Lydia Martin + Favorite Outfits

lydia martin + favorite outfits

oh, baby.

Summary: You and Eddie raise a baby… however, you’re not a couple and the baby isn’t real. Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader [WC: 7k ] Warnings: takes place at the beginning of season 2, language. Quick Links: Masterlist

"And this," Mr. Allen walked up and down each row with the most serious face. Everyone else, all the students, were plagued with potential trauma at the preface of the assignment; "this is your only priority for the next week—including this weekend and the next."

You felt a cool breeze waft as he walked past your desk, continuing on forward as Steve Harrington audibly protested his instruction. The supposed "King of Hawkins High" wasn't impressed with having to take care of a child… well, a plastic one at that.

"Mr. Allen," he began from his spot in the second row from the door. All you could see was the brown poof of hair that he had become notable for. "I don't see why we can't just start this on Monday. We've got plans… there's a football game tonight!"

There were a few agreeing hums, mostly from the said football players in the room, but it wasn't as though they would be taking part in the assignment when they were on the field. Their partners would be left alone to deal with an unpredictable toy while they tossed pigskin for three hours for fun.

"And besides," Steve continued as Mr. Allen walked back to the front of the room, setting the baby down on his desk and grabbing two plastic bowls he had scavenged from home, "Halloween is next weekend! I bet we all already have plans…"

Steve turned around in his seat and looked around the room. He saw his peers watching him carefully, some in support and others in vague concern that he would get them in further conflict by having the task take up the whole month instead of a week and a half. He glanced over you hoping that being Nancy's childhood friend would spur a call within you to support him but alas, you would not give him the satisfaction.

In the back of the room, Steve's eyes landed squarely on one sole person. He chewed on his lip before turning around.

"Hell, I bet even Munson's got plans. You know we're all busy when he's actually doing something."

At that same moment, Eddie Munson had been sitting with his legs extended through the empty chair in front of him and his arms crossed against his chest. Even if he didn't want to be there in the slightest, Steve Harrington going on a tangent in the middle of senior health class intrigued him. And when his name slipped past the hair's lips, Eddie's face contorted. Eyes narrow and slightly offended. The new kid, Billy Hargrove, laughed as he twirled his pencil. He had been there for two weeks and had swept Eddie’s weed supply clean in a matter of days.

Eddie actually didn't have plans other than Hellfire on Friday, but he couldn't say that out loud. In fact, he didn't say anything. He had an inkling someone would call him to deal at whatever party everyone was going to, but unless it happened, he was staying in and getting stoned himself.

Everyone's head turned toward him and he forgot the real reason he didn't skip that hour. They were all judgemental. He was an oddity to them. You even glanced over your own, three rows in front of him and to the right.

When he caught your gaze, you were the only one to look at him like a real human being, a person, not a freak. Just simple curiosity because everyone else had. You gave him a tiny, empathetic smile before turning back around and he found himself staring at the back of your head after it happened. It made his heart skip a beat.

"Mr. Harrington," Mr. Allen placed one of the bowls he was holding onto Steve's desk, "Nothing's changing. I've conducted this role-play for ten years and it is not changing because you, or anyone else in this class, has plans that don't fit the lifestyle of what it means to be a parent."

He pointed to the bowl before placing the other on a girl named Lisa's desk, "Steve, you pick the boys and Lisa here will pick the girls," he turned his attention back to the room as Steve ran a frustrated hand through his hair. A couple of the girls around you groaned, whispering to one another that the system was rigged because they knew they could no longer pick their partners.

"No picking partners. I'm letting the magic bowls choose them for me. No debating, no arguing. I don't care if you think your partner is bad or not, you will complete this task together. Who knows," he laughed at the looks of the students, "maybe you'll find a new friend through all of this."

“Go ahead, Steve,” he ordered, leaning against his desk with ankles crossed and an amused smile playing at his elderly lips. Glasses perched near the end of his nose, Steve huffed at him and tucked his hand away into the bowl and ruffled the slips of paper.

And like luck, Steve Harrington pulled his own name first. Eddie smiled in satisfaction at that–knowing that there was a chance Steve would most certainly be paired with someone he didn't want after he called him out in class. He hoped Billy would have the same fate too. Hell, everyone who looked at him like he was a fucking Martian from planet Mars.

The irony that Hargrove listened to the same music, smoked the same dope, and drove his car just as recklessly but remained at the top of the food chain at Hawkins High hadn’t escaped Eddie. Girls liked Billy; he played basketball, gave them cheeky smiles, and certainly did not play a fantasy game for fun. He was the antithesis of Eddie’s existence–but a bully and raging asshole too. Billy Hargrove was a piece of shit and it had taken Eddie two days in class to figure that out.

“And Steve will be paired with…” Mr. Allen waited for Lisa to mimic Steve’s draw and she unfolded the paper.

Lisa drew Tammy Thompson's name which could have been worse for Steve. It took 3 minutes for Steve to pull Billy Hargrove's name who was then paired with Kennedy Walker, the school's future valedictorian. The look on the poor girl’s face was sadly hilarious. Hargrove winked at her and she turned such a shade of red that she looked like a balloon. But before Eddie could ponder what an interesting pair that made, Steve sighed and pulled another name from the bowl.

Steve crinckled the thin strip of paper in his hand before tossing it onto his desk, "Munson," he looked at Mr. Allen who nodded as he did with each name.

"And the lucky partner?" Mr. Allen had to have been joking except there wasn't an ounce of teasing in his words. Lisa picked the name out of the bucket and unfolded it with her candy red nails. Then, she laughed. Her eyes crinkled at the side from what you could see as she sat in the first seat beside the door. She looked over her shoulder, directly at you in her line of sight and smiled like a wicked wench.

"Y/n L/n." Shit.

A few of the girls giggled, a couple of the guys whistled which had bristled the compass within you south. You didn't care that you had been paired with Eddie because of what people thought of him–the primary reason they were all bemused with the pairing–but rather at the possibility that he couldn't give two-shits about the assignment. It may have only been October but you had already caught him before two different classes being chastised by teachers for not doing his work. If he kept it up, they said, he wouldn’t graduate with his class.

"Off the hook, ladies," one of the girls on the cheer squad laughed, "Y/n's got him."

Lunch could not have arrived fast enough.

You rushed to the front of the line, grabbed your tray, and made a straight shot for the table you had taken an unassigned assigned seat at. Nancy wasn't there when you arrived so you just picked at your food, rolling the grapes in the small section they had been dumped into and watched the entrance like a hawk. Your leg bounced under the table with a tinge of nervousness, but the aggravation of failure was starting to eat you alive and it had only been an hour since Mr. Allen screwed over your grade. Slowly, the lunch room came to life and Nancy held her calculus book in one hand and purple lunch bag in the other.

Even she had a sour look on her face. Lips pursed and brow furrowed, her hand tightly clenched around the bag as the small gold promise ring from Steve shined in the harsh lighting of the room.

"You'll never believe who Mike gave my number to," Nancy huffed as she sat down; her lunch bag filled scarcely with a peanut butter and jelly and a bag of Cheetos. She had four sticks of cut up celery that you gagged at, not understanding how she could enjoy the stringy vegetable for fun.

"You'll never believe who I was partnered with for Allen's baby project," You stopped pushing around your food and she looked at you with heeded interest, her eyebrows drawn together and her wide eyes concerned.

"You first," you pointed a finger at her as she shifted in her seat. The others at the table started to sit down and engage in their own conversations–you had totally forgotten about watching the doorway to the lunchroom. "Keith?"

"From the arcade! The one who always," she scrambled her hands in front of her in frustration before letting out a groan, "he's always got his dirty fingers on the buttons and offers the kids soda way past a normal time."

There was not a day that went by where you did not think that Nancy Wheeler lived with the silver spoon, nay, stick, up her ass.

"All because of someone who broke Dustin's record of Dig Dug. Who does that!?" Nancy unzipped her bag and sure enough, a PB and J with a bag of Cheetos as a side with sticks of celery tucked in a plastic baggie.

"Maybe he's just playing matchmaker…" You stabbed a grape and popped into your mouth with a smile. "Steve was being an annoying shit in class today, so maybe, just maybe, you should be searching for someone else."

"When isn't he like that?" She laughed, "He's Steve Harrington for God's sake."

"Well, I think he's to blame for the luck I had in class today."

"Luck? You were just on the verge of complaining," she glanced quizzically at you, looking over your shoulder when a paper ball went flying in the direction of the table. "left," she said and you tilted to the left as the wad went flying past both your heads and ended up by the science club's table. It was a daily occurrence. "So, who's your partner?"

"Eddie Munson."

Nancy stopped trying to open the bag of Cheetos. "What?"

"Be glad you're not a senior yet, Nance… this project is going to be the death of me, I swear," your head found a home in your hands as you pushed the tray away from you.

"I'm going to fail it! There is no way I can get an A without a capable partner and then what? Will I have to repeat senior year because I failed health? HEALTH?" You exclaimed.

"You won't fail," she conceded. Placing the snack onto the table, she reached out and patted the side of your arm. "If it really gets bad you can always ask Steve."

"He's partnered with Tammy Thompson. There is no way he'd help me with what Allen said about these babies."

"What did he say? Where is the doll anyway?"

"Eddie's got it. Maybe I'll never see it again if I'm lucky," you removed your hands from the table and folded them in your lap as you told her the assignment requirements and what Mr. Allen had said to expect about the baby. As you talked, she picked at her food and the fruit off your tray as some of the girls from newspaper filled the seats around you.

"At least it doesn't actually, you know, pee or anything."

"But the sensor doesn't know that it isn't real. I don't even know how he got dolls so advanced… I had a flour baby when I was a kid and this is as close to a real baby as possible except it doesn't blink."

"Creepy," she mumbled before picking the bag back up.

"Very," you agreed and took a second to glance around the room. Some of the partners were already facing their first challenges. A few were trying to quell the crying, a couple sat together planning their week out so they could work together and have equal time, but when you looked at the table that normally held Hellfire, Eddie wasn't there.

"They all laughed when my name was called," Nancy's head quirked back up at you, "I don't care that he's my partner; that's not why I'm complaining, but this isn't going to be an easy week."

That was the truth—you didn’t care that Eddie was your partner because as a person, Eddie was not as bad as everyone labeled him to be. He was actually, in an admission that you’d take to your grave instead of tell Nancy, fairly handsome and interested the hell out of you. It was the work ethic and motivation that concerned you.

"People are just mean, Y/n," you nodded in agreement, "you just need to focus on the assignment and if you're lucky, like you always are," she peered into your soul with that jealousy, "everything will go swimmingly."

Nancy Wheeler knew she spoke too soon when the doors to the lunchroom flung open with flair. She jumped and turned around in her seat when she saw your soul escape from your eyes.

"Hey! Mama!"

Jesus Fucking Christ.

He was holding the doll by its back leg, letting it dangle from his hand as if it were that black, metal lunchbox you convinced yourself had drugs tucked away in it. Eddie was looking directly at your table as though he had been searching for you for hours.

“Did he just—“ Nancy cut herself off as she watched him make his way toward the table. A group of preps flipped him off on the way and he gladly returned the bird with glee.

“He just called me ‘mama.’”

You put an arm defensively covering your face, shielding your eyes away from him as the Hellfire table furthered his amusement by cackling at him. Nancy whipped her head back around to you and felt the embarrassment roll off.

“It’s only a week,” she reminded you, “only about a week.”

Eddie’s feet landed at the end of the table and the girls at the end went silent. He was standing there, holding the doll by its hind leg, and quirked his head to the side. His eyes were entertained at the way you had blocked yourself away from him. The call of ‘mama’ making your skin crawl and elating him from far away. He could push a few buttons without feeling bad about it.

“You embarrassed of me, L/n?” He feigned hurt, “what’s our kid gonna think when he learns his parents don’t get along?”

“It’s a doll, Munson,” your hand that had been blocking your face hit the table hard. “It has no memories and will certainly, never, ever, grow up.”

“If Allen heard you say that he’d give us an F,” he walked around the table and took a seat beside you, legs spread as they caged you in from the side and he plopped the baby on the table with a thud. Its head face down on the table as its poorly drawn on strands of hair faced the ceiling. He was wearing double denim. A jacket filled with pins and patches, a chain hung from one loop of his pants to another and the red flannel he wore underneath it was left open to reveal a t-shirt for a band you had never heard of—holes littered the neckline that sat beneath a silver chain.

Across from you, Nancy sat rigid as she watched the way Eddie’s eyes watched you. A small smile playing on his face as one of his hands found themselves in his lap and the other elbow perched on the table beside the doll.

“We should probably talk about this, huh?” He asked, surprising you by actually wanting to talk about the assignment. You turned your head and looked at him, eyes bemused by his willingness to do so. Eddie recognized that, scoffing and reaching inside of his jean jacket to grab a pack of cigarettes before tapping one out. He slipped them back in and stuck the one he plucked from the pack between his lips.

“You know,” he glanced at you, then Nancy, then back at you, “when a teacher tells us we have to work together, I don’t expect to do all the talking.” He lit the cigarette with a puff and the girls at the end of the table began to complain. No one was allowed to smoke in the cafeteria—only the teacher's lounge and well, that was reserved for teachers.

“How do I know you actually want to talk about this?” You countered. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you turn in an assignment before.”

“You been takin’ notice of me, L/n?” He smiled wide, grabbing the cig with two fingers and tapping it onto the floor. “If you wanted to talk to me you could just do it, ya know? Don’t need to stare at me.”

“Wheeler,” he looked at Nancy who drew her brows together, the tight contortion of her face judging him without words. “You know your friend has been watching me? Should I put an ad in the paper for a bodyguard to protect me from my stalker?” Nancy didn’t reply because she had never held a conversation with Eddie before. She didn’t understand his humor, let alone the levity of his words as he blew smoke in her face and sat next to her best friend like a suave Casanova.

“Eddie,” you sighed, letting your gaze drift around the cafeteria and caught a few interested stares along with way. One teacher, Ms. Kirch–the freshman biology teacher with a hard-on for students willing to press her buttons—was walking around the perimeter on the other side. If she saw Eddie smoking, they’d both make a scene.

“I know you think school’s a joke but I’m not failing this just because you don’t want to do it.”

“Who said I don’t want to do this?” He furrowed his brows, shaking his head at you as he put the cigarette back to his lips. The red burning as he breathed in.

“Oh I don’t know… your attendance record, report cards, all previous group projects that I’ve never seen you show up for.”

“Those are all Ms. O’Donnell’s,” he defended, pointing a finger at you, “She’s a bitch and has it out for me.”

“I just want to know for sure that if we do this together, I won’t be left to do all the work at the end.”

Eddie saw the honesty in your eyes as you admitted it. He never truly understood what it meant to be an academic because it felt superficial. The attachment to good grades and praise that he never got, so, naturally, he never comprehended. You were a good student—a good person, rather. When he heard your name called after his and the snickers that followed, Eddie was reminded of the fact that you didn’t treat him like a ‘freak’ but a person. And hell, there was a first time for everything when he wanted to try something new. Completing a project because his partner didn’t treat him like dirt? Eddie could at least try it out.

“Why do you think I’m here?” He tapped the cigarette and the ash fell to the floor again. “If I’m going to graduate, I’ve gotta get this done too.”

You nodded slowly in observation. Eddie did not appear to be lying. That blasé attitude he had walked in with gradually decreasing the more you talked. Glancing again at Ms. Kirch who was directly across the room from you beside the table of jocks, the details of the week would be limited to a few seconds before she came charging over and causing a scene. You turned to the small stack of one notebook and history textbook that laid next to your tray. Ripping a paper out of it, you stole the pencil from Nancy’s stack and wrote down your address on it.

“Here,” you handed it to him and he looked over it with a smirk, “that’s my address and phone number. Kirch is going to bite your head off in a minute and we don’t have time to go over all the details so if you’re free later, stop over after school and we can divide everything out.” He knew where you lived. Three doors down from Gareth—his friend and band mate and also, another one of Hawkins’ finest on their way to repeating their final year of school and he was only a sophomore.

“Your parents aren’t gonna beat my ass or anything when I get there? I know I have a bit of a…” he clicked his tongue, tipping his head to the side, “reputation.”

The shrug you gave did not ease his concerns right away. However, the comment that followed made him realize that actually attempting to complete this project with you was a good thing. Maybe luck was finally giving him a chance.

“Not everyone in this town thinks you’re a freak, Munson,” you gave him a small smile, pointing your own finger to one of the buttons on his jacket, “besides, my dad’s favorite band is WASP. I think he’d like someone to talk about it with—even if just for a second.”

He smiled and Nancy Wheeler was taken aback by the scene in front of her. Seven minutes ago, you were in distress with the idea that Eddie Munson was going to be the worst partner imaginable and the cause of failure in senior health class. Now, you were offering him kind smiles and an invitation to your home with so much as his own words being enough to convince you that he wouldn’t leave you high and dry with an unpredictable doll.

Eddie grabbed the doll by its leg again, ready to escape before Kirch made her way but you could already hear her footsteps coming barreling your direction.

“I’ll take it now and bring it over later,” he nodded, sticking the cigarette between his lips again and letting it dangle there, “we should probably give it name instead of referring it as an ‘it.’”

“Mr. Munson!” That shrill voice made him cringe.

“Think about it. We’ll talk about it later, yeah?” He rose his eyebrows at you as if asking you to agree. You nodded, giving a small ‘yeah’ in response before he shot out of the seat.

“Mr. Munson, smoke outside if you must! Do you not understand the rules of this school?”

Behind you as he stood, Eddie turned toward Ms. Kirch. He let out a puff of smoke between his lips as her hand batted the fumes away from her face. The doll hanging on its one limb and swinging left to right as Eddie taunted her.

“Ms. Kirch,” he swooned, a few amused giggles sound from the tables around you as your head tipped over your shoulder, Eddie’s eyes flashed to yours as he played into her hand. “If you wanted to compliment my ability to break those so-called rules, you could at least have sounded excited to say it.”

“You put that out right now or you’ll be spending after school in detention and it’s going straight onto your record!”

“On my record!?” He laid his free hand on his chest, slowly backing up from where he was standing. Eddie was going to bolt because the old woman wouldn’t run after him. “Ms. Kirch, you know how much I respect my record,” he shook his head dramatically, hair vibrating with the shake as the bud sizzled again. “But, I have plans tonight so…”

The cigarette fell to the floor from his lips, cooling against the white tile as she went to protest. Eddie’s shoe squished it, extinguishing it, and once his foot lifted from the flattened cig, he ran. Ms. Kirch walked no more than two feet as brief laughter erupted in the area—sure they all made fun of Eddie and ostracized him from normal high school life but hell, if he didn’t bring a bit of joy to them when he pissed off the old lady that watched them all like a hawk in their freest period. A chuckle slipped out of you and she turned to you with a glare.

“Do you find this funny, Ms. L/n?”

She smelt like stale flowers and her lipstick was pearled in some spaces on her lips. Kirch was haggard and growing older every day.

“No, ma’am,” you shook your head at her and turned back around. Nancy was sitting with wide eyes, scared of the woman who lingered for a moment behind you before running off to find a janitor to clean up.

“Shit,” Nancy muttered quietly.

“What?”

“He’s deranged, Y/n. Deranged.”

“It’s only about a week, right, Nance? Only about a week.”

And that week would be the most interesting week of your life.

Eddie came over as he said that afternoon after school. At your kitchen table before your parents got home from work, you both devised a plan on how to go about taking care of the doll—and as Eddie had asked, you tried to think of a name but that was harder than it proved to be. He said the first thing that popped into his head and that was unfortunately, Bilbo.

Bilbo. A doll named after Bilbo Baggins from The Hobbit was the baby you had to take care of together.

It did not even matter that the doll was plastically formed with female anatomy because he said: “What’s in a name, anyway? It’s just a doll.”

So, Bilbo it was.

And Eddie offered to take it for the night because he had Hellfire on Friday’s when you had nothing, therefore you could swap in the morning and you’d go about the plan when the weekend arrived. The plan, however, was more than what you had originally believed needed to take place for the assignment. Nancy called you Thursday evening after Eddie had left to complain that Steve would be spending all of his free time helping Tammy with the doll and was blowing her off until Halloween—a whole week later. You hadn’t fully realized that what you and Eddie had planned to ensure that you’d both pass health this semester was essentially spending all of your time together [sans Tuesday when his band played at The Hideout and Friday when he had Hellfire].

You slept well Thursday with those thoughts lingering in the back of your mind. Nancy’s concerns were her concerns. She had confided in you that she and Steve were having issues anyway, so one more nail in the coffin did not appear to be as detrimental as she complained it was. If Steve and Nancy were on their final string, the end was imminent. When you woke on Friday, the first thing on your mind was how the night had gone for Eddie and if what Mr. Allen said was true about the babies, had he had an absolutely awful night being a ‘parent’ for the first time?

That question was answered rather quickly as you entered the hallway at seven-thirty.

“Mary! You can’t just leave me with the thing!”

“I am not taking it tonight!”

“It wants food and there’s no way to feed it!”

There were ‘couples’ fighting at every turn. As you passed Tammy Thompson’s locker, Steve looked like he wanted to pull his hair out.

“I can’t do it! I can’t do it!” He complained to her as he held the baby on his hip. It was a sight. Steve in his tight jeans and blue jacket, striped polo, to have a doll perched on his hip like it was real. Everyone was taking it seriously which made the entire situation feel less awkward and daunting.

You reached your own locker, twisting the combination while trying to snoop on Steve’s conversation five lockers down on your left.

“This thing never shuts up! I got no sleep last night and I don’t think I’ll even be able to go to the game tonight because I’m dragging ass!”

“Steve, come on…” Tammy trailed off because she had to sing the national anthem and could not bring the doll with her. But she should have—the doll could probably sing better than her.

“It’s not fair, Tammy!” Steve’s voice began to dwindle as he looked around and noticed people staring at him. He locked eyes with you over Tammy’s shoulder and sighed heavily.

Suddenly, the textbooks and folders in your locker became interesting—far more interesting than all the arguing going on in the hallway. Mr. Allen had made everything difficult intentionally. Splitting up groups so one person cared for the doll at a time before each group realized they couldn’t do it alone. The tactic was good, great even. The responsibilities of childcare and parenting obvious to those who had terrible nights and to those who hadn’t had realized it yet, the feelings were inbound.

As was Eddie. Charging down the hallway after barely hitting a gaggle of kids heading to the middle school in the parking lot and the doll, Bilbo, once again hanging from its hind leg as it swung. He called out your name so loud that even Steve had shut his mouth and stopped talking to Tammy. Eddie had one of those bad nights too. He strode right up to the side of your locker and had a crazed look on his face.

“What the fuck!?” He exclaimed, bags under his eyes. You couldn’t answer the question because you weren’t sure what had gone on.

“What?”

“What do you mean, ‘what’!? This thing,” he held it up like a captured possum, “kept me up all night with its relentless screaming and I couldn’t figure out how to turn it off!”

“I don’t think you can turn it off,” you commented, grabbing your science book and folder as your bag hung from the hook. “That’s not the point of the project. The point is to learn how to care for it, not turn it off.”

“Well,” he laughed cynically, “we were given a devil child. Literally the spawn of goddamn Satan because it doesn’t want to be cared for.”

“I thought we weren’t calling it ‘it’ anymore. Bilbo, remember?”

“Bilbo is too kind of name for this thing. It’s Lucifer… fucking… Sauron!”

“I can’t get on-board with Sauron,” you bit back a smile at his suffering, “But your duty is over now, right? Just leave Bilbo with me and we can meet up tomorrow and swap.”

“You’re not going to be able to do it alone,” he said it honestly, like he was terrified of the watermelon sized piece of plastic. You glanced around the hallway and saw all the partners having conversations similar, but all the same different, like the one you were having with Eddie. He was having an internal battle with himself—realizing that he actually had to do this and that when looking back on his own life, if this is what having a child was like, he could not imagine how his parents got through high school having him at sixteen. He had just turned eighteen and could barely keep it together and it was a doll named after a character from a children’s book.

“Do you not believe I can?” You questioned him yet he shook his head, taking note of the things in your locker instead of looking at you.

“That thing is a monster and if it’s not waking you up, it’s eating away all your free time. If it’s not eating away at your free time, it’s taking up all the time spent doing things that matter. It sucks the joy out of life without even taking a real breath.”

“Those are harsh words, Munson,” a sigh left your lips as you gripped your locker door. He was looking at the two Polaroids that were stuck on the door with tape. You and Nancy on the Fourth of July and then you with a group of little kids a few Halloween’s back dressed as character’s from Star Wars. You were hugging a curly haired Han Solo that had no teeth. “But maybe you just don’t have the parental touch that it needs.”

“What are you saying?” He narrowed his eyes, “That I’m neglecting Bilbo’s needs?”

“Maybe,” you shut your locker, “But either way, you have Hellfire and I agreed to take ‘em off your hands today so,” you grabbed Bilbo from him and perched him like Steve had perched his doll. Something stuck inside Eddie in that moment. It was a goddamn doll and he was sleep deprived, so he conflated his bubbling feelings of whatever the hell spurred inside of him to that. You looked cute holding the doll like that.

“We can talk about it tomorrow, alright? If anything needs to change, we have time to discuss it. Don’t get all worried.”

Eddie shook his head, running both of his hands through his hair and over his bangs before bringing them back down.

“You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into, mama.”

And then he walked away. You didn’t know what you were getting yourself into, but, certainly it couldn’t be as bad as he was making it because sometimes, people could be dramatic—and Eddie Munson was the dictionary definition of the word. Always had been, always would be, and maybe, he was playing with the truth.

For three hours it had gone swimmingly. Bilbo made no noise.

But the minute Mr. Grosso put the Spanish test on your desk, the doll wailed so loud it made a girl scream from the other side of the room and you missed the test because it cried for thirty minutes in the bathroom before you could calm it down.

You swore you could hear the popping of his muffler three miles away. The blinds on the living room window comically split into two by your fingers, you peered out in anticipation you had gone to sleep feeling. Not quite butterflies but a nervous, anxious energy that kept you tossing and turning through the night. Along with Bilbo—the baby had kept you tossing and turning to the point where you felt crazy.

When you got home, you realized that the doll had smelt like weed and cigarettes but the distinct smell of Eddie’s cologne tried to cover it up. He had sprayed that doll with so much liquid that it had become ingrained into its clothes and soft body. You ripped off the onesie it was wearing and dunked it in the laundry immediately. And again, for the first few hours you managed to get your homework done for the weekend without much interruption until your parents got home.

They were utterly amused with the project and kept repeating that it was good for “skill building and responsibility.” You rolled your eyes and told them what Eddie had said about his night, expecting the same for your own and sure enough, it was like walking through the pits of hell.

Bilbo’s journey, Frodo’s journey… neither of them had the same horror of the screaming baby doll sitting on your comforter at two in the morning. Hour after hour, all you wanted to do was cry because it wasn’t responding to any of the tactics you had used when you would babysit. No rocking, no shushing, no gentle strokes, and just as the others complained in the hall, you couldn’t change its diaper or feed it. The solutions to ease its complications were non-existent.

Eddie rung you at eleven thirty saying he’d be over ‘in a bit’ and you stood at the window in your living room while your dad watched TV and your mom cooked lunch. The doll laying quietly on the sofa beside him for the first time in a half hour.

“So,” your dad cleared his throat as the program changed at noon, “what’s Eddie Munson like as a partner? I know his uncle Wayne from the plant.”

“He’s fine thus far,” you muttered, not tearing your eyes away from the window.

“You know this doll smells like a skunk.”

“It’s weed, dad,” you said so casually his eyebrows rose, “and it’s Eddie’s, not mine. And no, I don’t smoke.”

“I wasn’t going to ask,” he laughed but he would have. Not that he cared in the slightest if you did, that was all mom. Mom cared about reputation and manners and whether or not you’d have yellow teeth by the time you’re fifty. “But is he treating you alright?”

“What do you mean?” You looked away from the window and back at him, “We’re not really a couple, you know. It’s just a project,”

“I know, I know,” he clarified, waving you off like you had taken the comment too seriously, “as a partner. Not making you feel uncomfortable or anything?”

He might know Wayne, but the label of ‘freak’ extended beyond school. Eddie Munson flew around town in his beat up van playing his metal music at the highest level, smoked and loitered outside of stores, and very frequently, jested with the people of Hawkins to amuse his merry band of oddities.

“Eddie’s a good guy, dad,” you lamented, “so what if he likes metal and plays D&D.”

“D&D?”

“Yeah,” you furrowed your brows at him, “what did you think he did? He literally named the doll after Bilbo Baggins.”

“I thought Hellfire was…”

“What the mothers at the grocery store say it is?” You scoffed and turned back to the window, Eddie’s van turning the corner at the end of the block. “It’s a D&D club. I told him he’d probably get along with you too so try not to accuse him of worshiping the Devil, ‘Kay? That’s like… the furthest thing from the truth.”

He just nodded as you defended Eddie, a little smile on his face because he knew you so well. You were a good kid, a smart kid, but oblivious sometimes. If Steve Harrington had been your partner and he inquired about Steve’s role as a partner, you would have rolled your eyes and ended the conversation there. Eddie pulled into the driveway and you grabbed the baby off the couch, marching to the door. Opening it wide, he hadn’t even exited the van before you were standing there. Split between the wooden door and the glass one, pumpkins littered the small deck and a wreath rested on the door behind your head.

You had a cute house. It was simple and friendly, something his trailer was not. Eddie saw you standing there with a flat face and Bilbo in your hands and he laughed in his car. You could see his elated face burst with laughter; it irritated you but you couldn’t help thinking the sight was special. How often he had been smiling and laughing in your presence and a little butterfly sprouted in the pit of your stomach.

Eddie tossed the keys between his palms as he lazily approached the door, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Looks like someone had a rough night,” he commented a few feet from you as you unlocked the glass door and propped it open. “Didn’t believe me when I said it was Satan?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lied, putting on a face for him to prove you could handle the stress of taking care of a plastic doll. “Bilbo was a saint. Slept through the night.”

Eddie reached the door, holding onto the silver handle so you could let go.

“Yeah?” He questioned, “tell that to your face, sweetheart. You got no sleep and you look like you walked through Mordor.”

“Do you always reference Lord of the Rings or is it just to prove you read?” You squinted your eyes at him.

“One, I do read,” Eddie entered your house and stood across from you in the small doorway. The doll separating you, he looked down, you looked up. “And two, Bilbo likes it when I talk about familiar things,” He gave a wide, toothy smile before grabbing the doll out of your hands and moving into the entryway.

“You know, this kind of feels like how I’d imagine kids of divorce feel.”

“Like being pawned off by their parents every other day because rules told them to?” You shut the door behind you, pressing it closed with the thud. You pointed to his shoes and directed him to take them off to where a mat sat beside the wooden table with a mirror hanging above it.

“Mhm,” he hummed as he slipped them off. He was wearing matching socks. “Poor ‘lil Bilbo Munson-L/n… separated by the rules written on the back of Mr. Richard’s history test.”

You scoffed, walking past him and down the hallway as he struggled with his right shoe. In a matter of seconds, his socked feet patted against the wood flooring and caught up with you.

“My parents are home so don’t be weird or anything,” you muttered and he caught himself nodding at the direction instead of responding with the sarcastic remark because of the way you said it. ‘Don’t be weird or anything,’ as if he was not already labeled that way or saw himself as ‘weird.’ Yes, Eddie was unique and full of a million things you weren’t sure fit a narrative of ‘normal,’ but it didn’t mean he was weird. He was just Eddie.

You rounded a small archway that revealed a living room and an older man sitting on the couch watching the tv. His eyes left the screen and met Eddie’s—who was immediately more reserved than he had thought he’d be. He was nervous, suddenly. Standing in your home, with your father in one room and mother in another, with the task of caring for a baby together looming over his head like a cloud. It was ridiculous and confusing but all the same exciting and challenging for him.

“This is, um,” you glanced at Eddie to put him on the spot. He opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out at first. He was holding the baby like a real baby and moved it to extend his hand to your dad.

“Eddie. Eddie Munson. Thanks for letting us use your house,” he said as cool as he could. Your dad looked at his hand, taking not a second later to grip it strongly and shake it.

You noticed the way Eddie’s eyes lit up at being welcomed. His hesitancy dissipating as your dad asked him a question, yet all you could do was watch him. The feeling was odd. Watching Eddie interact with your father was like watching a significant other be terrified to meet the parents for the first time. It was terrifying how quickly that idea not only came to your mind, but felt normal.

Conversations between the two of you before being assigned partners had been totaled at three.

And now Eddie Munson was talking to your dad about their shared connection to Wayne Munson in the middle of your living room.

And for some reason, the sight of it was something you wouldn’t be mad about becoming a normal occurrence.

“I hear you play D&D?” He asked Eddie who glanced at you, already looking at him, before nodding and turning back to your dad. He hadn’t expected you to have talked about him at all.

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“You know,” Rising from the couch, “She babysits some kids that play it. They’re quite the rambunctious bunch but have nothing on that… what did you say its name was?” He asked you, but Eddie answered at the same time you did.

“Bilbo.”

He laughed, repeating the name as he turned toward another archway that led to the kitchen and tipped his head in that direction.

“We never had to do a project like that but I think it’ll do you both good.”

Your mom was standing in the kitchen making grilled cheeses and stirring tomato soup on the stove. She turned her head over her shoulder and gave Eddie a smile. He returned it as his eyes flicked all over the space. He took in the pictures on the wall, the types of plates your family used, the way the sink had a window overlooking the backyard and there was a dog outside on a leash laying on the brick patio. Eddie didn’t have this life. He walked to the patio door and looked out at the yard.

“You gotta pretty nice house here, L/n,” he mumbled as you came to stand beside him. His fingers digging into the plush body of Bilbo as a bit of his hardened shell began to tell him he was out of place.

“It’s nice, yeah,” you admitted, “but it’s a carbon copy of all the houses in this neighborhood.”

He hadn’t put two and two together and noticed the layout was similar to Gareth’s down the street.

“You con your parents to be nice to me too?” He glanced at you as if looking for a conspiracy. That somehow, nothing in his life was this easy. That there was a superficial reason talking to you came easy; that there was a mysterious reason your parents accepted him even if he wore a leather jacket and Motörhead t-shirt and a spattering of rings on his fingers. You weren’t necessarily friends in any way, but he felt comfortable. He looked into your eyes and felt secure because of what? Kindness? The noticeable attention of a girl finally making him soft?

“No,” you said honestly, “just told them a bit about who you were. That’s all. Are you going to stay?”

“Stay?”

“I just thought,” you felt your mouth go dry with his question. Perhaps you were being too forward or not thinking clearly because the sight of him being domestic with a doll had awakened a sleeping giant inside of you. His big, brown, cow-like eyes scanned over your face as you stuttered. “I just thought it’d be easier for both of us the longer we did it together.”

“Oh,” was the sound that escaped between his lips and you immediately began retracting your words. Your parents watched the two of you from the other side of the counter with knowing looks in their eyes.

“It’s fine!” You laughed nervously. “You don’t have to stay. I was just shooting the shit; you know? I’m not trying to keep you from your plans or anything… my mom makes a real mean gc and—“

“—I’ll stay.” Eddie cut in and you stopped rambling, letting the words fall from your lips as he nodded. “I want to stay.”

“O-Okay, um,” you looked into those brown eyes a second longer than you should have before peaking past him and to your parents who tried to appear occupied with cooking. “Eddie’s gonna stay for a bit, if that’s fine.”

“Yeah, hun,” your mom kept her back turned to you and stirred the pot. “He’s always welcome.”

Always welcome.

He had to have hit the lottery with this one. A good, pretty partner and a space to escape to that welcomed him without judgement? He was either in the first circle of Hell or ascending to peace yet his feet were planted on the ground—not a foot from your own.

Eddie spent the entire afternoon there. When the sun fell and the moon rose high, you yawned on the floor of your basement and he knew that it was far past a normal time to spend sitting around, laughing and trying to sooth the unexplainable outbursts of Bilbo. His face hurt from the stupid smile that he couldn’t wipe from his face once the two of you had figured out that the doll had sensors under its arms and swaddling helped stop the crying until another unexplained outburst required attention.

When he walked to his van with the doll swaddled in his arms like a real baby, he turned back as he opened the door and shot one last look to the house where you were still standing to bid him goodbye. Eddie didn’t want to leave. He felt his heart squeeze when you gave him a small wave, illuminated by the yellow lighting of the hallway behind you. Shit. He got into the van and sped off before pulling into Gareth’s driveway and pounded on the door.

You shut the front door and with a lock, your dad turned off the tv in the living room before walking into the hallway to meet you there. Both headed to bed, he put an arm around your shoulders and squeezed.

“We gonna talk about that or no?” He asked.

“About what?”

“That!” He laughed as you felt your face heat up. Rising on the Kelvin scale, you felt a spotlight shrink itself onto you. “You gotta little crush there, darlin’ and to be frank, I think he might too.”

“Dad!” You complained, jostling out of his grip and walking more quickly toward your bedroom. “I don’t like Eddie!”

“Yeah, sure you don’t,” he chuckled as you pushed opened your bedroom door and slammed it closed in embarrassment. “But really, you do.”

Eddie pounded on Gareth’s door for three minutes but no one was coming to the door. Desperate, he put his ear to the wood and heard the distinct thumping of drums echoing throughout the house and contemplated for a moment. He could keep knocking and draw the attention of the neighbors and get the cops called on him for suspicious behavior, or, he could go around to the back and knock on Gareth’s window in hopes that it was closer and louder.

He jumped off the stoop and made for the window. Inside, Gareth was head banging as he played Iron Maiden on his drums and had a literal lava lamp reflecting off the symbols. Eddie put his fist to the glass and waited for a break in the beats to thump. Gareth jumped, a scream emitting from his mouth as his sticks went flying across his room and Eddie waved a hand at him from the other side.

“What the fuck, man?” Gareth opened the window and nearly shivered at the cool, October air. “Why are you here? The cops after you?”

“I just spent eight hours in Y/n L/n’s basement taking care of a goddamn baby and eating her mother’s food.”

“Shit,” Gareth laughed, “that sounds like a fuckin’ dream if you ask me.”

“It’s a nightmare, Gareth. A fucking nightmare.”

“Why?” The floppy hair Gareth had been sporting fell into his eyes as they contorted in confusion. “She’s a nice girl. Her old man helps mine when the cars busted.”

“Of course he does!” Eddie pushed off the windowsill and put his hands above his head, breathing in deeply.

“What? He threaten you or something?”

“No, they were,” Eddie’s face scrunched as if it pained him to say the word, “perfect.”

“Then…” Gareth motioned with his hand for Eddie to continue.

“That’s it! They were perfect! She’s perfect, man!” Then, he let a slew of curses leave his mouth and disappear into the night sky. Gareth laughed, letting a long ‘ahhhhh’ direct itself toward the guitarist.

“Eddie Munson,” he leaned into the bedside table by the window, “in love with the girl next door.”

“FUCK!” Eddie yelled with his hands in his hair.

And he still had a week left to take care of Bilbo with you.

Part 2 Here

𝘀𝗲𝗰𝗿𝗲𝘁 𝗻𝗲𝗿𝗱

another blurb, boyfriend!steve and dustin finding out you're a tolkien nerd. short and sweet

warning: did not proofread this at all, pls forgive some mistakes.

“No, Steve. The Shire is in Middle earth.” Dustin was on the brink of no longer being excited about this.

Eddie had, yet again, made a Lord of the Rings reference. This time Steve decided it would be best to just ask what the hell everyone’s talking about. He was sick of being confused about the nerd stuff Dustin and Eddie were always talking about.

You walked into Family Video before Steve had the chance to reply. Which is a good thing considering he was about to smack Dustin.

“Hey, Stevie.” You walked toward the register and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “Henderson.” You reached over and flicked his cap. “What’re my boys talking about?”

“The Shire.” Dustin sighed, remembering what the topic was before you walked in. “Your boyfriend is having trouble understanding Middle earth.”

“Yeah, and Dustin is being a jerk about it.” Steve grabbed your hand over the counter and directed you to walk around it. He flung his arm around your shoulders, kissing your forehead when you looked up at him. “Missed you, angel.”

“Missed you more.” You brought your hand up and held his. “I can explain it you by the way; I’ll definitely be a lot nicer than Dustin.”

You had never talked to Steve about Lord of the Rings. It’s not like you were consciously keeping it out of conversation, it just never really came up. You also didn’t think Steve would be thrilled to sit through a thorough explanation of the one ring.

“You read Tolkien?” Dustin’s eyebrows were scrunched up in confusion. He felt like that was information he should’ve known by now. He looked over at Steve, almost hurt that he would keep this kind of thing from him. “You knew about this and didn’t say anything? Are you ashamed that your girlfriend is a nerd?” He shook his head. “I thought you were better than that, Steve.”

“Shut up, Henderson. I didn’t know.” Steve’s eyes met yours. “Not that I’m saying you’re a nerd just ‘cause you know about this ring stuff. Well maybe you are? Is that okay to call you? What really even is a nerd?”

You watched Steve ramble on with an amused look on your face, wondering when he would finally put a stop to himself and when he didn’t you put your hand on his cheek. “Breathe, love. Nerd is okay. I am a nerd, self-proclaimed.” You watched him let out a breath.

“Right, what’s your favorite book?” Dustin snapped his fingers to get you to look back at him.

“I think Fellowship, just ‘cause it introduced a darker side to Tolkien compared to The Hobbit but The Silmarillion is a second favorite, gave us such an in depth understanding of Middle Earth.” You could visibly see the happiness grow in Dustin’s eyes as you spoke.

“Eddie’s gonna shit himself when I tell him this.”

“Oh no! Munson’s always had a little crush on you, now it’s gonna be a full blown one.” Steve rolled his eyes at the thought of the long-haired idiot making nerdy heart eyes at you.

“He does not.” You smacked your boyfriend’s shoulder.

“No, he’s totally right. Now he’s really never going to shut up about how Steve doesn’t deserve you.”

“He says that?” Steve was giving an angry pout. He slid his arms around your waist and hooked his chin over your shoulder. “Tell the freak to find his own hot nerd girlfriend.”

"why do you like-"

Oh, Baby, it’s Halloween

Summary: you and Eddie raise a baby… only you’re not a couple and the baby isn’t real… and now Tina’s Halloween party changes the trajectory of your lives forever. Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader [WC: 10k] Warnings: language, discussion of drugs, idiots in love, you all have been too kind which makes me nervous to post this. Quick Links: Masterlist | Part One | Part Two

“What about this one?”

From the other end of the rack, Gareth held up a pair of pants high above his head. Eddie took in the look carefully before shaking his own.

“No holes, remember? I literally just said that like a second ago.”

Who knew picking out clothes for Halloween would be so hard?

“I don’t know why you even have to dress up. Most of the guys will just throw on a leather jacket and call it a day. Greasers from the fuckin’ Outsiders or some shit,” Gareth mumbled as he put the pants back in the lineup of the other hundred pairs on the rack.

Hawkins thrift had a hefty supply of men’s pants with and without holes because the rich and fortunate changed fashion quickly.

Small blessings for those living paycheck to paycheck.

“That’s practically what I wear every day,” Eddie sighed, sifting through the opposite end where a pair of Levi’s in vomit green disgusted him. “And I just have to look the part, alright? It’s one night.”

“Look the part,” his friend snorted, “you’re just trying to impress her. You could wear a potato sack and if she liked you in that, impressing her would be the least of your problems.”

“Is that so bad?” Eddie stopped browsing and stared down at Gareth.

“What? Trying to impress her?”

“Yes,” Eddie answered bluntly causing Gareth to breath in deeply.

To Gareth, no, it wasn’t a bad thing. High school was a zoo and for freaks like Eddie and himself everything was like walking in a glass cage. They were oddities; stickers on pristine windows that said ‘kick me’ and ‘dunce.’ He figured long ago that happiness was something not given or sought, but uncovered from personal discovery and self-preservation.

Eddie walked a tightrope.

One week ago he was assigned a partner that Gareth had passed in the hallway intermittently and thought, ‘oh, she’s cute,’ but Eddie never mentioned her. He didn’t talk about girls the way the jocks or preps talked about them; he didn’t ogle often at the cheerleaders in their little skirts because Eddie’s doctrine told him it was rude—even if he was as hormonal as the rest. He harbored those feelings like a scared little boy and now here he was, with Gareth in Hawkins’ only thrift store, trying to find the perfect pieces for a Halloween costume on a Thursday afternoon for one girl.

Gareth wanted Eddie to be happy. The curly-haired sophomore just didn’t trust people to not play a game with his best friend. He didn’t want to see the person he looked up to most be the laughing stock of high school because he fell head over heels for you.

“No,” he answered honestly, “it’s not a bad thing. I mean,” Gareth snorted, “if Katie Yang told me tomorrow she loved me, I would run off in the sunset with her and never return.”

Eddie barked a laugh. It would never happen. He was pretty sure his fellow senior member of Hellfire swung a very different way—but he couldn’t let Gareth’s dreams of marrying her falter. It would make Gareth too sad to even participate in Eddie’s campaigns.

“Yeah, well,” Eddie went back to searching, “she’s my Katie Yang.”

“How about these then?” Gareth held up another pair and for what Eddie needed them for, they were perfect. He left his spot at the end of the rack, snatching them from his friend's hands and grinned.

“Perfect.”

“Click got me with a pop quiz today,” Nancy whined as she leaned against your locker early Friday afternoon. She had her chin tucked against her chemistry textbook and trapper keeper.

“I don’t know anything about the War of 1812!”

“Does anyone know anything about the war of 1812?” You countered yet her disappointed face did not lift. Yes, some kids knew what had taken place but Nancy missed the lesson. She missed the lesson yesterday because all she was thinking about was how the relationship between herself and Steve was bullshit.

Bullshit. The exact word that you had used to describe it before Eddie swept you away.

“Linda Fischer did! And that Buckley girl that plays the trumpet? She knew all about it; answered nearly every question when it was over.”

“Maybe it’s because they have no life and just study all the time?”

Nancy scoffed, “I study all the time too and look where that got me.”

“It’s just one quiz, Nance,” you swapped your red calculus notebook for the blue history one. Bilbo was perched inside of your locker as you went about collecting your things for the next hour. “I don’t think your grade will suffer.”

Steve’s booming laughter echoed in the hallway.

“Doubt it,” Nancy muttered bitterly as the clang of lockers being hit sounded behind her. Steve smiled radiantly as he tossed a baseball in his hand—it was October, in the middle of bum-fuck-nowhere Indiana, and he still managed to find and toss a baseball for fun.

“Doubt what?” He smacked his gum loudly as Nancy turned to copy the way he leaned against the lockers beside yours.

“Click’s pop quiz on the War of 1812,” you cut in before Nancy could. Everyone was required to take Junior American History and everyone remembered that pop quiz well… simply because everyone failed it.

“Oo,” Steve scrunched his nose, “Click is one haggard old broad, isn’t she?”

“The most haggard,” Nancy sighed. Steve peered over her shoulder and tipped his head at Bilbo.

“How’s the baby?”

“Baby is doing just fine, Steve. Just fine.”

“Yeah, mine too,” he winked as if what you said was a joke when it was far from it. Bilbo had mellowed out quite well, actually. It felt like a glitch in the system in many ways but the doll barely made a noise anymore. Two or three tantrums a day made life with Bilbo Munson-L/n a breeze.

“And Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson? What’s he like as a partner?” Steve questioned, “you seem to get on well.”

“Why? Because I’m nice to him?”

“I’m nice to him!” He took your words defensively, “doesn’t mean he isn’t a freak.”

“He’s a good partner, great, even. And you are not nice to him. Last year, you and Tommy would shoot spitballs at Hellfire every day until Higgins told you to stop.”

“That was Tommy’s idea.” He still went along with it. The amusement Steve still felt from the prank made your stomach turn.

“Eddie’s actually trying. We’re doing rather well I’d like to think.”

“Tell that to Tammy and Greg when he didn’t do his project in O’Donnell’s last spring. He nearly cost them their own grades.”

“Well,” you gripped the door to your locker. As you did, your thumb grazed that picture of you and the boys as Star Wars characters a few Halloween’s back. “O’Donnell’s a bitch. She has it out for everyone.”

That’s exactly what Eddie had told you.

“Yeah, right,” Steve said in disbelief, “he put you up to this? Makin’ everyone believe he’s actually gonna graduate on time like the rest of us?”

“Steve,” you huffed. He was angry he wasn’t succeeding at project parenthood and you and Eddie were. The fact that he and Nancy had barely spoken two sentences to each other that entire week also increased his belligerence.

“We’re all managing the best we can. Eddie’s a good partner. It surprised me too but here we are, almost done, and he’s done nothing but stay true to his word.”

Well, mostly. You tried to forget about the school day on Wednesday.

“He giving you free weed or something to get him a good grade? I heard he’s gonna deal the party which means it’s only gonna be fun for an hour before everyone is high and annoying.”

“Hey,” Nancy narrowed her eyes at Steve, “why is everything a deal? If she says he’s a good partner, then he’s a good partner. End of story.”

“So, you’re defending Munson now too?” He rose his eyebrows high beneath his three strands of hair that fell onto his forehead. “Jesus… it’s the literal apocalypse. Apocalypse!”

“I’m not having this conversation with you.”

Done with Steve’s antics, Nancy turned her body away from Steve and back to how she was originally standing. Inside, her mind was fighting every physical urge to apologize and revert back to her timid self of one year ago.

But she could feel the way your demeanor changed when Steve began cutting on Eddie. You were her friend—best friend—and Nancy Wheeler would be dammed if her boyfriend was going to make you feel that way.

Steve was growing. However, he was far from perfect.

“Nance, come on…” Steve complained as he rested his head on her shoulder. She ignored him the best she could at the moment.

“Are you going to the game tonight? Last one for the year,” football game. Nancy’s wide eyes were hopeful that she wouldn’t be stuck standing by a wild Steve and the popular kids she didn’t like.

“No,” you shook your head, grabbing Bilbo out of the locker and shutting it. “I’ve got Bilbo and I have to study for that Spanish test from last week when I get home.”

“You had Bilbo yesterday! What happened to Eddie doing his fair share?”

“He has Hellfire tonight and when we went through our plans, I told him I would take the doll when he had his club. He swapped Sunday so if you aren’t hungover from the party, we can get breakfast or something.”

Steve wrapped his arms around Nancy’s waist, pulling her tightly against him as she breathed out heavily.

“Fine,” she grumbled, “but you’re picking up the tab.”

“You’re really going to study for a Spanish test on a Friday night?” Steve asked, brow quirked and judgmental.

“Tell me, Steve,” you shut your locker, “with Halloween and all of my other homework on Sunday, when would I have time to study for the test? Some of us do study and I know that might surprise you.”

“Ouch,” he winced, pouting as Nancy tried to wiggle from his grasp, “You’re being mean. I blame Munson. He’s corrupting you.”

“Blame away,” you began walking backwards from the two lovers as the clock ticked rapidly toward the end of passing period. “I rather like the person I’m turning into.”

“Have you thought about your costume yet?”

As you stepped out of Clay’s calculus class, Eddie snatched the homework (that the teacher had been passing out not a moment before) from your hands.

He had left Click’s history class five minutes early to catch you before Nancy drove you home. To make frivolous conversation, he asked about calculus and joked about you getting a tutor which left him burned when you told him he should get a tutor too—for all of his classes.

A few hours earlier, he had seen Nancy and Steve snug as a bug beside your locker as the hair’s arrogant attitude turned two faces sour. Eddie had observed it in passing; walking out of the lunchroom with the rest of the Hellfire members he shared it with only to pass your locker without you noticing because the two lovebirds held your attention.

The look on your face then was different than it was now. Relaxed, gratified. Another week was completed and Halloween was tomorrow.

“So…?” You waved a hand in front of his face. Eddie was staring into space; the kind where you don’t realize it because your thoughts are running either a million miles per second or not moving at all.

“Hm?” He asked, standing a bit straighter after realizing he hadn’t answered your question.

“Have you thought about your Halloween costume yet?” You questioned again as you slipped another notebook into your backpack.

“Got it yesterday, actually,” Eddie’s grin made your stomach flutter. He had that devilish smirk that made the football players angry as he stood on tables and jeered at their dull ignorance of being jocks.

“And it is what?”

“A surprise,” his eyes flicked to the pictures in your locker and this time, you caught him looking. Backing up a bit, the hand that wasn’t holding your backpack by its handle traced the edges of the pictures and plucked them off one by one from their spots.

“This one is from the Fourth of July last year,” you motioned for Eddie to take it and he did. “Nancy’s mom had us take all the kids to the fireworks at the fairgrounds.”

“Ah, the fireworks,” Eddie recalled, “pretty sure last year I graffitied Mayor Kline’s garage door the same time those were going on.”

“You didn’t,” you put the other picture in your hand up to your lips, hiding your mouth in bewilderment that he would openly admit to that. That shit made the news.

“Oh, but I did,” Eddie declared in a whispered excitement. The way he scrunched his nose at your disbelief made you beam from underneath the picture. “In big fat letters: if you repeat a lie enough, it becomes the truth.”

“In protest of Kline’s decision to build that mall? He was going to sell Forest Hill’s land, right?” You removed the picture from your mouth as the reality of his act of political artistic expression came to full realization. Eddie didn’t do things like that just to get a rise out of people. He did it because he hated the guy and without protest, who knew where he would be living at the moment.

“Yes, ma’am,” he held his chin out proudly, “saved the people of the trailer park. Local hero and all…” he boasted with a smile before handing back the first picture.

“So, you and Wheeler have been friends for a bit?”

“Since we were little,” you nodded your head and stuck that picture back onto the metal locker. Eddie took the second one you offered. “Our parents went to school together and I guess they’re not in the same tax bracket anymore but Karen Wheeler and my mom still get together every Sunday to talk shit about Nancy’s dad.”

“Not yours?” Eddie snickered.

“No,” you dropped your backpack on the ground and faced him fully, “my parents get along just fine. But these little dweebs,” you pointed your finger at the boys in the photo, “are the same ones from the car the other day.”

“This one,” he pointed to Mike, “is Wheeler’s brother.”

“Mike,” you gave him an ‘uh-huh,’ “and this here is Will Byers—who I don’t babysit,” you looked up at him, “and these two… these two are the worst offenders of them all.”

Eddie hardly doubted that. Two cheeky smiles hanging onto your shoulders as your arms wrapped around theirs. A curly haired Han Solo and a grinning Luke Skywalker.

“Dustin Henderson and Lucas Sinclair. I’ve babysat them since I was like… eight.”

“You’re good with kids then?” He quirked a brow, genuinely asking.

Every second he could spend getting to know you better he grasped tightly.

“I guess,” he looked back at the picture and saw the joy on those kids faces. They were happy to be there; they were happy to be in your presence and he couldn’t blame them in the slightest. “It’s as good as a job as any but I don’t know if I’ll ever want my own. Maybe if the right circumstances present themselves I’ll change my mind.”

“But they’ve got nothing on Bilbo, right?”

“Oh, no,” you laughed and grabbed the picture back, “Bilbo runs circles around them. Doesn’t talk back, does his homework on time…”

“Are you going to bring Bilbo to Tina’s? Not really sure Sandra Dee would be seen carrying a baby.”

“My dad offered to make sure any tantrums would be dealt with. We are free to live our lives as childless parents,” you joked and Eddie imagined this Halloween but also a hundred more. “You can pick him up when you drop me off.”

Childless or not. A part of him couldn’t imagine it without you.

“You have,” Eddie cleared his throat, eyes darting around the hallway before landing back to you, “you have really nice parents, by the way.”

“Thanks,” taken aback by his honesty, “I mean, I think they’re just like everyone else’s but yeah, I guess they’re nice.”

“Not everyone’s parents would have let me stay at their house all afternoon,” he shoved his hands into his jacket’s pockets and leaned against the lockers with a slouch. “Some of us drew the short straw in that department.”

Eddie never talked about his home life. You knew of Wayne because he worked at the plant with your dad, but no one ever really talked about it. In sixth grade, he was out for a week because his mom died. The teacher passed around a card for you all to sign yet no one said a word when he returned.

“Well,” you shrugged to pretend it wasn’t as heavy as it seemed, “the families we’re given don’t have to be the ones we choose. These kids,” you pointed to the picture you just put back, “are my family even if we don’t share any blood.”

“You know,” Eddie gazed at you with tender eyes that you wouldn’t have caught if you weren’t in tune with your own emotions. “You’re a little too smart for your own good.”

You laughed, grinning from ear to ear as you leaned down to grab your backpack again. “Not at math, though.”

“No,” Eddie shook his head. He ducked his head, feeling the heat creep onto his neck until it found its way on his cheeks. His hair hid what you couldn’t see. You grabbed your science textbook and Bilbo before closing your locker. When he willed the tint away, he watched the way you adjusted the bag on your shoulders with one hand as you held Bilbo in the other.

“I guess not math.”

“I’d rather have the emotional intelligence anyway,” tossing your head in the direction of the door, Eddie animatedly sprung himself from the lockers and back into the emptying hallway. Two cheerleaders nearly ran into him and he lifted his arms like he had been caught for murder.

Emotional intelligence. If you had stronger, clearer emotional intelligence you would have taken the initiative to ask Eddie out. You would have realized your crush on him was firm and unyielding enough to warrant an actual date.

But the “not date, date” of Tina’s Halloween party loitered between the two of you. Neither had mentioned the “not date” besides the costumes you were going to wear that wouldn’t match.

As you navigated the halls together to exit the building, Eddie walked beside you and every so often, his arm would brush yours. Not on accident.

“Dustin and those kids, they’re in middle school?”

“Eighth graders…” just the thought that next fall they’d be in high school made you feel really old. “They’ll be coming here next year.”

“I’ll have to tell Gareth about them,” he said, “maybe when I’m gone he can recruit them for Hellfire.”

“You gonna graduate on time, Munson?” You smiled, knocking your shoulder into the arm that kept grazing you. As dramatically as Eddie could, he stumbled and rubbed his arm like it hurt.

“That’s offensive, you know that?” He feigned insult. “If I don’t, I’ll just welcome them myself. The lost sheepies are the ones that are easiest to catch.”

“Lost sheepies,” you repeated softly. Eddie pattered his way back beside you.

“They’d probably like you a lot,” you told him when he returned. “Will would take a minute to warm up to you but I think Dustin would cling to you. He likes the… weird ones.”

“First I’m not gonna graduate on time and now I’m weird?” Eddie threw his head back. “You’re killin’ me today with this defamation.”

Defamation. ‘Where the hell did that come from,’ Eddie thought to himself.

“I don’t think you being weird is a bad thing, Eddie,” Eddie. Not Munson or anything else. It was something he’d never tire of hearing. “You just embrace it. Weird is cool—even if Billy or Tammy or Carol don’t think so.”

“You’re pretty weird yourself, mama.”

The end of the hallway was quickly approaching and Eddie jogged forward, opening the door for you and holding open.

“Thanks,” you told him, “for both the… compliment and the door.”

“It’s what fellow weirdos do for each other,” at the end of the walkway, Eddie realized he was going in one direction and you the other.

The end of Friday had been reached. Only the Halloween party was left.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then, yeah?” He asked as if the answer wasn’t clear. You nodded, head giving an enthusiastic bob you’d be thinking over later.

“How will I know what to look for if you don’t tell me what your going as?” You shouted as he walked toward his van. There wasn’t a part of you that cared what other people thought anymore.

Carol and Billy get fucked. There was only one life you’d remember and you’d be dammed if Eddie wasn’t a part of it in some way.

“Don’t worry, mama,” he turned around and kept walking backwards. A smirk playing on lips like it always belonged there. “You’ll recognize me.”

“Okay,” Nancy came trotting back into her room from her mother’s closet, “here,” she tossed a small red scarf into your lap as you sat on her bed.

“What’s this?”

“The ascot I said I’d give you,” she said like it was obvious. Nancy fiddled with the black tie on her shirt in the mirror above her dresser.

“Nance,” you called over to her, catching her eyes, “have you ever seen Grease?”

“Of course I have.”

“Then you’d know that Sandy doesn’t wear an ascot… just red shoes.”

“No,” she objected, “she definitely wears an ascot.”

“Tell that to Olivia Newton-John,” you got up from the bed and went straight to her closet, pulling it open to reveal a small stack of VHS tapes at the bottom. Grease was the fifth one down and on the back, Danny and Sandy at the senior carnival fun house was plastered on the back.

You handed it to her on unsteady legs as the red heels you wore were beginning to become unforgiving. One night, just one night.

“See,” you told her, “no ascot.”

“I swear to God she had one,” Nancy looked in wonder before handing it back to you. “But you’ve got the shirt and leggings and belt. That’s good enough.”

“No jacket though,” you sat back down on her bed.

“Maybe there’s a reason you couldn’t find it,” she giggled to herself like a schoolgirl.

“Oh, yeah?” You questioned. All this dancing around… you didn’t want Monday to arrive and end with Eddie never speaking to you again. Wishing upon a shooting star, whatever confidence you could muster tonight would have to manifest itself into reality.

Project Parenthood was not going to end on your watch without you asking Eddie Munson out on a date.

That was what you came to terms with Friday night.

You just hoped he didn’t think you a fool for believing he might actually say yes. You also didn’t take Eddie to be the kind of guy who’d be embarrassed that a girl asked him out. What if he wanted someone to be forward? What if he liked confidence and strife over classic gender roles being challenged?

The guy was as non-conformist as a person could get.

“Well, maybe Billy Hargrove would lend me his,” you joked and she dropped the tube of mascara she had just picked up back on the dresser.

“Billy Hargrove?” She spoke in a harsh whisper as her hand searched for it again. “What the hell—“

Nancy took one look at you and saw the mischief all over your face. It was a joke. You were joking. You wouldn’t let Billy Hargrove touch you with a ten foot pole.

“I think if Eddie Munson heard you say that he would keel over.”

“I think if Eddie Munson heard I had a big fat crush on him he’d keel over.”

Nancy thought it was nice to hear you admit that.

“Die from excitement or die from embarrassment?” Nancy laughed as you fell back against the bed. Her pillows sounded a “poof” as you laid against them.

“Hopefully not that latter.”

“I don’t think he would die from embarrassment… if my opinion means anything,” she returned the wand to the tube before sitting down beside your reclined figure on the bed. Nancy took your hand in hers and squeezed it.

“Eddie is the strangest, weirdest person I think I’ve ever laid eyes on but if he can make you happy, then that’s all I want for you.”

“Even after what I said about you and Steve the other day? You still want me to be the one to ride off into a sunset?”

Nancy shrugged, looking down at your hands entwined. “Sometimes the truth is hard to swallow. Maybe Steve just isn’t the one.”

“But he’s the Joel to your Lana.”

“Tonight, yeah,” she sighed, patting your hands with her free one, “but the bullshit has to stop. I just don’t know how to tell him.”

“Nance,” you fidgeted your hand out of hers and sat up on your elbows. Nancy’s room full of cream colors and pinks was juvenile while her experiences and feelings were far from it.

“It’s true though, isn’t it? It’s been two years and sometimes I feel like I don’t know him at all. Where his mind is at, concerns… I try and get him to open up but he just won’t. How am I supposed to be a good girlfriend when all he wants to do is party and hang with friends on the weekend?”

“This has to be your decision,” you told her candidly, “and perhaps after tonight you’ll feel differently.”

“We still on for breakfast tomorrow?” Nancy got up from the bed and went back to her dresser. “That way I can tell you all about it because Eddie’s taking you home.”

“Yeah, we’re still on.”

“And then you can tell me all about how Eddie is actually, surprisingly, a good kisser,” she laughed as you stuffed your head into her pillows.

“You really sound like Barb; you know that?”

“No, no,” Nancy shook her head, putting up a finger in the mirror, “Barb would say, ‘you really think Eddie Munson would be a good boyfriend? Don’t you remember when he hotboxed weed in his van at lunch last year and Chief Hopper had to tape off the parking spot because little kids were accidentally given a second-hand high?’ That’s what she’d say.”

“And then she’d ask if he made it to second base,” you grinned, turning over to stare at her ceiling. “Only to be followed with a very loud ‘eww, I can’t believe you did that!”

“I miss her,” Nancy said fondly, “she wasn’t the biggest fan of Steve but she’d want me to be happy. She’d want you to be happy to so,” she gave you that knowing look, “you’re gonna put on some red lipstick and drink a couple beers and by the time Eddie Munson knows what’s hit him, he’ll be so in love no other girl could compare.”

Overwhelming.

That was the first word that popped into your mind when you thought of the scene around you. It was nine-thirty, there were cars parked sloppily on the grass and students scattered everywhere. The music was blasting from Tina’s stereo so loudly it might burst your eardrum by the time the night is over and it helped none that the one thing you wanted to find was missing—somewhere in the house or the yards but not beside you.

Third wheeling with Steve and Nancy wasn’t fun when they argued on the ride over.

You sat in the back of Steve’s BMW wishing to be sucked into the seat only to never be seen again. Nancy’s attitude shifted from excited to upset and Steve was just being an asshole about the whole “parties are fun and we’re going to stay the entire time” conversation that started the argument. Those feelings lingered when the car parked, when the three of you made it inside, and then when you found yourself stuffed into a corner beside a curio cabinet.

“Oh, God,” Nancy mumbled when Billy Hargrove—alongside Tommy Hagen and the rest of the goons who couldn’t separate themselves from the freshest meat—clocked the three of you standing away from the entry way’s makeshift dance floor. “Don’t start anything,” she told Steve who looked in the direction she stared.

Besides the crushing weight of the party on your shoulders, stepping out of your comfort zone in a Halloween costume that Nancy picked out for you made your hands shake with tension. The confident thoughts of earlier running out of your mind the second everyone started looking at you like a fish out of water. A couple guys whistled, the girls judged. There was no happy medium at a place like this.

“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a new keg king, Harrington,” Tommy gloated as Billy challenged Steve. He pulled off his sunglasses and Nancy turned around to you.

“Let’s go get a drink, yeah?” She asked with pleading eyes. You glanced at the group of hot-shot boys—their gazes watching you and Nancy like pieces of meat for taking and it made your skin crawl.

“Yeah,” you let Nancy hook her pinky through yours as the two of you trekked past groups of your peers quickly getting drunk and eating scattered snacks in the kitchen. A couple, whom you didn’t know, were swapping tongues beside the stove.

On the counter beside open bottles of booze, a bowl fitted with dry ice and a ruby liquid sat being consumed by a boy in a toga. He chugged a red cup down before filling another one and doing the same. That was ‘pure fuel’ or the one drink that could send anyone to that drunken bliss with so much as a sip. Nancy peered into it like a mysterious lake.

“Do you want any?” She picked up two red solo cups, offering up one for you but you looked around for the fridge instead. Behind you, next to the two making out, the fridge was left cracked open.

“No,” you walked the small space to the fridge and grabbed a cold can of Pabst Blue Ribbon out of it. It was a party; Tina was going to buy the cheapest beer she could. “And I wouldn’t suggest you drink a ton of that either.”

“Why?” Nancy contested, swiping the cup into the bowl. “Aren’t we supposed to have fun? Get drunk and make stupid mistakes while we’re young? Just be stupid teenagers for one night.”

She was still pissed off at Steve.

“If you’re going to drink that,” you cracked open the can in relief when one of your nails didn’t break, “try to know your limit, alright? I don’t want to babysit you over the toilet later.”

“Deal,” she chugged the cup over the bowl as Steve rejoined the two of you. He began protesting her actions immediately and she replied by using his words against him—the same ones he used to argue to stay at the party. Nancy filled her cup again, slammed it, and wiped the excess of her face before leaving the two of you in the dust.

“You say somethin’ to her?” Steve turned to you with an accusatory glare. “She’s been weird all week.”

“She’s been weird or you’ve been ignoring her?” You countered unexpectedly.

“I haven’t been ignoring her.”

“I’ve seen you with Tammy Thompson more times than I can count this week and every day when Nance takes me home, you don’t kiss her goodbye.”

“We’re partners, remember?” Steve scoffed. “You should know that more than anyone. Where is the freak anyway? I can smell the weed; I know he’s here yet he’s not with you…” He was mad too. Steve and Nancy both angry at each other made everyone else in their paths feel the scorching ire of their pain.

“He’s not my date, Steve… He’s my partner, remember?”

Rolling your eyes, you brushed past him and left him in the kitchen alone. A quick escape through the door that led to the backyard let the cool breeze meet your face and the sting of Steve’s words fell from you. It was a rather nice October night. It was just cold enough where jackets could be enjoyed but the Midwestern urge to remain strong in the breeze left many without one. There was a bonfire raging in the back and friend groups scattered on the lawn.

Katie Yang was sitting around the bonfire when her eyes caught the door to Tina’s house open and close.

Her eyes nearly popped out of her skull—not from the smell of weed surrounding her, but from the fact that Eddie hadn’t been lying.

An hour ago, Eddie rolled up to Tina’s with a backpack full of drugs yet that wasn’t what everyone talked about as the fast murmured rumors made their way through crowds of students like tidal wave. With the three other members of Hellfire that had been invited because they were seniors, the whispers surrounded them first before someone had the will to approach them.

“Shit,” She didn’t know their name, “did you hear about Munson?”

“What about him?” Katie asked them and they threw their head back, hair going a wild as they screeched.

“He’s dressed as fucking Danny Zuko! And not the cool one!”

“Danny Zuko…” Katie trailed off, furrowing her brows as she tried to place the name. “From Grease?”

Eddie was musical, yes, but he didn’t like a ton of musicals.

“You’re joking,” one of the members of Hellfire said before moving through the living room crowd and peeking out through the blinds of the closest window.

“Holy fucking shit!”

He stuck out like a sore thumb. He was wearing the classic all black, tight jeans with a white cardigan sweater embossed with a red ‘R’ sewed into the side. Eddie’s hair was pulled into a ponytail and while he didn’t wear the look often, some of the drunk girls in the yard were ogling him like they’d jump his bones in an instant. When he came inside, the students gawked before realizing their weed had arrived and while they jested with Eddie, their words didn’t hit him. Katie could see the way their words brushed off his shoulder and he kept looking at the door.

So, an hour after that she saw you walk out of Tina’s house dressed as Sandy, Katie had to bite back the first remark that came to mind. She picked a couple blades of grass off the ground as Eddie rolled papers next to her on a tree stump—the glow from the bonfire lighting his work.

“Why’d you decide to go as Danny?” Katie proposed, watching you lean against one of the columns and drink the rancid PBR like it was water.

“Why not?” Eddie replied but focused solely on the ratio of weed to paper in his lap. Every time he put a rolled one down next to him, someone would swipe it, light it, and disappear before he could complain.

“Didn’t take you for a man who’d grovel for a lady, that’s all.”

“I don’t grovel, Yang,” he quipped and she smiled, folding her arms over her bent legs and laying her head on it.

“Besides, you see me crawling now?” Eddie motioned to the papers in his lap. “Little miss Mary Jane is the priority right now.”

“You sure about that?”

Eddie heard the way she crooned, her eyes flicking from his own to the house. His heart skipped a beat. The knowledge that if he looked now, he’d see you there—perhaps not even looking in his direction—but available for him to admire for a time. Since the moment you told him you were going as Sandy, he dreamt, daydreamed, about what you’d look like. How the vision he conjured was nothing compared to the way you’d embrace every part of yourself in an outfit like that.

“I can roll, if you want,” Katie suggested as he contemplated throwing the weed on the ground and forgetting all about it. He did admit once that he’d consider going sober for you. Before he could even object, she took the baggie from beside him and put a hand out for the papers.

“Gareth told me all about it,” she admitted. Eddie couldn’t even be mad. “Go get that girl, Munson. It’s not every day your dreams come true.”

All he could muster was a tight smile for her.

There were a lot of people in the yard. Every face blurred the brighter the fire got; some littered in the grass, others standing, a few on stools or stumps. Your feet were aching as you gripped the banister to relieve the pressure. A half drank PBR clutched in one hand as you stared down at your feet. Eddie sauntered over to the house as you shifted your feet. His quiet steps against the grass not alerting you that he had been sitting in the backyard at all.

Eddie planted himself a foot away from the deck in front of you, swallowing his fears and trying to embody the voice of surprise that mimicked the exact moment in the movie. A little accent, a little bit of the ‘ol greaser swagger.

Just a guy, seeing a girl, and absolutely smitten in the way in which she looks.

“Mama!?”

And only Eddie could get that smile to creep onto your face.

The not date, date was simple.

It had taken you an entire hour to find Eddie on a property no bigger than the Wheeler’s and the moment you heard his ‘surprised’ voice, you knew the evening had changed for the better. For two hours, you sat beside one another and just talked. He talked about his hobbies and joked about his nerdy interests while you detailed your own and he listened as intently as you had for his. In his stupid letterman cardigan and his stupid ponytailed hair, Eddie sat beside you on the deck—backs against the railing as you sat on the wood floor—and admitted that he hadn’t ever planned to wear a costume in the first place.

“So,” you knocked your heeled foot against his converse, “where in the world did you manage to find that sweater?”

“This old thing?” He pulled at the lapels, “I have a bunch of them in my closest. What? You’ve never seen me wear these before?” He lived for the giggle that left your lips. Painted in a candy red, it was hard not to look right at them.

“Oh, yeah,” you faked support for his lie, “all the time, Eddie. It’s your best look obviously.”

“That’s what I said!” Eddie cackled, drawing a can of beer to his lips. “Gareth helped me. His sister used to watch Grease all the time so he had a pretty good idea of what I was looking for.”

“I’ll have to thank him then,” you moved your hands to sit in your lap, fingernails making a small clicking sound as they met before looking over at him.

“Why?”

You leaned your head in as he would have done. “Because he helped you pick out those jeans.”

For a second, Eddie was stunned silent. His lip quirked, eyes sparkling and wide with utter fascination that you had just explicitly flirted with him when he had been planning to make all the moves on Halloween. It was his moment; his situation that he grasped tightly and ran with because if it wasn’t him, he felt it would slip through his fingers.

But you had just given him hope that his feelings may have not been one sided. That your kindness and acceptance of him wasn’t misplaced in pity but instead in attraction.

“Well,” he said lowly, “then I guess I have to thank Wheeler then, too.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because she told you to dress like this and I think you just walked out of a fantasy I didn’t know I had.”

The surge of butterflies hit your confidence like the wolf blowing down the house made of sticks—wavering for a second before standing tall again. Eddie had a blush dusting his cheeks yet he didn’t hide from you; a tightrope growing thicker for every word shared, every sentiment revealed and accepted.

“I guess I should dress like this all the time?”

Eddie nudged you playfully, appreciating that you reciprocated it and swayed back toward him. “I think I like the way you dress everyday a little bit more.”

“Yeah, me too. Kinda miss those rings… you're not ‘Eddie’ without them. Or the vest, leather jacket… any of it.”

He looked down at his ringless hands only to agree. There was a nakedness to his appearance without them. He had his necklace, but no bracelet, no rings, no chain, no handcuff belt, and it felt different even if it was just a costume.

“I am surprised you chose this Danny to dress up as.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, “I guess it’s ironic for me too.”

“Ironic?” He questioned. “How?”

“When Danny and Sandy realize they like each other,” you spoke carefully to find the right words. From the time you’ve spent with Eddie over the last week and two days, he listened to everything. He remembered much more than he let on and he read people, their emotions, and their words with caution; “they change themselves only to fall back to who they were because no one has to change to be loved.”

“Do you remember when I said you were too smart for your own good?”

You laughed, glancing at him for a second too long before biting your lip. “You don’t have to stop being ‘Eddie’ for people to like you. I’m more than content with Eddie Munson “rockstar” than I am Eddie Munson “letterman Danny Zuko.”

“Wow,” he said, drawing out the word slowly, “did the girl next door just say she liked me?”

Only Eddie would joke about it. And only Eddie could make you feel good about admitting it.

“Well,” he said when he let the thought process through him, “you should know that you don’t have to be “hot girl Sandy” for me to like you either. I am more than content with “head in a book” and “Bilbo’s mama” than I am “leather bound in red heels.” And as he did whenever he wanted to invade your personal space more than sitting close, he leaned in, down to your ear, “but before you run off and never wear this again, indulge me?”

You turned your head at his words. He was so close. The smell of his cologne mixed with two cans of beer, one joint, and three cigarettes right beside you—arms touching, head barely two inches from yours. If this was a fantasy and he had begun the conversation two hours before with one of the most iconic lines from the film, all you would have to do is embody her like Nancy had told you and reply in kind.

Eddie could see the cogs turning in your head. Thoughts on how to go about it racking every part.

“Come on,” he leaned back, scrambling to his feet so quickly he almost knocked over his can. Eddie extended a hand, helping you stand before leading you back to the closest end of the deck. He let go of your hand and held them out in front of him as if telling you to stay before backing away.

“Okay, wait, wait, wait!” Eddie dug into the pocket of his white sweater and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Tapping one from the pack, he held it up as an offering with enthusiastic eyes.

“Trust me, alright?”

You nodded, hands laid out along the railing of the deck on either side. The temptation was biting at him; the way you were effortlessly drawing him in. Closer and closer until he couldn’t breathe because he was so consumed by you that all he needed was one… little… taste.

He lifted his hand toward his face, showing you what he wanted. Eddie had the unlit cigarette between his pointer and middle fingers, pulling it away from his lips untouched.

“Open your mouth a little bit,” he said and watched as you followed his direction with no complaint.

Eddie stepped closer, hand going over your right arm that was outstretched to lift the cigarette toward your lips and inching the filter forward. You watched his eyes drift down, taking in the way your lips looked so different yet all the same coated in that red lipstick.

“You ever smoke before?” He asked lowly; voice an airless buzz against your face.

“Once or twice,” you admitted and he nodded, hair pulled back in a ponytail by a black scrunchie you could barely see. The sounds of Bon Jovi’s Runaway playing loudly around you.

“Then indulge me in this,” he replied as he let the filter land between your lips and let his fingers go. The cigarette teetered there between the red as they held it; Eddie not pulling back as he dug into his pocket again and pulled out a lighter.

“Still alright?”

You hummed around the stick and his knees nearly buckled at the sound. But he had to keep his cool. Eddie had to be suave; Eddie had to be tempting.

His thumb sparked the fire and it burned bright between you. The reflection of the blaze shining in both of your eyes and captivating, if only for a moment, the seconds before the brink.

Eddie held the flame to the other end and when it lit, he backed away quickly. He bit down on his lower lip, nodding for you to do it and briefly, you felt a little ridiculous as the scattered students of Hawkins high disappeared around you. Their presence not important compared to the one dressed as letterman Danny Zuko.

The butt sizzled and flashed its angry red. You had yet to breathe it in. Eyes watching his every gesture as he stood there, waiting expectantly for you to make the move. He made his, you make yours, and then he would have to go again. A game of chess with two idiots in love.

Your demeanor changed when you breathed in the stick for the first time. Once or twice his ass, Eddie thought as you didn’t even lift your hands off the railings to grab it away from your lips—just held it there between them as the smoke escaped from the sides.

‘If he can make you happy, then that’s all I want for you,’ Nancy’s admission playing loudly in your head that balanced the rapid thumping of your heart.

If you hadn’t known Eddie held a candle for you before, the way he was looking at you now was enough. If his admission wasn’t enough, his eyes were. Utterly captivated by the way you stood—confident and seductive. Hip slightly jutted out, your heeled feet helped bend one leg and the image was perfect. Seared into his brain forever as the moment he realized that you were the one in his dreams.

A fantasy where he was the strapping Aragorn—a hero, courageous and strong, with his Arwen—timeless and headstrong, kind and forgiving.

Your eyes broke away from his stare and out to the yard. The cigarette’s smoke left your lips again. Eddie rose both of his hands into a prayer position; fingers meeting and resting against his lips right under his nose. The anticipation was killing him.

In an instant, your eyes returned and what he saw sent him to an early grave. He met his maker and was cast away like Icarus as you adjusted the way your posture presented you from the top of your head, out your fingers, and through your toes.

Sandy to Frenchie to Rizzo be dammed. You embodied something greater than them all and he was lucky enough to be at the receiving end of it.

And then you said it.

You indulged him in a fantasy he didn’t even know he had until you told him what you were going as.

“Tell me about it,” manicured fingers took the cigarette away from your lips and the smoke billowed into the night, “stud.”

And like Sandy does in the film, you dropped the cigarette and put it out with your shoe, arms going back to the decks railing and looking back at Eddie. Checkmate.

However, Eddie couldn’t have you get the checkmate. He couldn’t have you be the one to end up on top when he had been planning this for days. Since the moment he shrieked outside of Gareth’s window that he had a crush on you—fully formed and not a silly grade school one that made him want to tug pigtails and call you names. Eddie shook his head, dropping his hands from their position and drew close. He caged you into that spot and with the permission in your eyes, one of his hands grazed your side.

A brush of knuckles along the fabric of your shirt, belt, then pants, before his palm became certain. Running along the same track his knuckles had just traced before settling on your waist.

“Indulge me one more thing,” Eddie’s breath barely hitched when you rested one hand on the arm he had around you and the other gripped his sweater. He took his other hand and rested it on your jaw, thumb caressing a spot as his fingers gingerly held your head.

“Let me take you out. On a real date where I can bring you flowers,” he smiled the same time you did, “and your dad can tell me to have you home by nine but I’ll have you back at nine-o-five because I can’t stop kissing you in my shitty van.”

You pulled him closer, hand clutching his sweater tightly to keep him to you. “You beat me to it.”

“Yeah, mama?” He smiled, eyes consistently trained on your red lips. “You gonna ask me out?”

“I can’t,” you could barely function with the way your heart leapt, “I’ve already got a date.”

“So, that’s a yes?”

“Yes and are you gonna kiss me, Munson? I don’t think I can—“

Eddie didn’t let you finish. He pressed his lips to yours and you accepted them eagerly. His gentle touch a haven as the deal was sealed. Your hand that rested on his forearm moved to his hair, tugging out the scrunchie because if you were going to kiss Eddie, all of him had to be part of it. He reveled the feeling of your fingers weaving into his hair; lips threatening to grin as he got his girl and you got your boy. Nervousness subsiding, all that was left was the tenderness of being two people in love.

No longer two idiots in love; no longer two fake parenting partners.

But a pair fit like two puzzle pieces made for one another.

And when Mr. Allen collected the dolls on Monday, he revealed that each had a floppy disk inside their plush bodies that recorded the number of tantrums and minutes passed between them until soothed. As it turned out, you and Eddie had the best times in the class and in all of Mr. Allen’s years of teaching, Eddie Munson was the first one to prove him wrong. The ‘A’ on top of his assignment sheet at the end of that week became his most important achievement at the time.

Not because he managed to care for a fake baby, but because in the end, he walked out of the class hand and hand with you knowing that everything—no matter what would happen in his life—would be okay.

[Mario Bonus Round Sound: Oh, Baby, it’s Real]

The early morning sunlight trickled into the room from the breaks in the blinds. Everything was sterile; light woods and itchy fabrics, the bed wasn’t comfortable but it was better than the chair. A bag sat in the corner unzipped and its contents unflatteringly pulled out of it. There were fast food wrappers on a tray table with empty cups sitting on the windowsill ready to be basked in sunlight.

Eddie had never been more tired.

The chaise was a second option because he couldn’t have the bed and he would never ask to have it anyway. The chair had grown increasingly unworthy of his attention after sixteen hours of pacing and sitting, pacing and sitting. He could barely keep his eyes open. The kind of tired that Eddie was feeling made everything sluggish; his body laid out on the green piece of furniture, his hand skimmed the cold tile floor as the sounds of a tile cleaner passed by the closed door.

If someone asked eighteen-year-old Eddie Munson where he thought he’d be at thirty, sitting here, in a hospital in Los Angeles would not be his first assumption.

Mega rockstar? Hot-shot guitarist with the best hair? Those were more probable than this.

But he let the whirring of the machine act as white noise. However, in the life that he wouldn’t trade for anything, quiet never lasted long.

“Mr. Munson?” A hand shook his shoulder, nudging the sleep he wished for into the back of his mind to be dreamt of another time.

“Mr. Munson,” the voice called again. Eddie cracked an eye open and saw the nurse give him a small smile, pity for the obvious tiredness that drooped from his face. “I’m sorry to wake you but there are visitors outside and I didn’t want to bring them in because of…”

She didn’t need to say it. People posing to be friends or family just to get a picture or a story. It was something he had to deal with, yet never got used to. It wasn’t natural nor normal to have to hide pieces of a person’s life because people felt entitled to every piece of them. The price of fame was high; the balance of privacy and publicity was a difficult seesaw.

Eddie sat up, the nurse pulling back and waiting for him at the door. She had seen many people walk through these halls, sit and stay by their partner’s side during the most life changing moment they’d ever have and Eddie was no different than the best of them. As he past the bed, he rubbed a foot covered in a yellow blanket and hospital grade sheets gently before exiting the room.

“I put them in a room down here because they were adamant that they were family,” she told him, her glasses swinging on her scrubs and hair graying at the roots. “One young man was particularly vibrant in his language… Claims he’s her brother but I don’t think they look anything alike.”

Eddie chuckled, squeezing the woman’s shoulder as she pointed to the door that she had huddled them all in. “I think I know exactly who that is actually.”

“If you bring them in the room, have them try to be quiet. You don’t see much silence up here and I’d rather give the opportunity for peaceful rest.”

“Will do,” he said but deep down, he felt that silence wouldn’t last if the gaggle of people he believed to be beyond the door to the other room turned to be true.

“Congratulations again,” she said and left him in the hall.

Eddie could hear the chatter beyond the threshold; bickering and the distinct sound of plastic wrap around flowers and balloons crinkling through the air. His life had changed so much from 1984. Each year more difficult and challenging—unprecedented and terrifying but here he was, an established adult man with his life (sort of) put together. Everything was clicking into place and most of it stemmed from the moment Steve Harrington and a girl named Lisa drew two names out of Mr. Allen’s bowls from home.

He walked through the doorway and saw fifteen smiling, giddy faces beaming back at him with balloons, bags, and flowers in their hands. Dustin was holding a teddy bear, El, Max, and Lucas were carrying bags of food for everyone to eat for lunch.

“Surprise!” They shouted in scattered exclamations of excited cheers.

Eddie had never been so happy to have a family—one of his own and one of his choosing.

Dustin was the first to barrel into him, throwing his arms around Eddie and hugging him tightly. It set off a chain reaction in the room. Arms and bodies squished, Eddie couldn’t tell if it was Hopper, Wayne, or your dad who rubbed the top of his head like he was a dog. Either way, the love was felt; the love was absorbed and it spread further into the hospital than just that little room. Fifteen connected souls bonding over something new.

“Congrats man,” Steve extended a hand, grasping Eddie’s with a firm grip as Robin hung off his shoulder. “Never thought I’d see you like this. But it also confirms that you and Y/n do the deed and I don’t like thinking about that.”

“Yeah,” Eddie chuckled tiredly. They could see how drained he was. Only the older ones in the room could relate to how Eddie was feeling. “I didn’t either. think I’d ever be here either.”

“But you know what?” Nancy piped up from beside Steve. “I never had a doubt that you’d be a good dad.”

“Thanks, Wheeler,” hearing that from Nancy meant a lot. Dustin popped up again from beside Nancy, tucking himself in between her and Eddie. He still had that bear clutched in his hands.

“Can we meet him?”

El looked excitedly at him, “can I hold him!?” It was her first time doing something like this.

“Only if you keep your trap closed,” Eddie warned Dustin, face serious as it could be. “That nurse will kick my ass if you throw a rager in there, alright? So keep the volume low…” Eddie stopped, thinking on it for a second. Fifteen people all at once would be like running a race on a Hawkins street with a million other people. “And we’ll go in groups. Grandparents first, then godparents, then everyone else, ‘Kay?”

“Eye-eye captain,” Dustin saluted him but kept on Eddie’s heels as everyone exited the empty room to transition to one with two. The door was left cracked open, the quiet nature of the room wanting to be left undisturbed had to be broken.

They had traveled all this way for this moment.

“Let me go in first,” Eddie told them, the older adults giving him fond smiles because he was taking it as seriously as they hoped he did. Maybe that project parenthood assignment had left a lingering impact on him. Maybe Eddie Munson had just matured into the person he always wished his parents were and wasn’t going to screw it up because life could be unkind sometimes. “I’ll come get you.”

Fifteen people who hailed from Hawkins were left in the hallway as Eddie re-entered the room. He tried to keep his footsteps quiet but in the end, it was useless because the second he turned the small corner that blocked his view of the bed, you were sitting up with the television remote in your hand. Across the way, Grease played silently on the screen.

“What’s wrong?” You asked him as you tried to keep your voice low. “Did something happen?”

Eddie shook his head, walking straight over to the side of the bed where he took your hand, kissing the back of it before rubbing his thumb against the back of it.

“We’ve got a party bus of visitors from Indiana,” he said, looking over you to the plastic bassinet that was positioned beside the bed. Wrapped in a white blanket—in a perfect swaddle—was his little boy. “They’re all waiting outside the door and won’t take no for an answer,” he joked.

“My parents out there? Wayne?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, thumb still running across the back of your hand. “I think your mom has already cried. Her eyes are kind of puffy.”

“Don’t tell her that,” you muttered, taking your own look at the little bundle. On the sticker behind his little head, one last name, un-hyphenated, was written in black ink behind him. One family, one unit.

But his name wasn’t Bilbo.

“Can they come in?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “just tell them to be quiet.”

Eddie smiled at you. Even in his tiredness, he could never hide the joy in his eyes. He was proud, eons beyond it in reality, but you had given him something he’d never dreamed of. A family. He would always have Wayne but now he had your parents, he had the kids, he had friends beyond Corroded Coffin and the people he worked with.

“I love you. You know that right?” He ran his free hand over your forehead, brushing the hair there and bending down to leave a kiss.

“You tell me every day,” you smiled, “and I love you too.”

“Then I guess he should meet his grandparents, huh?”

And when Eddie brought in your parents, Wayne, Hopper and Joyce, the sight brought you back to the first time Eddie ever stepped foot in your house.

How your dad watched reruns on the T.V. while you peeked out the blinds for him. He had known it then that Eddie was your forever. An arm wrapped around the man he considered to be the closest thing to a son he’d ever have, your father smiled at you the moment he saw the look in your eyes. Your mother skipped you completely and cooed at the little boy.

“Oh, baby,” she whispered at his chubby little face, “you have the best parents in the world.”

Tag List (Closed):

Thank you all for reading and supporting this fic series. I hope you enjoyed the last part and will stick around for any other Eddie writings I may do in the future. If you have been tagged in the tag list, I would humbly ask that you like and reblog to support but I also love reading and interacting with comments! I just love to hear from everyone so chat away—I want to know your thoughts.

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New Teen Wolf movie has now a trailer.

I’m not okay. I love it. But at the same time, I’m scared. I grew up with Teen Wolf, I just want it to still be the same…