088

Morning creeps in slow and soft. Pale sunlight filters through the cracked-open window, turning the room gold and quiet. The city beyond the glass is just waking up , the distant sound of traffic, a bird chirping nearby, the low hum of life returning.

But in here, it's still. Warm.

You wake slowly, sunlight soft through the window Eddie left cracked, the breeze still cool on your bare legs. The bed smells like sweat and smoke and sex, like the two of you, tangled in sheets kicked low, bodies flushed and warm and pressed together.

Eddie's sprawled over you like he’s trying to fuse your bodies together in his sleep.

One arm heavy over your waist, the other under your back, face smooshed right against your tits, his breath hot and shallow there. His hair is a wild mess across your chest and pillow, curls tangled from sleep and sex and you running your fingers through them all night. One of his legs is thrown over both of yours, and his hand… you glance down and chuckle. Yup. Full palm on your ass.

You shift, just a little, trying not to wake him, and fail.

You feel him stir, just the subtlest twitch of his nose against your skin, a sleepy inhale through his nose like he's breathing you in before letting out a quiet, grumbly noise.

Then a pause.

Another groan, this time deeper, throatier, and distinctly hornier.

His hips shift a little.

You feel the unmistakable press of his morning wood nudging your hip, and that’s when his eyes barely crack open, lids heavy.

He doesn’t speak right away, just lets his lips part and starts nuzzling your tits like he never left them. "Mornin', girls", he grumbles, pressing a kiss to each of them.

You laugh softly, stroking his curls, "Clearly does something to you to sleep this close to them, mh?"

"Slept on paradise, babe", he mutters, voice shredded and smug all at once. He groans again, kissing the curve of your breast, biting gently, like it’s reflex. "Fuck, you're soft… Can’t be real…" His hand tightens on your bare ass, dragging you closer, his morning hard-on thick and hot against you.

You snort softly, letting him grope you.

His curls tickle your skin as he slowly shifts and groans again, burying his face into the side of your neck this time, groaning exaggeratedly like it physically pains him how much he wants you again. "This is what I meant. It’s like... constant. Constant. I’m gonna die from wanting you."

You laugh, soft and breathy, because he’s already hard but also dramatic. "We literally had sex three times yesterday."

"Yeah, and what a tragedy that we only did it three times", he mutters, lifting his head again, grinning that stupid grin, "I’m deprived."

"All you are, my sweet, sweet Eddie, is a menace", you tease.

"Mmhm", he hums, his face already moving down to your tits again, tongue poking out to sleepily flick over your nipple. "Menace with a raging hard-on and no pants. How lucky are you?"

You try to squirm, but he tightens his grip on your ass, nuzzles deeper into your chest. "Where you goin’, sweetheart? I got priorities."

You roll your eyes. "You’ve got a call to make, rockstar," you remind him, poking at his ribs. "Big label wants to talk to you today, remember? We should get up, wake up, prepare you to call them."

He grunts, clearly not ready to face reality. "Yeah, yeah, label schmaybel… they can wait. I’m in the middle of some very important business meeting."

"You mean drooling on my boobs?"

"Suckling, thank you very much. It’s an art form."

You laugh, loud and sudden, and he smirks against your skin, finally cracking his eyes open properly to look at you. They’re all sleep-warm and soft, his pupils still a little blown from last night, his hair a full disaster.

"You look like hell", you say, brushing a curl off his forehead.

"Yeah? You should see you. Wrecked. Like someone fucked you pretty good last night."

"Oh my god."

"Pretty sure it was me...", he continues, smug as ever, dragging his fingers lazily along the inside of your thigh now, making you twitch, "and I wanna do it again."

He shifts again, rolling his hips lazily against your thigh just to make a point, and yeah, his cock is very hard, very heavy and warm against your skin. The smug look on his face only deepens as he watches your breath hitch, your eyes flick down to his erection and your lips curl at the sheer size of him.

"See?" he murmurs, kissing your collarbone now, trailing lower like he’s got all the time in the world. "Your body knows. Doesn’t care about phone calls. Doesn’t care about time." He bites just above your nipple, not hard, just enough to make you gasp. "It just wants me." You drag your nails lightly down his spine in retaliation, and he groans, low and needy, burying his face in your tits again like you’re his personal pillow, "God, don’t do that. I’ll never leave this bed."

"You have to call them, Eds. The sooner the better", you whisper, tracing his shoulder blades, his lower back, the dimples right above his ass.

There’s no real protest in your words. Not with how he’s kissing your skin, not with the way his hand’s sliding up your ribs again.

You're already wet just from how he touches you, and you both know it.

He hums, rocking his hips just a little, "Just five minutes. C’mon. I’ll be fast. You won’t even know what hit you."

You snort, "Liar."

"Yeah", he grins, "I’m gonna wreck you. Again."

"Oh my god", you giggle, going willingly as he drags your leg over his hip and slides between your thighs.

His cock slides through the slick already there, and he groans like it’s the best goddamn feeling in the world. Maybe it is. Maybe for both of you.

"Fuck, baby", he breathes, "So wet. That for me? You were dreaming about me?"

You nod, dizzy and aching and way too awake now. "You’re always in my dreams."

"Yeah? You dreaming about this?"

He rolls his hips once, slow and perfect, not inside yet, but rubbing right where you need it.

You moan softly and grab at his back, nails digging into bare skin.

He kisses you hard, deep and hot and messy, lining himself up properly.

And then he’s there, pressing in, sliding deep, your bodies locking into place like they were made to fit. Like this is the only way they can exist.

His arms go around you tight, one hand tangled in your hair, the other gripping your hip. You pull him even closer, legs wrapped tight, chest against chest, skin on skin, hearts pounding in sync.

A soft moan escapes you, lips brushing his shoulder as you arch into him.

"Fuck", he pants, forehead pressed to your temple, "I’ll never get over this. You. The way you feel. It’s gonna ruin me."

You kiss his shoulder, his jaw, taste the sleep and smoke and Eddie of him.

He moves like he’s got nowhere to be, like the world outside this room doesn’t exist.

Just the creak of the bed, the soft slap of skin, the low, broken sounds he pulls from you, the words he keeps murmuring between gasps and kisses.

"Mine… fuck, you’re mine… you’re everything…"

His hand cups your jaw, his thumb brushing your bottom lip, his eyes drinking you in like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever touched. His lips find your throat next, open-mouthed and greedy, dragging down to your collarbone, your chest, pausing only to groan against your skin when your legs tighten around his waist and your back arches.

You’re pulling him deeper, dragging him closer, and it’s so warm, so soft, so much, like your bodies can’t decide whether they want to worship or devour each other.

You press a hand to his mouth, giggling breathlessly into the curve of his neck when his groans turn too loud.

"Shh, they're still asleep out there", you whisper, but there’s no scolding in it. Just heat and mischief.

He grins, eyes lidded and pupils blown wide. He licks your palm, kisses it. "Then we better be quiet", he murmurs, nuzzling lower, kissing down the valley of your breasts, "Because I’m not stopping."

You gasp when his tongue flicks across your nipple, soft and slow, and again when he groans at the way your body shudders under him. Your fingers rake through his curls, tugging gently, guiding him up again.

His mouth finds yours, and this time it’s slower, deeper. Less frantic, more intimate. "Can’t get enough of you", he murmurs, lips brushing your cheek, your jaw, your ear.

Your hands slide down his sides, gripping his hips, guiding him, nails biting into his skin when he hits the right spot. You press your forehead to his, breathing the same air, kissing him again, slower now, sweeter, but still trembling from how deep it goes.

"Fuck, baby, just like that-", you gasp, eyes falling close as he keeps going, your nails sinking into his hips.

"Yeah? You like that?", he rasps, kissing your neck again. 

"Mhm, yes", you moan, body already arching into him as his cock keeps hitting your spots. Your head tilts back with a soft, helpless sound as he keeps that same deep, dragging rhythm, each stroke measured, each motion deliberate. 

He watches your face, completely captivated, his hands tightening on your waist like he’s holding on for dear life. "You feel that?" he rasps, voice rough and low, lips brushing your ear, "How perfect you are around me? How good you take me?"

You nod, breath shaky, lips parted, one hand fisted in his hair, the other slipping up his back. You’re trembling under the weight of it, his body, his voice, the way he’s looking at you like he’s in awe, like he can’t believe you’re real. "You feel so good", you moan softly, lips brushing his as he kisses you again, "Oh, my god-- fuck, yes--''

Your legs wrap tighter around him, heels pressing into the back of his thighs, drawing him deeper.

The sound he makes is all grit and need, muffled into your skin as he buries his face in your neck again, sucking softly at the curve of it, kissing the hollow of your collarbone. "You're gonna make me lose my mind," he breathes, voice thick with emotion and lust, "You're so... fuck, you’re everything."

Your hand moves up, cradling his jaw, guiding his mouth back to yours. The kiss is slower this time, wetter, lazier, like you’re both too drunk on each other to rush it. Your hips still move, though, rocking up to meet every thrust with a growing desperation. His hands slide under your back, wrapping you close, like even now, even inside you, it’s not close enough. "Don’t stop", you whisper against his lips, voice cracking on it, "Don’t stop, Eddie, please…"

His whole body shudders at your voice, his name falling from your mouth like that. His forehead presses to yours, his breath mixing with yours, the world outside this bed still asleep, but in here, it’s like time’s frozen, and the only thing that exists is the heat curling low between you, the sweat-slick slide of skin, the whispered promises that feel more like confessions.

You shift slightly beneath him so he can sink even deeper, your thigh sliding up to open yourself more for him. The angle changes and your back arches sharply, mouth falling open in a silent gasp.

His hands pin yours above your head, fingers laced tight, his curls falling into your face as he moves again, a little faster now but still just as deep, as reverent.

"You feel so good", he growls into your neck, kissing his way down again, "So fuckin’ good... mine, all mine."

You nod desperately, your whole body tight and aching in the best way, your wrists held in one of his hands while the other traces down your side, worshipful. You’re both trying so hard to stay quiet, but the bed creaks, and your breath stutters, and his moans are swallowed by your mouth as he kisses you again, over and over, like he can’t stop.

His lips never leave your skin for long, warm breath ghosting over your neck as he keeps moving with you, slow and steady, like the world has narrowed down to just this rhythm, just this heat between you.

The next kiss is messier now, wetter, slower, like he’s drunk on the way you taste, the way you sound when you moan his name all breathy and broken.

His free hand grips your thigh tighter, hoisting it higher around his hip until your knee nearly brushes your own shoulder, opening you so completely that he sinks another inch deeper with one lazy roll of his hips. The stretch is obscene and you feel every ridged inch of him dragging against your walls, slow enough that the drag itself becomes a whole new kind of torture.

"Fuuuuck, baby," he groans low against your mouth, the words vibrating straight into your tongue as he kisses you again. Deep, filthy, open-mouthed, your tongues sliding lazy and wet like he’s trying to taste every moan you give him. "There we go... fuck-"

You whimper into the kiss, the sound swallowed by him, and your free hand claws at his shoulder blade, nails biting crescents into his skin. Your other hand is still pinned above your head, fingers laced tight with his, and you squeeze hard, anchoring yourself as he starts that devastatingly slow grind, pulling out until just the fat head of his cock catches at your entrance, then sliding back in so deep your toes curl and your back arches clean off the mattress.

"Oh God, Eddie..."

His mouth drops to your chest again, tongue dragging slow and flat over one hard nipple before he sucks it between his lips with a wet pop, teeth grazing just enough to make your cunt flutter around him.

You gasp sharply, and he grins against your breast, smug and filthy, hips rolling in a slow circle that grinds his pelvis right against your clit and makes your leg shake violently against his side.

"Oh fuck", you moan, voice breathy and wrecked, lips brushing his jaw as you chase his mouth. "You're so fucking deep, baby… I can feel you in my stomach-"

He growls and releases your pinned hands just long enough to grab your ass with both palms, spreading you wider as he drags you against every thrust. The new angle has you crying out softly into his neck, teeth grazing his shoulder, and he hisses in pleasure, hips stuttering for half a second before he finds that same torturous rhythm again.

"Greedy little thing," he pants, kissing the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then sucking a mark just under your ear.

Your hips roll up to meet him instinctively, chasing that perfect drag, and your hands fly to his hair, tugging his curls until he moans loud enough that you have to kiss him again just to muffle it while his cock keeps stroking that spot that makes sparks burst behind your eyelids.

He breaks the kiss only to press his forehead to yours, noses brushing, sharing the same shaky breaths. One hand slides back up to grope your tit, thumb flicking the stiff peak while the other keeps your thigh locked high. "You’re shaking, sweetheart... you close already?"

You nod frantically, nails raking down his back again, heels digging into his ass to pull him impossibly closer. "Don’t stop... please, Eddie, right there, fuck-"

Your whole body locks up the second his fingers find your clit. Swollen, slick, throbbing under the slow, perfect circles he starts drawing with his thumb. The pressure is exact, filthy, devastating, like he’s mapped every sensitive inch of you in his sleep and is using it against you now.

"Eds..." It comes out half sob, half plea, voice cracking as your hips jerk up into his hand and down onto his cock at the same time, chasing both sensations like you’ll die if you don’t get more.

He grins against your mouth, watching the way your eyes flutter and roll, the way your lips part on broken little gasps. "Yeah, baby," he rasps, voice wrecked and smug all at once. "So fuckin’ pretty when you’re this close."

His mouth drops to your chest again, lips closing around one aching nipple, sucking hard while his tongue flicks the tip in time with the lazy grind of his hips and the steady rub of his thumb. The dual assault makes your back bow off the bed, a sharp, helpless whine tearing out of you before he catches it with another deep, messy kiss. Tongues sliding, swallowing every sound so the apartment stays quiet except for the wet slap of skin and the creak of the mattress.

Your free hand claws at his shoulder, nails digging in deep enough to leave marks he’ll wear like badges tomorrow. The other squeezes his fingers where they’re still laced tight above your head, trembling, clinging.

He’s so hard inside you, and you can feel him twitching, leaking, dangerously close just from watching you unravel. "God, you’re squeezin’ me so tight," he groans low into your neck, teeth grazing the soft skin there before he bites down gently, just enough to sting sweet. "Gonna milk every drop outta me when you cum, aren’t you? Fuck, keep makin’ those sounds, baby. They’re killin’ me."

You’re shaking now, your legs are trembling around his waist, thighs slick with how wet you are, how much you’re dripping down his cock and onto the sheets. Your nipples drag against his chest hair with every deep thrust, sending fresh sparks straight to your core. "Keep going," you beg, voice thin and desperate, hips rolling up to meet him frantically. "Please—don’t stop, Eddie, don’t... oh God, right there, I’m so close--"

His thumb speeds up just a fraction, rubbing tight little circles that make your vision white out at the edges. Your breathing turns ragged, shallow pants turning into soft, broken sobs as the heat coils tighter and tighter in your belly, bigger than before, overwhelming.

"Oh God-- oh my god I’m--"The words dissolve into a whimper, head tipping back, eyes squeezing shut as your whole body tenses, arches, trembles on the razor’s edge.

He watches you the whole time, his eyes dark and blown wide, drinking in every shudder, every gasp, every tear that slips from the corner of your eye because it’s just too much. "So fuckin’ beautiful," he rasps, voice cracking with how wrecked he is.

The orgasm hits like a slow, shattering wave. Your whole body seizes, back bowing so hard your shoulders lift off the bed, mouth falling open on a silent scream that turns into his name. "Eddie- fuck... yes, oh God!"

Your pussy clamps down hard around him, pulsing, fluttering, gushing wet heat that soaks his cock, his fingers, the sheets beneath you. Your legs lock tight around his waist, heels digging into his ass, pulling him impossibly deeper as you ride it out, trembling, whimpering, nails raking red lines down his back.

He groans like he’s been punched in the chest, forehead dropping to yours, breath ragged. "Fuck... baby, yeah, just like that..." His hips stutter, losing that perfect control for the first time as your walls keep rippling around him, milking him.

He tries to hold on. Tries so fucking hard.

But your pussy is relentless, fluttering like it’s got a heartbeat of its own, and the way you’re whimpering his name, all broken and breathy, the way your thighs lock around him like you’ll never let go - it snaps something inside him.

His rhythm fractures completely.

One deep, grinding thrust, then another, then he’s slamming home hard, hips snapping forward in short, desperate jerks as his cock swells impossibly thicker inside you. You feel the hot, heavy pulse, the first thick spurt of cum flooding deep, painting your walls, and the sound he makes is guttural, almost pained.

His whole body locks up as he rides it out buried to the hilt, forehead dropping to the crook of your neck now, panting into your skin as his hips finally stop. His heart hammers against your chest. His breath is fast and hot against your neck. His weight is heavy and sweat damp on top of you.

Your legs loosen around him, but you don’t push him away, just wrap your arms around his neck as you both try to catch your breath.

"Holy fuck", he eventually groans, and you laugh breathlessly, kissing his jaw.

"Good morning to you too."

The room is still.

The air thick with heat and love and the soft haze of morning light spilling through the window.

Eddie breathes hard against your skin, still buried in your embrace, one arm wrapped tight around your waist. You can feel his smile against your chest as he exhales.

"I am a fucking lucky man."

You laugh softly, brushing his curls away from his forehead, your fingers lingering there, "Damn right you are."

With a slow motion, he rolls you back on the bed, humming softly as he presses a lazy kiss over your sternum. "Think I died somewhere in the middle of the night and this is heaven."

You snort, shifting under him, the room still warm with shared body heat.

"Heaven wouldn’t smell like weed, sweat, and someone else's sheets."

"Bold of you to assume", he mumbles, kissing your skin again before groaning as he rolls off to his side, flopping back dramatically. "Okay. Ten more minutes. Maybe twenty."

"Uh-uh. You said five minutes. I gave you... more than that already."

You sit up, tugging on a pair of panties and stealing his shirt from the floor, pulling it over your head as he watches you with lazy, appreciative eyes.

"Get up, Munson", you say, tossing a pillow at him. "I want coffee. And you probably have bedhead in places that shouldn’t have hair."

"I resent that", he mutters, but drags himself upright, tugging on a pair of boxers and a wrinkled band shirt. He leans over to kiss your cheek before heading to the door with you, padding quietly across the wooden floor.

The apartment is still silent.

The bedroom across the hall is still closed, probably with Robin buried in pillows and tangled blankets. You ease the door open further, peeking out.

The living room tells a whole different story.

Steve and Elena are tangled together on the couch, blanket thankfully covering just enough, though her bare shoulder and the curve of a breast pressed to Steve's hairy chest peek out from the edge. Her boyfriend's arms are locked around her, his face buried in her hair, their legs an impossible knot on the too-small couch.

"Oh my god", you whisper, holding a hand out to block Eddie’s view immediately, "Don’t look."

He snickers, reaching around your fingers with two fingers like he’s poking through blinds. "Just a peek..."

You slap his chest lightly, dragging him past the scene, "Pervert."

He laughs into your ear. "Can’t blame me for being curious. They’re a hot couple."

"You’re awful."

"And you’re in my shirt", he adds, voice low as he kisses the top of your shoulder, "and I love it."

You roll your eyes but grin as the two of you shuffle into the bathroom, shutting the door behind you with a soft click. You undress again, hop into the shower, toothbrush already in your mouth, water rushing around your ankles.

Eddie pees as carelessly as always, brushes his teeth half asleep, humming some Sabbath riff under his breath before stepping in behind you like it’s the most casual thing in the world.

"Excuse me? I am in here", you murmur around your toothbrush as he wraps his arms around you from behind.

"Can't take a shower without your charming man", he smirks, kissing your wet shoulder.

"Babe, you cannot always come in with me", you mumble around your toothbrush as he pulls you into his front, warm skin pressing to yours, water slicing down your backs.

Eddie gasps, full drama, arms flying up like you just stabbed him in the heart. "Blasphemy! Sacrilege!" He clutches his chest, then grabs your hips, pressing another kiss to your shoulder. "Showering without me? That's like… Sabbath without Iommi. Incomplete. Unholy."

You snort, toothpaste foam nearly bubbling out your nose. "You're ridiculous."

He nods solemnly. "Ridiculously in love with your tiny little hands in my hair, baby." He tilts his head back under the water, soaking his curls, then grabs the shampoo bottle and squirts a blob onto his palm. "This is your cue. Don’t leave me hanging."

"I'm brushing my teeth", you mumble through the foam.

He leans in closer, water matting his curls, eyes puppy-wide. "Come on, you know it’s the highlight of my week. It's heaven. Better than sex. Well, second best."

You roll your eyes.

"I mean it. It’s therapeutic. I’m emotionally dependent on your scalp massages."

"You are so full of shit", you mumble, and then shriek a little when he steals the toothbrush right from your hand. "What are you-...?!"

"I'm freeing your precious hands from their burden", he shrugs, deadly serious as he sticks the brush back in your mouth and starts brushing for you with all the grace of a drunk raccoon.

Foam is absolutely everywhere.

"Open wide. Don’t bite."

The foam dribbles down your chin as he concentrates, tongue between his teeth, brushing with exaggerated care.

You’re half-laughing, half-choking on minty bubbles.

"You’re the worst", you manage around the brush.

He kisses your temple. "And you’re free to start washing my hair now, so really, who’s winning here?"

You swat his hip but reach up anyway, fingers working the shampoo into his hair.

He moans dramatically, head lolling back, "Fuck, this is heaven. I’ll never need therapy again."

You roll your eyes, muttering a muffled, "That’s not how mental health works, babe."

"Shhh", he whispers, "heaven doesn’t talk."

You lean back against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, watching the coffee maker like it might give you answers instead of caffeine.

Eddie's rummaging through Elena's cupboards, his fresh shirt sticking slightly to his still-damp skin, his curls still dripping as he searches for anything to eat. One more cabinet opens, then he happily exclaims when finally, a box of Lucky Charms comes into view.

Five seconds later, he steps next to you, bowl and spoon in hand, munching like it's a competitive sport.

Slowly, you turn your head.

"Do you have to eat that loud?"

He grins, mouth full. "This is my pre-game fuel, baby. Gotta be ready to call those label guys." He swallows and eats another big spoon. "Still can’t believe they wanna talk." He looks at you, still chewing and talking around the half chewed cereals. "I mean... I’m not even sure what to say. ‘Hi, I’m Eddie Munson, chronic screw-up with a little band and a lot of hair. Let's talk business'?"

You look at him. At that idiot that talks with his mouth full and thinks shit about himself.

You're drawing your brows together.

"You're not a screw-up, you idiot. Don't say that."

He hums, chewing again. "You’re biased. You’ve seen me naked."

You chuckle and swat his arm. "I think...", you start, stepping in front of him, sliding some damp out of his face before wrapping your arms around his neck, feeling his free arm snaking around your middle to pull you into his chest. "You just need to tell them the truth. Who you are. All of you. How much you love to play. How it’s not about the image or the scene or the bullshit. It’s the music. It’s always been that."

He looks down at you, balancing his cereal behind your back.

"You just need to get them in a room", you go on. "Watch Corroded Coffin live, even once, and they’ll be hooked. Doesn’t matter if it’s some giant venue or the Hideout on a Tuesday. It’s magic either way." .

Eddie grins, boyish and wicked. "Can you imagine those fancy-ass label guys in Hawkins? Sitting at some sticky table while Donna’s screaming at a hammered customer for throwing up in the jukebox?"

You snort. "You on that tiny stage, with a mic that cuts out every third word…"

He cuts in, smirking. "And you right in front of me, eye-fucking me like always."

You laugh, cheeks heating. "Oh my god, stop."

"Nah. You should’ve seen yourself all those times. That look you’d always give me during ‘Die Slow’, swear to god, baby, you nearly made me fall off the stage once. Had to turn around and pretend I was tuning my guitar while trying not to pop a boner in front of everyone."

You squeak, burying your face in his chest. "Eds, come on..."

"I’m serious!" He’s cracking up now, arm tightening around you, swaying you gently side to side. "You always had that look, like I was your whole damn world. Hair in your face, singing along, dancing like you didn’t give a shit who was watching. No one else ever looked at me like that."

You peek up at him, warmth spreading in your chest.

"And every night I saw you like that", he says, "I thought, I get to take her home. I get to strip her down, worship that body, love her like the world’s about to end. That’s my girl. That’s my fucking miracle."

Your cheeks burn as he drops a kiss to the tip of your nose.

"I love you", he whispers, "so much it makes me stupid."

You giggle, bury your face again, trying to hide your smile. But it fades a little. Just a little.

Because home.

That word hits different now.

You glance toward the window, gray light filtering in through half-closed blinds.

"It’s only our fourth day away", you mumble, "But I miss home so much."

Eddie doesn’t say anything.

"I miss your trailer", you add, "I miss waking up in our bed. I even miss work, which is insane, but it’s something normal. Something real."

"I know", he sighs softly, thumb stroking your hipbone, "I miss it too."

You feel him exhale through his nose. Feel him press a soft kiss against your temple.

"Hopper hasn’t called", you whisper, leaning your chin to his shoulder, feeling his grip on you tightening, "After I told him about the garage in San Clemente. He said he would as soon as they had him but… nothing."

"Doesn’t mean it was a dead end", Eddie offers gently, but it doesn’t land the way he wants it to.

"He said he’d pass it along to the station there, have someone check it out immediately. If Neil was there, he’d have called by now, wouldn't he? It's been a whole night since then"

"He might still--"

"He probably wasn’t there", you interrupt, shaking your head. "It was nothing. Just something Billy once mentioned. Just… me, desperate for a lead."

"It’s not your fault", Eddie murmurs.

"I just…" You hesitate, tightening your arms around him. "I don’t know where else he could be. And I keep thinking maybe he’s closer than I want to believe. It made me feel safer thinking he drove all the way to California to hide with his stepbrother."

Eddie quietly sets the bowl down behind your back, his other arm now tightening around you as well. Lucky Charms forgotten.

"Now that he's not there, I just... have this weird feeling again. Maybe he never left. Maybe he’s still in Hawkins. Or maybe… maybe even here."

That protective instincts flickers in his posture. His arms pull you deeper into him.

"I just... don’t know where else he could be. How to put an end to this. I just... I felt so positive about him being there, y'know?"

He nods. "Of course, baby. But you know I won't let anything happen to you, yeah? He won't come close. No matter where he hides. They'll find him."

Your eyes swim as you blink up at him."I’m scared, Eds", you whisper. "And we have to go back soon. You have to stay in touch with the label. You can’t do everything from here."

"Sure, I can", he mumbles, but there’s a hesitation to it. You both know that isn’t enough.

"You need to meet with the guys. Rehearse. Be ready when they want to meet you. You need to fucking celebrate with your band, Eds. This is everything you’ve been working for, and we’re just... hiding. You're hiding, missing out on this milestone because of me and I'm so sick of it."

"You’re not keeping me from anything, Sam."

"But... we’re both missing school. Robin too. Steve and Elena are skipping shifts, college. I’ve called in sick at work two days in a row. I lie about having the fucking flu."

Eddie exhales hard.

You don’t need to say it out loud, but it hangs between you anyway: this can’t last forever.

"We wanted to check out that apartment for rent, remember?" you ask quietly, eyes teary. "That one downtown? It’s probably gone by now."

He sighs and kisses your forehead. "We’ll find another, my love."

"But I liked that one."

"I know." He brushes a knuckle across your cheek. "But I don’t care where we live, long as it’s with you."

You lean into him again, your hands curling against the fabric of his shirt.

The coffee finally finishes brewing, but neither of you moves to pour it. You stay in his arms, held tight and warm, and for now, that’s the only home you have.

Eddie pulls back just enough to see your face, his thumbs brushing under your eyes before the tears can spill. His gaze is so soft, it cracks something open in your chest."Do you wanna leave Indy? Send the others home and hit the road again to find another place to stay?" His hand comes up to your jaw. "I’ll keep you safe. No one’s gonna touch you. That Hargrove fucker won’t get close. I’ll never let him."

You press your lips together, throat thick. You don’t have an answer, not a clear one.

You sigh. "I don't know... I like being with them. With Robin and Steve and Elena. It’s the only thing that makes any of this feel okay, sometimes. They make me feel lighter."

Eddie nods, doesn’t press. Just listens.

"But I don’t want to pull them deeper in. They’ve done enough. Missed enough. They should go home." Your voice drops, soft and broken. "And so should we."

You feel him tense slightly, just for a second.

"Back to Hawkins?"

You nod, eyes flicking up to his. "Billy’s trial is gonna happen soon. I need to be there for it."

He nods slowly, jaw tight, like the words taste bitter in his mouth.

"I want to go home", you whisper, "Even if it means school, work, all of it. I want you to focus on your music again. I want us to find that apartment, or another one. Just live. Not hide anymore. Not feel like this every day. Not be scared." You pause, voice cracking. "Not… keep going through all these emotional loops. Laughing and crying, fighting and making up, being terrified and then pretending it’s okay."

Your shoulders shake a little, and then your voice drops to a whisper, so soft it’s barely there.

"I’m tired."

Eddie’s face folds with emotion. His heart aches watching the light in your eyes dim again, just like it had before. He tugs you in, arms wrapping around you so tight it feels like a shield. His mouth presses against your hair, your temple, your cheek."C’mere, baby", he murmurs, holding you as close as you’ll let him, "It’s okay. I got you. You can be tired. I’ll carry you if I have to."

You sniffle into his chest, tears finally slipping free. "I hate this", you whisper, "I hate that he still has this kind of power over us. That we’re still running. That you still feel like you have to protect me from everything."

"I want to protect you", he murmurs, chin tucked against your crown. "I’ll do it until I’m old and gray, and then I’ll keep doing it."

You let out a wet, broken laugh.

"I’m serious", he mumbles, shifting so he can look at you again, tipping your chin up, "I’ll fight off every fucking monster until they’re all gone. Then I’ll build you a home so safe and quiet, you’ll forget you ever had to be scared in the first place."

Your lower lip trembles, and he kisses it. Then your nose. Then your forehead.

"Just a little longer, my love", he whispers. "Then we’ll go home. We’ll go back, face whatever we need to, and then we’ll build something new. Just you and me."

You nod, your eyes overflowing.

He kisses your cheeks, catching every tear.

"We’re almost there", he murmurs, "I promise."

You're still in Eddie’s arms, face tucked against his chest, when the soft creak of the living room floorboards cuts through the quiet.

He hears it first, lifting his head a little.

You sniffle again, but quieter this time. The storm inside you's still there, but you're holding it back.

That's when his lips curl into a smirk.

You feel it in the shift of his body, the way his fingers drum softly against your back like he’s gearing up for something. Sure enough, a few seconds later, there's the unmistakable sound of footsteps, then another creak, followed by a very soft, very drawn-out, "...shit."

You both peek toward the doorway, where Steve Harrington appears first, shirtless, in a pair of crumpled boxers. His hair looks like he fought a tornado in his sleep.

"Didn’t know anyone was awake yet,” he mutters.

Eddie perks up immediately, lips twitching. "A wonderful morning to you, too, Stevie boy", he calls, overly loud. "Nice of you to join us. Alone, or...?"

Before Steve can answer, Elena appears behind him, wrapped in the living room blanket like a makeshift toga, her flushed face peeking out from a mess of tangled curls. Her eyes go wide as she clocks both of you.

Steve groans.

Eddie gasps. Dramatically. "Oh. My. GOD,” he bellows, "They’re naked. In the Lord’s daylight! The sin! The shame!"

You choke on a laugh before it fully forms, covering your mouth with your hand as you lean into Eddie’s side, snorting against his shoulder.

It catches him off guard, your laugh, and he turns to you with a victorious grin, like there it is. That’s the sound he wanted. Needed.

"Oh no, baby", he keeps going, clearly emboldened by your giggle, "We’ve been living in sin this whole time and they were the ones secretly sinning harder!"

Elena glares at him over her blanket. "I will murder you."

"You’ll have to find your clothes first", he shoots back without missing a beat. "In case you want your side boob to remain the only naked private part we saw from you already."

You laugh again, real this time, watery but warm. It fills the kitchen like the scent of fresh coffee.

Eddie presses a kiss to your hair, all smug and pleased with himself.

Elena freezes like a deer in headlights.

"Looked fine as hell", you add, smirking widely.

"I hate all of you", she declares, darting toward the hallway, blanket trailing dramatically behind her like a cape.

Steve throws an unimpressed, very tired gaze at you two. "You better stop taking about sin and shame when you two fucked so loudly last night I felt like I was fucking part of it", he mutters.

"Oops", Eddie grins, pressing another kiss to your hair as you both watch Steve turn and leave, muttering something about wanting to  throw himself into traffic.

"Go on, lovebirds. Go cleanse your sins together in the shower.", Eddie calls after him, and Steve just flips him off over his shoulder as he trails after his girlfriend, clearly not planning to shower alone.

When they reappear, they both look like they’ve stepped out of a toothpaste commercial. Showered, flushed, skin glowing, hair damp and freshly brushed.

She's wearing one of Steve's t-shirts, her neck bearing a very fresh, very obvious hickey as she giggles at something Steve mumbles into her ear, his arm around her as they head into the kitchen.

They pretend to be casual about it. It’s not working.

Steve makes a beeline for the cereal like he’s been starving for weeks, pouring way too much into a bowl and immediately devouring it with the kind of commitment that makes Eddie whistle low behind his coffee mug. "Jesus, Harrington. Did she drain your life force or what?"

Steve talks around a mouthful. "Worth it."

Elena snorts, turning a shade pinker as she pours herself coffee. "You’re disgusting."

"And you, Elena, are glowing", Eddie chimes in, flashing her a mock-congratulatory thumbs-up before turning to Steve, grinning widely. "Proud of you, champ".

"Trust me, even I am proud of myself", Steve grins back, his finger pointing at you and Elena."I mean, seriously, how the hell did we manage to pull these two hotties, huh? Look at them! We are some lucky bastards, my man."

Eddie takes another sip of coffee, humming appreciatively while throwing a long look up and down your body. "We are indeed the luckiest bastards alive, my man."

You and Elena roll your eyes at the same time, trading that this is our life now look as you sit at the table with your coffees.

"Idiots, both of you", Elena mutters.

"Oh, absolutely", you smirk, "Total buttheads."

Steve winks. "And yet somehow still managed to bag you both. Miracles do happen."

As the teasing dies down and the kitchen hums with low conversation, Elena leans in, her head resting gently on your shoulder. She smells like citrus shampoo and warm laundry.

You notice her thumb brush your arm, gentle, subtle. "You okay?" she asks softly, "You looked like you cried earlier."

You hesitate for a second, then nod. "Just... a low point, that's all".

She nods slowly. "Heard something from Hopper?"

"No."

It’s the only answer you give, but your face says more than enough. Your expression drops, your shoulders sag slightly.

Across the kitchen, Steve stops chewing mid-bite.

Eddie shifts where he’s leaned against the counter, the glow in his eyes dimming into something heavier.

They exchange a glance. The one they always do now. Silent, worried, loaded.

You sip your coffee and look down into the mug. "I need to go back soon. For the trial. I don’t even know when it is, but my gut’s screaming it’ll be soon. And I want you guys to go back today. I feel horrible keeping Steve and Robin here, all of us overstaying our welcome in your home. You’ve done more than enough."

Steve doesn’t even look at you. Just puts down his bowl and crosses his arms.

Elena shakes her head. "You're not overstaying your welcome, Sam, I told you you all can stay for as long as you want, and I meant it. Don't worry about it."

"I mean it", you continue, now looking at Steve, "Even if you can’t help, you shouldn’t-"

"I’m not going", he states flatly, finally lifting his gaze to meet yours. "Not without knowing you're safe."

You open your mouth, but he cuts you off.

"I am not leaving you two alone in this. We either go back home together, or not at all.''

Elena looks at him then.

You see it hit her, what that means.

Steve will be going back home, sooner or later.

Two and a half hours between them again.

They won’t see each other every day. Barely even every weekend.

Her late-night bartending shifts, her college classes, his job - life will wedge itself between them again, just like it did before.

Her face softens. Then falls.

He sees it instantly and steps over behind her, leaning down and pressing a slow kiss to her temple, then her cheek. "And if we go, I guess I’ll just have to kidnap you. Take you back with me."

"No chance", she murmurs, but she’s smiling.

"I’ll throw in free snacks. And foot rubs. And, like… consistent orgasms."

She laughs, quiet, but genuine.

You can see the way he looks at her, how hard he’s trying to make her laugh so she won’t cry. The way his own smile doesn’t quite meet his eyes.

It’s the same look Eddie gives you when you’re unraveling.

Steve sighs, takes the chair next to her, one hand holding his coffee, the other one sliding around her, pulling her into his side. His lips find her forehead as she snuggles into him. "I'm not leaving yet", he mumbles softly into her hair, and she nods.

You watch them for a second, feeling Elena's heartache like it's your own.

"Alright, sweetheart", your boyfriend mutters closely, your attention drawing back to him as he sits down next to you, placing a bowl of Lucky Charms and a spoon in front of you. "Breakfast time.''

You frown, slowly shake your head. "I’m not hungry."

"Oh, I don't care. You need sugar. And serotonin. And maybe some carbs to fight the sad."

"Babe, no, I’m not-"

"Eat. At least a little, okay? For me."

You roll your eyes and look at him.

"Just a few bites, okay? I'll eat the rest", he offers, giving you a small smile, and you groan annoyedly but take a few reluctant bites, just enough to make him happy before sliding the half emptied bowl back to him.

He smirks, grabs it and inhales the rest of it within seconds, making you snort and shake your head while reaching for your coffee again.

Small talk bubbles again, light and easy, but you’re only half listening.

You didn't even notice Robin heading to the bathroom until she’s suddenly appearing in the kitchen, freshly showered, dressed in denim and flannel, her hair still damp.

"Damn, you’re a ninja", you mutter.

She raises a brow, smirks as she heads for the coffee maker. "That's what they call me. Even snuck past you lovebirds not just once, but twice." She grabs a mug, pours herself coffee. "Did Hopper call?"

You shake your head.

She frowns, throws a confused look at Steve and Elena, before focusing back on you. "He’ll call. I'm sure he will." Then she eyes Eddie. "What about you, rockstar? Called those label people already?"

He stiffens slightly in his chair. "Soon.''

"Now", Robin counters, matter-of-fact, while grabbing the cereal box and pouring with the same feral energy as Steve. "It's almost noon, munson.''

"Yeah, man", Steve gives him an encouraging nod over the table. "Do it. Get it over with. You’re gonna kill it."

Elena nods, still tucked into Steve’s side, "Yeah, you and the guys? They’d be crazy not to want you."

You can feel how nervous Eddie gets, reach over and lace your fingers with his. "You got this, babe. We're all right here."

His dark eyes find yours. You can see doubt slowly growing behind them.

"Hey", you whisper, leaning closer and kissing his stubbly cheek. "You got this. It's just a call."

He nods slowly, his fingers tightening on your hand as he exhales loudly. "Yeah, okay. I'll call them." He lets go of your hand, ready to stand up, and hesitates. Slowly, he  frowns. "Uh... Where’s the note?"

Everyone freezes.

"What note?", Elena asks, now frowning herself.

Eddie looks around the table. "Fuck, where’s the note with the number?"

"What do you mean where is it?" you ask, already putting down your coffee mug.

"I... had it in my hand after the call with Gareth", Eddie mumbles, eyes darting as he tracks back his steps, "Then you made me sit down on the couch and kissed me like I was in heaven, and someone gave me a beer, and there was music and pizza and this extremely hot woman in my lap, and I... fuck, I don’t remember what happened next." He stares, slowly going pale. "Oh god, I lost it".

Instant chaos.

Everyone jumps up and scatters. Pillows are tossed, pizza boxes lifted, couch cushions flung. Elena’s crawling under the table, you're rifling through Eddie’s jeans from last night, Robin’s checking the trash, the sink. You even check your jeans, the bed, the side table.

It’s a full-blown manhunt for a tiny scrap of paper, everyone running on caffeine and low emotional reserves.

You're all scanning every surface in the living room as last night’s trail of snacks, beer cans, crumpled napkins, and thrown jackets becomes your collective scavenger hunt.

Finally, you find it. Crumpled. Tucked behind the record player. "Found it!"

Eddie all but sprints across the room, grabbing the note from your hand like it’s the last golden ticket. He presses a dramatic kiss to your temple. "You are a goddess. A savior. The light of my life."

"Okay, relax", you snort, brushing his hair out of his eyes.

He stands there, note in hand, staring down at the digits like they’re about to bite him.

Robin notices. "Well?" she prompts, grabbing her cereal again to pick up where she stopped. "Call them.''

He swallows, looks at you. "Now?"

"Now", Steve echos from the couch, stretching out with his coffee. "Before you lose it again."

Eddie's eyes find yours again. Your hand slides into his, grounding him.

"What if they don’t want me?", he asks quietly, his voice raspy and laced with doubt again.

You shake your head, steady and soft as you squeeze his hand. "They will, my love".

"What if I mess it up?"

"You won’t, Eds. Come on, just call them."

He bites his lip, and nods while glancing through the messy living room. ''Yeah, okay. Where’s... ugh, come on, are you kidding me? Where's the phone?"

You look up, realizing you haven’t seen it all morning. Not in the kitchen, not in the living room.

Eddie's already moving, following the chord right into the bedroom of Elena's roommate, where Robin crashed last night while drunkenly calling Vickie.

You're right behind him, watching him how he steps to the messy bed, the phone’s cord snaking under a pile of pillows.

A soft click sounds as he lifts one of them.

There it is.

The receiver, still off the hook, wedged between a pink pillow and the mattress.

Eddie lifts it with a look of disbelief, holding it to his ear only to hear... silence.

No dial tone.

"It’s been off all night.''

You blink, needing a second for the pieces to click in place. "What?"

"No one could call in", he replies, eyes wide.

Your friends followed.

Robin steps in behind you. "Oh my god", she gasps the second she realizes what happened. "Fuck! Vickie must’ve hung up this morning and I… I didn’t. I didn’t put the phone back.''

You just stand there, staring at the receiver in Eddie’s hand. Your chest tightens.

Hopper couldn’t call.

All night. All morning.

And he promised he would if they found Neil.

He tried, maybe over and over again, and no one ever picked up.

Robin looks sick. "I didn’t mean to... I didn’t even think-- I’m so sorry, Sam, I didn’t mean-"

"It’s okay," you say, though your voice is distant. You can feel it in your chest, that ache, that realization.

Hopper tried to call. You were waiting, hoping. But he couldn’t get through.

You don’t wanna blame her. Not really. But it still hurts. Because for hours, you thought maybe it meant something bad. That Neil was gone. That it was a dead end. That maybe he was close. That Hopper gave up.

But the pit in your stomach had nothing to do with reality. Just a phone line lost in a tangle of pillows and sleep.

Steve runs a hand down his face. "You should call Hopper. Now. Maybe there’s something."

You nod slowly. You can feel the tension in the room thickening again.

The note with the label’s number is still in Eddie’s hand, clutched like a talisman.Your boyfriend reaches out, gently tugging you toward him. "We’ll call him back. First thing. Just let me-"

You shake your head, cutting him off. "No. You’re calling the label first."

"What? Absolutely not", he replies, voice rough with protest. "You’ve been spiraling all morning thinking something happened and it didn’t and now we’re gonna fix that first, I’m not dialing some stupid-"

"Yes, Eddie", you insist, backing up a step to look him in the eye, "Call them."

His jaw tenses. "I said no."

"I said yes."

You’re nose to nose now, neither of you budging. The crumpled note still pinched between his fingers like it might fly away again if he lets go.

You’re about to argue more, when the landline rings in his hand.

Everyone freezes.

The shrill, sharp brrrrring of the phone echoes through the air.

Eddie is the first to move. He blinks down, then picks up the receiver and holds it to his ear.

"Hello?"

Then his face changes.

And you know who it is.

You step closer, heart hammering, as he listens for a second, nods.

"Yeah. She’s right here."

He holds the phone out to you.

"It’s Hopper."

Your fingers tremble as you take it, pressing it to your ear. "Hello?"

"Sam." Hopper’s voice is tired. Raspy. Heavy with everything he couldn’t say until now. "Jesus, kid. I’ve been trying to call you all night. All morning. I called over and over, thought something happened. I..." he stops himself. "You okay?"

Tears are already stinging in your eyes. The second you heard his voice, the familiar sting started. You don't even answer his question, all you can manage to bring out is a shaky, "Did you- did you find him?"

The silence stretches a beat too long.

Eddie is right in front of you now, hands in your hips, eyes locked on yours, trying to read every tiny shift in your face.

Your friends are watching from the doorway, wide-eyed and anxious, Elena’s knuckles white around her mug.

The whole apartment is frozen.

Hopper finally speaks.

"He wasn’t there. At the garage. Cops went out right away. Nothing. Owner said he hadn’t seen Neil in months."

Your knees almost give out. You sit down on the edge of the bed, shoulders folding in.

"It was nothing", you whisper, "It was nothing, I was--"

"Wait." Hopper’s voice sharpens. "It wasn’t nothing, Sam."

You blink. "What?"

"One of the officers, Vargas, he had a feeling. Said the garage owner was off. Twitchy. Looked scared. Like he was hiding something. So, they left."

Your heart stutters.

"And they came back", Hopper continues, "In plain clothes. Parked down the road and waited. They stayed all night."

You can barely breathe. "And?"

"Sam, this morning", he says, voice thick, "Neil Hargrove came back, and he was arrested."

You choke on a sob, pressing a hand to your mouth to keep yourself from crying.

Eddie’s still staring at you like his whole world is in the balance.

"He must’ve known we were coming", Hopper explains, "He hid. Probably somewhere nearby. The garage guy didn’t give him up, but he slipped. And when Neil came back, they caught him."

You can barely get the words out. ''They got him?"

"Yes." Hopper’s voice darkens. "He fought, though, had a weapon. Got a few hits in. But we got him. Sam, he’s in custody. It’s over."

You press your hand to your eyes as a sob escapes your throat.

"He’s not getting near you again", Hopper repeats again, like a promise, "He’s done."

Another shaky sob escapes you, you nod your head even though he can't see you. The tears finally come, silent and hot, slipping down your cheeks before you even realize you’re crying.

Eddie pulls you up and into his chest without hesitation, cradling the phone so you can stay pressed close, his other hand rubbing soothing circles over your spine.

"Thank you", you whisper to Hopper, who keeps talking, but it all starts to blur.

Something about extradition. About your lead cracking the case open. That they never would’ve found Neil without you. That it was you, and your friends, who caught him. The credit, the weight of it, doesn’t land.

His words barely register in your racing brain, you're just clutching the phone and Eddie's shirt, shoulders shaking, breaths ragged, hot tears falling.

You faintly hear Hopper say something about charges stacking, assaulting an officer, resisting arrest, a list growing by the hour, but all you can manage is a sobbed, "I can come home?"

There’s the softest pause.

"Yes. Come home, kid. You’re safe now. Both Hargrove men are in custody."

And that’s it.

That last fragile thread you’d been clinging to snaps.

The last four days, the last weeks, months, crack open all at once. Every moment you held your breath. Every night you didn’t sleep. Every time you smiled through the ache in your chest. It all floods out in a wave of release.

You lean further into Eddie, soaking his shirt with your tears. He doesn’t flinch. Just wraps himself around you, arms firm, solid, like he’s trying to hold you together with his hands alone.

You don’t notice when the phone slips from your grip, but Eddie catches it. Raises it to his ear.

"Thanks, Hop", he rasps, his voice rough, thick with something unspoken, "Talk soon."Then he hangs up, sets the phone aside, and pulls you into him tighter.

You’re still crying, but it’s not the same kind of cry anymore. It’s not fear. Not dread.

It’s release. Exhaustion. Relief so overwhelming it feels like grief.

The room is silent except for your sobs and Eddie’s voice, whispering over and over again as he rocks you gently. "Home, baby… I’m bringing you home." His voice is broken and full, one hand cradling your head, the other pressed against your back like he’s afraid you might drift away if he lets go.

Steve stands just a few feet away, one arm around Elena, the other around Robin. No words. Just the sound of you breaking and Eddie catching every piece, pressing them back into place with every kiss to your hair, every promise he makes in a whisper only you can hear.

"We’re going home", he murmurs again, his voice splintering, his forehead resting against yours. "You’re safe, baby. It’s over. It’s finally over."

Robin wipes at her face but gives up halfway, turning into Steve’s chest.

Elena sniffles beside her, one hand pressed to her mouth, the other gripping Steve’s shirt like it’s the only steady thing she has.

Steve’s jaw clenches as he watches you and Eddie, eyes shining but focused, protective. Always the one trying to hold the line for everyone. But right now, even he’s wrecked. Because he saw it. Lived it with you. And now, finally, there’s light.

You don’t even notice when they all eventually step back, how Robin and Elena sit down on the couch, arms still wrapped around each other, how Steve moves toward the window, running a hand through his hair, blinking hard.

You just feel Eddie. All of him. Around you. Holding you like you’re something sacred.

You sob into his chest, and he lets you. Kisses your crown again. Whispers home again.

This isn’t over. Not completely. There will be a trial. A return to Hawkins. But this moment… this is the beginning of the end. The turning point. The part where the monster's gone. And you get to breathe again.

Eddie wipes your cheek with his thumb, even though it’s useless. "I got you", he whispers, "I always got you."

The quiet wraps around you now like a blanket, thick, a little heavy, but warm in its own way.

Your sobs have slowed to soft, ragged breaths, and your body feels… lighter. Not light, not free, but lighter. Like something inside of you, something huge, dark, and sharp, finally loosened its grip.

Eddie’s still holding you, his arms are around you, his face buried in your shoulder, and he hasn’t said anything in a while. Just breathing with you. Matching your rhythm. Being here.

When you finally pull back a little, lifting your head, the front of his shirt is soaked. You blink at it, then at him, and try to apologize, but he cuts you off before you can.

"Jesus Christ", he mutters, squinting down at himself, "Babe. You drowned my shirt."

A weak laugh breaks from your chest before you can stop it. You sniffle hard, wiping under your eyes, "Sorry."

"You cry like a fire hydrant", he states, pretending to be serious, flicking a finger at the soaked cotton. "It’s like Niagara Falls in here."

You try to laugh again, and it comes out cracked, shaky, but it’s real. It’s a sound you didn’t know you were still capable of.

He smiles at that. Not a wide, shit-eating grin, but the soft one. The one just for you.

"I ruined your shirt", you murmur.

He shrugs, tugging you back against him, "I’ll frame it."

You roll your eyes, burying your face in his neck now. "Gross."

"Sentimental", he corrects.

You both fall quiet for a moment again, just breathing. Just being. The kind of silence that means something. The kind where the weight is shared between you instead of carried alone.

After a beat, you speak again, your voice quieter now. "I really thought he was gonna get away."

Eddie’s arms tighten around you. "He didn’t."

"I know. But I was sure I messed it up. That it was all just...", you falter, "just another ghost chase. Another dead end."

"You didn’t mess anything up, sweetheart", he says softly, fingers moving gently over your back, "You got him. You did that."

"I didn’t do it alone.'

"No", he agrees. "You did it with people who love you. That’s the best way to do anything."

You’re quiet again, eyes closing against his shoulder. His heartbeat is steady under your cheek, and you let yourself just listen for a while. Let yourself rest. For once, no alarms going off in your brain. No sirens, no whispers of danger lurking in the shadows. Just Eddie. Just this.

"I can’t believe it’s over", you whisper.

Eddie presses his lips to your hair again. "It’s not over", he mumbles gently, "Not all the way. But it’s the start. And I’ll be there for every single step of it. We all will."

You pull back just enough to look at him.

His eyes are red and wet and full of everything he hasn’t said yet. But it’s there. All of it. All the love.

"You really gonna frame the shirt?" you whisper, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

He grins, nose crinkling. "Hell yeah, I am. Gonna hang it above my amp. Label it ‘Sam Carter’s Great Cry of 1985.’"

You smack his arm, laughing again, and he catches your wrist, kissing your knuckles before resting your joined hands over his heart. "I love you", you whisper, hoarse and raw and real.

He looks at you like you hung the stars. "I love you more", he whispers, "And you’re coming home with me."

Your voice is barely more than a breath. "Kiss me."

Eddie doesn’t hesitate. Not for a second.His hand comes up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing just beneath your eye as he leans in, slow, reverent, like he’s still making sure this is real. That you’re real.

And then his lips find yours, soft and certain and full of every word he hasn’t been able to say. It’s not a desperate kiss. It’s not rushed or wild. It’s steady. Full of weight. Full of everything you’ve both been through, everything that’s broken and everything that’s still holding on.

You melt into him, fingers curling into his shirt, the taste of your own tears still on your lips, but none of it matters now, not with the way he kisses you like he’s never going to let you go again.

He pulls back only just enough to whisper against your mouth, "I missed you.''

"I was right here", you murmur.

"I know", he breathes, forehead pressed to yours, "but I missed you anyway."

You close your eyes, letting his words wash over you, his presence grounding you. And then he kisses you again. Just because he can.

Hand in hand, you return to the others next door. Your people. Your family.

The moment you step into the living room, Robin’s already rising from the couch, eyes red, arms wide open.

Elena follows right behind her, and you’re wrapped in both of them before you can even say a word.

Everyone’s crying again, but it’s different now. Softer. Lighter. Relief tastes sweeter than anything.

"You did it", Robin whispers into your shoulder, voice cracking.

"I’m so fucking proud of you", Elena whispers, holding your hand tight, "You're so strong, Sam."

You hug them harder, eyes closed, breathing them in like oxygen. "I don’t know how to thank you", you murmur, voice trembling, "For coming here. For staying. For taking us all in. For laughing with me when I couldn’t even breathe. For making me feel like… like I wasn’t falling apart. For finding him."

They pull back just far enough to look at you. Robin’s lip trembles. Elena’s eyes shine.

"You’re the best friends I could ever ask for", you sniffle, also looking at Steve, who stays back, "You’re my family. And I don’t think anyone’s ever made me feel this loved."

You let go of them only to fully turn to Steve, who’s still standing nearby, arms crossed too tightly, pretending he’s not absolutely wrecked.

You're stepping into him, arms around his shoulders, pulling him into a hug before he can deflect. He hugs you back immediately. Tight. Strong. "Thank you", you whisper, tears back in your eyes, "For everything."

"Thank you for hiding out in her apartment", he mumbles, his face buried in your hair. His voice wobbles just enough that it makes your chest ache. "I… I owe you for that one."

You feel his eyes flick toward Elena, and you pull back to see her smiling, eyes shining. You smile, too. "You owe me a lot more than that, Harrington."

Finally, you turn to Eddie.

He’s just watching you. Quiet. Soft. Eyes still red, lips parted like he wants to say something, but he’s waiting.

You step into him, lift your hands to his face, hold him gently as you whisper, "And you... I love you so much it hurts, Eddie.''

He closes his eyes when you say it, and you kiss him again, sweet and slow and full of every ounce of love you’ve got left in your body.

"I couldn’t have survived this without you."

But something in him tenses.

"This wouldn’t have happened without me", he mutters, eyes still closed.

You shake your head immediately, hands still holding his face. "Stop saying that."

He opens his eyes.

"This wasn’t you", you tell him, "This wasn’t your fault."

"But--"

"You were the one who loved me, Eds", you whisper, "You were the one who showed me what love even was. Yeah, you kissed me when I was with someone else, that might be your fault. I fell in love with you, and I left Billy. That’s your fault too. Because you made me fall for your dumb jokes, your stupid grin and those fucking chocolate eyes.''

His lip trembles.

"Everything else? That wasn’t you. That was them. That was him." Tears fill your eyes again, but you keep going, voice steady. "But if this, everything I went through, is what it took to get here? To get to you? I’d do it again."

He stares at you, completely still.

"You’re worth it all, Eddie Munson."

He tries to play it cool, wiping at his eyes like it's no big deal, but when he opens his mouth, you know a dumb joke is coming.

"If you’re gonna keep saying stuff like that, I’m gonna need to invest in a waterproof vest," he murmurs. "Maybe something flame-retardant, too. You’re out here lighting my heart on fire like a goddamn Hallmark movie."

You snort-laugh through your tears.

Robin groans, "Jesus Christ", but she’s smiling.

Elena’s giggling into Steve’s shoulder.

And Steve, of course, mutters, "He’s back."

But even under the teasing, everyone’s eyes are soft. Relieved. Still a little red-rimmed, still exhausted, but safe. Finally.

And then… there’s a shift. You feel it. Steve’s eyes drift toward Elena, his hand brushing hers instinctively. Her fingers thread through his.

It’s happening. The goodbye they’ve been holding off.

Robin watches it, quiet and knowing. She’s the first to pull away from the group, clearing her throat. "I’m gonna pack", she says gently, like she doesn’t want to disrupt the moment.

You nod, grabbing Eddie's hand. "We should, too". You and Eddie follow her lead, slipping away to give them space.

You quietly slip into Elena’s bedroom, the air still warm from the chaos and comfort of the last three days. Both of you start moving, methodical, quiet. Toothbrush from the bathroom. Your jeans and shirts from the floor. You strip the sheets off her bed, fold them messily, shove them into the washing machine down the hall, turn it on low heat.

Then rummage through your bag, grab the last $30 you have left, and fold the bills tight, sliding them under the coaster on her nightstand.

She’ll find it later. Maybe she’ll roll her eyes. Maybe she’ll smile. It’s not enough, not even close. But it’s something.

Eddie finishes zipping your bag. His eyes meet yours across the room. There’s something quiet and soft there, like he’s still seeing the girl who broke open in his arms just an hour ago. "Ready to go home?", he mumbles, giving you a soft smile.

"Yes", you sigh, walking over to him to wrap your arms around his neck. "So ready."

He smirks softly, his big hand resting on your lower back.

"But I think we should give them a little more time", you say softly, nodding toward the closed door, meaning Steve and Elena behind it, clinging to the last moments they have.

Eddie nods. "Yeah."

"Wait here", you whisper, stepping in your toes to kiss his nose, before tugging the door open and sneaking out, unseen by your friends.

Robin’s still in the bathroom, packing. Elena's and Steve's low voices are coming from the kitchen, mixing with the sound of soft kisses, the kind that ache.

You grab the landline, moving quick and quiet, cradling it to your chest as you return to the bedroom.

Eddie closes the door behind you, raising his brows at the phone in your hands. "What...?", he starts, but you sit down on the bed and pat the mattress next to you.

"Come on, baby", you tell him softly, "It's time. Call the label."

Eddie sighs. Reaches into his pocket and fumbles out the crumpled piece of paper with the number Gareth gave him.

He sits down next to you, staring at the landline you're putting in his lap like it might bite him. He swallows hard, the soft hum of the washing machine rumbling through the walls, his thumb nervously rubbing circles into the cord, like it’ll buy him time.

"Do it, Eds", you tell him, and he gives you a look that’s half panic, half pure terror.

Then, right on cue, he grins, a little shaky. "Well, worst case scenario, I stutter through the whole thing and they realize I’m a fraud and ban me from ever touching a guitar again."

You smirk, nudging him with your shoulder. "So just like every time you meet someone new."

"Exactly", he takes a deep breath. "Okay. Okay, okay, okay. I’m calling. I’m calling right now."

You press a kiss to his cheek as he dials, and he clutches the phone like it might burn him.

When someone picks up on the other end, he stiffens like a deer in headlights, but he pulls it together.

"Hi. Yeah. Uh… this is Eddie Munson. Y-You guys left a message for me a couple days back? About… about my band. Corroded Coffin. I’m calling back."

You rest your chin on your hand, watching him as the voice on the other end clearly lights up.

Eddie listens, nodding slowly. Then his eyebrows lift. "Oh, yeah? You- You heard about the Black Cat gig?" His voice is rising in disbelief now. "And… the radio spot? Wow. I didn’t know people actually listened to that…"

He meets your gaze. His expression is starting to shift. Less nervous. More hopeful.

"Yeah. We can definitely send over a demo. I mean, we’ll need to record it, obviously, but... yeah. Yeah, we’d love to meet you. Where-... Chicago? Uh..., no, no, that won't be a problem."

At the mention of your old hometown, your chest tightens. Just a little. But you keep watching him, because this moment, it’s huge.

He nods again, "Got it. Yeah. Okay. Thank you. Seriously. Talk soon. Yeah, I'll- I'll call after we're done with the demo. Yeah, thank y-... Yes. Thanks. Bye."

He hangs up the phone.

Silence.

"They want a demo. And a meeting. Like, an actual meeting. They said they love the energy. That we’ve got something… raw." He laughs, stunned. "Raw. I think that’s music guy for ‘your gear sucks but we dig the vibe’."

You grin at him. "I told you, Eds."

He runs a hand through his hair, still in shock. "Chicago, babe. Chi-ca-go. What the hell." He stares down at the phone again like it just punched him in the face and kissed him on the mouth at the same time. His eyes are huge, his mouth half-open in stunned disbelief, and then he shakes his head with a breathless laugh that cracks right down the middle. "Holy shit", he mutters, rubbing his hand down his face, then again through his hair, like if he keeps touching his skull, it'll convince him this is real, "Holy shit. That just… happened."

You’re already grinning, already tearing up, already launching yourself at him. "Oh my god, Eddie!" you squeal, practically knocking him backward as you land in his lap, your arms flinging around his neck, "You’re gonna be a star, Eds. A star. You’re going to Chicago and you’re coming back with a goddamn record deal!"

He’s laughing now, his eyes wet, his grin wide, crooked, beautiful, every bit the boy you fell for. "Jesus Christ, baby", he wheezes, arms tight around your waist, like holding on to you is the only thing keeping him from floating right off the bed, "You’re gonna make me believe it."

"I want you to believe it!" you shout, peppering kisses across his face, his cheeks, his forehead, his jaw, everywhere your lips can reach. "You should believe it! I believe it! You’re incredible! You’re the best damn guitarist alive and they know it and I know it and the world’s about to know it too!"

He laughs again, deeper this time, and lets you shove him back onto the bed, you sprawled across him like you’ve been waiting your whole life to do just that. Your hair falls into his face and he doesn’t care, just closes his eyes, nose buried in the scent of your shampoo, your skin, your everything. "You’re insane", he grins, voice muffled under your kisses. "You’re insane and I love you so fucking much it’s gonna ruin me."

"Too late", you giggle against his lips, kissing him again, then again, and again. "I already ruined you. You’re welcome."

He growls something that’s equal parts horny and overwhelmed and drags his hands down your back, over your ass, groping shamelessly like he needs to ground himself somehow.

"You’re gonna be my groupie now, huh?" he murmurs, kissing your collarbone. "Follow me around the country, steal my shirts, scream my name from the crowd?"

"I already scream your name in bed", you tease, breathless, tugging on the ends of his hair. "Might as well do it on a stage."

"Oh fuck", he groans, throwing his head back, laughing and groaning at the same time. "You’re gonna kill me."

You kiss him again, slower now, deeper. He holds your face in his hands like it’s the most precious thing he owns, like this is the moment he’ll replay in his mind for the rest of his life.

"You’re gonna do it, my love", you whisper against his lips, "You’re gonna make it."

"Not without you."

"You’ll never be without me", you promise, forehead resting against his, "I’m with you. All the way."

He breathes in like it hurts. Like it heals. Then he pulls you back down and kisses you like he already won everything that ever mattered.

The cars are packed. 

Eddie slams the trunk of your car shut, the chain hanging on his belt jingling softly as he steps next to you, exhaling loudly.

The last bag is secured. You're ready to go.

But first, you have to say goodbye.

Elena’s standing outside her building in sweatpants and one of Steve's hoodies. Her arms are crossed, her eyes glassy but dry, for now.

Eddie steps up to her first, rocking on his heels, scratching at his jaw like he doesn’t know where to begin. "So...", he says quietly, "Bye, I guess. I just… I wanted to say thanks. For everything. For taking care of her. For letting us crash here. You’re… you’re a good friend. A real good one."

Elena smiles, soft and surprised, her voice warm. "You’re good for her. That’s all that matters." She opens her arms, and they share a short, tight hug.

"Take care, okay?", he mumbles, and she nods as he backs away quickly, emotion twitching at the corners of his mouth.

Robin’s next. She steps up without hesitation, pulling Elena into a tight hug. "You’re one of us now", she says fiercely, "You know that, right? You’re stuck with us."

"I could think of worse cults to join", Elena teases, hugging her just as hard. "Call me. Anytime."

Robin nods, wiping at her face like it’s no big deal. "You better answer."

Then it’s your turn. 

You step up slow, your throat already closing, your heart squeezed into a knot.  "El..."

She pulls you in before you can say more. Her arms around you feel like home, like safety, like everything she’s given you in the last few days that you didn’t even know how to ask for.

"You became one of my best friends so quickly", you whisper into her hair. "I don’t know how to thank you enough for everything you did for me. For us."

"Anytime, babe."

"I… I put your sheets into the washer, by the way. Sorry I had sex in your bed", you add, "Multiple times."

Elena snorts loudly into your shoulder.

Eddie barks out a laugh behind you. "You have a very comfortable mattress", he calls, completely unashamed, "Top tier hospitality."

You and Elena break into laughter, both of you crying now. 

She hugs you again, tighter. "Be safe", she murmurs, "And when he’s famous, I better get VIP tickets."

"You’ll be backstage", you promise, "Always."

You squeeze her once more and head back to lean against your car, Eddie right by your side, smoking a cigarette.

Steve’s the last to step up.

You all hang back, giving them space, but no one’s pretending not to watch. You can’t not watch.

He walks up to Elena like the air around her is magnetic, like he can’t stay away even if he tried, and God knows he’s not trying. His hands find her waist instantly. Hers go right to his collar, like they never left it.

"I don’t wanna go", he mutters, forehead pressed to hers, "I hate this. This whole leaving thing. It’s bullshit.''

Elena cups his jaw, brushing her thumb along his cheekbone. "I know", she whispers, "But you’ll call me the second you’re home, right?"

"The second", Steve swears. "And I’m coming back. Soon. Like, as soon as I possibly can. And you’re gonna come visit us in Hawkins, too, right?"

She nods, eyes starting to mist again. "Yeah. I’ll come see you guys. Soon."

He still hasn’t let her go. His hands are firm on her hips like he thinks she might disappear if he loosens his grip. Steve cracks a smirk, even through the weight in his chest. "Can’t believe I’m coming back to Hawkins a taken man."

Elena laughs softly, kissing him again. "You better keep your hands off those Hawkins girls, you hear me?"

That’s when he melts. He practically lights up, and it’s all over.

"El", he groans, clutching his chest dramatically. "Are you kidding me? You think anyone else stands a chance? Look at you. I still have no idea how I pulled you. Nobody compares to you, baby."

Elena blushes so hard, she hides her face in his neck.

You and Robin both snort, and Eddie mutters something about Romeo needing to chill.

Steve just keeps kissing her temple, her cheek, the corner of her mouth. "I can’t help myself", he whispers, and then, even quieter, too quiet, "Fuck, I… I think I’m already falling in love with you."

Everything stills.

You all stare.

Elena stares.

And Steve? Steve just smirks, shrugs, and pulls her back in like he didn’t just drop a bomb on all of you.

Elena makes a tiny squeaking sound and then launches into him, arms flung around his neck, her laugh bubbling out as she kisses him again and again.

He spins her in a circle, holding her like he’ll never let her go, laughing right along with her, stupid in love. When he finally sets her down, it’s nose to nose, both of them breathless, grinning, glowing.

"No tears, baby", Steve whispers, cupping her face. "I mean it. I’m gonna switch every damn shift until I can come back to you. Okay?"

"Okay", she whispers. Her voice shakes.

He kisses her again.

"I think I’m falling in love with you, too, Steve."

And that’s when all hell breaks loose.

You scream. Robin shrieks. Eddie whistles like it’s a stadium kiss-cam moment.

Steve and Elena are too busy kissing each other senseless to care.

What a fucking day.

You’re all a mess, laughing, crying, hooting like idiots while Steve and Elena stay locked in their own little gravity field, completely oblivious to the chaos they just caused.

Robin wipes at her eyes dramatically, fanning herself like she’s watching a telenovela.

Eddie’s got his hands on his hips, shaking his head with a wide grin like "I knew it. I fucking knew it."

You lean into him, heart full, cheek pressed against his shoulder. "Jesus Christ", you whisper, voice thick with emotion and joy, "this is like a season finale."

Eddie laughs softly, wraps his arm around you. "Right? What the hell just happened?"

Robin lets out a long, shaky breath. "Okay, I was not emotionally prepared for a live love confession. Like, I just brushed my teeth, I wasn’t ready to sob".

You chuckle, watching Steve and Elena finally start to let go. Slowly. Painfully. One last kiss. One more touch. His forehead pressed to hers like he’s memorizing every inch of her.

Then, they part.

Just enough.

Steve clears his throat, face flushed, trying to look cool but failing spectacularly. "Alright", he says, all fake swagger, "if I don’t leave now, I’m never leaving."

"Good", Elena teases, smiling through her tears, "Stay."

"Don’t tempt me." He kisses her one last time, slow and reverent. Then steps back. For real this time.

Robin gently hooks an arm through his, tugging him toward the car. "Come on, Romeo. Hawkins awaits."

They head for Steve’s car. Eddie and you hang back a second, watching them go, before turning to Elena one more time.

She wipes at her cheeks, sniffling, but she’s smiling. Strong. Brave. So full of love."Drive safe", she calls, "Call me when you’re home!"

"We will", you promise.

You slip into the passenger seat of your car. Eddie starts the engine.

Before you pull away, Eddie looks over at you. His hand finds yours between the seats, fingers lacing tight. His voice is soft, almost disbelieving. "Babe… we’re going home."

You nod, heart swelling. "Yeah. We are.''

With one last wave at Elena, your two cars drive off.

Back to Hawkins.Back to healing.Back to your life.

Two and a half hours later, you pull into Hawkins just as the afternoon light stretches golden across the fields, bathing the familiar shapes in a kind of sleepy, magic-hour haze.

Steve’s car is just ahead, Robin waving her arm dramatically out the window like she’s conducting a symphony as Steve honks twice, his goodbye signature.

Eddie gives a little salute through the windshield.

You roll your window down, shout, "Call us later, dingus!'

Robin throws back a "Love you, losers!" as they peel off toward town, the car bouncing slightly over the cracked pavement of the country road.

And then it’s just you two again.

Eddie’s hand finds yours on the console, gives it a gentle squeeze as he turns the car toward Forest Hills.

The moment you cross into the trailer park, the air feels different. Still. Heavier. You both go quiet. The road winds past the Hargrove trailer and neither of you so much as glance at it. The place looks the same as always, peeling paint, busted steps, shadows in the windows, but now it feels like a monument to something dead and rotting, something that no longer has power over either of you. You don’t look. You don’t have to.

Eddie pulls the car into the dusty patch outside his and Wayne’s trailer. Kills the engine.

For a second, you both just sit there, taking it in.

The place that held you for so long before it all went sideways. Still standing. Waiting.

The screen door creaks open before either of you move.

Wayne.

He’s already stepping down the front steps, wiping his hands on a rag, like he’s been pacing and fixing things that didn’t need fixing just to keep busy. His face is drawn tight with emotion that breaks the second he sees you. "’Bout damn time", he says gruffly, his voice cracking halfway through it.

Eddie is out of the car in seconds, practically launching himself into Wayne’s arms.

You follow, barely managing to close your door before Wayne’s pulling you in too. His hug is tight, solid, grounding, like steel wrapped in warmth. He smells like tobacco and coffee and home.

"You kids okay?"

You nod, your throat too tight to speak.

"I got the call from Hopper. I know what happened. Or, what I needed to know.''He looks between you and Eddie. "I’m proud of you. Both of you. You kept our girl safe, son. And you brought her back home."

Eddie’s eyes are glassy, and for once, he doesn’t joke. He just leans into Wayne’s side. "It’s good to be home."

Wayne gives him a one-armed squeeze. "Damn right it is. Come on. Let's get you two inside."

Eddie gets everything from the car, then follows Wayne and you up the trailer stairs and inside.

Wayne’s already heading to the kitchen, muttering about getting something started for dinner. He turns his back to you, muttering something about thawing chicken and where the hell he put the paprika.

Eddie grabs your hand and tugs you down the hall. "Come on", he grins, eyes bright with mischief now. "We’ve been gone for days, baby. I need to see it."

You laugh. "See what?"

He throws the door to your room open like a man revealing a grand castle. "This. Our majestic kingdom. The sanctuary. The temple of teenage lust and questionable posters."

You snort, stepping in behind him as he spins in a slow circle, arms outstretched like he’s basking in the energy of the place.

"God, I missed this room. It even smells like you."

You barely have time to roll your eyes before he turns, grabs you around the waist, and throws you onto the bed like he’s some starved pirate and you’re treasure.You bounce with a surprised yelp, giggling as you land on the blankets in a tangled heap. "Eddie!"

He flops down beside you dramatically, one arm thrown over his eyes. "God, I’ve been dreaming of this mattress. This squeaky-ass frame. That weird dip in the middle that pulls us both into the vortex of cuddling. I would write a sonnet about this bed.''

"You're a very dramatic man", you snort.

He lifts his arm, peeking at you with a crooked grin. "You love me, woman, especially because of my dramatic side."

You crawl closer, draping yourself over his chest, your face pressed into his neck as you inhale his scent. "I really love you", you murmur.

His arms wrap around you instantly, pulling you close, anchoring you like you’re the only real thing in the world. "Mhm, love you too, baby", he sighs. "We're fucking home. And you’re here. And Wayne didn’t cry in front of me, which is a win. And, I got a call from a goddamn record label. What the hell."

You smile into his neck. "You’re gonna be a star."

He tilts his head down, nose brushing yours. "Only if you’re front row, every time."

You hum. "Always."

Then he kisses you, slow, warm, and perfect. You sink into it, into him, into home.

The bedroom door’s still open. Wayne’s humming in the kitchen, pots clinking, the faint smell of garlic and onions starting to drift down the hall.

But none of that touches the quiet world you and Eddie are wrapped in.

You’re still tangled on the bed, limbs lazy and loose, lips slow and soft against each other’s. The mattress creaks under your shifting weight, a familiar sound, a comfort. His hands trail up your sides, fingers warm, thumbs brushing just beneath the hem of your shirt. You sigh into his mouth, the kind of sound that makes him kiss you deeper, like he’s starving for it, like he needs to drink it down.

"Mmm", you hum against his lips, your smile spreading even as you kiss him, "We’re not being very subtle."

Eddie grins without pulling away. "When have we ever been subtle?"

You giggle and he takes that as his cue to pepper your face with kisses, forehead, cheeks, jaw, nose, until you’re squealing and laughing, squirming beneath him.

"Eds!" you gasp, half-laugh, half-protest.

He just laughs too, that deep belly laugh you love, and blows a big raspberry against your stomach before diving under your shirt entirely.

You squeak, your hands flying to his shoulders, but he’s already got his face smashed between your boobs like a goddamn lunatic, groaning dramatically like he’s reached heaven.

"God, I missed these", he mutters, his voice muffled by skin and cotton. His beard scratches you just enough to tickle, and his hair falls everywhere, wild and soft and tickling your ribs.

You can’t stop laughing, even when you try to push him off halfheartedly. "You’re ridiculous!"

"And you’re perfect", he says, finally dragging himself up, kissing your sternum, then your collarbone, then your neck, slow and sweet. His hands settle at your hips, thumbs rubbing slow circles again, anchoring you, reverent. "God, I love your laugh", he murmurs against your skin. "Fuck, baby, you sound like sunlight."

You’re breathless now, heart thudding, cheeks flushed from both the tickling and the way he’s looking at you. "You’re such a sap", you whisper, but your fingers are already in his hair again, your legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him close.

"I know", he breathes, smiling as he kisses you again. "I’m your sap."

Your lips meet again, slow, deeper this time, warm and heavy. You sigh into it, into him, your fingers cradling his face as his hands slip under your shirt again, gentler now, just tracing. He kisses you like he has nowhere else to be, like this, this right here, is everything he’s ever wanted.

Out in the kitchen, Wayne stirs a pot and glances toward the hallway where your laughter still lingers. He just shakes his head, smiling to himself as he goes back to humming, a little louder now.

Eddie's lips move back down, down your neck and torso, until he cheekily slips beneath your shirt again, barely coming up for air, mouth pressed to your skin like it’s oxygen, stubble scratching your stomach and collarbone and the tops of your breasts as he practically devours you in laughter and kisses. He’s relentless, blowing another raspberry right below your ribs, then another between your boobs, growling dramatically like a starved animal, hands gently squeezing your sides like he's memorizing the shape of you all over again.You squeal, laughing so hard it’s hard to breathe. "Eds, stop!"

"I can’t!" he grins, voice muffled against your shirt as he nuzzles between your breasts again. "It’s been hours, babe. I’ve been running on fumes. I need this. I need you."

You’re laughing so hard, you can barely push at his shoulders. "You’re an animal!"

"In love", he counters, "An animal in love. Totally different."

From the kitchen, Wayne makes a very Wayne noise, half sigh, half fond groan, and mutters, "Christ alive", shaking his head with a smile, pretending he can’t hear a damn thing even though your laughter’s echoing through the trailer like the goddamn sun breaking through clouds.

"You’re gonna disturb the neighborhood", you gasp between giggles.

"I hope I do", Eddie declares, mouth against your stomach again. "Let ‘em all know I’m back in my natural habitat.'

"You mean my boobs?", you shoot back, breathless.

He pops his head out from under your shirt. "Obviously."

That’s when you strike.

You twist suddenly, catching him off guard, not really, you both know he’s letting you win, and roll him onto his back, climbing on top with a victorious grin. "My turn, Munson."

Eddie’s eyes go wide in that fake theatrical way he does when he’s so ready for chaos. "Mercy!"

"Too late!" you cackle, and dive down, tickling under his arms and along his sides, careful to skip over his ribs while still making him squirm like crazy.

"No-! Babe-- babe!", he gasps, giggling uncontrollably, kicking his feet like a kid. "Wayne! She’s bullying me!"

Wayne, from the kitchen, without missing a beat, "'Bout time.''

You both lose it.

While Eddie’s still breathless and red-faced and laughing, you slide your hands up under his shirt and duck your head beneath it, only to blow a dramatic raspberry right on his stomach.

"REVENGE!" you cry in a deep voice, channeling your inner Eddie, "This is my happy place now. Gotta say hi to the twins!" You smush your face against his chest, wiggling dramatically. "Ohhh, Debbie and Rebbie, how I missed you!"

Eddie howls.

"Oh my god, what the hell is wrong with you?!" he laughs, doubled over, tears in his eyes from laughing so hard.

You pop your head back out from under his shirt, grinning. "I’m just embracing the Munson Method, baby."

He’s still wheezing when you start kissing his face all over again, nose, cheeks, chin, lips, smacking obnoxiously loud kisses like he did earlier, both of you breathless and warm and tangled up in each other, giddy with joy.

And from the kitchen, Wayne’s shaking his head, still smiling, still humming along with his cooking, the happiest he's been in days.

You’re home.

And the trailer is finally alive again.