thebatcaveofwonders @thebatcaveofwonders - Tumblr Blog

Apr 7, 2023

Hawkins, Indiana, 1985

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Eddie is one thing, but Wayne? Wayne is something else!!

The boy is quiet when he gets back to the trailer. Sitting on the couch with his guitar in his lap, but staring off into space like it's going to give him all the answers. He doesn't even notice him come in and close the door behind him; jumping and flinching at the noise.

“You alright, kid?” he asks. Trying not to let the million worries he's got in his head surface in his tone. Normally the boy is a whirlwind and there's not much that slows him down. Christ he hopes it's not more trouble with the law.

“Huh? Yeah, yeah I'm good,” Eddie assures him, and there's no guilt on his face so Wayne feels himself relax. He's got an expressive face does his nephew; can't hide his thoughts worth shit in front of people he feels safe with.

“Tough day?” he continues, though now he's wondering if the kid is just stoned. Normality restored.

Something has happened though. He can read it off the boy's face. Not necessarily a bad thing – not like the days when he comes home burning with anger and shame at the taunting he endures from the spoiled little rich kids or the outright cruelty from adults who should know better. Something that's put him off balance instead.

“Nah, not bad,” he muses, still part of him a world away. “Met the new girl.”

Wayne vaguely remembered some talk of a new kid joining the senior year. Some army brat who's dad is taking over the base. That was as much as he'd retained from what Eddie had told him before the year started up again.

He kicks his boots off and sits at the other end of the couch, suddenly wishing he could have a beer. He has a shift later though, so he's gotta do this cold. Not that talking to Eddie is a hardship, but teasing out details from the kid is like pulling teeth.

“You like her?” he asks, and that's not really what he's asking. He wants to know how she's treated him. Eddie doesn't get a fair first chance in a town this small.

Eddie's brow furrows and it's like he's seven again all of a sudden and worrying about his toys. It's only recently that Wayne's started feeling his years, but seeing Eddie grow into a man has a way of making it clear.

“Don't know her,” he allows, “But she sat with me in math – talked to me even.”

He tells the story of how the kids behind them had offered that she could sit with them and not with the 'freak' and Wayne feels his blood boil on Eddie's behalf. It's such a lame insult, but he sees the way it cuts into him no matter how he hides it in front of everyone else. Normally these stories end with either Eddie being sent to the principal for brawling, or sloping off to deal with the upset alone.

The new girl is a new twist. Apparently she stayed sitting with him, showed him her timetable, laughed with him even, and seemed to completely ignore the social currents around them. Eddie seems almost in disbelief about it and Wayne again curses the town and how fucking unfair they are to this kid.

He asks more about the girl and finds her name is Ellie, she is in fact the army brat, and that she's tall and pretty and has a great smile. He'd tease him about when he's going to bring her around if she's all that, but he can tell as much as Eddie's animated about her he's conflicted.

At the heart of it he doesn't want to get his hopes up. Social pressure is fucking murder in this town, and Eddie's already thinking that he doesn't want to open himself up only to be let down again when she makes other friends. Wayne knows he should push him to keep an open mind and give the girl a chance, but secretly, privately, he wants to keep Eddie away from anyone who might hurt him.

So he keeps it non-committal and hopes against hope that maybe Eddie will get a break this time.

He only hears bits and pieces over the following week. His shifts don't always line up that well with Eddie's hectic schedule, but they try to carve out ten minutes here and there. The new girl, Ellie, he makes himself remember just in case, is mentioned a couple of times.

She's made friends with the usual crowd – other rich kids – and sits with them at lunches. He doesn't miss the way Eddie flushes under the collar of that jacket, though, when he talks about how she still sits with him in class. How she chose, actually chose, to sit with him in their other classes even when there were other seats. The way that something so goddamn insignificant as someone making the smallest bit of space for him outside of his little club has him walking on air.

Next time he hears Eddie talk about the new girl is the next week. And by talk he means Eddie all but explodes into chatter as soon as Wayne gets through the door. He barely has time to take his coat off before his nephew is raving and pacing, gesticulating wildly and practically vibrating with excitement.

From what he parses he's got another kid joining his club. That always has him excited – he loves what he does and those kids really look up to him – but today there's even more to it.

“Boy, slow down, start over – new kid joining?”

Eddie manages to wrangle himself onto the seat but he's still in motion. “Yeah his name's Robbie – he's just a freshman but he's played for years and he's gonna fit right in, just gotta get him up to speed so gonna run an extra session and get -”

Wayne isn't sure Eddie's taken a breath as he lays out the plans for the next steps, and the majority of it goes right over his head. He wishes he had more space in his old brain to really understand what gets Eddie so passionate, but he has more than enough to worry about without the sheer volume of stuff Eddie can spew about this hobby.

“How'd you find him?” Wayne asks, practically forcing the question into the conversation when Eddie pauses for a split-second. Through it all he hasn't actually mentioned that part.

He's not sure what he's expecting, but it's not for the simple question to derail his nephew so completely. If he had to guess he'd say Eddie looks almost shy. He's a lot of things, but shy is not often one of them. He's all but stuttering as he explains – a total 180 from his previous furore.

Turns out he's Ellie's little brother, and she was the one who introduced them. Caught him in the hallway and said some of the other kids had been making fun of his little club to her. In front of those same kids she tells him her brother likes it and is any chance he can join and have Eddie keep an eye on him? How the taunting stopped dead on hearing it.

Against his better judgement Wayne can feel himself liking this girl more and more. He has to force the smile off his face as Eddie bemoans how awkward he was in saying yes, how she probably thinks he's a total loser, and how he's gonna have to really work at impressing the brother. His nephew has a silver tongue so long as he's not flustered, and that's all this Ellie girl seems to do to him.

“Do you think she'll join too?” he asks, and has to chew his cheek to stop himself laughing aloud at how Eddie looks at him like he's grown another head.

“I fuckin' wish,” he mutters once the shock of such an unreasonable question has worn off. “She's not gonna hang around with losers like us,” he says, mostly into his chest where his head's dropped down to let his hair hide his face like he does.

Sometimes not shaking the boy is the hardest part of semi-parenting him. He wants to say that girls don't introduce total losers to family members if they don't have to. That if she thought so little of him she'd have asked him private-like, not in front of the kids making his life harder than it needs to be to shut them up.

Instead he just changes tack and asks about homework, and Eddie obviously doesn't realise how bad he's got it as he finds a way to mention her in that conversation too. Perking up to talk about how she's already shared her notes on the novel they're reading so he doesn't have to take them. How the teacher is definitely watching them though, and that he's going to have to copy everything.

God, Wayne thinks to himself as Eddie talks, he wouldn't be a teenager again if you fucking paid him.

He actually gets to the meet the girl about a month later. Eddie's been sick the past couple of days – some chest infection brought on by the damn drugs no doubt – and hasn't been at school. Wayne is just heating him up some soup when he hears a car pull up outside the trailer. It's not unusual, not with what he pretends he doesn't know the kid does, but Eddie is usually out front waiting around, not still in his bed.

It's a damn nice car too. Expensive, but not flashy, the kind of understated wealthy that really rich people display when they don't need to prove anything. The late-teen girl that gets out is very much the same – no flash clothes, but expertly tailored like they were made for her. All he can say is she stands out in the trailer park.

The thought does cross his mind as he goes to open up the door that this could be the Ellie that Eddie is still dropping into conversation like he doesn't know it's happening.

She is tall, near the same height as Eddie, and very polite when he pulls the door open. “Hi, Mr Munson?”

“Yeah, that's me,” he replies, and he knows he's looking suspiciously at her, but she doesn't seem to take offence to it none.

“I'm Ellie Spencer – I'm a friend of Eddie's,” she starts, and Wayne is surprised at himself with how much he likes hearing someone calling themselves Eddie's friend.

It's ridiculous, the kid has friends, it's just Eddie's so damn hard on himself. In his head he knows that Eddie vents to him because he's family, and he only gets Eddie's side when he's upset, but still. He hasn't actually met most of the other friends.

“I've got some assignments from his classes for him saying as he's sick – didn't want him to miss anything,” she continues, gesturing to the pile of papers she's carrying.

This is also new. No one expects Eddie to do work at the best of times; it's why he's on his second go round at senior year. No one has ever, ever, brought him work over to help him out. It's obviously showing on his face too, as Ellie starts to look concerned.

“He's -” she pauses, “Ok, right?” Like she's worried he's so ill that it's outrageous she's brought him assignments and she's read it all wrong.

Wayne snaps himself out of it with effort. “Yeah he'll be fine – just sleeping his way through it. Thanks for this.”

He can feel his voice is gruff with the effort it's taking not to let on how much he really does appreciate it.

“It's no trouble,” she demurs, a fancy looking watch flashing out from under her jacket sleeve as waves the hand not holding the papers. “Will you tell him I'm asking after him, please?”

He nods, reaching to take the sheets from her. “Sure, kid,” the epithet rolling off his tongue without conscious thought.

She smiles and thanks him and starts off back down the steps. He wonders if he should have invited her in, but then he doesn't want her to get sick too. With another wave she gets back into her car and drives out, leaving Wayne stood in the doorway. He stares out at the tire tracks in the mud for a moment longer before turning back to the pot that's near boiling.

Eddie is still asleep when he goes into the tip that he pretends is his room. Sprawled out with his curls sticking to his sweaty forehead as he fights the fever.

“Wake up, dinner time,” he says, sitting on the edge of the mattress. The cleanest edge.

Eddie stirs and blinks owlishly at him with those big doe eyes he definitely got from his mother. Nothing so good looking in the Munson gene pool. He only looks like his father when his hair's short, and that probably explains the riot it is now. Getting him sitting up and eating takes more than it should, but it's better than the previous day and he seems to be kicking it.

“What's with the papers?” Eddie asks, looking down at the sheets he brought in with the bowl.

“Sorry, kid, your friend Ellie dropped off your homework,” he says, somehow managing (with Herculean effort) not to put any untoward emphasis on the word 'friend' as he says it.

Eddie's expression changes so fast it's almost comical. “She was here?”

“Not twenty minutes ago – asked me to say she's asking after you.”

The boy's got their fair Irish skin under those dark curls, and there's no hiding the blush that's blooming under his skin. “She, uh, say anything else?”

He can't meet his eyes and Wayne's chest is gripped with so much fucking fondness for this kid he can hardly stand it. “Polite so she was, introduced herself as 'Eddie's friend'” he says, going for casual and thoroughly enjoying the way this seems to poleaxe the poor boy. “Said she didn't want you to miss anything just because you're sick.”

He looks away to give Eddie some privacy as he processes this and can't help but notice something written at the top of the photo-copied pages. Ellie's got stereotypical neat girl handwriting.

“You think -” he starts, and his voice is very small in a way that has Wayne reaching up to put a hand on his shoulder without thinking. “You think she cares about – you know,” he continues without looking up, and Wayne does know.

The girl's got money. Or her father has money, really. And Eddie's very much your wrong side of the tracks kind of kid. He's worried she'll judge him for living in a trailer when she probably has a big house up on the hill. It's been a tough life for the pair of them, and there are times he wishes more than anything that he could give Eddie everything that Ellie's father gives her.

Christ, but he hopes this girl doesn't hurt him.

“I wouldn't worry about that, kid.”

Eddie finally looks up at him and it's the sickness knocking down the defences he's built up over the years, but suddenly he's so young and vulnerable and hoping for a bit of reassurance that only a father-figure can really offer. It's an honour that he thinks of him that way.

“You saw her car, she -” he starts and Wayne just shakes his head.

“Like I said, I wouldn't worry.”

“Why?”

“Look.”

Eddie does as he's told, and written in perfect cursive at the top of the assignment are the words 'if you want me to go over anything, give me a call'. And her phone number.

So he can't give him much in the way of material goods, but he can still give him something.

Eddie's late in from school. Not that this is unusual normally, but he's literally just gotten some new music and when that happens he spends the next hours in his room learning it all on his guitar. It's like clockwork and pretty much the only time Wayne would be able to say with confidence he knows where the boy is. Maybe other families would find that shocking, but the kid's eighteen and can look after himself.

He repeats that to himself as he watches the road outside the trailer and waits for the screech of Eddie's ageing van barrelling down the dirt. It's almost dark by the time it finally appears and Eddie isn't gunning it like he usually is. Wayne finds himself out the door by the time it limps up to the drive.

“You alright?” he asks as Eddie jumps out. The kid doesn't seem hurt, but he does seem anxious. Moving around in even more of a flurry than usual.

“Huh? Yeah, yeah,” Eddie says, completely distracted.

“Van trouble?” he presses. It'll be a pain in the ass if it's done in – they really can't afford anything extra 'til he gets paid again.

Eddie's half in the back of the van grabbing stuff and only gives him a noise that's mostly an affirmative. He's pulling out the band stuff that he keeps in there like it's burning a hole through the floor of that rust-bucket.

Wayne knows Eddie well enough to wait until he's done with the current task before asking again. The way the kid's brain works it's like he can't process anything when he's focused on something already. If only he could get his head focused on his schooling he'd have already been long graduated. Instead he slowly walks around to watch the chaos unfold around his previous orderly drive.

Eddie's paused, twirling the ends of his hair deep in conversation with himself, and jumps when he makes it into his periphery.

“Oh shit,” he stutters, pressing a hand to his chest and pretending to be terrified in his usual dramatics.

“Van trouble?” Wayne repeats, and he's not sure how much fondness leaks into it when he sees him. It feels like a lot, even as he despairs of the state of the place.

His nephew nods frantically and there's something more of excitement in his bearing than he would have expected. The kid runs that car into the ground to get him to all the places he puts himself – if it's out of action he's going to be in trouble. Bumming lifts isn't Eddie's style; he's the older, responsible (in so far as he can be called) one and the wheels for his friends.

“Yeah – wouldn't start, but Ellie did some genius quick fix to get it running and she's gonna come over tomorrow and have another look,” he rushes out all in a single breath before going on to talk about how it's lucky she was late out 'cos she was tutoring and saw him struggling.

“Those other kids you run with not help?” he asked, irritation simmering under the words. They sure take advantage of Eddie's generosity easy enough.

The look Eddie throws him over the top of one of the hundred amp things he seems to have stashed away makes him chuckle. “Come on, Uncle Wayne,” he lilts, “They stood around and looked pretty – sorta - and did fuck all else.”

At least they hadn't just left him. He knows he's paranoid, but Eddie gives and gives and gives and gets so little in return. “Kids these days,” he scoffs to make Eddie roll his eyes, “Least this Ellie girl isn't useless.”

“She's -” Eddie starts and then cuts himself off dead from continuing whatever thought was going to spill out. His eyes are big and bright and Wayne sees him about to throw him the finger in response to the amused look he's got plastered on his face.

“Uhuh,” Wayne drawls, “She sure is.”

“Shut up,” Eddie mutters, “Gotta get cleaned up.”

Wayne thinks he might invite Ellie over every week if it gets Eddie to tidy something up. Hell, he'll direct her straight to his goddamn bedroom if it might get him to wash his sheets. Well, maybe if her father wouldn't have the boy killed that is. He can't imagine that General Spencer, as he's found out from the local gossip, is going to take kindly to any man near his daughter, and especially not a kid that the town thinks is some sort of satanic drop out.

Wayne's been on a day shift and his back is tweaking him, otherwise he'd help rather than just standing enjoying the flurry of activity the boy launches himself into.

“You know she's seen it before, don't cha?” he asks, as Eddie is starting to tug at the carpet lining the back.

Eddie makes a noise of dissatisfaction. “Not inside, though. Christ, she's not like Jeff or Garrett or the sheepies – she washes and everything. Don't – don't wanna be embarrassed.”

He says the last part in a quiet voice. It'd be so easy to think Eddie doesn't get embarrassed. He's loud, he's brash, he loves being the centre of attention, and he's got a real tendency to let his mouth run away with him. But just because he's happy in himself doesn't mean things don't get to him. Like apparently a pretty girl who makes a bit of time for him.

“I'd hide those, then,” Wayne mentions, pointing to the stack of crumpled porn mags that have made it to the surface in all the activity.

Eddie goes scarlet and Wayne laughs until he coughs.

The next day Eddie is up, showered, dressed, and hovering around the kitchen when the phone goes. Wayne chooses not to listen in, but from the way Eddie lists off a nearby meeting place it's obvious what he's up to. He can see the way he swithers, but with money as tight as it is he can't really pass it up.

“I'll keep an eye out for Ellie,” he says, and Eddie thanks him profusely before grabbing his lunchbox and bolting for the door.

True to the boy's bad luck he hears Ellie's car pull up not long after. She's dressed down today in what look like hand-me-down dungarees that's she's had to roll up a few times at the bottom, and her hair pulled up and held in place with a bandana. She's obviously expecting to see Eddie, but doesn't pause when Wayne pulls the door open.

“Eddie's just, uh, wrapping something up real quick,” he says, and within a split-second she's clicked on to what that something is.

“Ok, thanks for letting me know,” she says, polite to a fault this girl, “Do you think he'll mind if I get started?”

Wayne isn't sure that Eddie would mind if this girl did anything, but there's no fun in embarrassing the boy if he's not even here to see it.

“Don't let him get away with you doing all the work,” he says, “Can I get you a drink? Got coffee, or some soda.”

He's got beers too, but she's probably younger than Eddie and most likely doesn't have half the bad habits. There's not a lot about a visit from the military he likes the sound of after all. He pulls the door open as if to invite her in and she doesn't hesitate to join him.

“A soda would be great, Mr Munson, thank you,” she says, and he waves her off.

“Call me Wayne, girl, we don't stand on ceremony out here.”

He digs one of the cans out of the back of the fridge and hands it to her as she takes in décor. Such as it is in a single-wide. If the tatty floor and the nicotine stained walls bother her she doesn't let on, instead focussing on the mugs and hats he has lining the ceiling.

“How long have you been collecting?” she asks as he cracks open a beer and settles onto the couch. He hardly has to worry about her casing the joint.

“A good long while,” he admits, “Gave up trucking when Eddie landed in my lap – if there was ever a boy that needed an eye on him,” he trails off with a significant look that makes her laugh. Embarrassing the boy is still fun even without him here, he discovers.

She comes to sit on the other side of the couch, though he can see she's desperately curious to see the rest. That would be rude though as he's in one place, and he's not sure what'll take to make her be rude.

“Eddie always talks about you – says you're the coolest,” she says, lowering her voice like she's worried Eddie's going to catch her spilling his secrets.

He chuckles, though there's no denying the warmth in his chest on hearing it. “He just means I don't force him to behave. Though if he could wash his goddamn dishes once in a while I'd be grateful.”

“You should see my little brother,” Ellie complains, “I have to go on safari into his room every week to rescue all our cups.”

They share a look that says 'boys' without words and he is glad that Eddie is making friends with some more responsible sorts. He wonders if it's too early to beg her to help him pass his classes and get out into the real world. No doubt she has big college dreams and it wouldn't hurt Eddie to see what's outside of small town Indiana.

The phone goes again, and Wayne curses. There's few enough folks that would phone him at this time, and he doesn't really want to be the intermediary for Eddie's unsavoury deals. Not to mention they tend to hang up when he answers anyway. Ellie has immediately turned back towards the walls to make it clear she's not going to eavesdrop when he answers it, but he doesn't get up.

“It's not for me,” he clarifies, and he sees the comprehension on her face. It's a Saturday after all, and a lot of kids will be having parties this evening. “Doesn't bother you, does it?” he asks gruffly.

He doesn't need to explain – she understands.

Ellie takes a drink of her soda, and doesn't indicate she cares that it's the cheap knock off brand from the supermarket. “Nah, I don't myself, not with papa's job, you know? But it's not like Eddie's some kingpin or mafioso or anything.”

He's not; he's just a good kid doing his best with the shitty hand life has dealt him. If he gets himself into trouble with his antics, well, there's a lot worse things he could be. Could be an asshole like most of the kids in this town.

They both start as Eddie flings the door open and skids inside like he's expecting trouble. He's red across the cheeks and panting so hard he has to put a hand out onto the wall to steady himself. His normally white trainers are caked in mud and Wayne feels himself pursing his lips at the state of his floor.

Before he can bark at the boy to clean himself up Ellie catches his eye and gives him a look so wicked he holds himself back.

“Hi Eddie,” she starts, brightly, before turning to him. “Thanks for showing me all Eddie's school pictures, Mr Munson, he was so cute!”

For a split-second there is real fear in Eddie's big brown eyes and the sight of it has them both laughing out loud. If only she knew that he does have some truly horrendous pictures of early teenage Eddie that the boy is definitely thinking about right now. Maybe he'll dig them out for next time.

Once he realises they're just funning him he stands up to his full height and points at her. “You're a fucking menace,” he accuses as she continues to laugh, “I can't believe you're corrupting my saintly uncle like this! To be cruel to his poor nephew for no reason at all!”

“No reason? Look at my floor – get back outside otherwise I'll show Ellie girl here the video of the '80 talent show,” he orders, and he means it too.

Eddie pales, and backtracks out of the door at speed to leave only his head sticking in the door. “Ellie, please, forget anything about any talent shows, I'm begging you. He's just jealous of my hair.”

Ellie is giggling behind her hands as Wayne raises his eyebrows. “We gonna talk about hair when you -”

Eddie cuts him off with inarticulate noise and furious pointing that has him hanging onto the doorframe to keep himself upright. The dramatics on this kid never fail to make him laugh.

“I thought not,” he finishes, narrowing his eyes as if to challenge Eddie to dare keep running his mouth. “Now, kid, remember what I said and don't let him let you do all the work.”

Ellie's doing her best to force the smile off her face as she heads to join Eddie, but it's something of a hopeless endeavour. “I won't – he'll be doing all the heavy lifting. And, uh, does the talent show threat always work?”

“No! There will be no more talk of the fucking talent show!” Eddie cuts off his reply and hustles Ellie outside as gently as he can manage.

It doesn't escape Wayne's notice that this involves Eddie grabbing her very softly around the upper arms to swing her out of the trailer. Eddie's had issues before with the people around him not liking his physical nature. The way he talks with his hands and manoeuvres people to where he wants them to be without breaking stride. He can hear Ellie's laughter from where she's been all but thrown out, and maybe, just maybe, she's not adverse to his man-handling.

Once he's apparently sure she's pointed at his van he sticks his head back inside to check in and the smile on his face is as goddamn thrilled and bashful as he's ever seen it. Wayne just raises his eyebrows and Eddie ducks out of sight, a more significant shade of red than he had been.

Wayne shakes his head at the pair of them. Maybe there are one or two things he misses about being a teenager. He turns the tv on to give them a modicum of privacy as well as to drown out the anguish of Eddie's overworked van engine. It's been a good morning.

He doesn't realise he's dozed off until he hears footsteps on the porch and shakes his head to try and clear the cobwebs. Napping in the afternoon like some sort of pensioner, Christ. Eddie elbows the door open and holds it to let Ellie pass through, both of their hands covered in oil and grime up to the forearms.

“Looks productive,” he says, getting up to open the bathroom door for them so he's got as little to clean up after them as possible.

“I replaced a couple of valves and it should run fine for a while. It really needs a new fan belt – I'll ask papa if he can get one from the base. They always have second-hand parts they want to offload,” Ellie fills him in as she slathers herself in soap.

Wayne knows better than to judge a book by its cover. It's hypocritical as all hell when that's what he rails against the townsfolk doing to Eddie. But master mechanic was not something he'd been expecting from the rich girl, so colour him impressed.

From the slightly dazed expression on Eddie's face when he thinks no one is actively looking at him he's way past impressed and deep into some other territory.

“You should set up shop – put that son of a bitch James over at the garage out of business.”

She's bashful as he says it. Maybe it's not the sort of thing she hears often. Other rich little girls probably comment on her being covered in oil.

“Maybe after college,” she demurs, now mostly clean and moving to let Eddie in.

“Got your eye on anything in particular?” he asks casually, curious, and he can tell from Eddie's posture he's listening in. Neither of them are sure college outside the local area is in his future, nor that of his friends.

“I've already applied for a place at MIT – mechanical engineering,” she all but bounces with enthusiasm as she talks about the courses and the research and living in Boston.

Wayne catches Eddie's eye as he watches her with undisguised longing. Could be worse; Massachusetts isn't that far. At least, not with a good vehicle and cheap gas prices. Whether or not Eddie will see it that way is another matter entirely.

She thanks him for listening – laughing about how she knows she's boring when she starts talking about it – and he can sense that she's preparing to leave. Eddie dithers in the background behind her; unsure of his footing as always when it's something he wants. Especially when it's something that he never quite feels he deserves.

“You kids want pizza?” he offers. They can't afford pizza really, but he'll pick up an extra shift here and there – anything for Eddie.

Ellie shakes her head though, and he almost curses himself for getting Eddie's hopes up. “I'd love to – but I have to go get Robbie from his friend's and then there's the game tonight.”

By game she must mean the basketball that the high-school is obsessed with.

“It'll be lame,” Eddie pipes up, and Wayne has to cover a smile at the distinct sulk present in his voice.

“I know, but the girls are doing their cheer stuff and I said I'd watch,” she shrugs.

Wayne has to admit he's surprised she won't be up there yelling and waving pom-poms around with them. He says as much and both Ellie and Eddie make a face that has him chuckling.

“I wouldn't be any good,” she says, not wanting to be rude of course, even to her friends who wouldn't hear any of this conversation. “But thank you so much for having me. I'll let you know as soon as I get that fan belt.”

Eddie walks her out and he can hear them talking at the car before she drives away. The boy lingers outside for a good while, and Wayne pictures him standing mooning after her like some kind of lovesick swain in a tv rom-com. Too bad Eddie would never play sad pop music to go along with the scene.

“You've got it bad, kid,” he says, conversationally, as Eddie slopes back in.

Eddie makes an indistinct noise of unhappiness and heads to the fridge, pulling out the six-pack of the super-strength piss-water he likes to drink. 'Cost-effective' he calls it, 'An insult to beer' is what Wayne calls it.

He slumps on the floor in front of the couch and draws his long legs up to rest his arms across his knees. Wayne sighs quietly to himself, putting the paper down.

“You told her yet?”

“No,” Eddie groans, pressing his palms against his eyes.

“Are you going to?”

“No! Jesus, no, she does not need to know that,” he mutters into his arms.

Wayne desperately wants to point out that unless the girl is blind, deaf, and stupid into the bargain she already does know, and it clearly doesn't bother her none. Otherwise she wouldn't be hanging around with him, and certainly wouldn't be fixing up his ragged van for nothing, no matter how much she might like cars.

“Kid, life's short, you know, go ask her if she wants to see a movie or whatever it is kids do for dates these days. Just make sure it's legal, and by God have her home on time.”

Eddie shakes his head. At least that's what he assumes he's doing as the mop of curls bounce and wave. The urge to shake him himself comes back, but it's hardly the kid's fault. Between his dysfunctional folks and the way he gets treated in this town it's no wonder he's got no confidence in relationships.

“What's the worst that can happen?”

Another noise of vague disgruntled misery. “Oh you know, she never fucking speaks to me again? 'Gee thanks, Eddie, but I'd rather get smallpox than be seen with you! Don't know why you ever thought any fucking different!'”

With Eddie's head still buried in his arms Wayne takes the opportunity to roll his eyes at him. He's not much taken for flights of fancy himself, and sometimes he does find the boy's imagination hinders him more than it helps. He doubts an application of logic is going to help, but there's another half hour before the football starts.

“What was today then? Pretty sure folk will have seen her with you out there.”

“That's – that's different. I'm like her charity case; ministering to the disadvantaged, you know?” he grumbles.

Ministering to the oblivious maybe. “How do you think she'd feel if she heard you talking like that? That that's all you think of her? Bet she'd be pissed.”

Those big dark eyes finally peek out from under his ridiculous mane. The fear of her actually being pissed with him enough to distract him from his dramatics. “Yeah, that was shitty,” he admits quietly. “She's not like that.”

“She seems like she's got her head screwed on right. Not a lot of that in this town,” he reminds him. As if the kid might forget.

He gets a baleful nod in return.

“And how you going to feel if some other kid comes along with another crappy car and another tape-deck full of shit?”

A jab at the kid's taste in what he calls music is just the thing to get him out of his own head. He doesn't know what he'll do when Eddie figures out that he only mentions it specifically to get a rise out of him.

Eddie mutters rebelliously under his breath but he seems a little more determined. Enough that Wayne feels his parent-adjacent job is done for the day. Just in time for the game.

Most of the town consider Wayne to be some sort of saint – taking in such a troubled youth and doing his best against Eddie's clearly evil nature. Therefore his interactions with them swing between pity and encouragement to anger when they find their kids smoking whatever Eddie happens to have sold them.

Today it seems to be the latter in the supermarket as he sees a woman steaming towards him in a righteous fury. Behind her she's dragging a man who appears completely perplexed by what's happening to him.

“This is Wayne Munson,” the woman shrills, pointing at him. “He's the uncle of that boy hanging around your daughter. I wouldn't allow it if it were my little girl – you tell him!”

The woman folds her arms and glares at him, though he can't quite remember who's kids are hers. The man, Ellie's father he assumes, – Eddie doesn't know that many girls and few enough that can be said he 'hangs around' – doesn't look impressed.

It's a common look, but Wayne was not at all expecting it to be directed at their new mutual friend and not him.

“Yes, thank you,” he says, and the words are clipped, acidic, and he wonders if this is what facing the General is like.

The woman doesn't pick up on the dismissal and leers at Wayne like she's expecting him to get in trouble. Like he's not a grown-ass man. Some people in this place never grew past their high school days. It would irritate him more if he doesn't also get a look of long-suffering off Ellie's father as well.

“Jethro Spencer, nice to meet you,” the man says, holding his hand out for a handshake so firm Wayne can feel it in his shoulder.

“Good to meet you, General.”

“Jethro, please,” he waves him off and Wayne watches the woman's mouth thin with no small measure of satisfaction.

Jethro is as tall and broad as a barn. He barely fits in the aisles without turning slightly and the hands resting on his cart are more like spades. With a fitting military grade buzz cut that only just reveals the silver at his temples and a perfectly starched shirt he looks every inch the sort of man who would order young men into battle.

“I wanted to thank you,” Jethro continues, “For introducing Ellie to that rust-bucket your nephew drives. She's all but stopped tinkering on my truck since.”

His manner is open and friendly at complete odds to his appearance and Wayne chuckles. “Your girl's a miracle-worker – that van of his was past its best back in '79.”

Jethro barks a laugh and, though their familial resemblance isn't that strong normally, he and Ellie have the exact same smile. “Shit, weren't we all?”

“Preaching to the choir,” he agrees.

“That Eddie Munson is a bad influence,” the woman, who he'd all but forgotten about, hisses with real venom.

Wayne never did inherit his father's temper, not like his brother, but there's no denying that his blood boils so easy when it comes to Eddie. He's just a kid, and sure, he doesn't always help himself, but he never gets a fair chance. He takes a deep breath against the seething bile that's gathering in his gut.

“He's a teenager,” Jethro cuts in, his voice severe. “He's not Charles Manson.”

“I wouldn't let my daughter near him,” she continues.

“Then don't,” Jethro replies, and there's something dangerous in the way he says it that even the neighbourhood watch picks up on.

He lets the moment carry and the woman wither in it before turning back to Wayne like he's an old friend.

“Did you catch the game the other night? Christ the Falcons are shit this year.”

“That your team? I am sorry,” he manages, trying not to let the way the woman slinks off chastened fill him with too much grim satisfaction. Ain't good for him.

“I'm sorry,” Jethro mutters once he's sure they're more alone. No doubt the whole store is listening in now. “She had no right to speak to you like that.”

“Used to it,” he shrugs, “Small town, small minds. Thanks for sticking up for Eddie. He's a good kid, whether they like it or not.”

Jethro nods, gesturing to the basket in his hands. “Ellie wouldn't give him the time of day if he wasn't. Let me get that; for the trouble.”

He tries to demur but Jethro won't have any of it. They talk about the football season in the checkout line, and he revels in the gossip he can hear muted in the background. He's never cared about his social standing in this town, but there is petty pride in the way they're subverting the usual script. Maybe he's been the bad influence on Eddie all along.

It's only as they leave and are less likely to be eavesdropped on that Jethro turns to look down at him. “Ellie likes that boy of yours,” he says quietly, “You will tell him not to do anything too stupid, won't you?”

“'Too stupid'?”

“I have three boys of my own, and a nephew who was never out of my goddamn house growing up,” Jethro chuckles, “Telling teenage boys not to do anything stupid, hell, you might as well tell them to stop breathing.”

It's a weight off Wayne's chest to know that the ice under Eddie isn't paper thin. That he'll be cut a bit of slack for once even if he fucks up – that's never been a privilege that's been extended to him in the whole time he's been here.

“I was expecting more of a -” he trails off, unsure of how to phrase it.

“A threat?” Jethro reads his mind with a grin. “No call for that, not yet. Besides, if that boy should be scared of anyone it's Ellie-bell; takes after her mother.”

Wayne knows there's an unhealed tragedy there – something Eddie had revealed the two kids had talked about. Surviving after a loss in early childhood like that. Something he dearly wished neither of them had in common, though selfishly he's glad that Eddie now has a support network outside of him.

“I can't promise you he won't be a dumbass kid, but he's got it bad for her. I'm a hell of a lot more worried about him, no offence.”

“None taken. Out of all my kids she's the one I worry about the least,” he admits, a fond smile creeping around the edges of his stern face. “But she will always be my little girl, and I can't promise I'll definitely rein in her brothers so tell him to keep that in mind.”

“Fair. And thanks for the groceries – you didn't have to.”

Jethro waves him off in an eerily similar mannerism to his teen daughter. “Don't mention it none. Consider it a fee for the inconvenience of small-town living.”

They part with a laugh and the potential for watching the football together sometime.

Eddie is at the small table in the kitchen when he gets back – something that at first he thinks is his school work spread out before him, but that turns out to be more of his club stuff. It's not worth getting frustrated over though, he wasn't much for schooling himself either back in the day.

“Met the General today,” he says, hefting the groceries onto the counter.

Eddie, as usual when he's concentrating, doesn't register that he's spoken. At least it's not personal – not even something to do with Ellie can rouse him from the fictional world he's lost in. Not until he cracks a beer and turns on the tv does Eddie finally surface to look at him like he can't understand how he's just appeared in the room.

“Welcome back to Earth,” Wayne grunts at him.

Eddie snorts like it's funny and stretches like a cat. He's far too young for his back to make those noises in Wayne's opinion. They've had discussions about how he sits like a damn pretzel and how it's no good for him.

“Met the General,” Wayne repeats as Eddie as at the peak of a stretch to enjoy the way he whips round like he's electrocuted him.

“Yeah? He, uh, say much?” Eddie asks, looking torn between wanting to hear every detail and much preferring to live in ignorance as he fully expects the worst.

He probably assumes that the wealthy General Spencer is like most other fathers in this town and would sooner commit murder than have an outcast metal-head potential satan-worshipper within a country mile of his only daughter. That, like that strange woman had been hoping, he's going to be told to back off and not even so much as look at the girl anymore.

Wayne lets him stew a little, but he doesn't have the heart to really drag it out. “Nice guy,” he says, “Falcons fan though.”

It's not the info Eddie is after and he has to force off a smirk at the way the kid is all but vibrating across the room.

“Football?” Eddie guesses, having never retained any of the information on sports he's had presented to him over the years.

“Yup, and by God are they fucking it this season,” he continues, pretending to focus on the tv for a bit longer.

He can feel the unimpressed glare Eddie is pointing at the side of his head, but unlike the days of young teenage Eddie the kid isn't quite so slow to catch on to his Uncle's teasing.

“So I'm not going to disappear and not be found 'til they raid Area 51 then?” he asks, chewing his lips to ribbons even as he jokes about it.

“Supposing you don't do anything 'too stupid'” he quotes, “And it's the brothers I'd worry about more if I were you. And then supposing you actually plan on making a move?”

Eddie flushes, and Wayne reckons he had definitely been using the thought that he'd never be accepted to avoid doing it. The kid looks torn between inordinately pleased by the approval, and terrified that apparently everyone around him knows his intentions without him actually having acted on them yet.

“Her brothers are big aren't they? Shit, even Robbie is bigger than me,” he mutters, “At least one of them is in the army too.”

“A brother and the cousin, yeah,” he says, pretending not to enjoy watching Eddie squirm.

“Do you think that helps? That doesn't help.”

Wayne would deny it if Eddie asked, but he's damn curious to hear how the night went. After a 'disagreement' with the principal Eddie's club had been barred from their usual meeting place. He had chosen not to ask what this supposed 'disagreement' was about. Living in some level of ignorance helps him sleep better.

Robbie, after quick consultation with his father, had offered up the family basement the next day. Supposedly it's hardly getting used with only the three of them in the house so they can leave everything set up in between sessions. It's as good a deal as they were ever likely to get, and part of him wonders if Jethro is thoroughly enjoying the thought of making his neighbours squawk.

It's not a exactly a wild Friday night, but Wayne knows that most parents would infinitely prefer knowing exactly where their kids are than have them out roaming the streets. It does make him laugh that the town thinks they're all up to nefarious cult business when really it's just a board game. He'd learned not to say so after many a lecture from his nephew, so the thought just lives in his head now.

The muffled roar of Eddie's van rattling up the drive distracts him. The over-worked piece of shit now holding together better with a fan-belt that was definitely not second-hand. Eddie hadn't seemed to notice when Ellie turned up with it, and she'd held Wayne's gaze as she installed it as if daring him to say something. She's going to spoil that boy.

Eddie is unusually quiet as he comes inside and Wayne's heart falls. He's not got long before his overnight shift, but he doesn't want to leave before he's sure the boy is alright. He dreads to think how often he's been away when the kid's been upset over the years he's had him under his roof. How often Eddie had his walls up and how often he was too busy to notice.

“Good night?” he calls as Eddie tries to shuffle past to his room, arms full of books and head down.

Eddie looks up at him and it's written all over how he's struggling. There's no way he would let on any upset in front of the kids that idolise him, but back in the safety of the trailer he doesn't have to throw up his untouchable facade. He shrugs, the rise and fall of his shoulders utterly defeated and Wayne's up and across the room to him in a heartbeat.

He sometimes forgets how the kid is heights with him now. In his mind's eye he's a gangly preteen, all angles and untameable curls and eyes too big for his face. The hand that used to go down to his shoulder now goes up to his shoulder. Even that level of touch would have been unthinkable to his own father. Breaking the cycle is a privilege and not one he takes lightly.

“It's stupid,” Eddie mutters, all but into Wayne's shoulder.

“Go ahead and tell me anyway,” he murmurs back, afraid to break the fragile atmosphere around the boy.

“It's really stupid,” Eddie says, with a bitter laugh he's too young for. “And you know what's worse? I should've known better – I'm such a fucking idiot.”

Wayne doesn't interrupt even though Eddie doesn't seem to be approaching what actually happened with any speed.

“I was going to say something, you know? After Hellfire – was gonna catch her on the way out and ask if she wanted to go out sometime. Had it all planned out.”

Wayne holds his tongue behind his teeth even though everything in him wants to demand to know what she'd done. What she'd said to him. To kick himself for trusting her. Maybe he should have known better too.

“Then I saw their house and – fuck, do you know how many trophies they have? - and, why the fuck would she ever give me a second look like that - “ Eddie trails off, and it clicks.

Ellie hasn't done anything. Well, beyond happening to have been born into a wealthy family which is hardly her fault. Eddie has gotten in his own head again; let his insecurities get the better of him. It builds up in him sometimes, today has just tipped him over the edge.

“Kid,” he starts.

“No!” Eddie cuts him off. “Leave it. I am just a charity case. What's she going to need with some fucking trailer trash who can't even fucking graduate on time? How's she supposed to introduce me to anyone at her fancy college – 'oh here's my loser boyfriend who's probably going to end up in jail, get to know him while he's still on the outside folks!' Fucking pathetic.”

Wayne lets him vent; like lancing a wound he reckons Eddie needs to spill all this out before anything new will sink in. Before long he subsides into silence, jaw clenched and big eyes glassy with frustrated tears.

“Is that what she thinks?” he asks quietly. He doubts it. If even a teenage girl's father knows about a boy then it's clear she's only thinking good things about him.

Eddie sniffs, and looks away. “Maybe not now, but she would.”

“Ain't fair to her to say that,” he defends. He wants to shake the boy and tell him just how much value he has, but he knows better. Eddie won't hear it right now; he'll just shut off.

“Leave it,” Eddie mutters, but the anger has drained out of the phrase. He's all but trembling under the firm hand Wayne has on his shoulder. “Just not worth it.”

Wayne takes a deep breath. He's a better man than his father, his brother, and he won't let this kid go without.

“You're the best thing that ever happened to me, Eddie, you know that?” he says. No soothing tones, no acknowledgement of the nonsense he's been pouring out. Just the truth.

Eddie's face crumples and he surges forward to press into Wayne's shoulder as the first tears escape him. Wayne wraps his arms around his skinny frame and holds him tight, tight enough to press all the pieces of him together again. They stand there for a few moments while Eddie breathes through it. He cries completely silently, always has, and it turns Wayne's stomach to think on why he learned that.

“Sorry,” Eddie croaks eventually, drawing back and wiping furiously at his face. He's flushed red, patchy and swollen around the eyes, but there's less of the hopelessness he carried before.

“You've nothing to be sorry for, kid,” he says, “Never have. Now I gotta get to work, you be alright here?”

Eddie sniffs and nods, already looking better despite his puffy face and red nose. “Just being stupid.”

“Get some sleep, kid, things will look different in the morning.”

And they do. Even if Eddie avoids him for the next few days. He always does this when he's feeling exposed. The days where it feels like he's revealed too much and now he has to hide away to rebuild his defences. Wayne tries not to worry and gives him the space he needs. Soon his normal firecracker nephew reappears, and that's all that matters.

Or at least, he does for a while.

“I fucked up, Uncle Wayne,” Eddie mutters miserably from where he's lying face down on the couch. He doesn't even look up, didn't even have the door properly closed, and Wayne steels himself.

Settling into the chair he reaches over to pat a hand onto Eddie's curls.

“What happened?”

The noise that comes out of Eddie is pained, and Wayne has to clamp his teeth together not to laugh at the theatrics. It's better than the timid silence he's been wrapping himself in the past days.

“That bad, huh?”

“Ellie asked me if I wanted to get dinner Saturday. Just the two of us,” Eddie grinds out.

“Good for her,” Wayne says proudly. He respects that girl – goes after what she wants even if it's not necessarily the 'done' thing.

Another growl.

“Uhuh. So you needing some fancier duds or what?” Wayne pretends like he doesn't know what's coming.

“I said I didn't know if we should.” There it is. Christ, but this kid is his own worst enemy sometimes.

“And you said that because?”

Eddie finally lifts his head enough to glare at Wayne. Wayne somehow manages to keep his expression completely neutral.

“Because! She'll go out with me and realise I'm actually a total fucking loser and never speak to me again. I can't afford to take her out anywhere better than the goddamn diner and I don't know shit about flowers and - ”

Wayne tunes the ranting out. Eventually Eddie runs out of steam and he takes his moment.

“Think she knows all that already, kid, she's not a blind date. Doesn't seem to put her off none.”

Eddie lets his face fall back into the cushions with a groan. “It's not that fucking simple,” he grumbles, the words muffled by the sagging fabric.

“Seems pretty simple to me,” Wayne mutters, casting his eyes over to the fridge and thinking a beer will be a good reward for this. “You're the one making it difficult.”

Another groan of discontent from the couch. “What does it matter, anyway? Already fucked up my shot.”

“Call her. Tell her you were being an idiot, why you were being an idiot, and that you'll come pick her up on Saturday wearing something that has been washed this month. Take her to the diner, order something decent, and just be yourself.”

“I can't just - “ he cuts himself off, waving his arm around as if to mean the perfectly simple and straightforward plan Wayne has put together.

“Phone's right there,” Wayne points, and then turns the tv on as if to say he's done with Eddie's hysterics.

Eddie makes one final growl into the safety of the couch before springing up and striding to the phone. Wayne does his best not to listen in as Eddie stammers his way through an apology and a plea to not rescind the offer of a date. He agrees with the way Ellie clearly makes him sweat for jerking her around, but from the way the tension suddenly evaporates from Eddie's frame she hasn't written him off completely.

He hangs up and Wayne hears the dull thunk of his forehead colliding with the trailer wall.

“You still got that red plaid shirt?” he asks offhandedly, the laugh track on the sitcom muted in the background.

“Somewhere,” Eddie mutters.

Wayne nods. “Good, it suits you. Wear that.”

Eddie peels his forehead off the wall and starts pacing around their small kitchen area, shaking his hands out like that's enough to burn off the nervous tension that's settled in his marrow. Wayne watches him, amused and fond all rolled together, and wonders how long it's been since he last saw Eddie like this.

The year previously maybe; when that band of his got its first official invitation to play at the godawful dive bar at the edge of town. Eddie had fretted for days over every aspect. What he was going to wear, what the others were going to wear, what they should play, what order they should play them in, was anyone going to listen, was everyone going to hate them, might this be their big break? He'd worn himself out with his overactive mind.

It's been a lot longer since a girl had been the cause. Eddie, for how quick he is to self-deprecate and laugh about how he's not exactly top of the list of eligible bachelors in this town, isn't all that open to romance. Or, maybe it's that he's too open and feels he has to shield that soft middle he's got. While most of the town might think it's Ellie taking the risk dating him, Wayne hadn't lied to Jethro when he'd said he was more worried about Eddie.

“What if – if - “ Eddie starts, and his knuckles must be raw with how hard he's twisting the rings on them now.

Wayne thinks he'll miss this – the way Eddie looks to him. After all, it won't be long before the boy is full-grown and he won't be needed so much.

“Kid, that girl likes you. If you were any good at picking up hints the two of you would have been dating weeks ago.”

Eddie glares at him, like he has the cheek to be affronted by a statement of fact. Wayne just laughs at him.

If Wayne thought Eddie was nervous before the Friday night club session over at the Spencer's, it's nothing on how nervous he is on the Saturday before the date itself. He's on night-shift so he does appreciate how Eddie keeps it relatively quiet until he's woken up in the mid-afternoon sun. After that, though, he's in a full-on panic; the sort of contagious discomfort that has even Wayne feeling on edge.

He's glad he showered while Eddie was making a snack because the boy spends something like the next hour in their tiny bathroom. Nothing like the usual eight minute flurry and out the door routine he normally has. Wayne almost has to leave for work by the time Eddie is anywhere near ready. He's even dried his hair with the small hand held dryer that Wayne can't remember either of them buying.

The tight pair of black jeans look almost wrong on him without the usual holes he's cut into all the others. The red plaid shirt does suit him – sits well against his fair skin and dark hair. He's even got it buttoned up as high as a shirt has been on him in a long time. The rings and chains remain much the same, but he's added a hooped earring for an extra flourish. His barely worn combat boots are even shined up.

“Lookin' good, kid,” he says, giving him a nod of approval.

Eddie flushes, hands immediately dropping to fuss with the chains and belts around his hips. “Sure?” he asks, though he isn't up to eye-contact as he does.

“Sure I'm sure,” Wayne replies easily. He wants to say more but a skittish Eddie is infinitely less able to cope with anything positive, and that's saying something.

“But what if -” he starts up again.

“Eddie – she's seen you at school,” he reminds him of the half-asleep, barely presentable Eddie that's usually at Hawkin's High. “She's going to appreciate the effort.”

The boy nods to himself distractedly. He obviously just can't shake the way he looks now matters when it didn't before. Sure he keeps up a specific look but it's always been for him, not for anyone else.

“Try and relax, would you? You two already like hanging out together, and you're going to get a proper meal out of it if nothing else.”

One of the few things they clash on is Eddie's appalling diet. Wayne wouldn't be surprised if he turns up with scurvy one of these days. The human body can't sustain itself on drugs, cigarettes, and junk food alone.

Eddie mutters something rebellious under his breath again, but the reminder that they actually have spoken before does seem to help. He doesn't think now is the right time to tell Eddie he can be downright adorable when he's like this. He might save it for the morning, supposing all goes well on the date.

“I have to get to work – you kids have fun now, and remember -” he says, and waits for Eddie to meet his eye before continuing. “Jethro has older kids, but I sure as hell am not ready to be a granddad, understand?”

“Jesus Christ!” Eddie splutters and flails as Wayne heads for the door chuckling to himself.

Though his work does keep him occupied through the night, he'd be lying to himself if he didn't wonder how the date had been. It was about time that Eddie got to indulge in some usual teenage activities. He'd missed out on a lot of the more 'normal' experiences so far in his high-school career.

It's early morning when he gets back to the trailer, the sun just starting to come up as the weather starts to turn wintry. Years of practice have him sneaking into the trailer silently despite the squeaking door and the uneven floorboards. Down the hall he can see Eddie's door ajar.

Normally, if it's not closed, he sticks his head around it when he comes in to check on the kid. Making sure he's actually getting some sleep, and he's not in any trouble. This time, just in case, he decides that he'll leave it. He doesn't need to see any more of his nephew than he already has, and he certainly doesn't want to see anything at all of a teenage girl.

It's later, as he's rustling up a cooked breakfast, that he hears footsteps in the hallway behind him. Something about fried food can reach Eddie no matter how deep he's sleeping. It'd be what Wayne would suggest God forbid he should ever be in a coma. Cook up some bacon and the kid would surface no doubt.

“Mornin'” he says quietly as Eddie settles himself on the stool.

He gets a grunt in return, but a look at the kid tells him he's just barely conscious. Always rocks an impressive bed-head does Eddie, and under all the hair his eyes are barely open. He's softer in the mornings, before the wild-child energy bubbles up in him.

“Am I cooking for two, or three?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie mutters, but he can't help the bashful smile spreading across his face. “Just two, uh, this time,” he says the last part quiet-like, like he worries it'll all disappear if he talks about it too loud.

“That good, huh?” he teases, and he can't keep the pride out of his voice. He's just so goddamn glad that something is going right for him.

Eddie keeps trying to tamp down on the dopey grin but he can't quite get a handle on it. “Shut up,” he groans, before pausing and admitting softly. “I really like her, Uncle Wayne.”

“I can tell, kid,” he replies, fond, “What you get up to?”

He knows Eddie wants to spill. He's got that faraway look in his eyes that means he's got a lot going on in that head of his. Talking through it always makes it more real, gets him out of his thoughts and into reality.

He starts with how pretty Ellie had looked all dressed up and how she thought the diner was cool and that they'd ordered way too much food and then milkshakes. How he'd managed to make her laugh the whole time and how she wanted a tour of the town instead of him taking her home right after. That they sat in his beat-up old van in her drive for ages, before he walked to her to the door and even gotten a kiss goodnight for his trouble.

Eddie is clearly thrilled, but there's still an undercurrent of disbelief. Like he can't quite believe that he's getting to play the lead in the romcom rather than some side character. Wayne resolves to keep tabs on him, make sure that he doesn't let his overactive mind convince him that he's only going to get hurt. It wouldn't be the first time.

“Sounds like you enjoyed yourself. Told you,” Wayne says. Part of pseudo-parenting is getting to be right, and have the spawn admit it.

Eddie rolls his eyes, but the look he shoots him after is pure gratitude. “Yeah yeah, you were right this time. Meant to say too – Ellie says her dad said to ask if you were free to watch the game on Friday night, saying as I'll be over there and all anyway.”

“Sounds good, son, if you're ok with that?”

The kid frowns like he can't understand why he wouldn't be. “Yeah, course, and besides, if I fuck up I need you to talk him out of killing me.”

“You won't fuck up, and besides, like there'd be anything left of you once Ellie is through with you if you do.”

Eddie sighs a little dreamily into his bacon, and doesn't disagree.

#eddie munson #wayne munson #eddie munson x female oc