086

Tuesday afternoon05:23pm

Elena's apartment is quiet again, in the kind of way that lets your bones finally settle for a second.

Inside, the table is still covered in notes, scribbled-down names, crossed-off addresses, gas stations and garages that turned out to be dead ends. A few crumpled pages litter the floor, the echo of Robin's frustration when yet another San Clemente number led nowhere.

You spent hours at that table, all five of you, calling the information line, noting down numbers, cold-calling all of them, trying to find the gas station belonging to Billy's uncle, his father's stepbrother.

The place Neil Hargrove could maybe be aiming for, maybe be hiding already.

The place you barely remember Billy telling you about months ago.

Robin, Steve and Elena left about an hour ago, all three of them flushed with stubborn purpose. Robin had stuffed the list into her bag, declared they were hitting the campus library and the public one downtown. Steve promised they'd tear through every directory they could get their hands on. Elena kissed your cheek before she left, told you gently but firmly to stay and rest.

So you did.

Eddie rolled a joint and the two of you stepped outside on Elena's small balcony, smoking in silence, holding on to each other.

The city hums beneath you. Cars on the move, dogs barking distantly, a train horn somewhere farther off, dull and haunting. The sun's low now, casting the buildings in syrupy gold, the air's cooling fast now, wind threading through your clothes, but Eddie is warm around you, solid and steady, arms banded around your waist, the slow drag of his breath brushing your temple.

The burned down joint glows between his fingers. He holds it out for you without a word. You take it. Inhale. Hold. Let it go in a long, silent stream while he brings it to his lips next, pulling in just enough to settle deeper into his bones, then stubs the butt out in the ashtray on the balcony railing.

You both stand there, quiet for a while.Just the two of you and the wind and the occasional groan of a distant car.

You press your forehead to his collarbone. He's leaning against the railing, but it's you who's leaning into him. You watch your fingers move along the hem of his hoodie, curling it, smoothing it.

"I'm sorry", you murmur eventually.

Eddie's chin lowers a fraction, resting on the crown of your head. "What for?"

"For making you live in this too. For dragging you through all of it." You breathe in slow. "For talking about him."

You feel him tense just slightly, a subtle shift in the way his hands hold you. His grip doesn't loosen, but there's something wired underneath it now. Quiet and barely there, but real. You exhale again, like you can breathe it all out, your guilt, your memory, your regret. "I just... I think back to those months with him, and I hate myself for it. I didn't love him, but I liked being with him. He made me feel wanted. And that..." You pause, hating the taste of it. "That mattered to me, back then. I thought I was smart. Thought I could read people. Thought I saw some buried part of him no one else did. I let him close, Eds. I let him in. I can't believe I didn't saw the monster he actually is.'

"Please, don't. Not now. I don't wanna hear it", he mumbles, quiet but firm. His voice low, strained at the edges. "I don't wanna hear about him."

You freeze for half a second, instinctively ready to pull back, apologize again, but he doesn't let you go. Not even an inch. If anything, he holds you tighter.

"I'm sorry", you whisper again, "I just-"

"No", he mutters, louder now, "Don't be sorry. Just... don't keep saying his name. Don't give him any more space in your head, in our space. I know you've got to think about it sometimes. Especially today, when all we want is to go back home. I get it, okay? I do. But I don't wanna hear it. I don't wanna hear how he touched you or how he made you feel. I don't wanna think about you in his bed. When you weren't mine. But I already wanted you."

You glance up at him.

He's staring at the street, his chest rising a little too fast. "I know it's selfish", he mutters, eyes still fixed ahead. "I know it's important for you to talk about all that. But I can't stand the thought of him being in your head, still. In your memory. I can't stand that he had you, even for a second. I can't stand that he gets to live there, even just in flashbacks." He swallows hard. "I hate that he hurt you. I hate that you were near him. I hate that I wasn't there to pull you away."

Your throat goes tight. Slowly, you lift a hand to his cheek, brush your thumb along the rough line of his jaw.

He finally looks at you then. And there's fire in his eyes. Not anger, but ache. Raw, burning ache.

"I don't want him anywhere near this", he whispers, "Not in this air, not in your mouth, not on this balcony where I'm holding you. I just want you, Sam. Just you. All of you. And I want him out. I want him out of our story."

Your eyes sting, but you nod.

You get it. God, you get it.

So you let your arms wrap around his shoulders and press your mouth to his, slow and sure. You kiss him like it's the only thing left in the world that's real. "It's just us", you whisper. "Just you and me, Eds."

He breathes out, like he's been holding that air in his lungs for years. "Good", he sighs, his forehead resting against yours, "Because I'm not gonna let anyone else take another piece of you. Not anymore."

You close your eyes. Breathe him in. The weed, the smoke, the leather, the soap. All of it. Him.

Your lips find his as you kiss him again, soft at first, barely there. Then deeper. Slower. The kind of kiss that steals time, folds the world down to just the shape of him, his mouth on yours, the way his hands slide up your back like he's trying to gather every piece of you closer.

When you finally part, his lips still ghosting over yours, he breathes out, rough and quiet. "What a fucked up day."

You snort, forehead pressed to his. "What a fucked up week. What a fucked up month."

Eddie huffs out a laugh, but it's tired, worn thin. His eyes flick down to your lips, and for a moment, he just watches you, like he's still trying to convince himself you're really here. Then you whisper it, voice barely audible under the hum of the city, "I'm sorry I scared you earlier... with the flashback."

His body goes still, arms around you tensing just the smallest bit again. But this time, it only lasts a second. "No", he murmurs, shaking his head gently, brushing his nose against yours, his voice low and rough, "No more Hargroves. No more flashbacks. No more apologies. Okay?"

You don't answer. Not right away. Just nod a little, lips brushing his with the motion.

"Just a minute", he continues, breath warming your lips, "Just one fucking minute of us. We're finally alone, and I know - God, I know - you wanna talk about it. I get it. I cried like a fucking idiot earlier 'cause I was so scared and desperate and helpless. I get it." His hands cradle your face now, thumbs brushing over your cheeks, grounding you. "But, fuck, I just want one goddamn minute where I don't have to think about you in danger. About what happened. About some other guy, or some other bed, or anything else except you and me and this."

You stare up at him, heart swelling and breaking at once. You take a breath, chest trembling just slightly. "How about you kiss me then?"

He blinks.

"Kiss me", you murmur again, lips barely brushing his, as your arms tighten around him, pulling him down to you, "and make me forget about it for a while, Eds."

He doesn't need to be told again.

Eddie kisses you like it's the first time and the last time all at once, like he's drowning and you're the air, like maybe if he kisses you hard enough, he can rewrite every memory that ever hurt you. His fingers tangle in your hair, your hoodie clenched in his fists, like he needs to hold on or he'll fall straight through.

The kiss turns harder, more insistent, his lips move with a hunger that's not rushed but needy, like he's been holding it in for too long and the dam finally cracked. His hands slide down from your cheeks to your neck, to your shoulders, to your waist, pulling you in tighter, like he could somehow fuse your bodies together if he just held you close enough.

Your back meets the railing of the balcony, cool metal pressing into your spine, but you don't care, not when Eddie is kissing you like that, like you're something precious and fragile and holy all at once. You hook your fingers into the hem of his shirt, not tugging yet, just needing to touch him, anchor yourself to something real.

He groans into your mouth, soft and low, like the sound is pulled straight from his chest. One of his hands cups the back of your head now, fingers threading through your hair, holding you still as his mouth moves against yours, tongue sliding against yours in slow, filthy rhythm. He kisses you like he's memorizing you. Like he's trying to burn the taste of you into his mouth so he'll never forget.

God, you kiss him back like you need him to forget everything else.

You pull back just enough to suck in a breath, but he doesn't go far, his mouth drops to your jaw, then your throat, kissing a path down to your collarbone, open-mouthed and hot, teeth grazing skin.

"Jesus, babe", you whisper, head tilting back, hands fisting in his shirt now. He doesn't stop. Doesn't slow.

"You said to make you forget", he murmurs, voice thick and hoarse, lips brushing your pulse, "so let me."

You nod, eyes fluttering closed. "Please".

He lifts his head again, looks at you with his lips swollen, his breath shallow, and when he kisses you again, it's slower. Like the frantic edge burned off and now all that's left is want. A deep, aching want that settles into your bones and curls around your ribs like smoke.

Your whisper is barely a breath against his lips. "Make me forget it."

But it lights something in him. Something hot and reckless and aching.

He growls, quiet and low in his throat, before crashing his mouth back onto yours, harder this time. No more slow, no more soft. His hands grip your waist like he's afraid you'll slip through his fingers if he doesn't hold tight enough. He presses into you, chest to chest, hip to hip, until you can't tell where you end and he begins.

And you don't want to.

You moan into his mouth, need pooling deep in your belly as your hands clutch at the back of his neck, pulling him impossibly closer.

His kiss is messy, open-mouthed, deep, all tongue and teeth and want. He bites your bottom lip gently, then soothes it with a swipe of his tongue, like he needs to taste every inch of you.

"Fuck", he breathes, forehead pressing to yours for just a second, both of you panting, "You're driving me insane."

You thread your fingers into his curls, tug just a little, and it pulls another groan from his chest, rough and beautiful. "Good", you whisper, "I want you to lose your mind for me."

"Oh, I already did", he murmurs, before his mouth is back on yours, hands sliding around you to grab your ass. He kisses you through it, deeper, wetter, needier. Like he's trying to crawl inside you through your mouth. "I hate that you were scared", he whispers against your lips, "Hate that he's still in your head. But I'm here. Right fucking here. And I'm not letting anything touch you again."

You nod, hands tangling in his hair, moaning softly as his teeth gently sink into your bottom lip, as his hands grab your ass tighter, pulling you deeper into his warm body.

His kiss alone leaves you reeling. It's not soft anymore. It's not careful. It's filthy, desperate, all tongue and lips and breathy moans. He kisses you like he needs to claim every inch of your mouth, like he's trying to erase every trace of pain with his tongue.

You're dizzy from it, hands clutching his shirt. His hand leaves your ass, fumbles behind him, blindly pushing the balcony door open, tugging you inside. He doesn't even shut it. Doesn't care. Not now. Not with how you feel in his arms.

You barely register crossing Elena's living room, just his hand slipping under your hoodie, up your spine, his breath ragged in your ear, "Bedroom. Now."

You don't answer. You just move with him, quick and clumsy, your mouths fused, teeth clashing, your back hitting the bedroom door before he slams it shut with his foot and locks it behind you.

He doesn't wait. Doesn't pause. Just tugs your hoodie over your head, lips never leaving yours.

"Make me forget", you whisper against his lips.

His answer is your jeans unbuttoning, his belt unbuckling, both of you tugging at layers with shaking fingers. There's no teasing, no talking. Just hot, frantic hands and soft gasps as skin is exposed. He pulls his shirt over his head, your bra falling away, jeans hitting the floor, his boxers next, and then you're falling into the bed, lips never breaking.

He kisses you deep, low, slow and filthy, like he's trying to swallow every noise you make. And when your legs part for him, there's no hesitation. He kisses down your neck, your collarbone, your breasts, his tongue circling your nipple until you arch with a soft cry, then lower, lower, over your stomach, until he's between your thighs. His hands grip the backs of your knees, strong and firm, lifting your legs to rest over his shoulders as he settles in, and  devours you.

No buildup. No warning. Just his mouth on your pussy. Hot, wet, needy.

"Oh, my god", you gasp, arching into him, hands desperately grabbing the sheets.

His tongue dives deep, flat and fast and thorough, licking you up like he's starving. Like you're all he's ever wanted. Every moan you give him only makes him go harder, hungrier. He groans against you, the vibrations shooting straight through your core. Your fingers move down, twist in his hair, holding on tight as you writhe beneath him, your hips rolling, seeking more, giving him everything.

His tongue circles your clit, then flicks, then presses, knowing exactly what you need. He alternates between deep strokes and firm pressure, his hands stroking your thighs, grounding you as you fall apart.

"Fuck, oh my god, FUCK YES", you gasp, eyes rolling back as you move your hips against his face, your chest moving fast with your gasping breaths.

"Eyes on me, baby", he pants, voice gravelly, eyes dark and locked on yours from between your legs.

You look down, dazed and breathless, and the sight of him, his curls messy from your hands, his lips slick with your pussy, his eyes burning with nothing but you, nearly undoes you right then and there. Another deep stroke of his tongue makes you cry out in pleasure, head falling back, but you force yourself to keep looking at him, framed by your trembling thighs.

He doesn't break eye contact. Not even for a second. His tongue slides deep again, slow at first, then faster, hungrier, chasing every moan from your lips like it's the only thing keeping him breathing. "God, you taste so fucking good", he groans between strokes, lips dragging along your inner thigh before latching back onto your clit, sucking hard enough to make your back arch, your breath stutter out of you. "Could stay here all fucking day...''

IHis tongue flattens again, broad and slow, then quickens into flicks that have your hips bucking off the bed. He's got your legs spread so wide you're trembling, your thighs shaking against his shoulders, but he doesn't stop. He won't stop, not when he's got you unraveling for him.

Your hands stay tangled in his hair, pulling tight as your body starts to climb, heartbeat thunderous in your chest, your gasps getting louder, messier, desperate. "Eddie", you whimper, voice breaking on his name.

The sound you make when he groans in response, deep and low, like your pleasure is his favorite drug, drives him even harder. He shifts, bringing one hand up to hold your hip steady as his mouth works you over like a man obsessed. No teasing. No games. Just pure, filthy, focused worship.

"Fuck, oh- f- ohmygodyes", you moan desperately, your thighs trembling around his head, a high-pitched whine leaving your throat as his tongue strokes just right, again and again, wet and perfect and overwhelming.

"You're so fucking perfect", he pants, barely pulling back enough to speak before diving back in, burying himself in your pussy like he can't get close enough. Like he wants to climb inside you just to be deeper, tighter, closer.

"Oh GOD, I-- I'm gonna cum", you gasp, clutching his hair.

You feel the edge coming fast, hot and electric and wild, and all you can do is hold on, drowning in the satisfied sound of him, the feel of his mouth, the way his fingers dig into your skin like he'll never let you go.

Finally, you shatter on his tongue, hands fisted in his hair, legs locked around his shoulders, sobbing out a row of moans. Your whole body tenses, bows, then breaks apart all at once, hot, messy, devastating pleasure that leaves your chest heaving and your throat raw from moaning his name.

Dark eyes are pinned to your face as you gasp for air, heart racing in your chest, muscles slowly unclenching again as you come down from your high. "H-Holy shit", you pant, laughing breathlessly and shaking your head, glancing back down at him, still buried between your legs, still eating you out, slower again, tasting every drop of your orgasm, a filthy smirk on his lips.

He pulls back just enough to climb up your body, mouth slick from you, eyes wild, hair a mess from your hands. You realize what he's doing, shaking your head, still breathless as he shifts between your legs, "Eds, I-- your ribs--"

His lips fall on yours, kissing you with wet lips, licking into your mouth while pressing his rock-hard dick to your lower stomach. "I don't care", he growls against your mouth, "I don't fucking care."

You try to sit up, to push him back gently, but he's already sliding your legs around his waist, aligning his cock and pushing inside without pause, without warning, just heat and need and desperate closeness. You gasp as he fills you, deep and thick and perfect. Your back arches as he bottoms out with a rough, shuddering groan.

"Jesus", he breathes, forehead pressed to yours, hands braced on either side of your head, "you feel so fucking good. Always do. Missed this. Missed you."

You're moaning softly, biting your lip as you wrap around him, feeling how he starts to move. It's not slow. It's not careful. It's everything he's been holding back, every fear, every tear, every second he thought he might lose you poured into each deep, hungry thrust.

"Oh f-fuck--", you cry out, nails dragging down his back, and still he moves, hips snapping forward like he needs it, like he's trying to erase every trace of the world outside the two of you. Your head's spinning, your body raw and aching in the best way, and through the haze, you hear him, groaning against your skin, voice rough and reverent. "You're fucking mine...''

"Yes!" you gasp, back arching from the mattress as he pounds into you, not even wasting one thought on his ribs.

He fucks you like he means it. Hard, deep, his breath ragged against your neck, every movement possessive, claiming. You cling to him, legs locked tight around his waist, moaning into his shoulder, biting him in pure lust, dizzy from how full he feels, from how good he is at this, at you.

"Mine", he rasps again, voice breaking, hips snapping forward with each word, "You don't get it, do you? How fucking gone I am for you--"

You try to answer, but the words dissolve in a cry as he hits that spot that makes your toes curl. "Oh God, ohmygod-!"

He groans at the sound, burying his face in your neck, licking, biting, tasting sweat and skin and you. "You drive me crazy", he growls, "every time. Every goddamn time." One of his hands tangles in your hair, pulling your head back so he can kiss you again, deep and filthy, like he wants to devour you, like he's trying to crawl inside your lungs and live there.

You can't think, can't breathe, not with the way he moves, not with the way he feels. He's everywhere, all over you, inside you, like he's trying to burn away the rest of the world with just his body and his mouth and his goddamn love.

"Fuck, Eddie", you moan, gasping his name, over and over again, and that only makes him rougher, needier.

He grabs your hips, slams into you deeper, harder, the bedframe creaking beneath you both, and you swear you see stars. "I need you to feel it", he pants, eyes locked on yours, wild and glassy, "Need you to remember this. Us. Not him, not anything else. Just - fucking - me."

You nod, half-moan, half-sob, "Just you, baby. Just you-- fuck, keep going!"

Eddie loses it. It's not gentle, not measured, just raw, reckless heat. He pushes back into you with a groan, deep and guttural, like the sound is torn from somewhere buried in his chest.

"Yes, oh God fuck me", you moan, your legs wrapping tighter around him instinctively, his grip on your hips rough as your nails scratch into his damp back.

"Fuck," he pants against your jaw, voice wrecked, "You're gonna be the death of me, baby--"

He's moving hard, fast, every thrust making the bed creak louder beneath you, the headboard tapping a frantic rhythm against the wall. His mouth is everywhere, your neck, your collarbone, the curve of your breast, biting, kissing, dragging open-mouthed hunger across your skin like he wants to mark every inch of you. He's obsessed, gone, his breath ragged and hot as it ghosts across your sweat-damp skin.

You're moaning openly now, shamelessly, every sound ripped from your throat and swallowed up in his kisses. "Oh god, you're gonna make me cum again", you sob between moan, arching into him, locking tighter and tighter around him, his hips slamming against you in his hard, fast rhythm.

"Yeah?", he smirks breathlessly, lips finding your hard nipple, sucking hard, luring a hissed moan from you.

"Don't stop--", you gasp, head falling back, nails digging deeper into his flesh as you feel it building inside you.

Two more of his relentless thrusts, and it crashes over you like a wave, blinding and hot and endless. Your whole body clenches, eyes fluttering back, breath catching as your walls clench around his dick. Eddie groans your name into your mouth, fucking you through it, burying his dick so deep inside you, bathing in your loud moans and gasps of his name.

He doesn't slow.

You're trembling under him, every nerve lit up, oversensitive and wanting more all at once. He still moves like a man possessed, his mouth on your neck, your tits, your collarbones again, kissing slower now but just as deep, lips dragging, tongue sweeping over flushed skin, tasting the salt of your sweat and the remnants of your moans.  His hand traces the curve of your body, the dip of your waist, then slips between your thighs again like he can't help himself, fingers slick from you and greedy for more as he finds your clit immediately.

Every movement is focused, hungry, but reverent too, like he's worshipping you and ruining you in the same breath. "You feel this?" he mutters, his voice hoarse against your skin, hips grinding deep again, "How warm you are around me? How wet?" He groans low, dragging another kiss along your jaw. "You're gonna wreck me, baby. Already are."

The rhythm shifts, less brutal, more drawn-out and punishing in its precision. He slows just to watch you squirm, moan, chase the friction, then slams in again with a groan when you cry his name. His fingers tighten in your hair, tipping your head back so he can kiss you again, wet and messy, tongues tangling, breaths mingling.

Your thighs quake around him, still locked around his hips, and you're clinging to him like he's the only thing holding you together. Your hands roam his back, the curve of his neck, the sweat-damp strands of his hair, tugging when he hits just right again.

"Look at me," he pants, catching your chin with his thumb, brushing it slowly over your kiss-bruised lips, "Wanna see your eyes when you fall apart for me again."

You do, wide-eyed and undone, and he watches you fall again, watches you break open on him like it's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. "I--.. I-", you gasp, breathless, cut off by another loud moan, feeling him so deep inside you, his weight on top of you, pressing you deep into the sheets while he fucks you harder again. Your breath stutters out of you as he drives into you, every thrust a claim, every movement filled with desperate need.

Eddie's body is slick against yours, hot with sweat, his muscles tight beneath your hands as you clutch at his back, his shoulders, anywhere you can reach. You're both already ruined, lost to the heat between your bodies.

"God, baby," he groans into your mouth, kissing you like he can't get enough, like he needs to taste you with every part of him. His lips are wet and open against yours, still tasting like your pussy, his tongue filthy, his breath ragged, and you're grinding up to meet him, nails digging into his skin, moaning into every kiss.

"Missed this", you pant, your voice high and wrecked, "How you f- oh fuck, right there--"

He cuts you off with another thrust, deep and hard, swallowing your words in a groan that vibrates in his chest. "Yeah? Missed being fucked like this, baby?" he mutters into your throat, licking over your pulse, biting just enough to make your hips buck. "No more holding back. Gonna make you cum again, gonna make you fucking forget your own name--"

You whimper at that, back arching, legs tight around him. "Y-Yes, oh shit oh sh-it yes, don't stop!"

His rhythm's relentless, messy and wild, driven by everything he's been holding back for too long. The mattress groans beneath you, the room thick with your sounds, gasps, wet kisses, the obscene slap of skin on skin. His hand slides down, fingers slipping through the soaked heat between your legs, finding your sweet spot again like second nature.

You cry out loud, helpless, almost overwhelmed from how much, how good, it all is. "J-just like that", you whimper, arching into him, body locking up again as another climax builds between your legs.

"Fuck yeah, baby, that's it", he breathes, eyes locked on you, dark and heavy, "Give it to me. Wanna see you fucking cum on my dick again. One more. Just one more." He never stops moving, fingers circling, thrusts deep and claiming, his mouth kissing anywhere he can reach, your throat, your cheek, the corner of your lips.

You're gasping, writhing, tearing at him like you're on fire, and he loves it, eats it up, murmuring filth between kisses.

With a broken moan, you break. It crashes over you, violent and pure, your whole body shaking as you cry out his name. It hits so hard you see white behind your eyes, everything spiraling as pleasure takes you under completely.

Eddie follows you right after, groaning loud against your shoulder, hips stuttering, arms around you tight when he spills deep inside you, his cum hot as it pulses out of hin. His weight presses into you as he stills, breathing hard, his face buried in your neck.

After some moments of sweaty, gasping silence, he lifts his head just enough to press his forehead to yours, eyes soft, wrecked. "You okay?"

You nod, dazed and limp beneath him, lips brushing his. "Yeah", you pant, "That was... exactly what I needed."

He smiles, tired and wild and in love. "Me too."

Your eyes wander over his face, his long lashes, those pools of dark chocolate looking right back at you, the three day stubble on his cheeks, his chin, over his upper lip. Those lips, pink and puffy, smirking at you. He shifts just lightly, groaning under his breath but staying where he is, still wrapped around you, naked chest pressed to yours, his arms tucked tight beneath your shoulders.

You can feel the thud of his heartbeat against your ribs, wild at first, slowly easing into something calmer, softer. "Are you okay?", you murmur softly, your fingertips brushing his bruised side, feeling how goosebumps grow where you touch him.

He shivers a little, nods just once.

You're both slick with sweat, skin flushed, mouths swollen from too many kisses - if there's even such a thing. The room smells like sex and weed and the faded lavender of Elena's detergent. Neither of you speaks for a moment, you just look at each other, eyes wandering over each other's features.

Eddie shifts just enough to brush his thumb along your cheekbone. His hand is trembling a little, and you lean into it, eyes barely open. His voice is quiet when it comes, a little hoarse, a little broken around the edges. "You ruined me", he murmurs.

Your brows lift lazily, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Yeah?" you rasp.

He nods, the motion slow. "I mean it. No one's ever... it's never been like this. I feel like I'm gonna lose my goddamn mind every time I touch you."

Your chest tightens, not with nerves this time, but with something bigger. Something deep. You slide your hand up to his jaw, gently guiding his face down to yours. Your lips touch again, no hunger now, just reverence. A soft hum of something sacred in the silence. "I don't want anyone else", you whisper into him, "No one else makes me feel like this. No one else gets me like this.''

Eddie exhales slowly, kissing your forehead, your eyelids, the bridge of your nose. "You don't have to apologize ever again", he mumbles into your skin, "Not for him. Not for the past. Not for anything. You're here, with me, and I'm not letting go."

"I know", you murmur, "I don't want you to, baby. Please, never let me go.''

There's a long, quiet beat.

You feel the tension leave his body in full for the first time in days. His lips meet yours for another soft, salty kiss. "I think you broke my ribs again", he mutters, making you laugh, half-snort, half-gasp right against his lips, your body still too sore to really shake with it.

"You were the one going feral, Munson. You said you don't care.''

"I blacked out", he admits shamelessly, "Like some kind of possessed man. I couldn't stop. You said 'make me forget' and my brain just shut off. Went full caveman."

You grin, wide and soft. "You did great, caveman."

"Good. 'Cause you're not walking straight tomorrow."

You groan and cover your face with your hands. "You're awful."

He smirks, smug and still breathless, carefully rolling down and collapsing beside you, tugging you into his chest. You nestle in, skin to skin, the sheets barely a suggestion over your legs. There's a long, quiet lull as your breathing syncs.

Then he rasps, warm and low against your hair, "We'll figure it out. All of it. I swear."

You close your eyes, resting your hand over his heart. "I know we will."

Everything feels tender and raw, but not in a bad way, more like the world's been peeled back and now it's just you and him and the soft hum of city life beyond the window. His arm is draped over your waist, the other tucked under his head, fingers lazily trailing the curve of your back, then resting with a possessive squeeze on your ass like it belongs there. His leg hooks over yours, locking you in place, his breath puffing gently against your temple.

You groan softly and bury your face into his chest.

"What?" he murmurs, a tired little smile playing on his lips.

"I just changed the sheets this morning", you mutter into his skin, "Swore to myself that was the last time we were gonna dirty Elena's bed like that."

Eddie laughs, low and smug. "Oops."

You groan again, dragging a hand over your face. "They smelled like lavender and detergent an hour ago. Now it's just... us. This filthy, sticky stain-the-mattress sex".

He grins proudly. "That's our brand, baby". You snort and shift a little, and he groans dramatically."God. You broke me, woman.I'm wrung out like a fucking wet towel. You've been riding me into oblivion for days now. My turn again and I'm already feeling it in muscles I forgot existed."

You lift your head to look at him, teasing smile tugging at your lips, "Poor baby..."

He blinks slowly. "You're making fun of me."

"Me?", you grin, "Never".

He sighs dramatically, hand cupping your ass lazily, giving it a soft squeeze. "I'm just saying, back when you were climbing on top every night like some divine, sexed-up Amazonian warrior? I had it good, babe. Real good."

"You did", you agree. "You're welcome."

"And now?", he frowns, sighing again, "Now I'm the one doing cardio again. The real hard work. Everything to please my woman."

You smirk, brushing your lips against his ear, voice dripping sweet mockery. "Mm. And you sound like a dying rockstar every time I clench around you. All breathy and broken like, 'ahh-- fuck, baby, fuck'."You moan the last bit in a spot-on imitation of his voice, wrecked and desperate, eyes fluttering like he's right there again.

Eddie groans, head dropping back on the pillow, "That's slander. That's defamation of character."

You laugh and glance at him. "Oh come on, Eds. You practically whimper sometimes. I should start recording you. Sell tapes to desperate housewives. Retire rich."

He shoots you a mock glare, one brow arched high. "Okay, cool. Wanna talk about that thing you do when you're close? That high-pitched squeaky gasping thing?" He imitates you with the most over-the-top voice ever. "'EddieEddieEddie, oh fuck-- don't stop, I'm gonna cum!" 

You gasp, scandalized. "That is not what I sound like."

"Oh, baby, you're like a busted faucet. Just drippy and squealy and soaked", he states, shooting you a telling glance.

You shove him playfully. "You wish I sounded that bad. At least I don't make that weird little growl when I cum, like you're either about to bust a nut or summon a demon."

Eddie rolls over with a loud dramatic groan, face buried in the pillow. "I can't believe you'd attack me like this in my most vulnerable state. After I made you see God like ten minutes ago."

You bite down a laugh, sit up and straddle him, careful with his ribs, your hair falling over your shoulders like a curtain.

He watches you, dark eyes immediately drop, then snap back up, then drop again down to your tits, hopelessly obvious.

"What, you're mad now, baby?" you whisper, rocking your hips just enough to get his attention.

"Mhm. Fuming."

You smirk, grab his hands, and place them right on your bare tits. "That's a shame."

His fingers squeeze before he can even think, and he lets out a low, content groan.

You lean in, ass dragging over his thighs, hands planted on either side of his head, whispering right against his ear, sultry and smug. "I just think it's cute how your voice goes all cracked and ruined when I suck your cock real slow. You go all silent like your soul's leaving your body."

He groans, lifts his head slightly, face already flushed again as he glances at you, hands still on your tits. "You're fucking evil."

You bite his shoulder. "And you're hard again."

He groans again. "Still mad though."

You grin like the devil herself, feeling him getting hard again underneath you. "Oh, no. Still mad, huh?", you whisper, dragging your lips along the shell of his ear.

Eddie doesn't move. He's playing dead now. Arms stretched out, head turned to the side, eyes shut. "Yep", he says flatly, "Mad. Livid. Betrayed."

You chuckle, rocking your hips the tiniest bit, just enough friction to make him flinch. "Can't you forgive me, baby?", you murmur seductively, letting your naked breasts brush against his chest.

Eddie doesn't move. "No, you wounded me, Sam. I can't forgive you that easily."

"What if I promise to let you do that growl thing again?", you whisper, moving your hips again, feeling him suppressing a shiver.

His eye cracks open. Just one. "No."

You lean in closer, trailing kisses down his neck, your voice low and sultry. "Not even if I slide down and suck your dick just how like it, baby? All slow and deep and messy, so you go silent again and do that whole 'grabbing the sheets like you're dying' thing?"

A muscle in his jaw jumps. "Still. Mad."

You smirk. You know he's hanging on by a thread now, your tits gliding over his chest, his dick twitching against your ass, your voice low in his ear. "Not even if I let you cum in my mouth, swallow every little drop you're giving me?"

His hands twitch like he's about to grab you, but he stops himself. "I don't forgive easily", he states through gritted teeth, voice already thick.

You grind down once more, this time dragging your hips in a slow circle, right over the growing hardness between his legs. "Damn", you murmur sweetly, "I guess I'll just have to keep trying..."

Eddie finally lifts his head, face flushed, hair wild on the pillow, and glares at you like a man on the edge. "You're gonna be the death of me."

You bend down, let your tits drag across his chest again, lips ghosting over his own, "Not yet, baby. But give me twenty minutes."

"Jesus Christ, woman", he groans, covering his face with both of his ringed hands as you settle your weight fully onto him now, grinding ever so slowly.

It's not even about friction anymore, it's about the look on his face, the tension in his jaw, how his fingers keep twitching like he doesn't know whether to grip your hips or keep playing dead.

"You're so strong, baby", you whisper sweetly, taking his hands away from his face and brushing his hair off his forehead, "So brave. Risking it all for one round of cardio."

He exhales sharply through his nose, eyes still shut like he's a saint resisting sin. "Unbelievable", he mutters, "I'm being sexually bullied by my own girlfriend.''

You grin wickedly, shifting just enough for your inner thighs to brush his hips, your breasts swaying ever so slightly in front of his face when his eyes fly open again.

He stares right at them, eyes darting up to your smug smirk, back down to your hard nipples.

"You can't be mad at them, can you?", you smirk.

He turns his face away, lips pressed tight like he's really trying not to grin now.

You lean down and kiss his cheek. "What, you're still mad?"

He nods.

You kiss his neck, keeping up the game. "And now?"

Eddie exhales through his nose, finally smirking. "Warmer.''

You let your lips trail lower, letting your breath fan across his collarbone. "How about now?"

He hums noncommittally, but you see the way his fingers twitch.

You don't stop. You shift, slide your lips down his chest, kisses turning filthier now, tongue dragging over the sweat-slicked lines of him until you're nestled between his legs. You look up at him through your lashes. "Eds. Wanna forgive me yet?"

His dark eyes meet yours, his stubbly naked chest heaving with sharp breaths already, his silver chain resting between his collarbones. Slowly, he shakes his head, a wicked grin growing on his beautiful face.

You smirk back at him, licking your lips and slowly parting them, not taking your eyes off him when taking his dick into your mouth. Wet. Deep. Slow. Your mouth wraps around him with practiced ease, tongue swirling, dragging out every obscene sound he tried to play cool about. His hand flies to your hair, hips jerking helplessly as you sink down, throat taking him deeper than he expected. You wrap your hand around the base of him, fingers slick with spit as you stroke him once, just enough to see him twitch. His thighs shift beneath your palms, breath coming in shorter bursts, chest still rising and falling like he never fully caught it since round one.

You can feel him trying to be quiet, trying to not give you what you want. So of course, you make it harder. You kiss the head first, just a light press of your lips, teasing. Then a slow lick underneath, your tongue flat and hot, dragging from the base all the way up to the tip until you feel him pulse. Then your mouth is on him again, lips stretched around him, sinking down inch by inch. You go slow, deliberate, watching his face the whole time like it's your favorite show.

"Eyes on me", you murmur around him, lips smudging spit across his length as you pull back just enough to breathe, "Come on, pretty boy. You said it first."

Eddie's eyes crack open, his jaw clenched, but he looks. Oh, he looks. And the second you catch him watching, you moan, just for him. Let the sound ripple through him as you swallow him deep, let him see the way your throat takes him, how your lips look stretched and dripping around his cock. His hands fist the sheets. You don't miss it. You wrap one hand around what you can't take, spit pooling at the corners of your mouth as you stroke in rhythm with your mouth, twisting your wrist just right. The other hand grips his thigh, firm, grounding, keeping him there while you work him open with nothing but your mouth and your wicked little moans.

He's trying. God, he's trying not to make noise. But every now and then, he lets one slip, a breathy gasp, a grunt, a helpless little curse, and you smirk around him.

That only makes it worse.

You hum again, low and filthy, feeling him twitch on your tongue.

His head drops back, his breath shaky. "Fuck baby, your mouth is insane."

You pop off him with a soft gasp, hand still stroking him lazily, spit-slick and filthy. Your voice is all mockery and honey when you murmur, "You're being so quiet, Eds. Thought maybe you lost your voice?"

He glares weakly at you, eyes glassy. "You devil".

"Mmhm", you drop your head again, lips sealing over the tip, tongue swirling just under the crown.

His hips twitch.

You slide down, deeper this time, letting him hit the back of your throat and stay there, letting your eyes flutter shut as you breathe around him. When you finally pull back, it's with a loud, wet pop, and your voice is downright filthy now. "Still mad, baby?"

He's trying so hard. His eyes are dark, jaw locked, arms trembling from the effort of not just grabbing you and losing his mind.

You stroke him slow, your thumb circling the tip, watching his breath hitch. "Wanna cum in my mouth?", you whisper, voice thick and dripping with sin, "Wanna feel me swallow you while you make those pretty little sounds you hate?"

His hand shoots down to your hair so fast it makes you smirk. "Fuck it", he grits, "Come here. Jesus, come here." He yanks you up, flips you like it's instinct, like his body was just waiting for you to break him all the way.

You gasp, giddy and laughing, as he pulls you onto your knees. You barely have time to brace yourself before he's behind you, pushing inside with a groan that's all the sounds you teased him about. 

The moan you let out is filthy, punched straight from your chest as he fucks into you hard and fast, no buildup, no warning, just raw need. Your hands scramble for purchase on the mattress, back arching as he hits the perfect spot again and again.

"There she is", Eddie pants, fucking into you like he's got something to prove, "There's my pretty little faucet."

You try to glare over your shoulder, but your mouth is opening in a whimper, and all you manage is a wrecked, choked moan.

He slaps your ass once, sharp and fast, grinning. "Aw, baby", he growls, "where'd all that teasing go? Can't talk now?"

You can't. You're too full, too far gone.

He doesn't hold back, thrusts into you hard and deep, all rhythm and raw want, no teasing now. Just slick, obscene heat and the sound of skin slapping, your moans filling the room like a song only he gets to hear.

Eddie bends over you, chest to your back, hot and shivering with every movement. His mouth is right at your ear now. "Listen to those sounds", he pants, "Can't fucking tease me anymore, mh? All you can do is moan my name when I fuck you like you deserve it, huh?"

You're past the point of pride. Your voice is raw, body shivering, legs trembling. You can barely stay upright, clawing at the sheets, sobbing his name.

But he's not done.

A wrecked groan falls from your lips as he fucks even harder into you, his hand grabbing your hair, tilting your head back just enough to press a kiss to your neck. He leans back, panting wreckedly, hands on your hips, pulling you back into him every time he thrusts.

"Oh f-fuck-- yes!", you eventually manage to whimper between your moans, your body tightening like a live wire, your next climax hitting hard and fast and shaking your whole damn body as you cry out his name, almost collapsing beneath him, but his hands keep you on your knees.

He doesn't stop. He fucks you through it, relentless, chasing his own release, groaning behind you with every thrust as sweat drips down his face. You sob his name again, falling forward on your arms, thighs shaking.

"God, you sound so fucking good like this", he groans, "so wet for me. So fucking loud-- fuck-"

You're so gone for him, gasping his name like it's the only word you know, ass clapping against his pelvic in the fast rhythm of his hips. Then he pulls out, fast and sudden, breathing ragged. "Turn around-"

You obey instantly, dazed and fucked out and grinning. He's smirking down at you, flushed and panting, cock slick and twitching in his hand. "Open that pretty mouth for me, baby", he rasps, voice wrecked, "Come finish what you started."

You laugh breathlessly, still trembling, and drop to your knees without hesitation. Your lips part, and you smirk up at him, eyes locked on his.

Eddie's looming over you, breath ragged, fist wrapped tight around his cock, covered in your orgasms tracks. He looks down at you like you're the filthiest, prettiest thing he's ever seen, and he loves it. "That's it", he groans, voice all gravel and heat, "open up for me, pretty girl. You know what I fucking like.''

You moan softly as you take him back into your mouth, hot and wet and desperate. Your tongue swirls around the head, slow and teasing, just to feel the way his thighs tense.

His hand knots tighter in your hair the second you take him deeper, gagging just a little as he hits the back of your throat."Fuck yes", he growls, hips twitching, "that mouth's made for me."

You hum around him, filthy and deliberate, your spit dripping down your chin, fingers wrapped around the base, stroking him in rhythm with your mouth. Every little sound you make goes straight to his head, every gag, every whimper, every wet suck and choke.

"You hear that?" he pants, smug and dominant and utterly unhinged, "Goddamn listen to you. So loud for me. Such a fucking mess."

You take him deeper, tongue swirling filthily under the head before taking him deeper, until your lips are flush with your fist. A moan vibrates in your throat, deep and sinful, and you feel him twitch against your tongue. You hollow your cheeks, suction hard and wet, spit and precum dribbling from the corners of your mouth as you bob your head faster, matching the tremble in his thighs. His hand is in your hair again, gripping tight, trying to stay in control while you unravel him. You look up, eyes glassy, mouth stuffed full of him, and that's what pushes him over.

You feel it, his whole body tightening, the low growl curling in his chest. You pull back just in time for him to spill across your tongue, hot and thick and messy. "Fuck", he groans as you keep sucking, making a show of dragging your tongue along the underside of his shaft as you gather his cum on your tongue.

You moan when swallowing it, letting him see how much you love it. When you open your mouth again, it's empty, your grin cocky.

"Good fucking girl", he breathes, eyes wild, possessive, "God, look at you. Knees on the floor, mouth ruined, swallowing like you were born for it."

He drags you on your feet, smirking when you gasp against his mouth as he kisses you, hungry and claiming. It's messy, tasting like heat, bodies and lust, the kind of kiss that makes your knees buckle all over again. His hand stays wrapped in your hair, the other finding your waist, thumb dragging slow and possessive over the curve of your hip.

You moan into him, already melting, already grinning against his lips as you both fall back on the bed. "Jesus Christ", he murmurs between kisses, voice thick and breathless, "you're so fuckin' hot, fuck, I'm so lucky.''

You laugh softly, completely wrecked and blissed out, and let your fingers slide up his damp chest, feeling the way his heart is still hammering like mad. "You talk like you're not the one who just ruined me. Again."

Eddie smirks, hands roaming, touching like he can't stand the inches between you. "Yeah, but you liked it".

His nose brushes yours as he grins, voice low and cocky, "I mean, how many orgasms did you have? Four? Not counting this morning? That's gotta be some kinda record.''

You snort, resting your forehead against his as you catch your breath. "You're so full of yourself."

"Baby," he rasps, mock offended, running his palm over your ass like it's second nature, keeping you tugged to his sweaty side, "I just made you scream into a pillow like your soul was leaving your body. Let me have this."

Your laugh is soft and helpless and wrecked, and he leans in again, kissing you like he can't stop, like he doesn't want to. Your hands tangle in his messy curls, fingers tugging gently, and Eddie groans, head falling to your shoulder as he chuckles into your skin.

"Fuck", he mumbles, pressing a kiss to your collarbone, "we're the worst."

Your brows lift, still tangled up in his limbs. "Why?"

"Because", he gestures vaguely toward the bed with a crooked grin, "that's Elena's bed. And we've fucked in it three times. In less than twenty-four hours."

You gasp dramatically, covering your mouth. "We're monsters."

He laughs, wild and warm, brushing his knuckles down your spine. "If Steve and Elena ever did that in our bed, I'd set it on fire. No hesitation. Salt the earth. Build a new home."

You chuckle, head buried in his neck. "We're so awful. She gave us shelter and we desecrated her sheets."

He grins into your hair, both of you sticky and completely content, your bodies tangled like there's nowhere else in the world you'd rather be. "Worth it", he mutters smugly, groping your ass again. "You're gonna need crutches by tomorrow."

You slap his chest with no force at all, giggling breathlessly. "You're unbearable."

"You love it. Look at you, you're fucking obsessed with me".

"I do," you admit, shameless and soft, "And I am. You're perfect. Even when you're the filthiest man alive."

Eddie nuzzles you, grinning like a man who just conquered heaven. "Good. 'Cause you're mine. You hear me? Mine."

Your breath catches, something warm and aching blooming in your chest at how sure he sounds. "Yeah", you whisper, brushing your lips to his, "all yours."

He kisses you again, deeper this time, slower, until it's all heat and breath and heartbeats. You sink back into the bed for a moment, letting it wash over you both, bodies warm and limbs tangled, hearts thundering in the same rhythm.

But then... you remember.

"Shit", you mutter, blinking up at the ceiling, "we should get dressed. This isn't our place, we can't just stay like that forever. And they'll be back soon."

Eddie groans dramatically and sprawls over you like dead weight. "Nooooo."

"Yes", you laugh, trying to push him off, "we are not getting caught like this."

He sits up slowly, dragging a hand through his messy hair, his chest still gleaming with sweat. "Think I gotta try this shower now. I'm sticky. And you're coming with me. You probably still have my cum on your face," he says, half-proud, half-affectionate, "We look like we just walked off a porn set."

You shove him playfully, standing up and  heading toward the bedroom door, still totally naked. You can feel his eyes on your ass immediately.

"There's still a handprint on your cheek", he mutters. "You should get that tattooed. Forever. Branded with my hand. Where it belongs".

You laugh over your shoulder, unlocking the door and biting your lip, "I'll think about it". Slowly, you open it, peak outside and into the living space.

No one's here. You're still alone.

Eddie steps behind you, already grabbing at you again when you bolt, bare feet skimming across the floor as you streak toward the bathroom. Your boyfriend groans loudly behind you, covering his junk with one hand just in case as he rushes after you.

"God, please don't let Harrington walk in right now", he mutters as he barrels after you, locking the door behind him.

You've already turned on the water, hair piled up, stepping into the tiny shower. "Quick rinse. Just to not smell like sin. No funny business, Munson, okay?"

Eddie's already behind you, groping your ass with both hands like he can't help himself. "After everything I gave you today, you owe me that."

You giggle, slapping his hands away half-heartedly.

He just grins, pulls you back under the water, mouths brushing as steam rises around you both.

The shower's barely big enough to hold two people, but you make it work, laughing, kissing, rinsing the sweat and slick from each other's skin, your bodies brushing constantly, teasing and warm and so stupidly in love.

When you step back out, still dripping, skin flushed from the heat and slick from steam, Eddie's right behind you, hair plastered to his face, eyes already burning a path down your spine. The second your feet hit the bath mat, he's on you again, hands finding your waist, mouth hot against your shoulder.

"Baby", you sigh amusedly, "Stop it, I said no funny business."

"You said in the shower", he murmurs. "Can't help myself, baby. Every time I see you like this, all wet, and naked, I swear to god, I forget how to think."

You snort, but it turns into a gasp when his hands slide up to cup your breasts, thumbs brushing across your nipples with maddening slowness as he presses himself into your back. "You're the worst", you breathe, letting your head tilt back as he kisses down your throat. "Don't tell me you wanna do it again already, you nymphomaniac. What about your ribs?"

Eddie's hands fall on your hips, he swirls you around to face him, both of you still dripping wet. Dark eyes meet yours as he smirks mischievously. "They're fine," he mutters, leaning down to trail his mouth lower, lips dragging wet and open across your tits. "I'd die happy anyway."

You try to scold him, really, but then his mouth closes around your nipple, hot and soft and sucking just enough to make your knees buckle. Your fingers find his damp hair, tugging gently, but he only groans and lifts, settling you on the bathroom sink with a firm grip on your hips. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist as his mouth captures yours again, all heat and need all over again, and you can feel his cock already hardening against you, body flushed and buzzing with too much want. His hands are on your thighs, your waist, your back, like he can't decide where to touch first.

"I can't get enough of you", he pants against your lips, smirking, "Fuck, you're making me fucking hard again."

You laugh, breathless and completely wrecked, pulling him back in by the neck, "Oh, no. Guess we have to take care of that then, mh?"

His answering groan is sinful, and he starts kissing down your neck again, hands sliding back to your ass when, a sound echoes through the closed bathroom door.

The front door opens.

Voices. Footsteps. The unmistakable sound of life returning to the apartment.

You both freeze.

"Shit."

You clamp a hand over your mouth, eyes wide, while Eddie looks torn between panic and outright laughter. "Wanna just keep going?", he murmurs, grinning smugly and reaching for you again.

You snort, slap his hand away and jump down from the sink. "Behave, Munson", you snort, hearing him chuckle behind you as you turn to grab your clothes from the closed toilet lid.

Your... non existing clothes.

Where are--?

"We forgot our clothes", you whisper.

"This is your fault, you know", he replies, completely shameless, still dripping and glancing at the door like it might vanish if he waits long enough. "You ran in here butt-naked like a damn streaker and expected me to think and take our clothes with me? Not happening, sweetheart".

You shoot him a glare, cheeks flushed for a thousand different reasons.

From outside the bathroom door, you can hear Steve casually shouting.

"We're back! You guys want a donut? Definitely need a sweet treat after that day."

You can hear the indistinct chatter of Robin and Elena, the sounds of jackets being unzipped and shoes kicked off.

"Hello? Sam? Eddie?", Robin now calls.

"One sec", your boyfriend calls casually over his shoulder, "Just looking for our dignity", before shooting you a wide grin.

"Ugh, you guys in the bathroom together?", Robin shouts back, "I really hope you two aren't defiling anything in there!"

"We would never!", Eddie answers too quickly, too cheerfully, and you can hear the smirk in his voice.

You blush. Eddie just smirks back at you.

"Jesus", you mutter under your breath, "Okay, whatever. No clothes. Towel it is, then. There, under the sink."

Eddie follows your gaze, bends down and opens the cabinet. "Luck's on our side, babe", he mumbles, grabbing the last two folded towels in there and handing you one while standing back up, still gloriously naked and still way too pleased with himself.

You both unfold them at the same time.

Silence.

"...Eddie", you whisper, "Those are the size of a fucking dish towel."

He glances down at the flimsy scrap in his hands, raises an eyebrow, and shrugs. "Better than nothing. Barely."

You stare at him. "We're so dead."

'Or legends", he grins, wrapping the towel around his waist and holding it with exactly two fingers, his half hard dick bulging the fabric, the towel not even reaching halfway down his thigh.

You roll your eyes and wrap your own towel around yourself, trying desperately to make it stay up. It covers... almost nothing.

Eddie's eyes sweep over you like he's already unwrapping you again in his head. "That thing's holding on for dear life, sweetheart," he murmurs, biting his bottom lip, eyes glued to the upper curve of your barely-covered chest, "One wrong move and you're flashing the whole damn apartment. Not that I'd complain."

You roll your eyes again and try to adjust the towel with some dignity. "Shut up, Munson."

But then, of course, his hands are already under the towel, gripping your hips, sliding over the curve of your ass like he owns it. Which, to be fair, you did just let him treat it like personal property for the last hour. You snort, elbowing him, but it only makes him grin wider.

He's tugging you flush against him, his erection pressing unapologetically into your stomach. "Can't help myself with you standing here, half-naked, looking like a wet dream on legs."

You bite down a laugh. "Babe, come on...''

"I told you, I have no self-control with you", he smirks, one hand sliding up your spine, the other gripping your jaw. "How the fuck am I supposed to walk out there when you look like this?" He kisses you again, slow and hot, like he's got all the time in the world and zero intention of letting you escape.

You melt for half a second before shoving at his chest with a breathless laugh. "My god, you're unbelievable."

"I am," he agrees, cocky as ever, "But you love it, don't you?"

From outside the door, you can hear steps coming closer, Robin's annoyed voice echoing through the thin wood as she calls, "Guys, seriously, I gotta pee! Get out of the bathroom, you perverts!"

You snort against Eddie's mouth, pulling back, only to have him chase your lips, kissing you again with a smirk still half-formed on his face. "Can't stop," he whispers, mock-desperate, lips brushing yours, "You broke me. You turned me into a monster. A horny, shameless--"

You smack his chest and twist out of his grip, half-laughing, half-panicked."Robin is right outside! Behave, Munson".

"So?" Eddie shrugs, completely unbothered, grabbing the ridiculously tiny towel and trying to sling it back around his hips. It's a tragic attempt. His dick is very obvious. He glances down, shrugs again at your raised brows. "What? It's nature."

"You look like a goddamn porno extra", you hiss, yanking your towel tighter over your boobs, which is saying something, because it barely covers your boobs at all.

Robin knocks, loud and impatient. "Don't make me kick the door open. Get away from each other, for fuck's sake!"

You freeze.

Eddie just grins, winking, towel hanging on for dear life.

"...You are the worst", you whisper.

He smirks, tossing a wink at the door. "If I die, I die, babe."

You shake your head, barely keeping it together. "I hate you."

"You love me", he grins, all smug confidence, arms wide open, towel slipping just a little more, showing off his happy trail, the v-shape of his groin, making you all nervous. "And you made me like this. You've got no one to blame but yourself, sweetheart."

You sigh like a woman about to walk to her doom, clutching the edge of your towel with one hand, using the other to try and wrangle Eddie's damn towel higher up his hips. "Can you please act like a normal human for thirty seconds?" you whisper, eyes darting toward the door. .

He leans in, lips brushing your ear. "Define normal. 'Cause if it involves not groping my insanely hot, wet girlfriend every time she exists within five feet of me, I'm out." Before you can argue, he loudly announces, "Alright, folks! Shield your innocent eyes unless you wanna get blinded by the sheer radiant hotness that is my girlfriend."

"Oh my god, Eddie", you hiss, but it's too late.

He swings the door open dramatically, like he's stepping onto a Broadway stage, towel slung low on his hips, chest still flushed from heat and exertion, hair dripping in dark waves over his shoulders. He throws a hand out theatrically. "Calm yourselves, people! Yes, she's naked. Yes, she's perfect. But don't even think about looking at her or I'll be forced to commit an unspeakable act of violence".

You try to duck behind him, but you're laughing too hard. Your friends immediately explode.

"JESUS CHRIST--"

"WHAT THE--?"

"DUDE!"

"ARE YOU NAKED?!"

Robin immediately whips around and slaps a hand over her eyes. "I KNEW IT. I TOLD YOU. I SAID THEY WERE DOING STUFF IN THERE!"

"I can't unsee that", Steve mutters, spinning in place, dramatically shielding Elena, who just blinks.

"...Is this, like, a regular thing?"

"EVERYBODY STAY CALM", Eddie bellows, stepping forward like he's leading a press conference, towel bouncing dangerously low, "There's nothing to see here. I am a taken man. This body is spoken for".

Your face burns as you follow him through the living space, biting your lips to keep yourself from laughing.

"If anyone so much as glances at my girl's boobs", he adds, "Male or female... Buckley... I will catch a charge."

"You're literally flashing us all right now", Steve groans, covering his eyes.

"My eyes are closed!" Robin shrieks, "I'M A GOOD PERSON!"

"Eddie", you groan, face in your hands, but laughing so hard your towel starts to slip. You have to snatch it back up before it joins your dignity in the lost forever pile.

Elena just walks calmly to the coffee machine and turns it on. "Anyway. I'm making a second pot".

"Cool, cool, cool", Steve mutters, walking into the kitchen like a war survivor, "I'm gonna need ten donuts and a shot of bleach".

"Do I still get to pee?" Robin asks the ceiling, and when she doesn't get an answer right away, she dares to glance your way, just a second, right as Eddie turns to glance back at you, which, unfortunately, means she gets the full side profile.

And with it, the very obvious outline beneath his tragically tiny towel.

"Oh my GOD", she shrieks, lurching away and smacking her hand back over her eyes, "HE'S GOT A BONER. HE'S GOT A FREAKING BONER!"

Steve chokes on absolutely nothing and slaps a hand over his face. "DUDE. PUT THAT THING AWAY. WE LIVE HERE".

"I'm BLIND", Robin groans, staggering dramatically down the hallway, "THIS IS HARASSMENT. THIS IS A CRIME SCENE."

Elena's laughing so hard she nearly drops the coffee pot, "Oh my god, you absolute menace."

Eddie just beams, smug and unbothered as hell, resting a protective arm around your shoulders like he's herding you toward safety, when in reality he's just leading you to Elena's bedroom. "Sorry, sorry", he says, not sounding sorry at all, "She's just too sexy. It's science. My body reacts. I'm but a humble man".

"You're a public hazard", Steve snaps, flinging a throw pillow in your general direction. It misses by about a foot.

You're trying so hard not to laugh you're clutching your towel for dear life, snorting into Eddie's shoulder. "You asshole", you hiss, half-mortified, half-sobbing with laughter.

"I'll take that as a compliment", he winks, backing you both toward the bedroom with an exaggerated bow, "Come, my scandalous queen. Let us return to our chambers before someone gets tempted."

"NO ONE IS TEMPTED", Steve and Robin yell at the same time.

Eddie just cackles, hauling you across the room, still way too proud of himself. He throws one last wink over his shoulder. "Don't wait up!"

Another round of groans, gagging, and laughter chases you both as he kicks open the bedroom door and shuts it behind you, grinning like the devil himself.

The door clicks shut behind you, and you're still clutching your towel like it's your last line of defense against chaos itself. 

Your face is burning, but your shoulders are shaking with laughter, and you're barely keeping upright as you turn around to face him. 

"You're insane", you say, breathless.

Eddie, grinning like the cat who just caused a six-car pileup and walked away unscathed, shrugs innocently, "Nah, baby, I'm just in love." 

He's not even pretending to hide how smug he is. Eyes bright, hair still damp, that stupid towel of his riding low on his hips, too low. His gaze dips, unapologetically locked on the way your own towel hugs your curves, and then he licks his lips. 

"Don't", you warn, taking one slow step back. 

His grin widens. He takes one forward. 

"Eds", you laugh, still backing up, "we are not doing this. Our friends are right outside!" You point at him like you're making a real argument when seeing him take another step towards you. "No. Absolutely not. And how are you still hard after this? That's not normal". 

"I am not normal", he shrugs proudly, "Especially not with you walking around in a towel, all dripping wet and adorable and clearly asking for trouble". 

"I am not, you perf", you laugh, shaking your head. 

Eddie just grins - and drops his towel. 

"Oh no", you laugh, backing up faster, "Oh my god. No."

"Oh yeah", he smirks, stepping forward completely unbothered, naked and ridiculous and far too confident, "Come on, sweetheart. Drop it. Lemme see what's underneath." 

"You know what's underneath! You've seen it minutes ago!"

"Yeah, but I miss it already." 

You squeak when he lunges, dodging around the edge of the bed, holding your towel tight as you giggle, the sound of it bouncing off the walls, echoing faintly out into the rest of the apartment.

Out there, Robin groans again but this time with a smile. 

"Well, at least she's laughing."Steve chuckles, opening the box of donuts, "Yeah, as long as she's just laughing, I'm okay with that". 

Elena smiles, wrapping her arms around his middle, "Let 'em be idiots. They deserve it. I prefer this version of them way more than the one we saw earlier, after her flashback".

Back in the room, Eddie's advancing like a man on a mission, still naked, still half-hard and totally shameless, grinning with every giggle you let out. You've backed yourself into the wall, laughing too hard to breathe properly, the towel clutched to your chest like armor. 

"Nowhere left to run, sweetheart", he grins. 

"Eddie, don't you dare!" 

He lunges. 

You squeal. 

He rips the towel away with one hand, scoops you up with the other, and you're laughing, flailing, shrieking with delighted protest as he drops you onto the bed, crawling over you like a feral gremlin with bedroom eyes.

"God, you're lucky you're cute", you laugh breathlessly, even as he settles between your legs, hands greedy and warm. 

Eddie grins, kissing you hard, "Nah, baby. I'm lucky I've got you." 

Your giggles spill out in helpless waves as Eddie manhandles you like you're some treasure chest he's been dying to open all day, and judging by the way he throws himself across your body, groaning dramatically, maybe you are.He's everywhere at once. Groping, squeezing, kissing, peppering your skin with wet, ridiculous smacks as he wiggles over you like a man possessed. 

"Oh my god", you laugh, clutching at his shoulders as he shimmies down and plants a kiss right in the middle of your stomach, "You're so dumb". 

"And you're so hot", he counters, eyes wide and dramatic before he smashes his face directly into your boobs and motorboats you with the enthusiasm of a frat boy at spring break. 

You scream with laughter, trying to shove him away, squirming under the sudden, absurd attack. "Eddie! Stop!" 

"Mmmm, never!" he declares, muffled, hands cupping your tits with absolutely zero shame, "These are mine!" 

You're breathless, red-faced, and fighting back tears of laughter when he finally lifts his head, dragging his nose along your skin like he's taking in your scent. He sniffs you, deep and exaggerated, before sighing like you're the best-smelling thing he's ever encountered. 

"You're insane" you wheeze. 

"And you, my dear", he mutters, crawling back up to straddle your thighs, his dick pressing against you obscenely as he leans down and nuzzles into your neck, "are a walking aphrodisiac. I swear to god, I could live in your scent. Just burrow in. Die happy". 

"You're naked and sniffing me", you point out between snorts, "Do you hear yourself right now?"

"Do you hear yourself giggling like that?" he teases, kissing your cheek, your jaw, your collarbone, fingers sliding down your sides, making you squirm, "You love it. Don't lie".

You try. You really do.

"I - no, I'm -- stop it!" you cry, cracking up again as he grabs your hips and yanks you down the bed, planting one more kiss just below your belly button.

He looks up at you from between your breasts, messy hair in his face, eyes glinting with mischief. "I'm gonna make you laugh and moan at the same time, sweetheart. Think you can handle that?" 

You roll your eyes, blushing furiously, still laughing as your hands cup his face, "No". 

He smirks, kissing the inside of your thigh, "Gonna do it anyway".

You groan, reaching down for his face, half-dizzy from laughing, half-dizzy from how stupidly turned on you still are, despite everything. "You're impossible," you mutter, your fingers in his damp curls, thumb brushing along his temple as he grins up at you with a look so smug it should be illegal. 

"And yet," he murmurs, lips brushing your thigh again, "you're still letting me manhandle you like a human playground". 

"I'm not", you protest weakly, but your legs are already sliding apart, his shoulders settling between them like it's his natural habitat. 

He laughs, and presses a few teasing kisses just above your knee, working his way inward, deliberately slow. His palms slide up your thighs, groping, kneading, thumbs circling like he knows exactly what he's doing. 

"I mean, look at you", he murmurs, mouth dragging along your inner thigh now, eyes never leaving yours, "Flushed and giggly, trying to act mad while your whole body's begging for it".              He nips gently at your skin, chuckling at your involuntary shiver, "You're so full of shit, sweetheart."

You're breathless again, fingers tightening in his hair as he smirks into your skin. "We are not doing this", you whisper. 

"Totally", he grins, smug as hell, "Absolutely not."

But then his mouth is on you, hot and open and greedy, and you gasp so hard you nearly jolt off the mattress. He hums against you, pleased, smug, completely in love with how wrecked you sound already. When he pulls back a little, mouth shiny and grinning like a man on top of the world, you want to throttle him.

"You were saying?" he teases, eyebrows raised. 

You huff. "I hate you". 

"No you don't", he sing-songs, pressing another kiss low on your belly, "You adore me, my love".

You can't even argue, not with his hands sliding under your thighs, not with the way his voice drops again, low and heated and full of worship. 

"I'm gonna take such good care of you, baby", he promises, nose brushing along your skin again, "'Cause you're mine. All of you. Laughs and moans and all." 

You cover your face with both hands, completely done for, laughter still tangled in your breath as he dips lower again, ready to prove it. Your laugh dissolves into a moan the moment his mouth finds you again, slow and thorough, hands holding your hips steady even as you twitch under him, already so sensitive and yet craving more. 

He hums low, clearly enjoying every sound you make, like he's collecting them, storing them in his bones. "Just like that", he murmurs, barely pulling back to speak, "There's my girl". 

You arch into him, head thrown back, the giggle that bubbles up turning breathless, broken. 

He's relentless in the sweetest way, teasing and worshipful, every flick of his tongue sending a new shiver through your spine.

"Oh my god", you whisper, a hand flying to your mouth as your eyes go wide, another gasp twisting into a soft moan behind your palm. He hums like he's satisfied already, tongue moving with slow, practiced ease, like he knows exactly how to make your breath hitch and your body tense. And he does. 

You're already oversensitive from earlier, your thighs twitching with every deliberate stroke, but he's somehow both gentle and insistent, like he's coaxing your body back to the edge just to prove he can. Your hips jerk against him when he adds his fingers, two slipping in so easily, so slowly, curling just right. The stretch makes you whimper, overwhelmed but loving it, eyes fluttering shut for a second before flicking open again to meet his. 

He's watching you. 

Watching your face with this smug, focused look, like he's committing every reaction to memory. 

"Still with me, sweetheart?", he teases, voice low and rough against your skin. 

"You're evil", you manage, grinning even as your whole body trembles. 

But you don't pull away. 

Your legs part further. Your hands sink into his damp curls. You're chasing every flick of his tongue, every curl of his fingers, needing more even though it's already too much.

And Eddie - god, he lives for this. For making you come apart with laughter still echoing in your chest and love shining in your eyes. For turning even this into something soft and electric, like your body trusts him enough to fall apart again and again. 

"You're so good", you whisper, voice cracking, "How are you still this good?"

He only chuckles, low and warm, before he doubles down, tongue stroking deeper, fingers thrusting slow and sure. 

Your moan slips out despite your best effort, and he grins against you like he's won a prize. Your head falls back against the pillow, one arm flung over your eyes, the other tangled in Eddie's hair like you're trying to ground yourself. 

You're so sensitive it's borderline ridiculous, every flick of his tongue, every curl of his fingers sends a ripple through your spine. But he's relentless. Greedy. And clearly in love with the way your thighs tremble around his shoulders. 

"Fuck, Eds", you gasp, and it's a warning and a plea all at once. 

"I know, baby", he murmurs against your skin, lips brushing where you're already throbbing, "Can fucking taste how close you are". 

You let out this helpless, wrecked little giggle that breaks into a moan halfway through. It makes him beam. Smug bastard. He lives for that sound. 

"I'm gonna start charging for this mouth", he teases, fingers sliding deeper, voice almost sing-song now, "Too powerful. Too dangerous. Too damn good." 

You make some half-hearted attempt at pushing him away, but he just presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh and says, "Nope", with a grin so wide you can feel it. Your hips buck without your permission. 

Everything's too much and not enough. He keeps his rhythm steady, curling his fingers just right, tongue working in slow, teasing patterns until your thighs are clenching around him and your giggles have turned into desperate, broken gasps. 

"Oh fuck, keep going", you gasp, panting now, basically grinding against his face, "Holy sh-shit, I--"

You can't even finish your sentence before that knot low in your stomach coils tighter and tighter until your body locks. A moan rips from your throat, louder than you mean, but you're way past caring. 

Eddie hums satisfiedly, eyes never leaving your face as he watches you cum again. You crash over the edge, legs trembling, back arching, Eddie's name stuttering out of your mouth like it's the only word you remember. He doesn't stop until you're squirming, whimpering, overstimulated and shivering, and even then, he trails soft kisses up your belly like he's trying to kiss you back to life. 

Your eyes flutter open to find him hovering over you, flushed and proud and still very naked. 

He smirks like he just set a world record. "Told you I wasn't done", he murmurs. 

You groan, pulling the pillow over your face, heart racing in your chest.

Eddie flops beside you, dragging you close with one arm and dropping a kiss to your forehead before flicking the pillow away. He drapes his torso over you like a heavy, warm blanket, his bare skin pressed to yours, cheek nestled right between your breasts like it's his favorite pillow in the world. His curls are still a little damp, tickling your collarbone as he breathes you in, a long, satisfied sigh slipping from his lips. 

He's still hard, you can feel it, pressed just barely against your thigh under the loose twist of the sheets, but he doesn't make a move. Not yet. He's too busy watching you come down, too full of the high he just gave you, too busy memorizing you like this. 

"God, baby..." he mumbles, voice muffled slightly by your chest, "You should see yourself right now." 

You chuckle, your hand already in his hair, fingers threading through soft curls as your other hand gently strokes down his neck. "Don't look at me like that. I can't anymore. I'll spontaneously combust". 

"You already did", he teases, lifting his head just enough to smirk at you, eyes glinting with mischief, "Pretty sure I just watched your soul leave your body, sweetheart. I think I have to call an exorcist". 

You laugh, flushed and breathless, cheeks burning, "Shut up, you idiot". 

He hums and kisses the swell of your breast again, then your sternum, your shoulder, whatever he can reach without lifting too far, "Mm. Nah. I'm just hopelessly obsessed." 

Your heart does that fluttery thing again, like it might float out of your chest and take you with it. 

You look down at him, at his pink mouth, the curve of his jaw, the lashes brushing his cheeks, and your hand falls to his face without even thinking. You trace his lips, then his cheekbone, his temple, smoothing your fingers over every perfect, beautiful detail.

He catches your wrist and kisses your palm.

You don't want to move. Don't want to speak. You're so full of him and warmth and love it's making your chest ache in the softest way. 

"I don't wanna put clothes on", you mumble, half-laughing, "I don't wanna leave this bed ever again". 

Eddie groans dramatically. "Finally, someone gets me". Then his voice softens, his thumb brushing along your waist. "I don't need anything else. Just you. Naked. Laughing. Happy. Right here." 

You roll your eyes and grin, "You forgot horny". 

"Oh, I didn't forget", he mumbles with a wink, biting back a smug little smirk, "But I wasn't gonna push it. Not when you look so blissed out I'm worried you actually died for a second". 

"Oh, my god, shut up", you laugh, but he just shifts, grabs you and rolls over suddenly, wincing just a little with the movement, pulling you with him until you're sprawled on top of him, tits pressed to his chest, your legs tangled with his. 

You squeak as he settles you against him, both arms locked around your waist now, holding you like you're his personal weighted blanket. "Hey!" you protest softly, laughing. 

"What?", he mutters innocently, rubbing slow circles into your lower back, "This is my new favorite position. You fit perfectly." 

You lift your head, eyes shining with laughter, and hook your fingers into the edge of his silver chain. Your smile softens into something tender, so full of emotion it makes his breath catch. "I'm so glad I'm with you", you whisper, "You're the only one I need, Eds". 

Something in his expression cracks, his cocky grin fading into a soft, reverent look. 

He lifts a hand to push your hair back, fingers brushing your jaw. "You're unreal", he breathes, "You're so fuckin' sweet and funny and brave and hot and mine. I don't even know how this happened." 

You smile through a fluttering chest and lean down to kiss him, slow and warm and real. It lingers, like you're pouring everything into him with just your lips. 

"I don't think I'll ever be able to find the words to tell you how much I love you, Edward Munson."

He closes his eyes for a second like he's physically trying to absorb it. When he opens them again, they're dark and glassy and full of so much love it feels like it might swallow you whole. "I love you too, baby", he whispers, "So fucking much". 

You kiss him again, fingers gently caressing his jaw as your mouths move together in a soft, warm kiss.

He sighs into the kiss like it's the first deep breath he's taken in years, like your mouth is the only place he ever wants to live. His hands tighten on your hips, not with lust, not to start something again, but like he's grounding himself. Anchoring to you. His whole body relaxes under you, chest rising and falling beneath your bare skin.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to this", he mumbles into your mouth, voice quiet and a little raspy. 

You pull back, brushing your nose against his, fingertips grazing the side of his face, his jaw, tracing the curve of his cheek. "Used to what?"  

"To you", he replies without hesitation, eyes wide and shining like you hung the stars just for him. "Loving me. Being here. Letting me... have this."

You feel the burn behind your eyes before it fully hits, that full-body warmth that makes your breath catch and your chest ache in the best way. "You do have this", you whisper, "You have me, baby. I'm only yours". 

Eddie's throat bobs as he swallows "I'm a very lucky man".

You roll your eyes fondly, your body still draped over his, still skin to skin. "Guess you are". 

He laughs, squeezing your ass, making you squeak again, and he hums under his breath, eyes darting between yours. "Think if I keep telling you how obsessed I am, you'll just melt into me and I can keep you here forever?" 

You smirk, hand dragging down his chest, feeling the faint rise and fall of his ribs under your palm, "You already have me, Eddie. Forever. You won't get fucking rid of me". 

His fingers lift to your face again, brushing a strand of damp hair back from your forehead. "That a promise?"

You kiss him again, slow and deep, your chest pressed to his, his silver chain cool against your collarbone. "More like a threat", you smirk.

Eddie laughs against your mouth, that raspy, breathless kind of laugh that vibrates through his chest and into yours. "Jesus Christ, I am so in love with you", he mutters, eyes crinkling, lips still brushing yours like he can't bear to be even an inch apart, "You threaten me like that again, I'm gonna propose with a damn Ring Pop."

You giggle, your forehead pressed to his, "Only if it's cherry". 

"Cherry?" he gasps, mock offended, "Sam. That's the worst flavor". 

"Oh, and what's the best flavor, Mr. Munson?"

 "Blue raspberry", he says confidently, like it's law, "Obviously."

You squint down at him, feigning serious thought, "I dunno... might be a dealbreaker."

He gasps again, dramatically this time, hand flying to his chest, "After everything we've been through? That's what ends us?" 

You laugh so hard you bury your face in his neck, your whole body shaking with it, and Eddie holds you tighter, grinning like an idiot the entire time. His hand strokes slowly up and down your back, fingers tracing lazy shapes, his touch so soft it's like a whisper across your skin.

The room is quiet now except for your breathing and the distant murmur of voices and laughter in the apartment beyond the bedroom door. 

Your friends, probably teasing you both to death, and Eddie's still shamelessly naked under you, not even pretending to care. 

You lift your head again, watching him with that full, quiet smile that only he ever gets. Your fingers find his curls again, carding through them slowly, and his eyes flutter shut like you're putting him under some kind of spell.

"Hey", he murmurs after a beat, voice low and warm, "If this is what hiding out looks like, I think we should stay hidden forever."

You hum, nodding, your nose brushing his, "I wouldn't mind disappearing with you for a while." 

His eyes open, soft and dark and full of something deeper. "I know everything's... fucked up out there. And we're scared. And it's messy." His hand presses to your lower back. "But you're not alone in it. You never were. You've got me."

Your throat tightens again, but this time it's not just the love, it's the safety, the certainty in his voice. He means it. Every single word. 

"I know", you whisper, "I've always had you. Even when I didn't realize it."

His mouth finds yours again, soft and slow and lingering, like he's imprinting it into memory. "I'm not going anywhere", he breathes. Dark eyes find yours again. "Wanna go see if they found anything? About that garage Billy mentioned?" 

You nod slowly, lips parting like you want to say more but can't quite find the words. Your fingers still rest on his chest, absently tracing the links of his chain. "Yeah", you sigh, voice quiet but steady, "Yeah, we probably should." 

Eddie nods, his forehead tipping against yours. "Wish we could stay in this bubble a little longer". 

"Me too", you whisper, kissing the corner of his mouth before pulling back, "Wish we could be in our bubble back at home. But we've got shit to do". 

"Unfortunately", he groans, flopping back dramatically as you roll off of him, "Fucking evil missing bastards always ruining the afterglow". 

You chuckle weakly, reaching for the clothes that got tossed somewhere in the chaos. "We could just walk out there naked again. That'd clear a room." 

Eddie props himself up on one elbow, smirking, "Tempting. But I think Steve might actually gouge his own eyes out this time". 

You dress slowly, exchanging half-sarcastic comments while quietly helping each other, him tossing you your shirt with a mock bow, you pulling his tank top down over his still-warm skin. 

The mood is softer now, quieter, but no less connected.

Once dressed, Eddie slips his fingers between yours, giving your hand a gentle squeeze as you both face the door. 

"Ready?"

"Yeah", you nod, even though you aren't. But you have to be. So you take a breath, squeeze his hand back, and together you step into the hallway, leaving the warmth of the bedroom behind. 

Eddie's hand is warm on the small of your back as you step into the living room together, both of you freshly dressed but still a little flushed and dazed from everything that just happened in Elena's room. Your towel is thankfully long forgotten, though the moment Steve catches sight of you two, he groans loud enough to shake the walls. 

"Oh great. The sex gremlins emerge", he says, dramatically shielding his eyes. 

"Oh my God, they're alive", Robin deadpans, hands on her hips like she's been waiting hours, "And clothed! Barely." 

You groan, burying your face into Eddie's shoulder as he just laughs, smug as ever. "We were being quiet", you mumble.

'You were not," Steve says flatly. 

''Honestly", Robin adds, "it was kind of impressive. You sounded like a malfunctioning carousel."

Elena just smirks from the floor where she's surrounded by papers and maps, a half eaten donut in her hand. "Let them be. They've had a weekend from hell. If they wanna burn off the trauma with numerous rounds of very l-"

"Okay!", you cut her off, face burning, "Point made!" 

Eddie just squeezes your hip and winks at the group like he's proud of the chaos. "Anyway. What'd we miss? Please tell me you geniuses found something while we were...otherwise engaged."

That quickly sobers the mood. Robin straightens, Steve leans forward, and Elena pats the floor next to her in invitation. 

You sit, Eddie behind you like a shadow, his fingers brushing yours as he instinctively takes your hand. 

"Actually", Elena says, a little triumphant sparkle in her eyes, "we did. We think we may have found a lead".

 Your heartbeat picks up, the haze of intimacy clearing fast. 

Robin tosses a crumpled library index card onto the coffee table. "We went old school. Hit the local library, went through newspaper archives, old phone directories, highway maps from the seventies..." 

"It was a long day", Steve grumbles, "I haven't touched that much paper since... ever". 

Robin gives him a long look, rolls her eyes and glances back at you. "So", Robin starts, tapping a spot on the map just outside of San Clemente, "You said Billy mentioned a garage. Gas station. Family-owned. Nothing flashy. Old. Outside of town. Near the highway and beach, right?" 

Slowly, you nod, hands turning clamp as you listen, Eddie squeezing them lightly, remembering you he's right there.

"So we started digging", Elena picks up again, "We knew it wasn't gonna be one of those big chain gas stations. This place had to be old, tucked away, not corporate. Which meant a lot of phone calls". 

"Like, a lot", Steve mutters, rubbing his temple, "And just as many fake scenarios". 

You raise a brow. 

Robin smirks. "Elena did most of the talking. She called every convenience store, roadside diner, tiny-ass gas station off Highway 1 and the 5 between San Clemente and about a two-hour radius, asking if they'd ever heard of a family-run garage-gas combo just outside of town".

Elena leans forward, her voice picking up. "Most people said no, or hung up. But then this old guy who runs a bait shop outside Laguna was like, 'Oh yeah, Crescent Bay Garage, just north of town. Family-run. Been there forever.'" 

"He said it's not even on the newer maps", Robin adds, "But locals know it. Right off Highway 1. Near this old bridge. Barely a sign left. Sounded real fitting." 

You blink. "He gave you a name?" 

"Yeah", Elena nods, "Mick Denner. The different last name makes sense if they were just stepbrothers. Maybe the parents weren't actually married, or one of them still kept their old name. He's not a Hargrove. The police probably don't even know he exists". 

"The man didn't say much else", Robin adds, "Didn't seem too fond of our friend Mick. But he did remember when Mick's father still owned the garage, he was with a woman for a few years, who had a son about the same age. The boys were trouble through and through, he said. Could've been Neil, but he didn't remember the name". 

"But it matches what Billy said", Elena finishes, "The distance. The setup. The fact that it's so off the grid. The stepbrother thing". 

"Crescent Bay", you whisper, looking down at the map where they've circled a tiny dot near the coast, desperately trying to remember if Billy ever mentioned that name. A place barely marked, barely anything. 

"Sounds like our guy", Eddie murmurs. Robin nods. "We've got the rough address. Best guess based on old road maps and what this guy told us."

You sit there, the room quiet for a beat as everyone stares at the map, the name Crescent Bay Garage practically glowing in red ink. It's something. Maybe nothing. But right now, it's all you've got. Steve breaks the silence first. 

"So... what do we do now?"

You glance at Eddie, then back at the others. 

"We should probably tell Hopper."

Robin nods slowly. "Yeah. But... this is California. Different state. We're dealing with interstate stuff now". 

Elena bites her lip, "Would Indiana police even be able to do anything? But there is a warrant, right?" 

You nod, "Hopper said it's official. It's out there. Neil's wanted for what he did. If he gets spotted, by a cop, or anyone paying attention, they should bring him in". 

Robin tilts her head. "So... we could just call Hopper. Give him the location. Let them handle it?" 

Steve leans his elbows on his knees. "Yeah, but it's still in California. Do Indiana cops even have jurisdiction?"

"No", Eddie mutters, "They'd have to get local law enforcement involved. Might take time. Hopper could push it, make the call, but still... that's not a quick process."

You exhale slowly. "And, on top of that, we don't even know for sure Neil's there. Just that this garage matches what Billy said. Could be a dead end". 

Steve shrugs, "Or he's actually there. And we'd never forgive ourselves if we sat on it." 

You sigh loudly, rubbing the bridge of your nose, trying to think properly. 

"If he's hiding out there, he's not gonna just pop his head up for a friendly chat", Eddie mumbles next to you, lighting himself a cigarette, "Chances are high the second some cops arrive there to look for him, it'll tip him off and he'll bolt before anyone can get close". 

"Great options", you sigh, thankfully taking the Marlboro pack from his hand and sliding one between your lips before holding the tip to the still flickering lighter in his hand.

Elena and Steve share a look. 

"I mean, we can't just drive there and see for ourselves", Robin thinks out loud, "Right? We gotta trust the police on that, don't we? Just call Hopper, let him call his colleagues there to arrest him, and we're good to go. Good to go home. All of us". Her blue eyes meet yours, and she gives you a warm look.

There's a beat of silence. 

The air shifts, heavier, as you think about her words, about the idea of actually going there yourselves. 

You take a puff and glance at Eddie, whose arm now snakes around your waist to pull you into his side, his lips wrapping around his cigarette, brows slightly drawn, jaw ticking. 

Elena turns your attention back to her. "Driving there? It'd be a hell of a trip. Indy to San Clemente's like, what? Twenty-eight, thirty hours maybe, if you don't stop, but that's not happening", she mumbles, doing the math real quick, "It'd take about three days, minimum, with rest and gas and food breaks. And only four of us can drive". 

"Unless Buckley's decided to go outlaw and hit the road unlicensed", Eddie adds, causing Robin to throw a hand in the air. 

"I'd do anything for my best friend, but chances are high I'd kill us all, so we should probably stay with just four drivers, yeah".

 You almost laugh, but the weight of the decision presses harder. 

Elena continues, "Even with in just one car, even with switching drivers, that's a lot. We'd have to split hotel rooms. Burn through gas. Take turns sleeping. It's not a weekend road trip, it's cross-country. For a maybe". 

"Yeah", you sigh, smoking and looking over at Robin, meeting her eyes. 

"What do you think, mh?", she asks, and you shrug.

Eddie's hand is warm and steady on your back, but your chest feels tight. The room's quiet, waiting, watching you. Weighing the silence. You run your fingers along the edge of the coffee table just to have something to do. Anything to distract from the rising tide in your chest. 

Your voice is quieter than you intend, "It's a hell of a way down there. And we gotta drive it back, too. So... we'd be gone for a week, at least". 

You glance up, eyes sweeping the faces around you, your friends. Your family, really. You'd told them just this morning to go home, to leave Indy, to not get caught up in your chaos. Told them to go live their lives. Go back to school. Back to their jobs. And now... now you're asking yourself if you'd really drag them across the country for a maybe?

 Your throat tightens. You can't do that. You won't. 

"And even if Neil left Hawkins Sunday night", you go on, blinking hard, "he'd have to drive the same distance. Alone. Hiding. He probably isn't even there yet." 

Robin perks up. "He wouldn't have taken a plane. They'd be watching for that. Credit cards, ID". 

You nod. "Exactly. Train maybe? Greyhound or Amtrak? But that'd take what, two, three days, too? Plus... cash only, no way to track him, and that train ride wouldn't be cheap. He's slippery. A bastard like him, he'll know how to stay off the radar. He'd go there by car only".

The silence that follows is heavy. You feel it like a stormcloud pressing down on your shoulders. You're torn. Caught in a vice between logic and fear and the burn of fury still living in your blood. 

You know you have to call Hopper. You will. There's a warrant. There's protocol. The cops will go there and check it out, if they believe your lead. 

But that's the thing. If. 

Neil Hargrove is a sneaky, seasoned bastard. He's a shadow. A roach. His stepbrother probably is too. 

You feel it in your gut, he won't stick around long. If he's there now, he won't be for much longer. The second a cruiser pulls off that old highway road, he'll be gone.

Still... every cell in your body screams at the thought of chasing him. Of going after the man you've been running from. Of walking into his den, even if it's just to confirm he's there.

You don't want to go. You don't want anyone to go. You don't want anyone to risk anything. Especially not now. Not after everything. Not when the wounds are still fresh and the fear is still a big part of you. The trauma.

Eventually, you shake your head. 

You made your decision. 

"No", you murmur, putting out your cigarette, "No. We shouldn't go there. It's too much. I'll call Hopper, I'll tell him everything and I'll wait. I can't risk anyone of you getting hurt, or worse". 

Robin and Elena nod. They understand.

Eddie shifts next to you, his arm wraps tighter around you, pulling you closer. He hasn't said much since the beginning of this conversation. "No one's getting hurt", he mutters, voice close to your ear, low and dangerous, "Besides that motherfucker that fucking touched you, baby". 

He means it. You know he does. 

"No, we're not going", you repeat, firmer now, finally lifting your gaze to look at him. Your eyes meet, and you know, before he even opens his mouth, what he's thinking. 

He's trying to hold it back, trying to keep his mouth shut. But his hand is clenching just a little too tight. His eyes are too dark.

 You see it. 

Steve sees it.

They look at each other. No words exchanged, just a look. Something tense, sharp, unspoken. 

Robin senses the shift in the atmosphere, sees how the two guys exchange look after look. Serious. Protective. Dangerous. She sits up, looking from Eddie, to Steve, and back to Eddie. 

"Oh, no. Whatever it is you two are thinking, no. Sam just said we won't go there". 

Elena catches it next, how they don't say anything, still talking with each other with just their eyes. She shifts closer to Steve, eyes narrowing. "Babe."

He doesn't move. 

"Steve", she says again, firmer now, "Don't".

 Still nothing. 

"Whatever you two just silently agreed to, don't you dare." 

Steve opens his mouth, but Elena's already shaking her head. 

"No. Absolutely not". 

"What? I didn't-", Steve starts, clearly pissed. 

"No." She cuts him off, her voice sharp now, "You will not go chasing after this man. Not without backup. Not without Hopper. You won't risk it."

Robin turns to Steve, nodding toward Elena. "Yeah, listen to her, Dingus. This isn't some cowboy movie."

 You stare at Eddie. "You're not going either. You hear me?"

He doesn't answer. 

"Eddie", you say, louder, shifting in his arm, "Look at me". 

He does. Barely. 

It hurts, the way his eyes flick up like it costs him everything to meet your gaze. But he does. 

"Remember the night Billy came to my apartment? When you fought him outside the trailers? Mh? You remember that night, Eds?" 

His jaw tightens. Of course he remembers that night. He broke Billy's nose. It's the night Billy was trying to blackmail you over. 

You press on, voice rising despite yourself. "Neil came outside, and had a fucking shotgun, Eddie. He shot into the fucking dark to break you two up. Because he couldn't watch his game in peaceful silence. That man is unhinged. Dangerous. You go near him, you won't walk away. I know it".

Eddie's face crumbles for a second, just a flicker. Just long enough for the fear to show underneath the rage. Then it's gone again, buried. 

You shake your head, tears burning behind your eyes, "We're not going. No one's going. You hear me?"

Eddie doesn't say a word.

The cigarette is long forgotten in the ashtray, burning down to the filter, smoke curling up behind him. His body's rigid beside you, one hand still at your back, the other clenched in his lap. 

You can feel the anger humming off him like static. It's not loud. Not explosive. It's worse, it's quiet. Brewing. Concentrated. 

Steve is the same. Still leaning forward, elbows on his knees, jaw tight, leg bouncing now. 

They're both staring ahead like they're in the middle of some silent conversation neither of them will admit to. 

Robin sees it, too. "Jesus Christ", she mutters, snapping her fingers between them, "Would you two fucking stop? You're not soldiers. This isn't a suicide mission."

 They don't react. 

You reach for Eddie again, your hand finding his knee, squeezing, "Eddie. Promise me you won't go." 

Still, no answer. 

His eyes flick to you, then away. Fast. Like he wants to give you the answer you need, but can't. Not yet.

"Fucking say it! I won't lose you. Not to that piece of shit". 

Elena's voice cuts in next, sharp and burning. "Are you kidding me right now?" She turns to Steve, glaring daggers. "You're really thinking about going there? With him?" 

Steve doesn't look at her. His eyes are still fixed on Eddie. 

Waiting.

"You've lost your goddamn mind", she hisses, "She just said that man fired a shotgun because the fight was interrupting his game. Not to stop it. Not to protect anyone. Because he couldn't hear". She steps closer to Steve, furious, her voice rising. "He sounds like a psychopath, Steve. A fucking unhinged monster. You are not going near him. Especially not now. He's on the run. Cornered. Armed, for all we know. You show up on his doorstep without a badge, and he will see you as a threat."

Steve still doesn't move. But his jaw is locked. His fists, tight. His stare, heavy on Eddie. 

Elena sees it. Sees how he won't promise. Won't say it. Not even for her. "Fine", she eventually hisses, quietly, bitterly, "Just... fine"

She turns and walks out. No slam of the door this time, no final words. Just the creak of the balcony door and the soft, hollow click as it shuts behind her. Alone. 

Robin curses under her breath, lifts her leg and kicks Steve in the shin. Hard. 

He jumps and finally looks up at her. "Ouch! What the hell?!" 

She glares, "Are you dumb? Did you not see her face? Did you not hear what you just did to her? She's scared out of her mind for you, and you couldn't even say, 'Don't worry, babe, I won't go charging into a psychopath's den with my idiot friend. Really?!" 

Steve rubs his shin, muttering something under his breath, eyes darting to the balcony door

You turn back to Eddie. He still hasn't said anything. Still hasn't promised. Your hand cups his cheek, gently forcing his gaze to meet yours. "Don't be like him", you whisper, "Don't be like them. You don't have to go to war for me. I just need you to stay. Okay? Fucking promise me you won't do anything stupid, Eddie". 

His eyes are glassy now. His throat bobs. Finally, he speaks. Quiet. Cracked. 

"I just want you to be able to breathe, Sam. That's all."

"I will", you reply, "When he's caught. And you're here. With me." 

Robin gets up on her feet, crosses her arms, looking between the two of you as she leans against a wall. "We have to wait for Hopper. This is bigger than us. If we screw this up, he could vanish again. We let the cops do their job."

Eddie's hand curls into a fist again. "The cops, the cops, the cops. What if they don't go, huh?" His voice is low, tight, cracking at the edges. "What if they don't go immediately, huh? What if they wait another day? What if he sees them coming and bolts? You think that bastard won't sniff out a cop from a mile away? He'll be gone. Again. And we'll be back to this." He gestures around the room wildly, like the air itself is unbearable. "Back to hiding. Back to nightmares. Back to you..." his voice breaks, and he finally looks at you, eyes full of something raw and aching, "...you waking up gasping like you're drowning, flinching when I touch you". 

You're frozen. Everyone is. 

His breathing is ragged now, the words rushing out of him like a dam breaking. "We can't fucking run forever! We can't keep doing this! What if we think he's there, and we all lean back, and he's not? What if he's right around the fucking corner, Sam? What then?" He stands up suddenly, pacing now. "I need to know. I need to see him. I need to know he's there, that he's caught, that he's locked the fuck up, so I can finally breathe. So I don't spend every second worrying about the love of my life being hunted like a fucking animal!" 

You blink fast, chest tightening.

"I'd drive you through the whole fucking country to keep you safe from him. From Billy. From all of it", he growls, voice shaking with fury and something dangerously close to grief, "I'd hide with you in a fucking cave if I had to. I'd stay awake every night just to make sure you slept, Sam. Just to wake you when you started crying in your dreams. To hold you. To do whatever I could to make you feel like the world isn't burning around you".

He stops then, turns, chest heaving. Looks at you like you're the only thing that matters, even now. Especially now.

"But I'm dying here, okay?" he says, almost whispering now, "I'm fucking dying. I'm trying so hard, I'm flirting, joking, playing dumb, doing my little silly clown routine, fucking the shit out of you, just to catch a glimpse of her. That girl I fell in love with. The one who laughed at everything. The one who made me feel fucking alive".

Your breath hitches.

"I know she's still in there. But if that bastard disappears again, if we miss our chance, I don't know if I'll ever see her again."

He swallows hard, shaking his head.

"I can't trust that some clumsy, donut-eating California cop is gonna handle this right. I can't trust that he won't show up with his sirens on and his thumb up his ass while Neil fucking Hargrove vanishes into thin air." 

You can't stop the tears now. They're silent, steady, spilling as your whole chest cracks open.

Because he's not angry at you.

He's breaking for you. Part of you wants to fall into his arms and promise him he's not alone, that you're still here, that you'll find your way back together, but the other part of you wants to scream.

Because he's right.

But so are you.