hung his head back to the dense cushions, and his question escaped his throat in a hoarse huff, “You wanna—?” and it wasn’t a question at all.
You pushed your lips in soft goodbye to his sack, and his fingers under your jaw communicated his wish, aiding your chin up with a light pressure until your mouth was tasting the result of his aching lust. Slow and steady, you lavished his head in tame licks, building into a long sweep over the top. Warming yourself up to the painful stretch your lips were about to endure while his kind fingertips coasted over your hair, and found themselves at the back of your neck. Drawing out the seconds he tucked his thumb behind your ear, and rubbed circles. Sitting in the moment of something delicate, before things changed, and the platonic line became a horizon.
You drove his tip past your lips, and channeled all your appreciation into sucking Eddie’s cock.
He whimpered in surprise. A different whimper than before; not a drowsy noise he may make when rolling over in bed, but a sputtered note expelled in bursts of heavy breaths, singing a hymn to your blood.
The pace was not shy.
You descended to meet your fingers wrapped around his shaft, and reached your temporary depth where his hardness caressed the back of your mouth, and your throat clenched. Pulling back, you focused on his head, wetting his length with the sudden drool, and busying your other hand with his balls, cupping and stroking them in gentle passes.
“Ri–Right there, yeah, God, right there, sweet girl.” The syllables were mashed and dropped and disconnected on his whine.
Flicking your gaze up, you thrived on his fixated stare, bobbing your head on his tip only. Sliding your lips back and forth over the luscious ridge which had his tongue pressed against his bottom teeth. Massaging your wet heat around the center of his pleasure; encouraging a pinch in his expression as if he were in pain when he was in anything but.
Being higher on your knees meant your tits could be seen, and what a delicious sight it was for him to covet. Braced by your bra, your cleavage bounced as you pumped your fist along his cock, grazing your nipples above the opaque floral applique, cresting them beyond the sheer lace. It was enough to make his stomach squeeze, and his fingers tremble in the baby hairs at your nape.
His cock twitched twice in your mouth, conveying a message.
You welcomed him to the back of your throat, gladly this time, accepting the overfulness making it hard to breathe and the soreness surely to come, using your hand for the rest you could not take. No amount of uncomfortableness would make you shy from showing him the recognition he earned. For years he didn’t see the value in himself, and knowing the person who saved a Laffy Taffy wrapper to tell you the joke on the back didn’t prioritize his own happiness compelled you to take him deeper, faster. You shaped your tongue to the outline of his cock, and chased your lips with your fist, hollowing your cheeks at the top, teetering him on the cusp, rousing him until your skin buzzed from the friction and his hips pitched. Bringing him so close to the edge that when you broke away to catch your breath, his muscles shivered, and the shadows between his brows lessened as they arched higher from the mounting pleasure, where every touch on his body felt better and better and better than the last.
In the brief seconds you wrapped both your hands around his length, he made a pleading noise with the added weight of his warm palm at the back of your head—an urgency in his disheveled state, but not without the option of choice.
At once, he was at home in your throat.
In a union, your fingers wrenched his waistband into your damp palm, and he laid his hand across your knuckles. The control was yours, but the pace was his. He fucked himself into your pliant mouth in short, quick thrusts; ever attentive to keep his thumb strokes on your cheek unquestionably loving.
“Gonna make me—” He found the angle to cant his hips so you could watch him unravel; eyes falling closed and face tipped to the ceiling. “—Make me cum, baby,” he finished, voice light as air.
Throat flushed bright pink, cheeks dark red. Eddie panted into a shaky moan of true relief, and your core craved to be the one to take care of his needs, but there was something special about proving your attraction to him in every way you could.
The ridges of his greedy tip found where they were best brushed, and his hips lost their tempo. His stomach sank and stuttered in pulses. A dear emotion clutched your chest, letting loose when he crashed into his climax.
His knees closed you in, crowding you to his lap. “I’m gonna—” he gasped, rough and breathless; presented as a warning for the shot of bitter taste at the back of your throat, filling your mouth and spilling over your tongue with each throb of the thick vein pumping over your swollen bottom lip.
Something undeniable feathered the vulnerability of the position.
You swallowed.
And when more remained after it slid down your throat, you steadied his twitching cock over the offering of your tongue and jerked him off, stealing more drips to satiate you, swallowing with your lips pressed in a kiss to his overstimulated tip. “Baby,” he begged with his head thrown back, legs shifting restlessly around you. He sucked in breaths. Squirmed. Bit his tongue. Tugs of laughter played at his screwed up mouth, so desperate to resist giving in to a true grin when you rode out his high until he was beginning to soften, and the euphoria wore off to a dozy tingles, and the tingles dissipated into you giving him mercy, and mercy gave way to the aftermath.
In all the awkwardness of reality, you unceremoniously wiped your hands on his jeans, and right as he properly tucked himself back into his boxers, he beckoned you with open arms, gripping at your hips and bringing you onto the couch in a clumsy tumble; straddling his lap with his eager kisses seeking your jaw, your neck, your mouth which worked so hard for him. “Fucking amazing, baby,” he mumbled at the corner of your lips. You didn’t need the words—you’d heard them all before—but the reassurance of his arms locked tight around your middle, and the golden rays of honey shining so bright in his eyes allayed the tiny ball of worry at the pit of your stomach telling you he’d next follow it up with an excuse to send you home, as did every man before him.
“‘Mazing, ‘mazing, ‘mazing,” he mushed together on his way to your slack lips, bringing you out of your thoughts and into a kiss. “And dare I say, ‘amazing?’”
His ability to make you giggle when your bare stomachs were pressed together was the sort of tenderness you sought, and he provided.
You rubbed the tip of your nose along his, so very aware of his broad grin, and sweet nature. “You’re silly.”
“That I am!” he stated proudly.
Dipping to complete your gentle smile with his, you sank into the acceptance of him wanting to take your bottom lip between his, and flatter himself with the knowledge of where it’s been, what parts of him it became intimate with, instead of avoiding what was only human. He noticed your cold skin beneath his hands, and ran them along your back and upper arms. There was a motive behind his fingers slipping under the hem of your skirt, and palming you forward—where your heartbeats hammered together, and heat stirred in the lack of layers separating you—but still, there was one more affection you thought he deserved before the night moved on to your own.
Shivers chased his thumb braving the roundness of your breast, edging closer to the sensation of due pleasure yearning to be released. He spoke straight to your needs by putting the suggestion in your hips, “It’s your turn now.”
You stopped yourself from toppling to the cushions, and upheld your decent balance through your grip on his shoulders. “Wait,” you complained without malice, forgiving him for not reading your mind, “I’m not through with you yet.”
The word choice sparked intrigue across his face, then it cautioned to curiosity at the ominous roll of thunder rumbling through the trailer, clanking the mugs on the wall behind him.
He turned his head to the side, eyeing you. “What does that mean?”
~~~
“God, that feels so good.”
“Yeah, right there.. A little to the left—Oh fuck, right there.”
“So fucking good, sweetheart, keep going.”
Perturbed, you asked him, “Do you ever shut up?” and kneaded your knuckles harder into the knot of muscle between his shoulder blades, earning a louder groan than when you had his dick in your mouth.
One of the horror movies played on the TV, volume turned high for the alien’s gargled dialogue to be heard over the storm. Eddie’s lanky body was limp with sleepiness, melting under the smooth strokes of your palms starting at the base of his neck and gliding downward over his shirt, dragging another grunt out of him when his voice was hoarse from shameless use, not tempering it for a late night where he’d employ his range outside of singing for Corroded Coffin. He mumbled another praise, but his face was smashed to his pillow, rendering what he said unintelligible. His strong back rose with a shallow breath, and you moved with it. The couch was crowded, but you insisted he get comfortable, even if you had to straddle the curve of his ass with one knee fallen to the alarm of crayons and crumbs stuck between the cushions, and your other leg hung off the edge. This worked for him, though. It gave his hand a place to hold you, fingers clasped to your calf and thumb tending to you in little sweeps of truth. I need to touch you. The room was smothered in darkness, save for the brighter scenes highlighting the glossy line of his eye fighting a losing battle one massage of your thumbs into the pockets of soreness at a time.
You worked at the tense muscles with his comforter draped around your shoulders. It slipped down to greet the chafing air, rushing goosebumps over your skin. After the fourth time adjusting it, you left it gathered at your waist. Making sure Eddie was taken care of was more important. And the college girl turning into goo occupied what was left of your attention.
Though, soon, your tendons ached from effort, and staying-up-late stole the water you yawned from your eyes, and the comfort of being with someone who appreciated you wore heavy on your bones.
You grabbed the blanket, and leaned forward.
Brushing back the mess of curls covering the side of his face, you combed through the strands of hair stuck to his stubble, and found his chubby cheek smushed to his shoulder. You kissed him. “I adore you.”
He put a weak squeeze in his palm behind your knee, and spoke through the grog, “I adore you too, baby.”
Adore. Using the endearment in place of another word, and still, the weight was understood by the both of you.
Housed in the cozy heat of his body, sheltered from the rain lashing the windows in sheets, and the howling wind whistling past the corrugated metal roof in gusts, you sighed. Thunder vibrated from the floor, to the couch, to him, to you.
“You’re too sweet to me,” he said, sounding more awake.
“I’m exactly as sweet as you deserve.”
Instead of using his words to express he wanted to turn over, he just started rolling beneath you, forcing you to rip yourself from his divine warmth, and settle upright on his lap.
You were reminded of the reason you were cold when his eyes trailed over your naked skin, not afraid to show their appetite for your chest. The hunger in his hands returned, scaling the plush expanse of your thighs, and feasting his thumbs higher on the sensitive inner haven he’d yet to pay tribute to.
A smirk cut across his mouth. With a slow breath, he rocked his hips, grinding his half-hard cock against your neglected need, now attuned with the perfect tilt to achieve that pretty noise from your mouth which riled him like nothing else.
Oh, he was very awake.
Eddie exhaled with a pitying sound with attentive eyebrows, almost like he was mocking your moan. “You look so good up there, sweetheart,” he admired through his teasing. “Could get used to it..”
“Yeah?” you questioned. Reaching between your joined bodies, you held no qualms about circling your fingers over his cock, and honoring just under his head, ending your stroke just before he could reap the benefit.
He tipped his head back to gain his wits, finding his answer in the darkness behind his eyelids. “But you keep forgetting this night was about you, and thanking you for everything you’ve done for me. And then you go and add that on top of it.” Private fantasies took hold of him, influencing his heavy moan and thumbs climbing higher, higher. “Gotta thank you for so many things, sweetheart. So many.. However many you want,” he said, alluding to his way of showing gratitude. Fresh lust rushed to your soaked heat hugging his length. “Gotta get you out of these, though.” He scratched a nail over your pantyhose.
You snorted, accidentally ushering humor into what was a sexy exchange. “Why bother? You already ripped them.”
“I what?” Plain confusion marked his face.
Treating it like an ordinary thing, you bunched your skirt up to your waist, and drew his gaze to your mismatched black panties. You gandered at them as well, second guessing if you should’ve taken the extra time to find the lavender pair somewhere at the bottom of your drawer.
“Yeah,” he groaned; as his chest fell, his cock swelled. “I’m gonna show you just how thankful I am, again, and again, and again,” he trailed off, each word fluttering the heartbeat at your core—
Lightning struck, and the phone rang.
Jolting, Eddie stared at it from a long moment, breath held as if that alone would will it into submission from ringing a second time. Spikes of prickly anxiety stabbed at your chest, frightened out of the moment worse than any jumpscare.
It rang a second time.
He took the initiative and sat up, consoling you with his hand on your back and a kiss on your cheek. “I’m sure it’s nothing, just stay put and make yourself comfortable, sweet girl. I’ll be right back.”
Use your pet names all he wanted, his voice didn’t instill confidence when it went flat and wavered.
He got up from the couch and you were left feeling exposed, nestling into the blanket as the rain picked up, and the buzzy feeling he left imprinted on your skin faded.
“Hello?” he answered, rubbing his stomach above the open fly of his jeans.
As he listened to the man’s voice on the other end, he dropped his hand, and his shoulders sagged at the information.
Turning away, he huddled the receiver to his ear, and asked, “Is she okay?”
His question didn’t have the direness a parent should have if someone were hurt, so you stood up and padded softly to the kitchen, straining your ears, listening intently and discerning a few sniffles. But one little girl’s cry rang above them all. A shrill call for her Daddy to save her from her greatest fear.
Thunder rocked the trailer.
“Yeah.. Yeah, I’ll come get her.”
The phone clicked into its holder on the wall, and like that, the illusion was shattered. It was no longer just you and him spending a night together, carefree. Responsibility took precedence, and when Eddie faced you, his mood was tainted by all the things he explained about being exhausted from just existing his thankless life, judged by all.
He stared into your optimistic gaze knowing this is when you’d get a dose of his reality as a single father.
Fatigue and dread haunted his expression: this date is over.
summary: just some good old fashioned riding with big dick steve
warnings: SMUT 18+. MINORS DNI. swearing, unprotected p in v, mentions of the female anatomy, riding, male & female orgasm
word count: 1k
based on the song “pyramids” by frank ocean.
a/n: this is the first complete smut blurb i’ve ever written, so please bare with! any feedback is greatly appreciated, hope y’all enjoy <3
𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐀𝐘 𝐈𝐓’𝐒 𝐁𝐈𝐆, 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐈𝐓. 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐖𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋.
the sight below you is ethereal. steve harrington, under the glow of moonlight, soft brown locks askew on the pillow, plump pink lips parted, and pupils blown wide with lust. he looks like a fucking god, and you’re more than willing to worship. his large hands find solace on your hips, rubbing soft circles with his thumb. the weeping tip of his cock presses against your clit, causing a small whine to escape your lips.
“come on baby” he encourages, voice dripping with desire. “you can take it.”
his length is unlike anything you’ve ever had before. you could barely fit him in your mouth when you sucked him off, and you were sure it was going to be a challenge for him to fit inside your cunt.
his name comes out in another whine, pleading and desperate. steve can’t stop the smirk that forms on his face. he loves knowing that he’s gotten you watered down to this, the strong, confident girl gone cockdrunk before he’s even slipped it in.
“baby” his voice is a little gentler now, one of his hands moving to stroke up and down your back. “i gotcha, okay?”
you trusted steve enough in every other part of your life to know that those two words were true as could be.
nervously, you plant your hands on his chest, wiggling your hips to get a better position, and his cock teased your folds. it’s a touch that makes up your mind. you need him, all of him, right now.
steve hisses out a raspy “atta girl” as you sink down the first few inches. the stretch burns deliciously, bordering on the line between pain and pleasure. you’ve never felt this full before, and just this bit of him has you whimpering and squirming like crazy.
“good girl”, he coos, tongue poking out to lick him bottom lip. “such a good girl for me.”
“jesus you’re big steve.” you manage between shaky breaths. his cocky smirk intensifies and it manages to make you even wetter, granting you access to slide even further down his cock. a moan escapes both of your lips, and steve’s grip on you tightens. he’s fighting the urge to buck up into you, but he knows you have to do this at your own pace.
“that’s it honey. take it. take it all.”
steve’s praise only spurs you on, sending him further into you bit by bit. the sting was slowly giving way to something warmer, and by the time he’s fully seated inside you, you’re convinced if he barely moves an inch, you’re going to cum.
“god you feel so fucking good” steve groans, squeezing the flesh of your ass with one hand. “s’like you were made for me.”
you moan unabashedly, still adjusting to his size.
“steve.”
he shudders. god you were insatiable and you didn’t even have the slightest clue. his hands go back to resting on your hips, an encouraging and gentle touch that gives you confidence.
“honey” he breathes, sounding just as desperate as you. “i want you to ride me, okay?”
you take a deep breath, before rising off him slowly, whining as you went, before taking his length in you once more. slowly, you rise up and down his cock, familiarizing yourself with the feeling before you pick up the pace.
as you begin to move faster, steve is embarrassed over the thought that he’s not gonna last long. between the way your pussy feels wrapped around him, the way your tits were bouncing with every roll of your hips, he was a goner. you’ve built up a steady rhythm now, the burning stretch long gone and replaced by the most intense pleasure you’ve ever felt. the only sounds in the room are both of your lust drunk moans and the sound of your soaked heat.
“that’s it baby” steve purs, his grip on your hips sure to leave bruises. “just like that, just like that.”
when steve starts lightly thrusting back up into you, an electric shock of pleasure courses up your spine. the way you moan his name in return is so pornographic it’s making his head spin.
you’re panting and whining, so lost in the feeling of him, and that ever familiar coil begins to form in your stomach.
“m’ close baby” you breathe out, sinking your palms further into the planes of his chest.
he meets your eyes. “yeah? you gonna cum for me pretty girl?”
steve cants his hips up at just the right angle, and you throw your head back in ecstasy.
“right there stevie, please don’t stop.”
and who would steve be if he was to deny your simple request?
your bodies move synchronously, vibrating with need and your orgasm begins to creep up the back of your neck. when you moan out his name this time, steve knows it’s coming. his pointer and index fingers find your clit, rubbing tight circles as he works to bring you over the edge.
“fuck! steve i’m gonna-”
before you can finish your sentence, your orgasm washes over you like a tidal wave. the feeling coursing through your veins is white hot, burning your every nerve . your mouth opens in a silent scream, body twitching as steve works himself up to his own orgasm. steve chases his high with your name falling from his lips like a prayer, hips stuttering into one final thrust before he cums inside you. aftershocks run through your body as he stills, body falling limp onto his chest.
you lay there for a few minutes like that, just bathing in the afterglow before steve eventually decides to pull out. you whimper at the loss of contact and steve holds back a groan at the sight of his cum still dripping a little bit out of your pussy.
“christ, you’re gonna be the death of me” he mutters under his breath, head shaking side to side as he wanders off to the bathroom. steve hears the sound of your laugh echo throughout the room and he can’t help but smile. when he returns with a damp rag, your heart inevitably warms up.
“you okay?” he asks, gently rubbing the warm cloth against the inside of your thighs.
“never been better” you breath out, a lazy smile spreading across your face.
“good.” steve grins, and leans over to plant the most feather-light kiss on the top of your nose. when it scrunches and you giggle, his heart skips a beat.
“always gotta make sure i’m taking care of my girl.”
Summary: Dustin convinces Eddie, who is always watching you from a distance, to talk to you.
Eddie hated the way his gaze was always looking for you in the school parking lot, hoping you'd arrived a few minutes early so he could watch you from afar.
He couldn't stop it, he could try to hold back but it was useless, he always found himself looking around hoping to hear your laugh at something stupid that Buckley, who you usually drove to school in your car, had said.
Eddie wasn't the shy type: he walked the cafeteria tables making speeches and always said what he thought. But with you?
All he could do was watch you from afar.
"Dude, you're doing it again." Dustin's voice distracted Eddie from his usual search.
"Doing what?" he asked, sounding a lot more guilty than he intended.
He had been caught.
"You are looking for Y/N." The boy rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest.
"Why would I?" Eddie shrugged as if to dismiss the conversation before leaning back against his van.
"Because you like her."
"What? No, absolutely not. We're…I don't even know if she considers me a friend. We're acquaintances. We just know each other. We only have one class together and we've only talked a few times so-"
Three times.
It had been exactly three times you had spoken to Eddie, he remembered them all very well, as well as the way his heart started beating so much faster than usual.
The first time you bumped into him in the hallway. Eddie had initially thought it was someone who did it on purpose, as it usually happened with jogs, but when he heard your immediate apology and from the way you said it was your fault, he understood that you would never do it on purpose.
He quickly realized that you weren't like most of the others at school and that you didn't see him as someone to stay away from and that had only made Eddie fall for you even more.
The second time was during history class, the only one Eddie had with you, that day you arrived five minutes late, having to sit in the only seat left free: the one next to Eddie.
After a few minutes that he had spent sketching in his only notebook trying not to go crazy because of your proximity, you spoke, or rather, whispered.
"I like dragons."
Eddie raised his head as a shy smile appeared on his lips to find your gaze on the dragon he had drawn in his notebook.
He mumbled a "yeah, I like them too" before the teacher turned to you and glared at him.
He didn't say anything for the rest of the lesson but since that day he had always hoped you'd be a few minutes late so you would sit next to him.
It had never happened.
The third time was the only time you really had a conversation with him. You picked up Dustin after a D&D campaign and you spent ten minutes talking to Eddie before you left.
To Eddie's amazement, you two started talking about Metallica. You mentioned that your dad occasionally listened to them and you started the conversation by talking about which songs you knew and which ones you liked more.
Before you left, you talked about how boring math was and how much you enjoyed art class and during all the time you had spent talking a faint smile was permanent on Eddie's lips.
That was all. Only ten minutes.
It had been the shortest ten minutes of his life and Eddie wished you'd stay there and talk to him for hours.
Dustin laughed at the way his friend seemed to lose the ability to form meaningful sentences whenever you were involved.
"Holy shit, you're in love with her."
It wasn't a question. It was a statement.
Eddie sighed, he couldn't deny it anymore. "Henderson, if you tell anyone, consider yourself expelled from the Hellfire Club for the rest of your life."
Dustin adjusted the cap on his head. "Your secret is safe with me. Anyway, Y/N is cool. You should tell her."
Eddie let out a bitter laugh. "For what? To hear her say she wouldn't be with Eddie "the freak" Munson even if I were the last person on the face of the earth? No thanks, I'd rather keep watching her from afar."
"You know she's not like that." Dustin said. "She doesn't judge. Trust me, she was my babysitter for almost three years when I was in middle school, I know her well enough to know that she's a good person, she would never laugh at you and she's a completely badass."
And Eddie knew it. He knew you were kind and funny and so fucking pretty. And that was why the chances he had with you were almost inexistent.
Just as he was about to answer, he saw you.
You walked in his direction, wearing a leather jacket that was a few sizes larger but still looked perfectly on and Eddie nearly felt his heart leap out of his chest.
"Uuh... do you want me to leave you two alone?" Dustin asked with a smirk.
"Don't even try." He retorted, nudging the boy before you reached them.
"Hi" You smiled. "Have you seen Mike by any chance?"
Eddie shook his head. Why were you looking for Wheeler?
"He got into class early, he had to get something." Dustin said.
You rummaged in your bag and pulled out a book. "Nancy was at my house yesterday and she forgot this, could you give it to Mike so he can give it back to her?"
Dustin grabbed the book. "Sure."
"Great. Thank you." You said before a voice called you from behind.
"Y/N, we'll be late for art class!"
Art, right. It was your favorite subject, Eddie remembered that.
But it wasn't Robin who had spoken.
He was a tall boy, with dark blond hair long enough to show his soft curls. His eyes were green and glittered in the morning sun and he was wearing a clean, light blue jacket. His boy-next-door face annoyed Eddie, or maybe it was just the way he was interrupting a moment when he would have a chance to talk to you.
"See you guys." You said before walking towards him.
He put his arm around your shoulders as you walked side by side.
He was your boyfriend.
You had a boyfriend.
Suddenly Eddie was finding it hard to breathe. Of course you had a boyfriend, he'd been a stupid not to think of it before: a girl like you had to have a boyfriend.
And that guy seemed to be the complete opposite of Eddie.
He was also probably rich and had great grades in school. Because those were the kind of guys you liked, right? Certainly not the ones like Eddie. Those who were lucky if they didn't find the words "freak" or "devil" engraved on their locker. Those who had to park further away from school hoping that no one punctured their wheels. The ones who lived in a trailer and had to sell drugs to make ends meet.
"No." Dustin said.
"No what?" He raised his eyebrows, trying to hide his hurt expression.
"He's not her boyfriend, if that's what you're thinking."
"I wasn't thinking about anything at all."
Thank God.
"His name is Aaron Turner. He just moved to Hawkings and he's not Y/N's boyfriend. But he could soon be if you don't talk to her."
"What fool moves to Hawkings?" Eddie asked as his gaze followed your figure walking to school.
You were laughing.
You seemed happy with him.
"What fool doesn't ask the girl he likes out?" Dustin retorted.
Eddie glared at him.
"You said it yourself. 86, your year. Then make it your fucking year and ask her out. Or at least start talking to her and stop looking at her from afar. And try to say things that make sense when she's around."
"I say things that make sense."
Dustin raised his eyebrows.
"Okay, okay."
Since when did he take advice from a fourteen-year-old boy?
But he was going to talk to you.
He had to do it without looking like a complete idiot but he felt he could do it.
Eddie could feel it: 1986 was going to be his year.
Don't You Kiss Me Once or Twice - Chapter 25 (Part 2)
Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)
Prompt: Jessica Anderson is Elvis Presley's assistant and after months of working together, slowly something sparks between them. Friendship? Or is it more? [ Fem!Reader ]
Rating: Explicit/Mature (NSFW, 18+), Slowburn
|| Word Count: 3,763
Author's note:
Thank you so much for reading this story and supporting it, it really meant the world to me. I find it hard to believe that it’s officially done but Jess and Elvis and this story will always have a special place in my heart.
I really don’t know how to thank all of you for your constant support and love. Thank you also for being patient as these two navigate their way to each other.
This is the first story I’ve ever fully finished and it’s making me quiet emotional thinking about never writing Jess and Elvis together again but maybe I might write an Epilogue or something along the way.
Again, thank you so much!
Masterlist
Make sure to read Part 1
Don't You Kiss Me Once or Twice - Chapter 25 (Part 2)
Jess’ POV
The next few days were pure bliss between Elvis and me. We rarely left each other’s sides even when he had to leave for tour during the upcoming week. He forced me to join him on tour, not wanting to spend a week away from me so I agreed to join him and the guys.
I made the crazy decision to move without talking to Elvis but I needed to prove to him how much I loved him and that I wanted this to work. When I told Grace what I was planning to do, she supported me fully. So I took three full days to quit my job without a two week notice since I had a good relationship with my boss. I then sold most of my big furniture and packed up my things and left for Memphis. I was meant to land earlier in the day to have the time to talk to Elvis but I got there just in time to go over to Grace and Jerry’s place and get changed for the baby shower.
I was so thankful for the craziness that took over me because we wouldn’t be here right now, cuddled up in bed at Graceland after getting back from the two-stop tour.
I loved this man so much. We’re finally here. Together. And I was over the moon.
He was asleep on my pillow, right next to me. Him sleeping next to me rather than on top of me was definitely a rarity. He had his arm thrown over my stomach, his head almost on my shoulder.
I shuffled away from him slightly to fully look down and admire him. I moved some of his hair away from his face, his hair was getting longer. I preferred it shorter on him but he still looked super cute with the longer hair.
I don’t think I’ll ever get tried of staring at his beautiful face. His dark, long lashed fanned over his high cheek bones, hiding away his beautiful ocean eyes. His mouth was slightly open as he snored softly.
I leaned down and kissed his lips gently, before planting kisses all over his face. His breathing changed as I did, his lips turning up into a smile but his eyes remained closed.
He took me by surprise when he unexpectedly wrapped his arms around my waist and flipped us so that he was on top of me, planting wet, slobbery kisses all over my face.
I giggled and pushed against his chest “Elvis!”
“What?” he asked, continuing to kiss me all over my face “You don't want me to kiss you?”
“No.” I giggled.
“You don’t?” He gasped, looking at me with wide eyes.
“No!” I laughed “I want you to kiss me!”
“Good.” He frowned mockingly before leaning back down to kiss me once again.
He pulled away right as he was about to kiss me and raised his brow at me “Tell me the magic words first.”
“Please?” I mocked, knowing what he wanted.
He narrowed his eyes at me and poked my waist making me jerk away from him and giggle “Say it!”
“I love you, Elvis.”
He grinned and leaned down to kiss me but I dodged his kiss “Where are my magic words?” I asked him.
“Yes, I will fuck you Jess.” Elvis smirked.
I laughed and smacked his chest “Asshole.”
“I love you too, sweet girl.” He said and kissed me.
“Can we go on the horses today?” I asked, leaning against the bathroom door frame dressed in a pair of jeans and t-shirt, looking at Elvis as he stood in his robe, fixing his hair.
Elvis looked at me through the mirror “Hell no.”
“Please.” I whined, walking forward and wrapped my arms around his waist from behind.
“No, Jess. Please let’s not.” He frowned, continuing to fix his hair.
I pouted, looking at him through the mirror. He did a double take and rolled his eyes “We can go feed them.”
“Can I sit on one?” I asked “Just sit and you can guide the horse.”
He sighed and rolled his eyes “Fine but only for a few minutes.”
“Yay!” I jumped up and kissed his cheek “I’ll see you at 4, I’m gonna go to the diner and catch up with Janice.”
“Love you.” He blew me a kiss.
“Love you too!” I called as I walked out of the room.
It was nice to catch up with Janice, we of course did not lose touch while I was in New York. I made sure to call her every now and then and sometimes she would call me so we didn’t have much to catch up on except for the recent events which is I’m finally back in Memphis. Indefinitely. With Elvis, officially and with pure happiness.
Janice was happy for me as well as my family. Ella and Jack threw a “I knew it!” once I told them about Elvis and me but my parents were over the moon. They adored Elvis and were just happy for us.
I got home and rushed up the stairs to our room, taking two steps at a time. I had promised Elvis I would be home by 4 and it was already 4:30.
“There you are!”
“Hey! I’m so sorry I’m late. Thanks for waiting for me.” I said and quickly kissed his cheek, dashing into the closet to change into a sundress with a brown cowboy hat and brown cowboy boots to match Elvis who was already dressed in a blue button down, black pants and a brown cowboy hat and brown cowboy boots. The closet was fully rearranged for me, Elvis had to put lots of his old clothes that he rarely wears upstairs in the attic to make some room for my clothes and with the constant moving, I didn’t really have a lot of clothes with me.
“Let’s go.” I said once I stepped out of the closet.
Elvis outstretched his hand out for me to take. I smiled and took his hand, we walked together to the stables.
I grinned when I spotted Rising sun walking around and eating the grass, I dropped Elvis’ hand and ran towards him.
“Wear a helmet!” Elvis called after me.
I huffed and rushed towards the stables to grab a helmet then I walked over to Sun and Elvis who was already standing there, scratching Rising sun while smiling happily. I noticed Elvis’ knee shake slightly, which only happened when he was nervous or scared. I didn't know it scared him that much for me to get back on a horse.
I hung my hat on the fence and wore the helmet, snapping it on.
Elvis wrapped his hands around my waist and hoisted me up on the horse “You didn't need to do that.” I chuckled.
“Have you seen how small you are?” He rolled his eyes “Okay! Listen up!”
“I’m listening.” I replied.
“Hold. On. Tight.” Elvis said sternly “Let me see.”
I gripped the reigns on Rising Sun.
“Tighter.” Elvis grumbled.
I tightened my hold, not wanting to argue with him because I knew how tough it was for him to see me on a horse again.
Elvis gripped the reigns and started walking me around.
“You havin fun?” he smiled looking at me.
“Yes!” I giggled.
“Good.”
Elvis walked me around in circles for a few minutes before he looked towards the sun “The sun will start to set soon. Come on, I have something planned for us.”
“Okay.” I replied and let him help me jump down. Elvis walked Sun into his stall while I hung up my helmet and put on my hat back on my head.
Elvis took my hand in his once again and walked me towards the tree where we always sat. As we got closer I noticed a little blanket set under the tree with a little basket, some candles surrounded the blanket.
“What’s this?” I asked with a grin on my face.
“Picnics have always been our thing so I decided to have our first date back together, here, at our little spot.” Elvis said looking at me with a sweet smile.
“Elvis. This is so cute!” I pecked his lips before sitting on the blanket.
Elvis sat opposite of me and pulled the basket closer to him “I made us my famous peanut butter and banana sandwiches, some fruits and Pepsi’s of course.”
“Of course.” I chuckled, my heart warmed at the fact that he made those peanut butter and banana sandwiches and not Martha “Thank you, that’s so sweet.”
He handed me my sandwich and we ate as the sun became bright orange.
“You look so damn beautiful.” He sighed, smiling softly.
“Have you looked at yourself in the mirror?” I asked him, placing my sandwich on the paper plate and inched forward on my knees, cupping his cheek to kiss his lips “I love you.”
“I love you too.” He smiled against my lips.
We ate for a while, our sandwiches long gone before Elvis suddenly sprang on his feet “The sun is setting too fast.” he said in a panicked voice.
“Okay?” I asked, confused.
Elvis stretched his hand out to me “Come here.”
I took his hand and let him help me up. He gulped and took both of my hands in his.
“Jess-” He started
“Yes?” I asked, with a raised eyebrow.
He chuckled and shook his head at me “I love you so much, I never ever ever thought it would be possible to love someone as much as I love you.”
I gulped at his words, is this what I think this is? Or is he just letting me know how much he loves me?
“I don’t want to waste anymore time. I spent the first two years of you working for me falling deeply and madly in love with you and it hasn’t stopped. I fall in love with you more and more everyday.” He said, his voice cracking slightly and I could see the tears forming in his eyes. My own eyes also blurry with tears, my lower lip started to tremble.
He pulled back and reached into the basket and pulled out a ring box. He opened it the ring box and got down on one knee “Jessica Anderson, will you marry me? Will you let me be your cowboy husband and you’ll be my cowgirl wife?” He asked with a smile on his face and a tear rolling down his cheek.
I couldn’t speak, I could feel a lump forming in my throat, tears were already rolling down my face. I nodded excitedly with a huge grin on my face.
“Yes?” He asked, with wide eyes.
“Yes!”
He laughed and got up on his feet. I cupped both of his cheeks and kissed him, he grinned against my lips, one arm wrapped around my waist while his other hand still held the ring box.
“Wait, let me put the ring on your finger.” He said and pulled away from me to slide the ring on my ring finger.
“Wow.” I inspected the ring closer and it was a beautiful Emerald stone in the middle with little tiny diamonds around it, making it look like a green flower “Elvis, this is so beautiful.”
“I saw it when I was ring shopping for myself a while back and the Emerald reminded me of your eyes.”
My lower lip trembled again, I cupped his cheeks and kissed him once again.
“I love you so much, Elvis.” I whispered against his lips.
“I love you too, baby.” He grinned happily.
“You’ll be my cowboy husband?” I asked him as we cuddled under the tree, watching the sunset. He had his arms wrapped around me from behind, I was leaning back against him.
“Yes.” He chuckled and kissed my shoulder.
“I can’t believe you remember when I said that.” That felt like years ago, lots happened since then.
“I remember everything you ever told me.”
I turned my head and pecked his lips. I love him so much and couldn't wait to see him as a my husband and the father of my kids.
Elvis reached for the picnic basket and pulled out his favorite camera “Let’s take a picture.”
He outstretched his arm out, pointing the camera at us with my hand raised, showing off the ring as he kissed my cheek. He also took another one of us kissing.
The next two months flew by and soon our wedding was only a few days away. Elvis didn't want to wait, he wanted us to get married as fast as possible and honestly I didn’t mind it, I didn’t care about the when and where, all I knew is I wanted to be married to this man. As long as he was the one I was walking down the isle to, that’s all that mattered to me.
We had some tiffs with The Colonel regarding the wedding. He wanted it to be filmed for the public, obviously any possible way to make more money but I didn’t want that. I wanted a small, intimate, private wedding. Something special just to Elvis and me. The Colonel made it very obvious how much he despised that I was marrying Elvis, he also thought this would ruin Elvis’ image as being available.
I was upstairs when I heard something crash in the living room, I rushed down the stairs to see Elvis getting in The Colonel’s face and a broken chair was on the side of the living room.
“Elvis.” I said, unsure if I should interfere. I’ve never seen him get mad at The Colonel, he really respected him and believed The Colonel only wanted what’s best for him.
“Jess, go.” He replied, his eyes still on The Colonel, his nostrils flaring in anger.
“Elvis!” Vernon yelled.
I quickly walked to him and pulled on his arm.
“This girl is going to ruin everything we’ve ever worked for.” The Colonel said, pointing at me without sparing me a single glance.
“Ignore him.” I whispered and tightened my hold on his arm.
“Get out of my house.” Elvis said, his jaw clenched tight. He took my hand and walked towards the stairs, pulling me along with him.
Elvis let go of my hand once we were in our bedroom and started pacing and running his hands through his hair in frustration.
“What did he say?” I asked, carefully gauging his reaction.
“He was trying to get me to breakup with you.” He practically growled. I knew that wasn’t happening and I already knew how much The Colonel despised me so it was no news to me that he was trying to come between me and Elvis.
“I need to ask you a question.”
“What?” I asked him.
“Why do you hate him so much? Since day 1, you couldn't stand him.” Elvis replied.
“He takes advantage of you.” I replied in all honesty “He doesn't deserve you, I think you deserve a better manager.”
Elvis scoffed and shook his head “He’s the reason why I’m here right now. I owe him my career.”
I gulped, I know that Elvis doesn't like when someone disagrees with him but I needed to be honest.
“I know.” I sighed “Doesn't mean you don’t deserve better.”
Elvis sighed and pulled me into his embrace “Let’s just focus on us right now. We’re getting married in a few days and that’s all that matters.”
“Yes.” I sighed and wrapped my arms around his waist “We’re getting married.” I said looking up at him.
“I know.” He looked at me with a small, soft smile “You’re gonna be Jessica Presley.”
“Actually I think Elvis Anderson sounds better.” I replied with a cheeky smile.
Elvis smirked and tickled my waist. I shrieked and jumped back.
Our wedding was currently being held at Graceland’s backyard. We had two areas decorated, one for the ceremony that was held before sunset and the reception in a huge tent after sunset. The ceremony was very simple, we had white chairs lined up and a threshold at the end. I was buzzing the entire day.
My bridesmaids consisted of Ella, my sister, Janice and Grace. Elvis’ groomsmen were Joe Esposito, Jerry and Charlie. We were stationed in the guest bedroom right next to Elvis and I’s bedroom. We goofed around, took lots of pictures and got our makeup and hair done. For some reason I wasn’t as nervous as I thought I would be, I just felt super at ease.
My dress was so beautiful, Grace and Janice helped me pick it out. It was a long sleeve dress with a slightly open back and a long train but it was very sheer so we had to custom add a skin tone piece of material underneath. The dress also had crystals and embroidery all over. It was simple and beautiful. I couldn't wait to show Elvis.
I was standing at the end of the isle when the music started playing. Elvis turned his head from where he stood at the end of the isle with his groomsmen and my bridesmaids. I smiled under my vail and tightened my hold on my father’s arm who was walking me down the isle. Elvis smiled but I could see his lip quiver.
Oh he looks so handsome in his black tuxedo with paisley silk brocade and a bowtie. He looked so good.
My father kissed my cheek and handed me over to Elvis, his hand was slightly shaking and he had tears in his eyes despite the huge smile on his face.
I gripped his hand, my own hand shaking as well. He reached for my vail and tossed it over my head, revealing my face “Woah.” He whispered, his eyes widening slightly as his eyes quickly roamed my face.
We grinned at each other, both of us getting very emotional.
“Hi handsome.” I whispered to him.
“Hi beautiful.” He whispered back.
The vows were a blur, we didn’t write our own we just repeated what the minister said. Our eyes never left one another, it was like we were in our own little bubble.
“Do you Elvis Presley take Jessica to be your lawfully wedded wife?” The minister asked.
“I do.” He nodded, with a huge grin on his face.
“And do you Jessica Anderson take Elvis to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
“I do.” I replied, my grin matching Elvis’
“I now pronounce you husband and wife, you may kiss the bride.”
Elvis gripped my waist with one hand and cupped my cheek with the other, smashing his lips on mine and tipping me backwards as everyone cheered.
We danced the night away, the tent was covered in twinkling lights and beautiful white tulips on the tables. Elvis couldn’t keep his hands off of my backless dress.
“I love how backless this is.” he whispered in my ear, his hands caressing my exposed back as we slow danced once again.
“I knew you would.” I giggled “You loved the backless sundress I wore when we went to the honky tonk the first time.”
Elvis laughed and kissed my cheek.
“Mr and Mrs. Presley! Turn around let me take a picture of you two!” Grace yelled over the music.
I turned around in Elvis’ arms, he stayed behind me, his arms fully around me as we smiled for Grace’s picture. We had a camera guy to film everything just for us. Thank god The Colonel was only there for the ceremony and left after we said our I dos. Vernon danced with me with a huge smile on his face and thanked me for making Elvis so happy which made me tear up because that’s my only goal, it is to always make sure Elvis is happy.
Elvis started to kiss my shoulder and up my neck. He placed a hand on my chin and turned my face towards him and kissed my lips. His hands trailed up my stomach and almost was about to cup my breasts when I quickly pulled his hands down.
“Wow there.” I laughed.
“Oops.” He laughed.
“You forgot you weren't alone?” Grace laughed.
“I got lost in the moment.” Elvis replied, shoving his face in my neck like a shy little kid trying to hide. Grace and I both laughed at him before she left us to be on our own.
While everyone was dancing and drinking, Elvis and I snuck out of the tent and headed to our tree. We could still hear the music so we danced together for a while.
“Mrs. Presley?” Elvis said.
“Yes, husband?” I asked.
“Have I told you how beautiful you look right now?” he looked at me with shinning eyes with happiness and a soft smile.
“Several times, yes.” I chuckled, cupping his cheek.
“And I’ll keep reminding you, Mrs. Presley.”
“I love you.” I caressed his cheek.
“I love you more. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”
“Me too Elvis. I’m so glad Ella was denied her scholarship.” I chuckled but I was dead serious because I wouldn’t have taken this job and I wouldn’t have fallen for Elvis.
Elvis shook his head no “I believe we would’ve met either way. I believe we’re destined to be together and our souls would’ve found another way to meet.”
My lip quivered for the millionth time today, my eyes becoming blurry with tears “I do too.” I whispered.
My hair which was previously wrapped up in a low bun was out of the bun and fully cascading down my shoulders. Elvis reached forward and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear “I’m taking a break for a while.” He whispered.
“What?” I asked, frowning in confusion.
“I’m taking a break and we’re gonna travel to wherever it is you wanna go to.” He replied.
“Really?” I asked, letting out an audible breath. Elvis never takes long breaks, The Colonel loves to work him to the bone “What about The Colonel?”
“I don’t care what The Colonel thinks. I wanna travel the world with my girl. Just me and you.” He smiled softly.
My smile matched his, I reached up and combed his hair away from his face “I love you so much Mr Presley.”
“I love you more Mrs. Presley.” he whispered, looking down at me with his eyes shinning brightly and a small, happy and content smile.
Don't You Kiss Me Once or Twice - Chapter 25 (Part 1)
Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)
Prompt: Jessica Anderson is Elvis Presley's assistant and after months of working together, slowly something sparks between them. Friendship? Or is it more? [ Fem!Reader ]
Rating: Explicit/Mature (NSFW, 18+), Slowburn
|| Word Count: 4,619
Author's note: I split this chapter into two parts and will hopefully upload part 2 tomorrow!
Masterlist
Don't You Kiss Me Once or Twice - Chapter 25 (Part 1)
Jess’ POV
Saying goodbye once again was hard but this time we both knew it wasn’t indefinite like last time. I don’t think I even consider the last time we said “goodbye” as goodbye because it was pure heartbreak thinking I would never see him again and that he never loved me.
I hoped these two week would fly by and we’d be back in each other’s arms.
Elvis found it really hard to leave, and if I’m being honest it was hard for me to detach from his arms and his lips.
We kissed each other with such passion, I could feel every crack in my heart being fixed as we did.
Elvis kissed me and smacked me gently against the kitchen island. I kissed him back just as hard, running my fingers through his hair, pulling and tugging. His hands gripped my waist, his fingers digging into my hips as he hoisted me up on the island. He moaned against my lips, my hands trailed down his chest to his pants. I hastily unbuttoned his pants and pulled down his zipper.
“Why are you wearing jeans right now?” He groaned, pulling on my belt loop to bring me closer to him.
“I didn’t think we’d have to rush.” I grinned against his lips. My landline rang which we both chose to ignore.
As fast as he could, he unbuttoned my jeans and pulled them off along with my panties. We didn't really have time to discard our shirts, Elvis quickly thrusted in me.
I moaned against his lips and pulled on his hair once again when the landline rang again. Elvis groaned in frustration but ignored it once again and continued thrusting into me.
The last time we had sex had been very emotional for both of us, this was the complete opposite. It was as if we were both taking our fill to keep us satisfied for the upcoming two weeks.
Elvis broke the kiss in frustration once the landline rang again and stretch his arm out to grab the phone without taking a step away from me.
“What?” He yelled into the phone.
I could hear someone yell back over the phone but I couldn't fully understand what the person was saying.
“I said I’m coming!” Elvis yelled “Give me a minute!”
I groaned in frustration when Elvis stopped thrusting. I kissed up his neck to get him to hang up on whoever it is, I was able to understand it was probably The Colonel or Vernon since if it was anyone else he wouldn't be yelling at them to hold on.
“Daddy! I swear to the Lord!” He grumbled and pinched my clit while moving the speaker towards my mouth as I moaned.
I gasped and slapped my hand over my mouth in shock, Elvis moved the handset back to his ear and smirked when he noticed that his dad hung up.
“Elvis!” I yelled “You did not just do that!” I smacked his chest.
Elvis laughed throwing the handset back in its place as he continued to laugh with little hiccups in between.
“Oh my god, I can never look your dad in the eye ever again.”
“He wouldn't hang up!” Elvis laughed and kissed my inflamed cheeks.
“You could've just hung up on him!”
“Yeah but he would've called back.” Elvis rolled his eyes, a smirk still on his face. He was so proud of what he just did and I wanted to smack him again but I realized we didn't have enough time so I fisted my hand into his shirt and pulled him back to kiss him.
“Two weeks.” Elvis sighed, pressing his forehead against mine. We were now fully dressed, standing by the door, saying goodbye once again.
“Yes.” I sighed.
“And you will wait for me right? Because I can’t lose you again because if I do it means I’ve lost my best friend, my soul and my smile.” He whispered.
I gulped, feeling extremely emotional at his words “Of course I will.” I whispered feeling a lump in my throat as I spoke. I wanted to tell him how much I love him but the fear of something changing or coming between us in two weeks time lingered in my mind “I will always wait for you.” I told him, the closest thing I could say to I love you.
I walked him down to the front door of my building and kissed him one last time. Vernon and the Colonel were standing out on the sidewalk, furiously waiting for him.
I smiled at Vernon and frowned at The Colonel, oh how I despised that man. He glared at me which made me glare at him. Elvis looked back at me and chuckled when he saw me and The Colonel having a glaring contest.
Elvis smiled, waved and blew me a kiss before he turned along with The Colonel and Vernon to get in their car.
I raised my middle finger at The Colonel’s back and as if he sensed it, he snapped his neck and looked at me over his shoulder. I quickly dropped my hand and bit my lower lip to stop myself from laughing. Elvis, knowing what I just did burst out laughing.
I waited and waved as the car drove off before going back into my apartment.
My heart ached as I watched him leave but it was only for two weeks. This is what I repeated to myself with every step I took that led to my apartment.
It’s okay, I tried reassuring myself, lots of people do long distance all the time. People go months and months without seeing their significant other, what’s two weeks?
Those two weeks will hopefully fly by. And it wasn’t like those horrible, horrible two months where I was heartbroken, thinking he didn’t feel anything for me and I couldn’t call him up just to hear his voice. Just to talk to him. Now, we could do that so it wouldn’t be as bad. Again… hopefully.
Elvis’ POV
Oh saying goodbye to her was hard. I watched her wave out of the window of the car and I just wanted to launch myself out of the moving car and run to her and never leave her side. I was scared of what’s to come in the upcoming two weeks. I was horribly terrified I would come back and find that she had changed her mind, that she had decided she deserved better.
Which let’s be honest, she does deserve better. She deserves a better man but she belongs to me and only me. I would rather die than see her with another man. She’s mine and will forever be mine.
In two weeks time we will be reunited and I’ll be in her arms once again. I will never take her for granted, I will worship the ground she walks on and I will never let her regret the day she took me back. I will work until I become the man she deserves. My sweet, beautiful girl.
We did not stop in Memphis, instead we flew directly to Phoenix for tomorrow’s concert. I only had a few stops, usually our concert tours took months but this was less than usual. In between I also had press junkets. With such a jam pact schedule it will hopefully make time pass faster.
6 hours later we had landed and headed towards the hotel. The first thing I did once we had checked in was to call Jess. I missed her already.
“Hello?” she asked quietly, answering the phone.
I grinned, she sounded sleepy which made me feel slightly bad but I was happy to hear her voice “Hi Sweet girl.”
“Hey!” she said excitedly. I chuckled and shook my head, my heart swelling at her excitement to hear my voice “You already landed! That’s great.”
“Yeah, just got into my hotel room. Were you sleeping?”
“No.” She answered but I could tell she was lying.
“Jess.”
“Fine, I fell asleep on the couch waiting just in case you called.” she replied, sheepishly. I could tell she was embarrassed to tell me that she was waiting in the living room just in case I called, she didn't mind waiting up all night even if I didn't call.
“Sweetheart.” I gulped.
What the hell was I thinking. I loved her and she loved me, there’s no way in two weeks time she would change her mind. She needs those two weeks for reassurance and I was not about to give her a reason to back out.
“Thank you for waiting up for me.” I continued “But you have work tomorrow, you should probably go to bed. I just wanted to hear your voice before I went to bed.”
“Me too. I wanted to make sure you landed safely. Good night and make sure you actually sleep and get some rest.” She replied.
“Good night sweetheart, I will.”
“Promise?”
“No promises but I will try my damn hardest.” I chuckled.
“Good enough.” she chuckled.
“Boss!” Joe grinned, clapping me on the shoulder when I walked into the venue for rehearsals. The whole Memphis Mafia, the band and the backup singers were there.
I smiled, couldn't deny that I missed the guys after being away from them for almost three weeks. I wasn’t used to being away from them, they were always right there as if they were my own shadow.
“Hey Joe.” I grinned.
“Welcome back man. How’s Jess?”
“Great. She’s good.”
“You two? Are you back together?” he asked with a raised brow. He was happy when he found out about us on the beach in Hawaii.
“We’re getting there. Fingers crossed.” I nodded.
“Great!”
Charlie was grinning from ear to ear when he spotted me and I have to admit I missed the little guy. Even though I know he has the biggest crush on Jess but I’m choosing to ignore it right now. Not everyone knew I was in New York for Jess just my dad, The Colonel, Joe and Jerry.
“Took a long break boss!” Charlie said “Was it good?”
“The best.” I chuckled.
“Glad to have you back.”
“Elvis. I have your medication.” Dr. Nick said, walking into my dressing room right before the concert.
“Ah, no need.” I shook my head. I know how much Jess hates when I took any pills even though I knew right after my performance my back and knees will hurt.
Dr. Nick took a step back looking at me as if I grew two heads “A-are you sure?”
I nodded and continued fixing up my hair.
Jess and I’s phone calls became our nightly routine, right after every show I would rush back to my hotel room. She would push me to go and party with the guys but I honestly found no interest in doing that anymore, I would rather spend my time talking to my girl. Some days I would join them after Jess hangs up but again I end up going back to my room to read, eventually falling asleep.
I missed Jess’ little massages, they definitely made me feel a lot better. I would just have to make do without her.
“Hi baby.” I said once Jess picked up.
“Hi handsome.” she replied.
“What are you up to?”
“Just got back from work.” she sighed, I could tell she was tired.
I mock gagged “I hate working girls.” I joked.
“Shame that you fell for one.” she teased.
“It’s a travesty actually.” I told her.
“Is it?”
“Uh huh.” I nodded “Because you should be here in my bed.”
She laughed my words off, asking me about my day.
Soon the first week was over and we were back in Memphis, I wanted to head to New York for the weekend and surprise Jess but we had to get back to Memphis because Grace and Jerry were throwing their baby shower at Graceland. It was a perfect summer day, a perfect day for a baby shower. I was so happy for those two, they deserve to be happy. I was extremely thankful to Grace for pushing me to go to New York. Without her we wouldn't be here, finally. Together. Well almost together. One more week.
“Hey Boss man!” Grace grinned, throwing her arms around me. I chuckled and hugged her back. She pulled back and inspected me. I raised my brow at her as she smiled softly “You’re glowing. You look really happy, Elvis.”
“I am.” I whispered “Thanks to you. I owe you Grace.”
She shook her head and took a step back “You two deserve all the happiness in the world.”
“Have you talked to Jess?” I asked since Jess was really mad at her.
“Yes.” she grinned “She finally answered my phone calls and we’re on great terms again. I knew she just needed some time to understand that everything I did, I did for her.”
“I’m glad.”
The backyard was decorated with pink and blue balloons, the tables were set, music was playing and everyone was taking pictures with the happy couple. I drank my Pepsi as I watched everyone buzz around with excitement for Jerry and Grace.
I walked over to Grace and Jerry, bending down to plant a kiss on Grace’s cheek as Red took pictures of us.
“Congratulations man.” I smiled, shaking Jerry’s hand.
“Thank you EP.” Jerry grinned.
“No way!” Joe yelled from the other side of the backyard. Grace, Jerry and I all turned to see what was going on.
My smile faltered when I spotted Jess circling around the house.
“Is that Jess?” I asked, breathlessly with wide eyes.
“Oh my god, she made it!” Grace squealed and took off running in her direction.
My heart was beating out of my chest as I watched Grace engulf Jess in her arms.
Jess laughed and hugged her back. She was dressed in a yellow sundress and a yellow headband that made her skin seem even more olive than it usually is.
She made eye contact with me over Grace’s shoulder and grinned.
I grinned and shook my head at her. What the heck was she doing here? And why didn't she tell me she was coming?
Nevertheless I loved the surprise.
Everyone surrounded her, pulling her into a hug, letting her know how much they missed her. For the first time ever I didn't mind Charlie hugging her, I just wanted to hug her myself.
I walked over to them “Well, well, look who’s back.”
“Just admit you missed me.” Jess smirked.
I rolled my eyes and shook my head, of course I missed her.
I stretched my arms out wide, she giggled and threw herself in my arms, wrapping her arms around my neck. It probably looked weird to everyone because I tightened my arms around her waist and lifted her off the ground as I hugged her. I closed my eyes and breathed her scent in. A week was too long after a two month break.
I opened my eyes to see most of them looking at me with a knowing look on their faces. I dropped Jess back on her feet and took a good look at her as the crowd around us dispersed, giving us some space.
“What are you doing here?” I grinned down at her and pushed some of the hair over her shoulder.
“I missed you.” She replied cheekily.
“Liar.” I narrowed my eyes at her.
“It’s my best friend’s baby shower, of course I’m gonna be here!” she replied.
I pouted “So you really aren't here for me.”
“Two birds with one stone.” she shrugged “I talked to Grace and she invited me but I was so close to missing it because the flight kept getting delayed. I wanted to get here before the actual party to talk to you.”
“Talk to me about what?” I frowned.
“We need to talk. But after the party, okay?”
My frown deepened, my heart sped up with worry “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah don’t worry.” she gave me reassuring smile “I mean hopefully everything will be okay.”
She quickly headed towards Grace and Jerry, stopping to take pictures with them. I watched her go on, worried she might actually end things but she wouldn't have hugged me like that or have been so excited to see me. I had no reason to worry but still I did.
4 days ago - Jess’ POV
For several days I kept trying to call Grace but no one would pick up, I wasn’t sure if she was dodging my calls or not. Honestly, I wouldn’t blame her for not calling me back, I did stop responding to her calls because I was so mad at her for telling Elvis where I lived.
I was now very grateful to her for bringing us back together. We wouldn’t be here without her.
My phone rang as I made myself lunch, or let’s call it late lunch because I had just gotten home from work and I didn't get the chance to have lunch because of the workload. I sometimes would go out with Sara, Nate, Ben and Haley but I would leave early to catch Elvis’ night calls. Sometimes those phone calls would be super late and sometimes it would be right after work due to the time difference.
“Hello?” I asked, thinking maybe it’s Elvis.
“Hi.” Grace breathed on the other side.
“Grace! Hi!”
“You’re happy to hear from me.” she chuckled.
“I’m so sorry I didn't answer your calls, I’ve been trying to call you all week.”
“Oh I wasn’t at home this week. I was staying with my parents while Jerry is on the little tour with Elvis.” she replied.
“Grace. I’m really, really sorry for getting so mad…” I started.
“Jess, I get it. Don’t worry, I knew I was risking you being mad at me. I know how much he hurt you but in whatever twisted way he was trying to do the best for you.”
“I know.” I sighed “Thank you for doing that by the way.”
We caught up for a while and talked and talked, my food long forgotten and started getting cold but I didn't care. I missed my best friend.
“Oh by the way! You’re invited to my baby shower thats coming up in a few days.”
I squealed “Oh! That’s amazing! I can’t wait.”
“So you’re coming?!”
“Hell yes!”
“You don’t need to take off work right? Since it will be during the weekend so that Jerry and Elvis can be there.”
“Actually…”
Present - Elvis’ POV
“Meet me in the kitchen in two minutes.” I whispered to Jess as I passed her, she was talking to one of the wives.
I speed walked to the kitchen buzzing with excitement.
Two minutes later on the dot Jess walked in. I grinned and pulled her in to me. She giggled as I smashed my lips on hers.
I chuckled against her lips, god I loved this girl.
She pulled away and smiled up at me “Hi.”
“Hi.” I grinned.
She turned her head and looked at the kitchen “I really missed this place. It was my home for 2 years.”
“Well Graceland definitely missed you.” I replied and caressed her cheek softly.
She turned her head in and kissed the palm of my hand.
“You wanna go up to my room?” I wiggled my brow, pulling on her sundress.
“Noooo.” She chuckled and smacked my hand away “We’re here for a baby shower!”
I pouted which made her chuckle and get on her tippy toes to kiss my pouted lips.
“When are you leaving?” I asked her, I was scared she would say tomorrow and not for the entire weekend. We were leaving for California in three days.
She shrugged “Depends.”
“On what?” I frowned.
“Let’s see.” She grinned and left, leaving me standing with a confused look on my face.
We enjoyed the rest of the party, talking and mingling. Grace and Jerry said its too early to know the gender of the baby so when Grace opened her gifts they were all gender neutral.
Once the sun set Joe decided to light a fire pit and everyone gathered around while most left. I was buzzing to talk to Jess, I needed to know why she wanted to talk to me. It was slightly stressing me out.
“Hey.” I pulled on her arm gently.
She turned and look at me expectantly.
“Can we talk now?” I asked her.
She nibbled on her lower lip, one of her nervous tics “Now?”
“Yeah, why not?”
“Okay.” She nodded. We both headed towards the house and up the stairs to my room. I haven’t been here for a month, I definitely missed my bed and freezing A/C.
She sighed once we stepped inside and shut the door “I missed this room.”
“Me too.” I chuckled. I pulled her in by her waist into my chest, wrapping my arms tightly around her. She nuzzled her face into my chest and hugged me back. I placed my chin on top of her head and sighed, she’s here right where she belongs.
Jess pulled her head back and kissed my lips tenderly “I love you.” she said with tears in her eyes.
My smile dipped slightly, tears welding in my eyes. My heart stopped for a second and I couldn’t breathe. She loves me. She loves me.
“Y-you do?” I whispered with a lump in my throat.
“So much.” she let out an audible breathe, pushing my hair back.
“I love you too, Jess.” I lower lip trembled as I spoke “More than you’ll ever know.”
I cupped her cheek and captured her lips, kissing her lovingly and tenderly.
We kissed for a bit before she pulled away “We need to talk, I hope I didn’t make a big mistake.”
“What is it?” I asked her. She fully pulled away from me, my hands that were previously on her waist fell to my side.
“I did something crazy.” She started. I raised my brow at her as I watched her pace in front of me.
“Jess.” I stopped her, placing my hands on her shoulders “Talk to me, baby.”
“Okay.” She sighed “I did something crazy.” she repeated.
“Okay. What is it?”
“You know how you dropped everything to prove to me how much you loved me and wanted me back?” she asked, her eyes wide and slightly terrified.
“Yeah?” I chuckled, my hands still on her shoulder.
“Yes and you did it, you proved it to me so I wanted to prove to you just how much I love you.” She said.
I shook my head with a raised brow. What was she getting to?
“Okay. I’m crazy.” She said and pushed my hands off of her shoulder and turned giving me her back as she nibbled once again on her lip. I’ve never seen her like this. So scared and nervous.
“Wait. Tell me, what did you do?” I pulled on her arm to turn her back towards me “Baby. I’m never going to think you’re crazy, just tell me.”
“Okay.”
Don’t ask me how many times she said okay only to not tell me what’s happening.
“I love you. And I want to be with you. And I don’t want to wait another week to be with you.” she said.
“That’s great!”
“Wait, I’m not done.” she shook her head “I don’t want to live in New York…”
“Okay, then you’ll quit your job and we’ll move you out of New York and back to Memphis. I can clear up some closet space for you, you can live here with me.” I spoke fast, wanting her to say yes. My heart raced at the thought of having her live here. I wanted her here so bad. It’s gonna be hard being with her if she was in New York but I was willing to spend most of my time there with her.
“Oh thank god.” she sighed.
“Why?” I chuckled in confusion.
“I already quit my job, sold most of my big stuff and moved the rest into Grace and Jerry’s place just in case you didn’t want me to move in here.” she smiled sheepishly, her cheeks flushing in embarrassment.
“What?!” I looked at her with wide, excited eyes.
“I told you I did something crazy.” she shrugged with the same sheepish smile on her face “I’m back… if you still want me.”
“I want you!” I laughed and pulled her into my embrace, twirling her around as she giggled into my neck. I placed her back down on her feet and smashed my lips on hers with urgency “I want you.” I said against her lips “I want you. I want you.”
“That’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done, you’re an over thinker I’m surprised you did that but I’m so happy you did.” I shook my head, looking at her in disbelief.
“I know!” she laughed “But Grace supported my decision.”
“I love you.” I laughed and kissed her again “I’m gonna go get the guys to go to Jerry’s place and get your stuff.” I pulled away from her, turning towards the door.
“Woah!” she laughed and pulled my arm, turning me back towards her “It’s late, they’re partying, let them enjoy the baby shower and tomorrow I can officially get moved in.”
“Fine.” I huffed, rolling my eyes “But you’re spending the night tonight right?”
“Yes.” she replied “But you’re sure you want me to move in here, I don’t want to push you to do something you do-“ she started but I placed my palm over her mouth, cutting her off.
“Shut up.” I told her “I want you here. I’ve dreamed of you living here with me. And I am not delaying it for another second. I want us to start the rest of our lives together, Jess. I love you so much.” I told her with my palm still over her mouth.
She smiled against my palm and reached up to pull my hand off “I love you too, Elvis.”
“I don’t think I will ever get tried of hearing that.” I told her.
She smiled and kissed me again.
“Does that mean we can finally tell everyone we’re together?” I asked her.
She nodded happily.
“Yes!” I threw my fist up in the air and grabbed her hand, rushing towards the door. She laughed, happily letting me drag her down the stairs and to the backyard were most of our friends were.
“Hey Charlie!” I called out once we stepped outside, hand in hand.
Charlie turned with a smile on his face.
“Look at this.” I told him then grabbed Jess’ face, smashing my lips on hers.
“Hmm.” I hummed against her lips with a huge grin on my face.
“Elvis.” She grumbled against my lips and pushed me away.
I laughed and wiped my mouth turning to look at all of them, some looked at us with smiles on their faces and others were shocked “We’re together now and anyone makes eyes at Jess will be fired.”
“Elvis!” Jess hissed, her cheeks flushed deep red.
Joe who was sitting next to Charlie laughed and clapped him on the shoulder.
“You’re such an asshole.” Jess said.
I shrugged and took her hand in mine, intertwining our fingers together “But you love me.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Say it.” I grumbled.
“I love you.” she replied, rolling her eyes once again but I could see a hint of a smile playing on her lips.
