079

You sigh, flipping through a stack of vinyl records, sorting them into their rightful places on the shelves.

The last customer just walked out, leaving the shop quiet for a moment. Pat is in the back office, on the phone, and, finally, you’re alone.

Eddie had been here with you for nearly three hours, sitting at the counter, flipping through magazines, pretending to browse, but mostly just keeping his eyes on you like some overprotective watchdog. You practically had to beg him to leave for even five minutes, just to grab a coffee from the café down the street.

And now, for the first time since you clocked in, there’s no pair of dark brown eyes watching your every move.

You barely get a moment to breathe before your boss appears in the doorway to the office, arms crossed, leaning against the frame. "So", he starts, voice casual but laced with amusement, "your guy been here the whole shift?"

You glance up, caught, then exhale, setting a record down. "He’s just… bored". You wave a hand vaguely, "That’s all."

Pat raises an eyebrow. "You sure? ‘Cause you two seem a little… tense today."

You force a light laugh, shaking your head, "We’re fine." 

He watches you for a moment, like he doesn’t quite buy it, but he doesn’t push. Instead, he nods, chuckling. "Well, for what it’s worth, I don’t mind him hanging around. He’s a good guy. And I gotta say, hearing him on the radio Sunday? Pretty cool."

You snort, "Yeah, don’t tell him that. His ego doesn’t need the boost".

Pat laughs, shaking his head before heading back into the backoffice, leaving you alone again.

For about thirty seconds.

Then the door swings open, and a guy, probably around sixteen or seventeen, steps inside, eyes immediately landing on you behind the counter. He’s got that cocky, misplaced confidence that only teenage boys seem to have, and when he grins, you already know where this is going. "Hello there", he grins, sauntering closer.

You nod politely, "Hey. Need help finding anything?"

His grin widens, "Yeah, actually. Think I just found the prettiest girl in the shop".

You bite back a laugh.

Oh, this poor kid.

You shake your head, smirking as you continue sorting records. "Nice try, but I’m also the only girl in the shop, and - not single".

He doesn’t falter, "Yeah? Who’s the lucky guy?" His smirk turns playful. "Bet I could take him."

You lean against the counter, thoroughly entertained as this kid continues his relentless flirting, arms crossed as you watch him try to puff up his chest. "Oh, you’d take him, huh?" you say, biting back a grin.

"Easy," he smirks, flexing slightly, like you’re supposed to be impressed, "I mean, how big can he be?" 

You hum, pretending to consider it. "Mm. Pretty big."

The kid waves a dismissive hand, "Nah. I’ve been hitting the gym. Bet I could take him down in, like, five seconds, tops." 

You press your lips together, eyes flickering toward the door just as it swings open.

Eddie walks in, holding two cups of coffee, his dark eyes immediately landing on you. His brows knit together slightly when he catches the look you give him, the way you bite down on a laugh, amused at whatever nonsense this kid is spouting. He glances at him, then at you again, realization settling in as his lips twitch with amusement.

Instead of interrupting, Eddie steps a little closer, casually listening as the guy keeps going, oblivious to the fact that the very boyfriend he’s bragging about defeating is standing right behind him. 

"Yeah, honey" the kid continues, grinning, completely unaware, "He won’t even know what hit him. Then you and me? We’ll go out somewhere nice. You ever been to that burger place down on Fifth? I’ll take you there. Get you whatever you want, pretty girl."

You nearly lose it. Your lips part to respond, but before you can, Eddie finally makes his move.

He reaches out, handing you one of the coffees, his fingers brushing against yours as he says, "Here you go, babe."

The guy freezes.

You barely hold back a grin as you take the cup, deliberately sipping from it while Eddie shifts his attention to him, dark eyes dragging up and down, slowly taking him in. Eddie tilts his head slightly, feigning curiosity. "So," he drawls, "you were saying?"

The kid finally looks up at him and you watch as his face changes. His eyes flick over Eddie’s frame, the way he towers over him, broad and solid. The way his tattoos peek from under the sleeves of his worn-out shirt, the glint of his rings when he flexes his fingers around his coffee cup. His wild curls, the slight smirk playing on his lips. And then, the way you look at him.

The kid swallows.

Eddie lifts an eyebrow.

"Go on," he encourages, voice smooth, easy, like he’s actually enjoying this, "You were just about to tell my girl how you were gonna ‘take me down,’ right?"

The guy takes a slow step back. "Uh."

Eddie grins. "No, no, don’t stop now. You were doing great." You press your lips together, eyes twinkling with amusement as the kid’s confidence crumbles at an alarming rate.

"Uh, y-you know, man, I was just messing around".

"Oh, for sure," Eddie nods, taking a slow sip of his coffee, "Just messing around."

The kid clears his throat, then suddenly remembers he has places to be, "You know what? I should, uh... I should go."

Eddie gives a lazy shrug, "Yeah. You probably should."

Without another word, the kid spins on his heel, practically speed-walking toward the door. The bell jingles as he shoves it open, disappearing outside without so much as a glance back. 

Silence lingers for half a beat before Eddie turns back to you, grinning. "Jesus Christ," he mutters, shaking his head. "That was embarrassing."

You burst out laughing, "I was having fun!"

Eddie scoffs. "Yeah, I could tell. You really let that kid think he had a shot, huh?"

You smirk, taking another sip of your coffee, "Maybe I just like watching you get all jealous and broody." 

"Jealous?" Eddie huffs, stepping closer, slotting himself between you and the counter, "Sweetheart, that wasn’t jealousy. That was me being highly entertained by a goddamn trainwreck".

"Sure, sure," you tease, grinning up at him.

He slides a hand around your waist, tugging you against him. "You really think I was worried about some baby-faced kid in his gym bro era stealing my girl?"

You hum, tapping your chin, "I dunno. You did get real close, real fast."

Eddie leans in, his nose brushing against yours, "Just wanted to see how long it’d take for him to piss himself."

You giggle, letting your fingers trail up his arms, over his shoulders, "And how long do you think it would’ve taken?"

Eddie smirks, lips hovering over yours, "Another minute, tops." You shake your head, laughing, before he kisses you.  Your boyfriend grins against your lips as he leans you back into the counter, his body pressing against yours. "Mm," he hums, tilting his head slightly, his nose brushing yours, "y’know, this kinda reminds me of the time I fucked you right here."

You let out a scandalized laugh, swatting at his shoulder, "Eddie!"

He smirks, unfazed, hands still resting on your waist as he kisses you again, catching you just as you try to take another sip of your coffee. You barely manage to set the cup down before he’s pulling you in, lips moving slowly over yours, teasing.

"You just--" You break the kiss with a breathless laugh, hands on his chest as you try to push him away. "You cannot keep your hands to yourself for five minutes, can you?"

He grins, eyes dark with amusement, "Not when some boy's in here, shooting his shot like I don’t exist."

You roll your eyes, "Oh, please. He was just a kid." 

Eddie clicks his tongue, "Don’t matter. Can’t even leave you alone for five minutes without some guy sniffing around."

You snort, wrapping your arms loosely around his shoulders, "What, you gotta remind me who I belong to now?"

Eddie smirks, "Wouldn’t hurt." His hands tighten on your waist, and before you can say another word, he’s guiding you away from the counter, maneuvering you between the shelves, out of sight from the front window.

Your laughter bubbles up as he pins you lightly against a shelf, his lips brushing against yours, his fingers teasing at the hem of your shirt. "You should behave," you warn, breath hitching as he kisses the corner of your mouth, "Customers can come in any time. And my boss is right down that hall".

"Then I guess we better be quick, and very quiet", he murmurs, grinning against your skin.

You giggle, shaking your head, "You’re ridiculous." 

Eddie smirks, kisses you again, deeper this time, stealing whatever retort you might’ve had. His hands slide down, fingers digging into your hips as he presses you back against the shelves.

Your coffee is long forgotten, his lips and touch taking up all your focus.

"You’re lucky I like you," you mumble against his mouth, arms looping around his neck.

Eddie grins. "I’m lucky, huh?"

You smirk. "Very." 

He laughs, low and pleased, before pulling you back into another kiss, drowning in the way you melt against him.

"Behave, Munson", you whisper, feeling his hands slipping under your shirt, his ringed fingers caressing your lower back as he playfully nibbles your bottom lip. Eddie grins against your lips, his hands still roaming shamelessly, sliding down to grab a handful of your ass. You gasp, swatting at his chest, but he just chuckles, pressing another teasing kiss to your lips. "You really expect me to behave?" he murmurs, voice dripping with amusement, "After sitting in this shop for hours, making sure you’re safe, and now I’ve had to fight off a kid for your honor?" 

You let out a breathless laugh, shaking your head, "You did not fight him, Eds."

"Felt like I did," he argues, lips brushing the corner of your mouth, trailing down your jaw, "Could’ve sworn I saw the fear in his eyes when he realized who he was dealing with." 

You snort, "Oh yeah, he was shaking in his boots."

Eddie grins, nipping lightly at your skin, "Damn right, he was." 

Before you can tease him more, you hear the creak of Pat's office door opening.

Your breath catches, and you push at Eddie’s chest instinctively, but he barely moves, still grinning as he glances toward the hallway. But Pat doesn’t step into the shop, though. Instead, his footsteps move down the hall, toward the small staff bathroom. 

You exhale, but Eddie just smirks. "Better keep it down, sweetheart," he murmurs, voice teasing, "Wouldn’t want him catching us back here, huh?"

You glare at him, still breathless from his kisses, "You are impossible."

Eddie leans in again, pressing another lingering kiss to your lips, humming lowly. "Mmm. Something about this workplace-romance, forbidden-love kinda thing does something to me," he muses, squeezing your waist.

You try to hold back a laugh, but it bubbles up anyway, your hands gripping his shoulders as he kisses you again. It’s ridiculous, how amused he is with himself, how smugly he watches you between kisses, your lips curving into a smile no matter how hard you try to be stern. "You are the worst," you mumble against his lips.

Eddie smirks. "Don't care", he murmurs, kissing you again, "you still let me kiss you."

You sigh dramatically, though your fingers are already tangling in his curls, "Guess I have a soft spot for idiots."

He laughs against your mouth, his hands tightening on your hips, "Lucky me, then."

And then he’s kissing you again, deep and slow, like he has all the time in the world, completely ignoring the fact that you’re still at work, that your boss is just down the hall, that at any moment, someone could walk in. He smells like coffee and cigarettes, like the faint musk of his cologne mixed with something entirely him. He’s so warm, his lips soft but insistent, his hands gripping your waist like he has no intention of letting you go.

All you want to do is drag him back home, crawl into bed, and stay tangled up with him for the rest of the day.

The thought alone makes you melt against him, pressing one more kiss to his mouth, sighing as he deepens it, stealing the last bit of your self-control. 

But then the shop phone starts ringing. 

You groan against his lips, and Eddie actually pouts when you pull away. "Nooo," he whines, tightening his hold, "Ignore it. Let it ring. No one cares."

You laugh, pushing at his chest, "I care. I still have an hour left, Eds."

"Yeah, and?" He presses another quick, needy kiss to your lips, "I missed you."

"You left for five minutes," you deadpan.

"Felt like five years," he insists dramatically.

Before you can retort, Pat calls from down the hall, "Sam, you getting that?"

You roll your eyes, calling back, "Yeah, I’m on it!" 

Or at least, you try to be. 

Eddie doesn’t let go, still holding you against the shelf, that damn pout on his lips. "One more," he murmurs, tilting his head, eyes dark and pleading, "Just one more, babe."

You huff, smirking at him. "You’re ridiculous."

"And you’re beautiful," he counters smoothly.

You groan but kiss him anyway, giving in because you always do. Just one more, just a little longer, except you grab his ass before pulling away, making him let out a surprised grunt. His eyes flash, and he opens his mouth to say something, but you’re already slipping away with a smirk. "You started it," you tease, heading for the phone. Eddie watches you with a heated expression as you pick up, composing yourself just in time. "Hawkins Record Shop, this is Sam--"

You’re barely a sentence into the conversation when you hear movement behind you, followed by warm hands on your hips. You suck in a breath as Eddie presses himself against your back, lips brushing your neck, his curls tickling your jaw. You reach for the papers on the counter, trying desperately to focus as he kisses just below your ear.

"Uh... yeah, let me check on that," you say into the phone, voice only slightly strained as you flip through the order forms.

Eddie hums lowly, his breath hot against your skin. "You smell good," he murmurs, lips grazing your pulse. 

Your grip tightens on the papers. "Mm-hmm," you say, half in response to the person on the phone, half because Eddie is very much not playing fair. You try to nudge him away, but he just grins against your skin, hands sliding lower. "Eddie," you whisper, trying to sound scolding, but it comes out way too breathy.

He chuckles, not moving an inch.

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to focus. "Yes, sir, it looks like your order has arrived. You can pick it up anytime."

Eddie’s hands tighten on your waist, and you shoot him a warning glare over your shoulder. He just smirks, completely unbothered, pressing another slow, teasing kiss to your neck.

You grip the edge of the counter, barely keeping it together as his lips ghost over your neck. His breath is warm, his hands firm on your hips, fingers slipping just under the hem of your shirt like he’s daring you to react. "Uh, y-yeah," you stammer into the phone, trying to focus on the customer’s words instead of the way Eddie’s mouth is trailing the curve of your shoulder, "Anytime before closing is fine… we're open until 8". He hums against your skin, pretending to be innocent even as his lips move up, right under your ear, pressing the slowest, softest kiss possible. You inhale sharply, gripping the receiver tighter. "Yes, sir, we’ll hold it for you." Eddie grins against your neck, clearly entertained by your struggle. You shoot him another warning glare over your shoulder, but it only makes him bolder. His fingers squeeze your waist, pulling you just slightly back into him, enough for you to feel how much fun he’s having with this. "Alright," you manage, clearing your throat. "See you soon." 

The second you hang up, you whirl on him, smacking his chest. "You’re the worst," you hiss, face burning.

Eddie grins, completely unrepentant, "What? I didn’t do anything." 

"You..." You gesture wildly, still flustered. "I was on the phone!"

He shrugs, his smirk downright devilish, "And you handled it so well, babe. I’m proud of you."

You groan, covering your face as he laughs. "You’re insufferable," you grumble.

Eddie leans in, his hands settling on your waist again. "And yet, you love me."

You peek at him through your fingers, biting your lip. He’s grinning, eyes shining, looking so damn pleased with himself. "You’re lucky you’re cute," you mumble. He smirks.

"Yeah? That’s why you let me kiss you at work?"

You roll your eyes, which, of course, only makes him lean closer, his nose brushing yours.  "Careful," he murmurs. "That’s the third time you rolled your eyes at me today. Might have to do something about that." 

You arch a brow, lips twitching. "Oh yeah? Like what?"

He grins, eyes darkening just enough to make your stomach flip, "Wouldn’t you like to know?"

You huff a laugh, pushing at his chest, "You’re a menace."

"But you still haven’t told me to stop," he points out, smirking.

You open your mouth to argue, but then the bell above the door chimes, another customer walking in.

Eddie sighs dramatically, stepping back. "Saved by the bell," he mutters.

You smirk, straightening your shirt, "Better behave yourself."

He winks, grabbing his coffee and heading over to the couch, "No promises, sweetheart." 

An hour later, you're finally done.

You grab your jacket from the back, slinging it over your shoulders as you wave to Pat on your way out. "Bye, see you tomorrow!"

Eddie’s right behind you, hands stuffed into his pockets, still smug from the way he’d spent the last hour distracting you.

Pat watches the two of you with an amused shake of his head. "Look, I don’t mind having an almost-rockstar loitering in my shop for hours," he says, voice dry, "but if he keeps distracting my staff, we’re gonna have a problem."

Your face heats instantly.

Eddie just snorts, clapping a hand over his heart, "Patrick, my man. I’d never get in the way of good, honest labor."

Pat gives him a pointed look, "Uh-huh. Sure, Edward".

Eddie grins, throwing an arm around your shoulder as he steers you toward the door. "Later, boss," he calls, dragging you outside before you can combust from embarrassment.

"Oh, my god", you groan as soon as you pull the front door open.

The cold evening air wraps around you like a slap, and you immediately burrow deeper into your jacket, crossing your arms against the chill. Eddie is right behind you, whistling to himself, entirely unbothered by the temperature, a smug grin already forming on his lips as you shiver dramatically. You whip around, eyes squinted, nose scrunched, "You are such a menace."

Eddie grins wider, clearly enjoying himself. "That’s a little vague, my love. You gotta be more specific. What exactly am I in trouble for this time?"

You huff, rolling your eyes. "Oh, I don’t know, maybe the fact that my boss is now fully aware that you were groping me all damn shift?"

He snorts, shaking his head, "First of all, groping is a strong word. I was appreciating my woman, which is my god-given right as a devoted, loving boyfriend."

"You were distracting me."

"Exactly," he winks, "That’s called keeping things interesting, babe."

You groan, burying your face in your hands, "Pat basically called me out for it, you dork. Do you know how embarrassing that was?"

Eddie just laughs, stepping closer, his hands immediately finding your hips, "Did he fire you?"

"No, but-"

"Then I see no problem here."

You glare up at him, but he’s just grinning like an idiot, clearly enjoying how worked up you are. You try to shove him away, but he holds firm, letting out a deep, exaggerated sigh. "Man," he muses, shaking his head. "The things I do for love. Sitting in that shop for hours. Suffering in silence. Then, just when I think I can grab a quick coffee, some little punk kid tries to steal my girl."

You roll your eyes again. "You were jealous of a sixteen-year-old."

His brows shoot up, his grip tightening slightly, "I was not jealous."

You smirk, tilting your head, eyes gleaming, "Really? Because it kinda seemed like you were jealous."

Eddie scoffs, leaning in until his lips almost brush yours. "Oh, baby, I wasn’t jealous," he murmurs, voice low, teasing, "I was making sure he knew his place."

You snort, shoving lightly at his chest, "His place was running out the door with his tail between his legs."

"Exactly," Eddie smirks. "All part of my master plan."

"Oh, my god, you're so annoying", you laugh, trying to step away, but his arms lock around your waist as he lifts you slightly off the ground, spinning you half in a circle. You let out a startled squeak, gripping his shoulders. "Nooo, Eds!"

He just chuckles, nuzzling his face into your neck. "You’re so dramatic, sweetheart," he murmurs, voice muffled against your skin.

"You’re so embarrassing," you grumble, wiggling in his grasp.

"Yeah?" He lifts his head, eyes dark with amusement, "Then why’re you smiling?"

You purse your lips, trying to suppress it, but it’s no use. You’re grinning, and he knows it.

Smug as ever, Eddie presses a loud, exaggerated kiss to your cheek before finally setting you down. "You love it," he grin, giving your hips a squeeze.

You roll your eyes, and this time, you do it on purpose.

Eddie catches it immediately, gasping dramatically. "That’s, like, five times today," he warns, voice teasing but laced with faux danger, "You’re really pushing it, baby."

"Or," you smirk, "you’re just really annoying today."

Eddie gapes at you, placing a hand over his heart like you just shot him, "Wow. After everything I’ve done for you?"

"You mean distracting me at work?"

"Protecting your honor," he corrects, raising an eyebrow.

You snort, wrapping your arms around his neck, "You stood there and let him talk himself into a hole."

Eddie grins, tilting his head, "And who won?"

You shake your head, biting back a laugh, "Oh, my god".

He kisses you then, slow and soft, with just enough pressure to make your stomach flip. His lips are warm, his hands firm at your waist, pulling you into him like he can’t stand the thought of space between you. You sigh into it, your fingers curling into his jacket, and for a second, you forget about everything else.

Until the wind rips through the street, cutting through your clothes like ice.

"Ugh", you shiver, "Okay, let's go, don't wanna freeze to death here".

You called Robin earlier, telling her you'd be bringing Eddie to your girls night, and after promising her you'd tell her why, she eventually agreed to meeting you two at the Hideout since it's right around the corner of your workplace.

And she said she's bring Steve, too, so the "boys have someone to play with while we talk".

The two of you start walking, but the wind picks up, biting through your layers. You shiver again, muttering a curse, hugging yourself as you two walk around a corner.

"Poor thing", Eddie coos as he wraps an arm around your shoulders and tugs you closer, rubbing his hand up and down your arm, "Maybe if you weren’t so stubborn about dressing cute instead of warm-"

You shoot him a glare. "You’re one to talk, Mr. Ripped Jeans in the Dead of Winter."

He smirks. "Touché."

You keep walking, the wind biting your skin, making you shivering violently, and instantly press yourself deeper against him, seeking warmth. "Eds," you whimper, pouting.

He exhales, amused but affectionate. "C’mon, baby, it's just another block, we can do this, we're almost-"

Another gust of wind rushes past, and you let out the most pitiful, dramatic shudder known to mankind.

Eddie stops mid-sentence, then sighs, pulling you into the nearby entryway of a closed shop. "Alright, alright, c’mere," he mutters, opening his jacket. "Get in. Operation Human Space Heater, go."

You don’t hesitate, immediately curling into him, pressing your freezing face into his chest. His body heat is instant relief, his scent warm and familiar, and you let out a content sigh as he wraps his arms around you. "You’re so warm," you mumble.

"That’s ‘cause I’m hot, babe," he mumbles, smirking, "In every possible way."

You roll your eyes, "Debatable."

Eddie gasps in mock offense, "Oh, you wound me."

Before you can react, he shifts like he’s about to pull away, but you grab his hoodie, yelping. "No, don’t let me go!"

He laughs, pulling you right back in, pressing a quick, warm kiss to your forehead, "That’s what I thought."

You chuckle, pressing closer, sighing contentedly as the heat of his body shields you from the cold. Eddie softens immediately, arms tightening around you, hands splaying across your back, fingers brushing your waist under your jacket.

"Better?" he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

You nod, humming as you nuzzle into his chest. "Mmhmm. You're very toasty."

Your boyfriend chuckles, his breath warm against your hair, "Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome."

You stay like that for a moment, just breathing each other in, your icy hands now sneaking under his hoodie for more warmth. The second they make contact with his bare skin, Eddie jolts, his whole body stiffening.

"Holy shit!" he gasps, squirming. "What the fuck?!"

You smirk, pressing your palms against his lower back, letting your fingers spread over the warm, firm skin there. "You said you’d keep me warm", you mumble.

He groans, dropping his forehead against yours, "Why do I let you do this to me?"

"Because you love me," you tease, wiggling your fingers against his bare back, feeling the way his muscles twitch under your touch.

He exhales sharply, jaw tightening, but he doesn’t pull away. "Yeah, well, I’m starting to rethink that decision."

"No, baby", you pout up at him, slowly moving your cold hands over his side, making him groan again.

He tilts his head back, eyes squeezing shut like he’s in actual pain, "You are so lucky I love you."

You grin, rubbing slow circles into his skin, feeling the way his muscles twitch beneath your touch.

"Baby," he warns, voice tight as you move them further around his body, right on his stomach.

"Hm?" You blink up at him innocently.

His jaw clenches.

And then, just to be a little shit, you let your fingers dip lower.

Eddie’s breath stutters.

Because you just accidentally brushed over the trail of hair leading into his jeans.

His grip on you tightens immediately, his whole body going stiff, and you glance up at him, all wide-eyed and sweet,

"Something wrong?"

Eddie stares at you, dark eyes burning, and for a second, you swear you see a flicker of something dangerous there. "You are such a brat," he mutters.

You bite back a giggle, fingertips tracing the waistband of his jeans, "I have no idea what you’re talking about."

Eddie inhales sharply through his nose, his grip tightening. "You are the fucking worst," he mutters, eyes dark as he stares down at you.

"Baby, I am just warming my hands, that's all", you smirk, batting your lashes as you continue drawing small circles on his lower stomach.

He exhales through his teeth, eyes flicking skyward like he’s praying for patience. "I swear to god, I am this close to throwing you over my shoulder and carrying you home."

You giggle, leaning up to brush your lips over his jaw, "But you won’t."

His hands flex on your waist, "You really wanna test that theory, princess?"

You hum, pretending to think about it. "Mmm… maybe later."

Eddie groans, pulling you even closer, letting his fingers dig into your hips.

You smirk, pressing one last teasing touch to his stomach before stepping back, slipping out of his grasp. "Come on, rockstar," you purr, taking his hand, "We’re already late".

Eddie groans, shaking his head as you tug him along. "You are so going to pay for that later".

The Hideout isn’t exactly buzzing on this chilly Wednesday night.

A few scattered regulars sit at the bar, nursing their drinks, the jukebox humming softly in the background. The dim glow of neon signs casts warm shadows across the wooden walls, making everything feel smaller, quieter.

Eddie walks in like he owns the place, which, to be fair, he practically does, at least on Tuesdays, when Corroded Coffin plays their sets. He grins when he spots Donna behind the bar, giving her a lazy salute. "Hey, sweetheart," she greets, already reaching for two beers before he even asks. "God, I love you," Eddie sighs dramatically, accepting the bottles with a wink.

Donna snorts. "Yeah, yeah. Keep sweet-talking me and I might just let you start a tab again."

"You’re an angel, a goddess among mere mortals..."

"Get out of my face, Munson."

You smirk as Eddie laughs, grabbing the beers and heading toward your booth.

Robin is already waving like an overenthusiastic airport ground crew, her expression riddled with curiosity. Steve, on the other hand, is slouched in the seat beside her, lazily swirling his beer, looking thoroughly unamused.

"You’re late," Robin announces the second Eddie sets the bottles down, "And you brought... him."

You roll your eyes, sitting down across from her.

Eddie slides into the seat next to you and smirks as he watches you light a cigarette, "Aw, Buckley, don’t sound so disappointed. You know you love me."

Robin leans in, eyes sharp with suspicion. "This was supposed to be a girl’s night. All I wanted was some peaceful hours of talking to my best friend. Just me and her," she sighs, pointing at you.

"Sorry, babe", you take a slow drag of your cigarette, giving her an apologizing look.

Steve raises a brow, looking between you two. "Your best friend, mh?", he mumbles, glancing at Robin, "Better remember that next time you need a ride".

She rolls her eyes at him, nudging his ribs, "Don't be jealous, dingus. Got enough room in my heart for both of you. And you'll forever be my favorite ride".

Steve scoffs, dramatically rolls his eyes.

You snort, taking a sip of beer, feeling Eddies arm sliding around you as he settles back, amusedly watching their banter.

"Anyway", Robin turns her attention back to you, leaning in as she goes, "Spill. What's going on? Why do you have your guard dog with you?"

Steve raises a brow, looking between you two. "Yeah, actually, I was wondering the same thing. No offense, man, but I wasn’t exactly planning on going out tonight, was planning on calling Elena in Indie, but well..." He gestures vaguely at Robin. "Apparently, I was summoned so you’d have someone to 'play with.'"

Eddie snorts. "Sounds about right".

You're barely listening, fidgeting with your bracelet, the label of your beer, your cigarette.

For the past few hours, you almost forgot.

Almost let yourself believe that Eddie was just here because he wanted to be. That he followed you to work today just to flirt, just to be around you. That the only reason he’s here now is because he couldn’t stand to be apart from you.

But that’s not why he’s here.

"Hey", Robin reaches for your hand, squeezing it lightly as her big eyes wander over your face, "Sam, what's going on?" She's starting to worry, realized how quiet you got the second she asked.

You feel Eddie's tension the second he sees the look on your face. It rolls off him in slow, creeping waves, tightening his shoulders, stiffening his spine. You’re tucked against his side, but he pulls you in even closer, an arm draped protectively around your waist, fingers digging just a little too hard into your side. He’s gripping his cigarette like a lifeline, lifting it to his lips with a hand that’s just slightly unsteady.

Steve and Robin both notice immediately.

Steve’s brows furrow as he glances at him. "Alright, man. What the fuck is going on?"

You take a breath, glancing at Robin and Steve. They’re waiting, watching. They already know the history, the long, drawn-out battle that’s been going on for months now. Billy and Eddie, circling each other like predators, teeth bared, fists flying. All because Billy couldn’t handle the fact that you left him for Eddie.

You stare down at the cigarette in your hand, watching the ash build at the tip as you take a breath.

"Billy’s blackmailing me."

Silence.

Robin blinks. "Wait, what?"

Steve leans forward, frowning. "Like… actually blackmailing you?"

You nod, avoiding to look at them. "He wants me to… go back to him. Or he goes to the cops."

Robin makes a choked noise. "What the fuck?" She grabs your hand across the table, squeezing it tight, "Are you okay?"

You open your mouth to answer, but Steve cuts in first, sitting up straighter, looking between you and Eddie. "Wait, what does he even have to blackmail you with?"

You swallow, glancing at Eddie briefly before looking back at Steve and Robin. "It’s not really about me. It’s about Eddie."

That gets their attention. Robin’s mouth opens and closes, lost for words. Steve’s jaw tightens. But neither of them says anything because they already know. The fights. The broken nose. The threats. They know.

You explain it anyway.

The way Billy has been coming after you ever since you left him for Eddie. The way he wouldn’t stop. How Eddie fought him at school when he first cornered you. How Billy barely got a slap on the wrist while Eddie was suspended for a week. How it kept happening, again and again.

The time Billy really went too far. When he waited in  your old apartment, forced you against the wall, grabbed you, kissed you, touched you and wouldn’t let you go. How you finally pulled your knife on him to make him back off. How Eddie found out and lost his mind. The fight. The blood. The broken nose. The girl Billy had with him, drunk, giggling, but still there, still a witness.

The medical records. The threats.

The way Billy is now dangling all of it over your head, demanding you crawl back to him if you want Eddie to keep his future.

When you finish talking, the silence is suffocating.

Robin’s hand is still tight around yours, but she looks horrified. She shakes her head, disbelief written all over her face. "When?" she demands, "Sam, oh my god! When did this happen?"

"Last Friday." She recoils like you slapped her.

"Last Friday?" Her grip on you tightens. "Why, why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you... Jesus Christ, I would have- We were in Indianapolis, together! All of us, and you didn't tell? Are you kidding? I-" She stops herself, exhaling sharply, looking away like she doesn’t even know what to say.

Steve doesn’t say anything at all. He just sits back, arms crossed, his dark eyes meeting Eddie's, the two of them locking in some kind of silent conversation. You don’t know what’s being said, but whatever it is, it makes Eddie inhale sharply through his nose, makes his knee start bouncing under the table, makes his whole body coil tighter like a goddamn spring.

Robin's hand squeezes yours again. "Are you okay?" she asks, voice softer now, worried.

You nod automatically, but Eddie scoffs under his breath. Her eyes flash to him, then back to you, frowning. "No, really. Are you-?"

"I’m fine," you sigh, cutting her off, but your voice is thin, shaky.

Eddie makes a sound at that. A low, sharp, bitter laugh. "Fine," he repeats under his breath. His hand moves suddenly, smashing out his cigarette in the ashtray with way too much force.

You know exactly what’s happening in his head.

It's exactly what happened this morning. When you finally told him what Billy was trying to do, and he saw red. When he grabbed his knife, face white with rage, hands shaking, voice trembling with cold, deadly intent. When you had to stop him, beg him to stay.

Now, you see it all over again.

You feel it in the way his breathing changes, in the way his fingers flex against your waist. In the way he’s barely even here anymore, already halfway out the door, halfway to his van, halfway home where his knife is still waiting for him.

He’s seconds from leaving, about to do it again.

Now, you reach for his hand, squeeze it hard, wordlessly telling him, Not again. Please. Eddie’s grip on you is painful, but you don’t care. You don’t let go. He’s seconds away from snapping. You can feel it.

So you turn back to Robin instead, keeping Eddie’s hand in yours. "I don’t know what to do," you admit, voice quiet, "He gave me until this Friday to decide what I wanna do. I don’t know how to stop this."

Eddie finally speaks. "I’ll stop this." His voice is low, tight, angry. "I’ll take the charge."

Your heart twists painfully. "No," you shake your head immediately.

Eddie turns, looking at you. "I did this to protect you," he rasps, voice raw. "I don’t regret it. And I’ll do it again."

"I know," you whisper, "But you shouldn’t have to." He clenches his jaw, gripping your hand like a vice. You take a breath, "He’s doing this to hurt us. Either way, someone’s getting hurt. Either way, you’re getting hurt, Eds, and I can't... just accept that". Your voice cracks, a burn starts behind your eyes before you can stop it. You blink rapidly, trying to push it back, trying not to let this break you, but you can’t.

Because this isn’t fair. Because all you did was leave Billy. All you did was fall in love with Eddie.

And yeah, okay, maybe you embarrassed Billy in front of the whole school when you dumped him, but only because he wouldn’t stop.

But you don’t deserve this, neither does Eddie. He’s always just protecting you.

Always.

Now you don’t know how to protect him.

You squeeze your eyes shut, but it doesn’t stop the tears. A few slip free, hot against your chilled skin, and you inhale sharply, turning your head away, ashamed. Ashamed that Billy still has this hold on you. Ashamed that you can’t stop this.Ashamed that Eddie, who has only ever wanted to protect you, is now paying for it.

Robin makes a sound, soft and pained. "Hey, hey, hey," she whispers, squeezing your fingers, "You don’t have to do this alone, okay? You don’t."

But you have been.

You’ve been carrying this since Friday. Carrying it alone, until Eddie forced it out of you this morning. And even then, you were trying to find a way to fix it on your own. To keep everyone safe. To keep him safe.

Steve scrubs a hand down his face, looking away like he can’t stand this. Like seeing you like this is too much.

Eddie, on the other hand, refuses to look away. He pulls you in closer, both arms around you now, his cigarette forgotten in the ashtray as he buries his face against the side of your head. You feel his breath against your temple, the way his fingers dig into your back like he needs to hold you together. Like it’s the only thing keeping him from breaking too. "Baby, don't cry, please don't cry", he murmurs, voice raw. "I got you."

That’s when it really hits you.No matter what you do, no matter how much you try to keep him safe, he’s already suffering.

He’s already hurting.

Because he hates seeing you like this.Because he hates that he can’t just fix this.Because he hates that you feel like you have to carry it alone.

You let out a shaky breath, pressing your face into his shoulder, and Eddie squeezes you even tighter. His grip is so firm, so desperate, that it’s almost painful, but you don’t pull away. You can’t.

Steve finally speaks, voice low and lethal. "We have to do something."

Robin nods immediately, wiping at her face, her expression shifting from sympathy to determination, "We will do something."

You shake your head, voice barely above a whisper, "What? What the hell can we do?"

Eddie turns his head, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath uneven. "Anything," he says. "Everything. We are not letting him win."

Steve exhales sharply, shaking his head, "I should’ve fucking known he’d pull something like this. He’s a goddamn snake."

Robin’s still gripping your hand, voice urgent now, "Does he have actual proof? Like, would the cops even take him seriously?"

Eddie scoffs, bitter and sharp. "He’s got a witness, Buckley. And medical reports about how his nose definitely got broken by someone's fist".

Robin goes still, jaw clenching, "That girl? The one he was with?"

You nod, biting your lip. "Yeah."

Steve’s face darkens. "And she’s actually willing to back him up?"

"I don’t know." Your voice is small. "But it doesn’t matter. Billy’s got leverage, and he knows it".

Eddie’s fingers flex against your back, his breathing uneven, his body still coiled tight with barely restrained rage. He’s still thinking about it. Still thinking about getting up, walking out of here, and ending this the only way he knows how.

You grab his chin, force him to look at you. "No."

His jaw is tight, his eyes dark and dangerous. "Sam, baby, I-"

"No." Your voice wavers, but you hold his gaze, "Please."

He swallows hard, his whole body vibrating with the effort it takes to stay seated. To stay here, next to you. To not give in.

Robin’s eyes flick between you two, realization dawning. "He already tried going after him, didn’t he?"

Silence.

Eddie looks away.

Robin swears under her breath. "Jesus Christ, Munson."

Steve scrubs a hand down his face, "Unbelievable."

Eddie clenches his jaw, shifting like he wants to get up, but your fingers tighten on his. "You think I’m just gonna sit back and do nothing?" His voice is sharp, low. "That’s not gonna happen."

"You have to," you whisper. "Please."

His eyes meet yours again, and this time, you see the war raging inside him. The desperate need to protect you, to end this, fighting against the promise he made you this morning. The promise that he wouldn’t go after Billy. That he’d stay. That he’d let you figure this out together. He exhales sharply, and you feel the tension in his body shift, just slightly. Not gone. Not even close. But contained. For now.

Robin suddenly straightens, eyes narrowing in thought. "Okay," she states firmly, "We need a plan."

Steve nods, sitting up, his expression shifting from anger to focus. "Yeah." He looks at you, then at Eddie, "We’re not letting him fucking win."

Your boyfriend exhales slowly, still gripping your hand like a lifeline. "Damn right," he mutters, "Let’s burn this fucker to the ground."

Your best friend's eyes flash with something sharp, determination, fury, as she sits up straighter. "Okay. First things first. We need to know exactly what we're dealing with."

Steve nods, his fingers tapping restlessly against the table. "We need details. What exactly does Billy have? What’s his angle?"

You inhale shakily, still clutching Eddie’s hand, grounding yourself in the rough callouses of his fingers, the warmth of his skin. "The fight," you murmur, "The girl he was with, she saw everything. If Billy gets her to back him up, it’s his word against ours. And with Eddie’s reputation..."

Eddie scoffs, shaking his head. "What reputation?"

Steve gives him a look. "Dude, come on. You know I love you, my man, but we're not digging into the countless reasons for your reputation, okay?"

Eddie glares at him.

Robin groans, cutting them both off. "Okay, not the point! The point is, Billy's got something. Something he thinks he can use. So let’s find a way to take it away from him."

You hesitate, glancing at Eddie. "I don’t even know if she’d actually testify for him."

Robin latches onto that immediately. "Then that’s our way in."

Steve frowns, sipping his beer. "What are you thinking?"

She exhales sharply, running a hand through her hair. "I’m thinking we find out who she is. We talk to her. We get to her before Billy does".

Eddie shakes his head, expression dark, "And if she’s already on his side?"

Robin shrugs, "Then we find out why. And we flip her."

You glance between them, your stomach twisting with a mix of hope and dread, "And if we can’t?"

Robin’s jaw tightens, "Then we find something worse on Billy".

Eddie tilts his head, a slow, dangerous smirk creeping onto his face. "I love the way you think, Buckley."

She huffs, "Yeah, yeah, just try not to fall in love with me, Munson. This wouldn't work out". 

Steve rolls his eyes. "Alright, so what, this is turning into some kind of spy mission now?"

"Hey, I watch spy movies. That’s practically the same as being a spy", Robin shrugs, stealing a sip of his beer and leaning back.

Steve groans exaggeratedly. "Jesus Christ."

Eddie leans in, voice low and dark, "You really think we can get something on him?"

Robin’s eyes harden. "Billy Hargrove is a walking red flag. If we dig deep enough, we’ll find something. Just look at all the shit he pulled on her. That alone would be enough for a harassment charge".

Steve looks at you then, expression serious, "Sam, you in?"

You swallow, heart pounding, fingers tightening around Eddie’s. Your stomach twists.

You don’t want to burst their little spy mission bubble, but the truth is, there’s a high chance this won’t work out. You barely remember the girl. You don’t know her name, don’t even know if she was from Hawkins. If you had to guess, Billy probably took her home from some house party, just another girl in a long line of drunken conquests. And they barely knew each other, that much was obvious.

But still… she ran. That’s the part that sticks out to you. You were too consumed by adrenaline, by fear, to really register it at the time. But thinking back, you remember the way she bolted. The way she hesitated when Billy looked at her, walking inside. The way she looked at you, at his trailer, and eventually ran down the street after his father’s shotgun blasted through the night.

She didn’t go in with him. She ran away from him. That’s something, right? Maybe.

But then there’s everything else.

Billy’s friends. His douchebag entourage. They’d back him up without a second thought. Even if they weren’t there that night, they’d still side with him, because that’s how this works. Because Billy’s got them wrapped around his goddamn finger, and there’s no way they’d turn on him for you.

Your gut is screaming at you, telling you you’re forgetting something. Something big. Something that’s going to break your neck if you don’t see it coming.

Eddie squeezes your hand, tugging you back into the moment.

"Sam," Steve says again, voice steady. "You in?"

Your heart pounds.

You should say yes.

Should match their energy, their fire, their determination to fight this.

But something isn’t right. You just don’t know what it is yet.

You gulp. Your throat is dry, your chest tight, and suddenly, all of this is too much.

Steve is staring at you, waiting. Robin’s still gripping your hand, her eyes full of worry.

And Eddie... Eddie is holding you like a lifeline, like he’s afraid to let go.

They’re here. They’re willing to help you. But all you can think about is how much Eddie’s already been through.

The fights. The bruises. The hospital stay after Billy broke his rib. The way he looked at you this morning, gripping that knife with shaking hands, ready to throw his entire life away for you.

The truth is, you’re exhausted.

This whole thing is exhausting.

You’ve been carrying it for days. Carrying it alone. Trying to stay ahead, trying to think ten steps forward, trying to figure out how to stop this without anyone else getting hurt.

And now, sitting here with them, it all crashes down on you at once.

The weight of it. The unfairness of it.

Your fingers tremble as they tighten around Eddie's. You look at him, then Robin, then Steve. You open your mouth to say yes, I’m in. But instead, your voice comes out small. Weak.

"I don’t know if this is gonna work."

They all stare at you.

Suddenly, the air in the bar feels too thick, pressing in from all sides. Your lungs won’t fill properly, your head feels like it’s about to burst. You gulp, looking at them, your friends, who are willing to fight for you. Eddie, who’s already fought too much. Who’s already been through hell just for loving you.

It’s too much.

The weight of their stares. The pressure to figure this out, to fix it, to stop this before it gets worse. For you. For Eddie.

Underneath it all, that constant, gnawing worry, wondering when Eddie’s going to snap, when he’s going to do something he can’t take back. Even if he promised you he wouldn’t.

You need a second. Just one fucking second to breathe.

"I... need a second", you whisper, letting go of Eddie's warm hand. You stand abruptly, pushing away from the booth. Your breath is shaky as you inhale.

"Baby-", Eddie’s already moving. Already standing.

You shake your head. Step back. "No."

His face hardens. "No?"

"I need...", you exhale, pressing your fingers to your forehead, "I just need a second, okay? I need some air. Alone."

His expression darkens immediately. His whole body tenses. "No." He shakes his head, grabbing his jacket. "I’m coming with you."

"Eddie, I just-"

"I’m coming with you," he repeats firmly, like that’s the end of the discussion.

But it’s not. Because this right now, this isn’t helping. This is suffocating.

You need space.You need a second.

He can’t always be watching you.

It’s killing you.

"Eddie," you whisper, voice breaking as tears burn your eyes again, "please."

He goes still. His fingers tighten around his jacket, his jaw working. His eyes flicker over your face, full of worry, of frustration, of hurt. He doesn’t want to let you go. Not when it’s dark. Not with everything going on. "Not now," he murmurs, almost pleading, "Not with all of this shit".

"No," you whisper, shaking your head again, stepping further away, "Please. Just a minute."

Eddie’s jaw tightens. His fists clench at his sides. "Baby-"

"I need space, Eds," you cut in, voice shaking, "I need...", you stop, exhale, blinking fast against the burning in your eyes, "You can’t always watch me".

His face hardens. "I can," he snaps, and it makes your chest ache because you know he means it. Because if Eddie had it his way, he would. He’d follow you, watch you, protect you every second of the day if you let him.

But you can’t.

You’re suffocating under all of it.

You shrug on your jacket, blinking against the tears threatening to spill.

Eddie sees it. His expression shifts, the fight in him flickering. His hand lifts, reaching for you. "Baby, don’t--"

You shake your head again, stepping out of reach, "No".

That hurts him.

You see it in the way his lips part slightly, in the way his fingers twitch, curl into a fist.

But you have to go.

You turn before you can second-guess yourself, heading straight for the door.

Behind you, Eddie moves. You hear his boots scuff against the floor, hear his breath hitch as he takes a step after you.

"Dude", Steve calls out, "Give her a sec, man".

The steps stop.

Outside, the cold hits you instantly, a sharp contrast to the suffocating heat inside.

The air is crisp, biting at your cheeks, stinging the tears you didn’t even realize had already spilled over.

You pull your jacket tighter around you, hands fumbling as you dig for your cigarettes. Your fingers are shaking. Your chest is tight. Your head is spinning.

You were seconds away from a full-blown panic attack in there. You can still feel the remnants of it lingering in your ribs, the tremble in your hands, the way your breath still hitches like your body hasn’t gotten the memo that you’re okay now.

I'm okay.

You flick the lighter, hands unsteady, shielding the flame from the wind as you light up.

Inhale deeply. Hold it. Let it burn.

When you exhale, it’s shaky, white smoke curling into the cold air, vanishing into the night. You lean back against the wall, staring up at the dark sky, blinking back the few stray tears that still cling to your lashes.

You don’t even know why you’re crying.

Because of Eddie. Because of how you snapped at him when all he wants is to keep you safe.

Because of how much this is crushing you.

Because of the weight pressing down on you from all sides, the impossible choice you’re being forced to make.

You sniffle, wiping your face with the sleeve of your jacket, frustration bubbling up.

You don’t want to be crying. You don’t want to be this.

But it’s like your body is betraying you, forcing you to let out something you’ve been desperately trying to keep locked away.

The alley is empty. Silent. Dark.

You take another deep drag, letting it settle in your lungs before exhaling slowly. The cold still clings to your skin, makes you shiver, but the cigarette helps.

The breathing helps.

Your head starts to clear. But the guilt doesn’t.

The second you walked out that door, Eddie looked crushed. You saw it in his eyes, the way he flinched when you shook your head at him. He didn’t fight you, didn’t push. He let you go. Steve had to call him back, but he let you go.

Standing out here alone, you suddenly hate yourself for it. You sigh, tilting your head back against the brick wall, cigarette dangling between your fingers. The cold air stings your cheeks, but it helps, a little. Helps you breathe. Helps you think.

Eddie’s face won’t leave your mind, though.

That fucking look he gave you before you walked out. He’s always so stubborn about protecting you. Always so ready to throw himself into the fire if it means keeping you safe. But this? This was different. This wasn’t just him being protective. This was you pushing him away. You, telling him no, when all he wanted was to be there for you.

You know how much that must’ve hurt him.

And fuck, it hurts you too.

You blink against the lingering sting of tears, taking another drag, letting the smoke burn its way down. Your fingers have stopped shaking. Your breath is steadier now.

But your chest still feels tight, weighed down by everything, by the pressure of fixing this before it’s too late.

You glance toward the bar door, considering going back inside, but you hesitate. You just needed a second. Just a moment to breathe.

But now, standing here in the quiet, you don’t know if you’re ready to face them yet.

Robin, worried and upset, demanding answers you don’t have. Steve, already strategizing, already planning something risky because he can’t stand seeing you like this. And Eddie, who’s probably sitting there, leg bouncing, heart racing, barely holding himself back from coming after you.

Guilt gnaws at your ribs.

You take another slow drag, closing your eyes for just a second before finishing your smoke and flicking the butt onto the damp pavement, hearing it hiss softly as you turn to head back inside.

The warmth of the bar wraps around you like a blanket, the scent of beer and cigarettes filling your nose as you close the door behind you.

You glance toward your booth. Robin and Steve are still there, talking quietly, but Eddie’s missing. You sigh and step over, stripping off your jacket, "Where is he?"

Steve shrugs, nodding toward the hallway, "Went that way".

You glance in the direction he’s pointing, the short, dimly lit corridor leading to the bathrooms, the cigarette machine, and the back exit, where Eddie usually parks his van after gigs.

Robin watches your face carefully, "Feeling better?"

You nod automatically, sitting down, but there’s a tightness in your chest you can’t shake. "Is he just taking a piss or…did he leave because he’s mad?", you ask, taking a sip of your beer.

Robin gives you a look.

You know the answer to that.

Steve sighs, "Guess he just needed a second, too. You did tell him to stay put when he really didn’t want to". He shakes his head. "Look, I get it. You needed air. But Eddie? He just wants to make sure you’re okay. This whole Billy thing is killing the man".

You swallow hard. You know.

Steve rubs a hand over his jaw, "Hell, if I imagine Elena’s ex pulling this shit, I’d lose it, and I'm just starting to get to know her. And Eddie? He’s in love with you. Like, really in love. You get why he’s like this, right?"

You nod, rub your hands over your face, exhaling heavily. The tension in your chest is back, worse than before. You shouldn’t have told him to stay. You should’ve just let him come with you. Eddie doesn’t do waiting. He doesn’t do distance. Not when it comes to you.

Robin watches you, biting her lip, "I mean… I would say give him a second, let him cool off, but…" She gestures vaguely toward the hallway.

Steve nods. "Yeah, but with him? Who the hell knows."

You groan, emptying your beer and standing back up. "I'll go talk to him".

The hallway is empty, no sounds from the bathrooms downstairs, and ain't no way Eddie went into Scott's back office. Chances are high he went outside through the back exit.

With a deep breath, you push through the heavy door, stepping out into the cool night air again, immediately regretting not taking your jacket.

The alley behind the bar is barely lit, the only source of light coming from a dim, flickering streetlamp at the far end. The smell of cigarette smoke hangs thick in the air.

Then, you see him.

Eddie’s leaning against the brick wall, arms crossed, a cigarette burning between his fingers. He’s also not wearing his jacket, just his thin t-shirt, and the night is cold enough that you can see his breath in the air.

He’s pissed.

You can see it in the tense line of his shoulders, the way his jaw clenches as he exhales smoke, the way he barely even glances at you when you step outside.

You sigh, a soft, tired sound that fogs in the cold air. You step up to him without a word and wrap your arms around his middle, pressing your forehead gently against his chest.

He doesn’t really move, doesn’t lean into you, doesn’t pull away, just stands there, smoking like your presence doesn’t shift anything in him. Like maybe it doesn’t anymore.

Your throat tightens. "Don’t be mad", you murmur against his shirt.

"Fuck off", he rasps quietly. Not cruel, not sharp, just… flat. Like he’s already tired of the fight that hasn’t even started. Like you already lost something you didn’t realize was on the table.

You squeeze him tighter, "I’m not trying to push you away".

"You’re doing a pretty damn good job anyway", he mutters as he finally looks at you, "What the hell do you want me to do, huh? You bolt the second you feel too much, tell me to stay like I’m some fucking dog, and then what? I’m supposed to wait? Sit there while you go fall apart alone? I can’t do that, not with you".

"I just needed air", you reply softly. But you know it’s not the whole truth. You needed space. You needed stillness. You needed not to feel him next to you for a second because it was too much, and you’re not even sure why.

He laughs under his breath, harsh and humorless, and tosses the cigarette onto the ground, crushing it beneath his boot, "Yeah? And I needed you to not look at me like I was the problem."

You flinch, take a breath, try to keep your voice level even though your hands are shaking, "I don’t wanna fucking fight again, Eds"

But he doesn’t soften. Doesn’t budge. Just spits it out like it’s already too late. "Fuck off".

Your stomach twists.

"You want space?", he barks, stepping back from your arms like your touch burns, "You can have fucking space, Sam".

"For fuck’s sake, Eddie", you snap, stepping right back into his space, refusing to let him leave it this time. "Just stop bitching about it, okay? I needed five fucking minutes. Five. That’s it. Not forever, not the whole night, I just..." Your voice breaks, hands going to your temples. "I needed to breathe, and you made me feel like I was a fucking monster for needing that!"

He scoffs, furious. "And you made me feel like I’m the reason you can’t fucking breathe!" His voice echoes off the alley walls, rough and ragged.

You shake your head, stepping in again, grabbing his face in your hands. "Please", you whisper, voice cracking, "No more fucking fights. I’m done with fighting, Eds. I’m sorry I hurt you. I didn’t mean to. I swear."

He clenches his jaw, eyes glassy, face still hot with rage.

You lean in, desperate, press your lips to his, but he doesn’t kiss you back. Doesn’t move. Just stands there, lips stiff, body tight and unyielding in your hands. You pull back, breath catching.

He’s staring at you, jaw trembling now, but his voice is ice, "Don’t do that. Don’t try to kiss it away".

You let go of him like you’ve been burned, arms falling useless at your sides.

"You think I’m pissed because you walked out?", he asks, voice low and deadly, "I’m pissed because you keep trying to carry this shit alone like I’m not fucking standing right here, dying to help you hold it".

You grab his face again, fingers curling tight against his jaw, forcing him to look at you. "I don’t wanna fight because I needed five minutes alone, Eddie", you say, voice sharp, raw, "I’m sorry that hurt you, but it’s not a fucking crime that I had to step away for a second after telling my friends, again, about all this shit, about Billy, about how my life keeps fucking imploding because I left him to be with the man I fucking love."

His breath shudders, and you see the way his lips press together, like he’s trying not to snap back. Like he’s holding it in.

You shake your head, desperate, your grip on him tightening, "I immediately felt bad, okay? Still, I fucking needed some space."

Eddie’s jaw clenches. He wants to fight. Wants to throw more words at you, wants to spit out all that frustration that’s eating him alive. But you don’t give him the chance.

You yank him down, crash your mouth against his once more, swallowing whatever sharp words were about to leave him.

Again, he doesn’t move. Doesn’t kiss you back.

So you do it again, tilting his head, pressing in harder. "Don’t fucking fight with me, Eds", you breathe against his lips, "I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t wanna hurt you".

He exhales hard through his nose, tries to step back, but you don’t let him.

Your hands slip to the back of his neck, fingers curling in his hair, keeping him close. "Just kiss me".

He shakes his head, voice tight. "Fuck off, Sam."

"Fucking kiss me, Eds", you whisper, your lips brushing over his, aching to finally feel him.

"Fuck. Off."

And he gives in.

His hands slam to your waist, fingers digging in as he finally crushes his mouth to yours. It’s not soft. It’s not sweet. It’s teeth and heat and pent-up anger, the kind that burns through your veins and makes your knees weak. He kisses you like he’s still mad, like he wants to make you feel it, all of it, his hurt, his love, his desperation.

You gasp against him, clutching at his shoulders, melting into the heat of his body as he crowds you back against the cold brick wall.

Eddie growls against your lips, biting down just enough to make you gasp, to remind you that he’s still mad. Still wound up so fucking tight he doesn’t know what to do with himself. "You’re so fucking annoying", he mutters between kisses, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you flush against him.

You let out a breathy laugh, nipping at his lower lip, "And you’re so fucking stubborn".

He groans, dragging his mouth down your jaw, biting at the hinge before pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to your neck. His fingers dig in harder, like he wants to keep you there, wants to feel you.

"It was five minutes, Eds", you breathe, tilting your head to give him more room, "Not a fucking week".

He growls against your throat, hands sliding under your shirt, rough fingertips dragging over your skin, "Don’t fucking tell me to stand back when I wanna protect you".

"You’re driving me fucking insane", you gasp, nails scraping against the nape of his neck, earning a sharp inhale through his nose.

He pulls back, eyes dark and wild, licking his lips like he can still taste you, "You’re driving me fucking insane". He’s kissing you again, desperate, heavy, deep. His hands wander, grabbing at your waist, your back, your ass, pulling you against him like he still hasn’t decided if he’s fucking furious or just obsessed.

You moan into his mouth, hands fisting in his hair, tugging hard enough to make him groan.

He moves, his tall body presses you back against the brick wall, hands sliding under your shirt, fingers spreading wide against your skin, like he needs to feel every inch of you. His breath is heavy, his lips hot and desperate as he kisses you again, deeper this time, like he's trying to crawl inside you, trying to make sure you never pull away from him again. You gasp against his mouth as his hands move up, up, calloused fingers tracing the curve of your ribs before sliding back down to grip your hips, pulling you even closer. He’s hard, you can feel it, and fuck if that doesn’t make your head spin.

"Fucking five minutes," he grits out between kisses, like he’s still pissed, still clinging to his anger even as he groans into your mouth, even as his hands can’t stop touching you.

You bite at his jaw, smirking when he lets out a sharp breath. "Fucking five minutes, Eds. That’s all I needed."

"Bullshit." His teeth scrape your neck, sucking hard enough to make your knees go weak. "You think I don’t know what it’s like to need you?" His hands tighten on your hips, his body pressing even harder against yours, "I can’t fucking breathe when you’re not around, Sam. You get that?"

You shiver at the rawness in his voice, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him in for another messy, open-mouthed kiss. "You have me," you whisper against his lips, "I’m not fucking going anywhere."

Eddie groans, deep and desperate, gripping the back of your thighs and lifting you up like he just needs you closer, like he can’t stand the tiny bit of space left between you. You gasp, arms tightening around him, legs wrapping around his waist as he presses you into the wall. "You fucking better not," he growls, kissing you hard, almost bruising, his hips rolling against yours, pulling a sharp moan from your lips.

"Jesus", you gasp, feeling heat pool in your stomach, in every fucking nerve ending.

"Shut up," he mutters, kissing you again, biting at your lip, making you feel just how wrecked he is, just how much he needs you. His hands are everywhere, gripping, grabbing, owning. Long fingers digging into your thighs as he keeps you pinned against the wall, his body pressing hard against yours, his hips rolling slow but insistent, teasing in a way that makes you gasp against his mouth.

"Eddie," you moan, breath hitching when he pulls back just enough to look at you, his pupils blown wide, lips red and slick from kissing you senseless, chest rising and falling like he’s barely keeping himself together.

"What?", he rasps.

"I love you," you murmur, fingers threading into his hair, tugging lightly, making him groan, "You know that, right?"

His hands flex against you, his grip almost too tight. "Yeah, baby. I fucking know."

And then he’s kissing you again, desperate, deep, his tongue sliding against yours like he wants to ruin you, like he needs to. You whimper against his mouth, rolling your hips up against him, and that’s when he loses it.

"Fuck"

He breaks away, panting, forehead pressed to yours as he grips your ass, dragging you even closer against him, "You’re gonna fucking kill me".

"You started it," you tease, breathless, but the second the words leave your lips, Eddie grinds against you, making your head fall back against the wall with a gasp.

"You’re a fucking brat," he mutters, mouth hot on your throat, kissing and sucking, leaving marks that you know you’ll still see tomorrow, "Driving me fucking insane."

"Right back at you, Munson," you breathe, tugging at his hair, smirking when he groans.

"Fuck it," he mutters, dragging you away from the wall, still holding you up against him like you weigh nothing, his hands firm under your thighs as he carries you around the next corner, further into the shadows of the night. 

"Eddie-"

He yanks you further up his hips before pressing you back against the cold wall, groaning at how your legs wrap tighter around him, one cold hand sliding under your thin shirt, right into your bra.

You're gasping, but your sounds are being muffled by another deep kiss.

"You still need your fucking space?" he asks, voice low, teasing, but there’s an edge to it, something almost pleading as he lets his thumb roll over your hard nipple.

You’re panting into the space between your mouths, clinging to his shoulders like you might fall straight through the earth if he lets go. You shake your head, barely able to speak through the way your chest is heaving, through the fire spreading under your skin. "No", you breathe, voice wrecked, "Not even a little".

He groans like he’s been waiting to hear that for hours. His mouth crashes to yours again, hot, hungry, bruising. His hands slip further beneath your shirt like you were made to be touched by them. They drag up your spine, spread wide against your back, palms calloused and warm and grounding even as your body tries to fly apart beneath him. "Say it again", he mutters into your mouth, teeth grazing your bottom lip, tugging just enough to make your breath hitch.

"I don’t want space", you whisper again, firmer this time, almost angry with yourself for ever needing it, ever stepping away from this, from him. "I want you, Eddie. Always you."

He groans like you’ve just shattered whatever was left of his restraint. You gasp as he grabs a fistful of your ass, grinding his hips against you in a way that makes your eyes flutter shut. "You’re fucking mine", he breathes against your throat, his lips ghosting just beneath your jaw, teeth scraping. "You get that? You can need space, you can take five minutes, but don’t ever walk away like I don’t get to stand in the fire with you".

You whimper, tilting your head to bare more of your throat, heart thundering so hard it might break your ribs, "I know. I know, baby. I swear. I’m sorry."

Eddie growls low, like he’s not done punishing you with pleasure. His mouth finds your neck, licking and biting, marking you like he wants the whole fucking world to know who you belong to. His hips grind up against you, slow and deliberate, the hard press of him right against your center making you gasp, your fingers knotting in his curls and pulling hard enough to earn another groan."You feel that?" he growls, voice thick, hips rocking again, "That's what missing you does to me. That’s what five minutes of silence fucking feels like".

"I’m here", you whisper, kissing the edge of his jaw, the hollow beneath his ear, "I’m right here."

He’s breathing hard, his grip iron around you, like he’s afraid you’ll vanish again, "Swear it".

"I fucking swear".

He drops you back down to your feet, his arm immediately snaking around you to pull you into his chest, his free hand frantically unbuttoning your jeans and sliding inside, right into your panties like he belongs there.

God, he does.

You moan, back arching, forehead dropping to his shoulder as he strokes your pussy like he wants to remind you exactly who you belong to.

"You’re already soaked for me", he mutters, voice thick with heat, wonder, and rage all tangled together, "Fuck, baby. You missed me too, huh?"

You can’t speak. Can only nod, your body shaking as he slides a finger into you, then two, curling them just right, dragging a strangled sound from your throat.

"That’s it", he whispers, biting down on your shoulder through your shirt, "That’s my girl." His fingers fuck into you slow and deep, while his thumb circles your clit with maddening pressure, and you can’t stop trembling, can’t stop gasping his name, one hand braced on the wall like you might fall through it. Every thrust of his hand feels like a claim, like a promise.

I’m here. I’m yours. Don’t you fucking forget it.

Just when your legs start to shake, when your moans start to rise higher, more desperate, he pulls back, not all the way, but enough to make you whine, chasing his hand with your hips.

"Not yet", he pants, eyes locked on yours, wild and dark and devastating, "Not until you tell me again".

You swallow hard, your lips trembling, "I don’t want space".

"Say it like you fucking mean it".

"I don’t want space", you cry, grabbing his face, pulling him in, "I want you. Only you. I want you to fuck me up, Eddie. I want you to wreck me".

His lips crash into yours like a wave, swallowing your cry, his fingers thrusting deep again. His lips finds yours again, but it’s messier now, greedier, his tongue sliding deep. "So wet", he mutters against your mouth, biting your lower lip hard enough to sting as his fingers start to move inside you again, feeling how your walls keep twitching around them. "You’re gonna make me lose my goddamn mind".

Your head falls back against the wall, hips lifting to meet the roughness of his fingers. His hand rubs fast and filthy between your legs and you gasp, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt. "Want you to fucking lose it", you moan, gripping his hard dick through his jeans, grinning at how he inhales sharply.

You can't wait any longer.

He grins smugly, his fingers slick, moving in lazy, practiced circles that make your knees weak again, but it’s not enough. Not even close. Not with the ache clawing deep inside you, too deep for his fingers to reach.

He groans into your mouth as he feels you clench around them again, your hips jerking forward, needy and impatient. "Fuck," he mutters, voice ragged, breath hot against your cheek, "So needy, mh?".His fingers slip deeper and your head knocks gently against the wall, eyes fluttering shut as you gasp, hands fisting in the hem of his shirt.

"I need more, Eds," you whisper, breath catching. "I need you."

He pulls back just enough to look at you, chest heaving, lips red and swollen, curls a mess where you tugged them. His hand doesn’t stop moving, fingers curling just right inside you, thumb dragging over your clit in slow, maddening circles. Slowly, he grins.

You shove at his chest, hard. "Stop teasing," you grit out, voice shaking, "Just fuck me already."

His jaw tightens, something feral flashing in his eyes. His fingers slip from your panties and you whimper at the loss, already chasing after him. But he doesn’t go far, fumbles with your jeans, yanking them down just enough to expose what he needs, dragging your panties aside with one rough swipe of his fingers. He rips his own fly open with shaking hands, cock springing free, hard and leaking and ready. Your eyes lock, wild and hungry and desperate as he grabs your thighs, hauls you up before you can blink, slamming you back against the wall with a deep, guttural groan as your legs wrap around his waist instinctively.

"Yeah?" he growls, grinding his cock against your core, "You want it? Want me to fuck you like I’m still mad?"

"Yes," you gasp, dragging your nails down the back of his neck, your body trembling with the need to be filled. "Please."

Without waiting another second, he's inside you. No hesitation. No buildup. Just one deep, brutal thrust that punches a cry straight from your lungs and makes your eyes roll back.

"Fuck, Sam". His voice breaks as he buries himself to the hilt, holding you there, full, walls fluttering around him like your body’s trying to memorize the shape of him. "You feel like fucking heaven". He starts to move, hard, each thrust slamming into you like he’s trying to replace every lingering doubt you ever had with the truth of his body. That he’s yours. That he always will be.

"More", you gasp, hips grinding down to meet him, nails digging into his back, "Fucking more-- oh god, Eddie!"

He gives it to you, pounds into you like he’s unraveling, muttering filth against your ear, one hand gripping your thigh while the other palms your ass, dragging you closer, deeper, tighter. "Always want more, don’t you?" he pants, voice rough, jaw tight, "Little fucking brat, making me wait just so you can come out here and beg for my cock."

You moan, half-wrecked already, head falling to his shoulder, "Fuck off".

Eddie groans, deep and sharp, slamming into you harder, "Say it. Tell me you're mine."

You lift your head, eyes glassy and fierce, "I’m yours. You know I'm fucking yours."

And it breaks him.

Eddie growls, slamming you back against the wall with every thrust now, dick grinding deep and perfect against that spot that makes you keen. His lips find yours, kissing you like he’s trying to swallow your soul, his rhythm frantic, relentless, your skin slick with sweat and need and desperation. "Cum for me," he rasps, voice dark and wrecked, fingers already sliding between you again, stroking quick and precise against your clit like he knows exactly how close you are, "Cum while I’m inside you, baby, come on".

Your head jerks back with a gasp, thighs trembling around his hips, but even with your body teetering on the edge, fuck that. "Don’t fucking tell me what to do," you growl, grabbing his face and biting his bottom lip, not enough to hurt, just enough to make him hiss and jerk his hips deeper.

He laughs, low, guttural, twisted with want, and then crushes his mouth to yours, kissing you so hard it steals the breath from your lungs. His thrusts get rougher, more brutal, his cock slamming into you with purpose now, making your back knock into the wall with every stroke. "God, you’re such a fucking brat," he pants, forehead pressed to yours, hips snapping up fast and filthy, "Driving me crazy."

You can’t even answer, your mouth falls open in a silent moan, fingers scrabbling at his shoulders, his back, just holding on. Your nails dig in hard and you don’t care if it leaves marks. You want it to. You want to remember this every time you breathe. You try to say something, try to warn him how close you are, how fucking deep he’s hitting, but all that comes out is a strangled little sound - half-plea, half-moan.

Eddie sees it, hears it, feels your walls clench around him and he growls, reaching up to clamp his hand over your mouth, muffling the broken sounds spilling from your throat. "Shhh," he whispers, lips brushing your cheek, his hips still fucking into you with wild, reckless rhythm, "We’re behind the goddamn bar, baby. Keep it down."

You nod frantically, eyes wide, body shaking as he pounds into you again, again, again - fucking devastating, his dick hitting that sweet, dangerous spot over and over until you’re clawing at him, your cries stifled by his palm. Your moans vibrate against his hand, and he groans at the feel of it, like it’s the hottest fucking thing he’s ever experienced. Your eyes roll back.

The orgasm rips through you like a fucking explosion, white hot and unrelenting, tearing a strangled scream from your throat, smothered into his skin. Your whole body goes tight, then loose, legs trembling around his waist, arms shaking.

Eddie feels you clenching, pulsing, falling apart around him, and it undoes him. "Fucking Christ," he hisses, slamming into you one last time before he’s groaning into your neck, thrusts faltering as he cums, hard and deep, hands gripping you like you’re the only real thing left in the world.

He stays inside you, breathing hard, still pressed against the wall, his face buried in your shoulder, lips brushing your skin.

For a moment, it’s just panting and silence, your bodies trembling, pressed so close it’s impossible to tell where you end and he begins. Then you feel his lips curve into a slow, satisfied smirk against your neck."You still need space?" he murmurs, voice smug and warm and wrecked.

You let out a breathless, shaky laugh, hand sliding into his hair. "Only if you’re coming with me."

Eddie finally lets you slide back down to your feet, his hands still firm on your hips like he’s afraid your legs might give out.

You wobble a little, knees jelly, but the cold air slaps into your sweat-damp skin hard and fast, dragging a shiver down your spine. Your breath puffs white between you, steam rising off both your overheated bodies like ghosts. "Jesus Christ," you mutter, breathless, tugging your shirt back into place and trying to fix your jeans, fingers fumbling from the aftershocks still crawling through your nerves. You glance down, shake your head with a soft, almost scandalized laugh, "We just fucked behind a bar. Sober".

Your boyfriend's grin is wicked. "No, baby, we just destroyed behind a bar."

You roll your eyes, snorting as you swat his chest, "We’re disgusting."

"We’re iconic."

You glance over your shoulder, toward the bar’s back door, heart still racing. "Robin and Steve are probably thinking  we’re out here arguing".

"Technically not wrong," he grins, tucking himself back into his jeans, his shirt a crumpled mess, "It just turned into a... passionate debate."

"Involving your dick."

"And your panties," he smirks, hand sliding to your ass for just a second before you bat it away, laughing through your gasp.

You reach down and adjust your underwear with a hiss, feeling the mess soaking the thin cotton. Your cheeks go hot. "God, I’m gonna feel you for the rest of the night."

Eddie leans in, voice thick with heat again, "You better."

You kiss him once more, slow, deep, full of affection now, like all the heat and anger’s been scrubbed clean and replaced with something softer, needier. But still possessive. Still yours. You pull back with a sigh, forehead still pressed to his. "You still mad?"

He lets out a soft snort, that crooked little half-laugh of his, before saying, "Fuck off", with absolutely no bite at all. Then he grabs your ass again, full-handed, like he’s trying to start the whole thing over.

"You better behave, Munson", you warn, poking a finger at his chest, "Or I swear to God, we’re going home right now and finish what you started. Naked. Loud. In our bed. Where I can scream your name until your neighbors file a complaint."

He groans, face contorting in the most delicious mix of pain and pleasure, "Jesus. Sam."

"Mmhm," you purr, kissing along his jaw, hooking your fingers into his belt loops and pulling him closer, "Think about it. Every single filthy sound you had to muffle tonight, unleashed."

His hands tighten on your waist, "Don’t tempt me. I’ll ditch Harrington and Buckley right now."

You giggle against his mouth. "We can’t. They’ll think we murdered each other out here if we don’t go back in." You're tugging at his belt loops again like you’re not entirely ready to go back inside just yet. "You know I meant it," you whisper, lips brushing his, "I will take you home and ruin you properly."

He groans, low and dangerous, like it physically hurts him not to do just that. His fingers dig into your waist again, like he’s one breath away from dragging you to the van, frostbite be damned. "You are a menace, woman."

"Yeah," you grin, pressing a final kiss to the corner of his mouth, "But you love it."

"I’m so fucking sick in the head for you," he mutters, and you both laugh into each other, breath hot and mingling in the cold.

Then, the wind kicks up, harsh and slicing, and suddenly the reality of your sweat-soaked skin in the dead of winter hits you full force. You shiver violently, clutching at his shirt for warmth. "Okay, okay, Jesus. I’m officially freezing my tits off," you hiss, stepping back and pulling your shirt down properly.

Eddie reaches for his vest and swings it around your shoulders without hesitation. It smells like him. Cigarettes, his cologne, and just a hint of lingering sex. "Don’t say I never gave you anything", he grins.

"Mm, romantic and generous."

He rolls his eyes, sliding his arm around your waist, hand dipping just low enough to make your breath catch again. "Let’s go before I fuckin’ change my mind and bend you over the dumpster."

You snort, swatting his stomach as he guides you to the back entrance.

Inside, the warmth hits you like a wave, and the sounds of clinking glasses and muffled rock fill the air. The lighting’s soft, hazy. Robin’s voice is the first thing you hear, sharp and loud over the din, gesturing wildly at something Steve is clearly trying to pretend he’s not interested in.

Then they both freeze mid-conversation as you and Eddie walk in.

You know exactly what you look like, your hair a wreck, your lips kiss-swollen, your neck a canvas of freshly blooming bruises. Eddie’s shirt is still rumpled, his belt barely done, and his expression? Smug.

You glance up at him and catch the gleam in his eye, that shit-eating grin he wears so well, especially when he knows everyone in the room can tell he just fucked the soul out of you in an alley. His hand stays possessively low on your ass, thumb tracing idle circles like a claim.

Robin’s eyes widen. Her mouth opens, then closes, then opens again. "Oh my God", she blurts.

Steve just groans, dragging a hand down his face like he’s personally offended. "Jesus, you two. Couldn’t keep it in your pants for like, ten minutes?"

Robin’s still staring, jaw slack. "I thought you were arguing out there! Like, like relationship-ending, emotional warfare arguing!"

"Oh we were", Eddie offers, his voice all sweet, fake innocence dripping off every word, "Just... in a more physically expressive way."

You let your head fall against his shoulder with a laugh as Steve pretends to gag. "Okay, nope, we’re not unpacking that. Nope", Steve mutters, turning his attention violently toward his beer.

Robin, still red-faced, sputters, "You guys are literally steaming. Are you... is that sweat?"

"Cold out there," Eddie shrugs, not even pretending to be sorry. You just grin, sitting down across from Robin again.

Eddie slips off to grab drinks, weaving through the crowd easily, nodding at the Donna who gives him a knowing little smirk as she pops the caps off two beers. He winks back, all charm, but the second he’s got them in hand, he’s back at your side, flopping down next to you. Pressing one beer into your hand, pressing himself into your side, arm around you. His hand never leaves you. It rests on your hip, sliding up and down slowly, casually, just enough to make you twitch. His lips brush your ear as he mutters something stupid and filthy about how you’ll be squirming in those jeans all night thanks to him.

You shoot him a glare that doesn't land at all.

He just grins wider, resting his chin on your shoulder as you sip your beer. "Still feel me?" he whispers low, only for you.

You hum around the rim of the bottle, then lower it slowly, smiling like a secret. "Oh yeah," you murmur, "And if you’re good, I’ll let you help clean up the mess you made when we get home".

Eddie groans quietly, his fingers tightening on your waist.

Steve groans louder, from across the table, "I swear to God, if I hear one more word!"

The laughter slowly ebbs from your little corner of the bar as the buzz fades and reality claws its way back in.

You can feel it settle over the group like a weighted blanket - heavy, cold, inevitable.

Robin's the first to bring it up again. She leans forward over the table, her beer cradled between her palms, her voice lower now. Serious. "So, uh… back to Asshole Supreme."

You don’t need to ask who.

The whole booth quiets.

Steve exhales slowly, eyes flicking toward you and Eddie before landing on Robin. "We were talking while you two were…" he pauses, gestures vaguely, "…resolving your marital issues."

Eddie snorts once, humorless.

Steve ignores him. "And we agree with what you said earlier, Sam. About the girl, whoever she is. The one Billy might’ve used. If we can’t find her, and if she is already on his side? That’s too dangerous. We can’t risk him flipping the script."

Robin nods. "He’s good. I mean, like, gross, but good. He’s got that slimeball charisma that makes people want to believe him. You blink and suddenly you’re the crazy one for accusing him of anything."

You feel Eddie tense beside you. You don’t even need to look to know he’s gone stone still. His arm tightens around your waist, fingers curling into your side. The easy smirks, the soft touches - gone.

Steve catches the shift too. His voice drops even lower, "We’ve been thinking… the only real shot we have might be if Sam meets him again. Alone."

You feel Eddie freeze. Like something inside him just snapped taut.

"No", he says immediately, voice flat and hard.

"Just listen-", Steve tries, but your boyfriend won't even let him finish.

"She’s not meeting him alone", Eddie snaps, sitting forward now, dragging you closer into his side like that’ll shield you from the idea of it, "Fuck no".

"I don’t like it either, man", Steve sighs, holding up a hand, calm but firm, "But if she can get him to repeat his threats, on record, maybe, and say that shit out loud again, like how he’ll go to the cops unless she sleeps with him? That’s coercion. Blackmail. It’s huge. If we had it on tape? It could bury him."

Eddie’s jaw works. You can feel the anger radiating off him in waves now. "And what if he doesn’t say it like that?" he grinds out, "What if he corners her? Tries something? You’re asking her to be bait."

Robin nods slowly, "We’re saying… it’s a risk. But if she pushes him - like, says something along the lines of how she’s not going to sleep with him again, that she doesn’t want him, that this is without consent - he might double down. It might bring out that entitled shit he hides under the charm."

Eddie makes a low, dangerous sound in his throat.

You know that sound.

You place a gentle hand on his thigh, grounding him. Then, you finally speak, your voice quiet but steady. "I don’t want to see him again. You know that. But if he thinks I’m still scared, if he thinks I’m cornered, I can lead him into saying enough to be used against him. Especially if we record it. Or have someone nearby. Just close enough to hear."

Eddie shakes his head, muttering, "This is insane."

Steve sighs, running a hand through his hair. "We need leverage. Real leverage. And he won’t show his real self if we all show up. He’s not that stupid".

"He is that dangerous," Eddie snaps.

"I know", Steve replies quietly, "I know, man. I do. But what choice do we have?"

You feel Eddie’s fingers twitch on your waist again, like he wants to punch something. Or someone. Or everyone.

"I won’t let him touch her again", he mutters, low, dark, "I won’t".

"You won’t have to," you mumble, leaning into him, "Because this time, I’ll know exactly what he’s trying to do. And I won’t be alone. Not really. You’ll be close. You’ll all be close. We just need him to open his mouth."

Eddie looks at you then, like he’s searching for some way to stop this without making it worse. But there isn’t one. Not yet.

"We’ll come up with rules", Robin continues softly, "Backup plans. Safe signals. Whatever we need".

You all fall quiet again, the weight of the idea settling between the drinks and the sticky bar table and the knowledge that this isn’t a joke anymore.

It never was, but now, it’s real in a new way.

"How would we even record him?", Robin asks after a beat, fidgeting with the condensation on her glass, "Like, a wire? One of those tiny spy pens?"

"Not sure we can get our hands on Bond-level shit", Steve mutters.

"Cassette recorder", Eddie rasps gruffly, lighting himself a cigarette, "I’ve got one. Used to tape demos. It’s old, but it works. Stick it in your bag. Hit record before you get near him".

You glance at him, fingers now nervously fidgeting with your beer label, "That’d be clear enough?"

"It’ll catch what you’re saying if he’s close", he nods, still clearly hating this whole idea, "And if he says what we hope he says, it’ll be all we need."

You take a slow sip of beer, looking back at your friends.

"Okay," Robin jumps in, trying to ease the building tension, "So maybe audio, but we also need witnesses, just to really be sure no one's doubting this. Not just any friends. Someone who matters. Someone who’d be believed if they said, ‘Yeah, I heard that creep threatening her.’"

You nod, chewing your lip. "But who?"

"No close friends, too biased", Steve joins in, looking at Eddie, who's exhaling some smoke, "Your Hellfire guys won’t work either. And your band, too. Sorry to say, but too bad of a reputation already".

"We need someone older", Robin agrees, thinking it through aloud, "Neutral. Respected. Someone no one would think Eddie could manipulate. Someone who obviously believes us, who's trusted".

Silence.

"How depressing we don't even know one fucking person that would fit those descriptions", Eddie mutters next to you, inhaling some more smoke before tugging you further into his side and pressing a slow kiss to your temple.

Then, Steve leans forward, eyes lighting up with sudden inspiration. "Wait. What about those band dudes we met in Indy, Vanguard?"

Robin sits up as Steve's words, slowly nodding and looking at him, eyes wide.

You blink at them, frowning stealing one of Eddie's cigarettes to light, "What about them?"

"Oh, yeah", Robin nods, "I forgot about the five grown up rockstars you've recently been friends with. The five adult men who are all obsessed with you, Sam".

You snort, "Not obsessed", while taking a drag.

"Please", she deadpans, "You told me Greg threatened to jump into the crowd mid-set because some guy was yelling ‘show us your tits.’ They’re obsessed. And I still haven’t emotionally recovered from you casually knowing one of my favorite bands, by the way".

Eddie just frowns his brows, following the conversation quietly while finishing his smoke.

"This could really work", Steve continues, "I mean, they're credible enough to be trusted by police if things get bad, right? And they probably know the right people, too".

You sigh, exhaling some smoke while leaning into Eddie's arm. "I get it, guys, but I can't just... call them and be like, 'Hi guys! Would you mind coming to Hawkins within the next two days so that I can trap my blackmailer?'", you mumble, "I mean, they're probably God knows where, working or playing gigs. I don't even know how to reach them, don't know if they're staying in hotels, if they're in Indy, or at their homes".

"But Rick gave you his number, the one of their management's office. If we call, they'll surely know where they are and how to reach them", Eddie reminds you. "The number is pinned to our mirror at home, I see it every fucking day. Think I know it be heart now".

"Yeah, I know, but I mean... I can't, just... ask them to do that. They're great, and I really hope they'll help us get into this industry, but I don't think I can just ask them for that big of a favor. It's too private. Too much".

Robin leans over the table, voice gentle but insistent. "Sam, you literally told me Joe said, and I quote, ‘You’re family now, whether you like it or not’ after the second time he met you. They adore you. You’re not just some fan they’re tolerating. You’re their person."

Steve nods, "Yeah. And they barely even tolerate Eddie, which means it’s definitely not about him."

"I’m honored", Eddie deadpans, stubbing out his cigarette.

Robin ignores him, her focus still on you as she continues. "You said it yourself, they all were ready to throw hands with that drunk guy at the show. They’d come. They’d be here in a heartbeat".

You stare at the cigarette burning between your fingers for a beat. The thought of calling that number, of dragging them into this mess, it makes your stomach twist. They do feel like family, but this is a different level of trust. It’s asking them to step into something dark, something dangerous, something that could have real consequences.

"They’d do it", Eddie says softly, like he’s reading your thoughts, "If you ask".

You glance at him. He’s watching you with something raw in his expression.  You sigh deeply and finally shake your head, already feeling the knot in your stomach twist tighter. "No. No, we can’t bring them into this."

Robin tilts her head, frowning. "Why not? They’d totally be down".

"They’d draw attention, Robs", you shoot back, voice low but steady, "Do you not remember the night of Eddie’s gig in Indy? When we all went to that bar after? People wouldn’t leave them alone. Half the crowd wanted autographs, the other half wanted to climb them like trees."

Steve snorts, but you’re not laughing.

"I’m serious. They can’t blend in. They walk into a place and suddenly everyone’s looking. If I meet Billy somewhere, and a group of five tall rockstar-looking guys shows up in the background? Surrounded by girls flashing their tits and trying to get signatures on them? He’ll know something’s up."

Eddie nods slowly beside you, but he’s still watching you, quiet. Not arguing. Yet.

"I’m not doubting they’d want to help", you go on, softer now, "I’m really not. But Rick gave me that number to talk about music, not whatever the hell this is. He said, ‘Call when you’re ready to work.’ Not ‘Call if a high school prick is trying to ruin your life.’ They’ve got real shit going on. Studios. Gigs. Press. I can’t just ring them up and be like, ‘Hey, miss you! Want to come play bodyguard for a teenage blackmail operation?’"

Robin exhales, clearly trying to understand, but also trying not to push, "But you said they feel like family".

"They do", you reply instantly, "But that’s why I won’t drag them into this. Because I know they’d drop everything if I asked. And I’m not asking. This has to go perfectly. One shot. If he smells even a little bit of a trap, we lose everything."

Steve leans forward. "Okay, yeah, I get that. But what if they didn’t show up as a group? What if just one or two came in, hung back, played it casual..."

"No", you cut in, firmer this time, "Even one of them is a risk. You’ve seen Rick's hair. That man could be spotted from space. And Salva’s voice? He can’t fucking whisper."

Robin presses her lips together, clearly biting back a smile.

Even Eddie huffs a small sound that might’ve been a laugh.

"I want this to work", you mumble quietly, looking at each of them, "but it has to be smart. Small. Quiet. And involving a bunch of literal rockstars? That’s the opposite of quiet."

Eddie finally speaks, his voice low, a touch hesitant, "You’re sure?"

You nod, "I’m sure."

He studies you for a long second, then leans in and kisses your temple, sighing against your skin. "Okay. No Vanguard."

There’s a pause, the others letting it settle.

"Damn", Robin mutters, "and here I was about to ask Joe to sign my bra."

Steve snorts. "You don’t wear bras. And I'm surprised I know that".

"Exactly."

You snort, taking a sip of your beer.

Your best friend leans back, sighing deeply. "Okay, so no witnesses, just the recording?"

You shrug, slowly nodding.

"Fine. We'll talk about the details in a sec, I just really have to hit the bathroom". She slips out of the booth.

Steve follows right after with a tired, "Might as well go too."

And then it’s just you and Eddie, the two of you left in the lull of music, sticky beer rings on the table, and the distant murmur of the bar around you. You feel him tense almost instantly. The quiet wraps around him like a vice, squeezing all that anger back up to the surface.

"I fucking hate this", he mutters, voice low and shaking with restraint, "I hate the idea of you near him again. I can’t-" He stops, grits his teeth, fists clenching against the table. "The thought of him even looking at you. Talking to you. Grinning that fucked up, smug-ass grin while he tells you what to do." His knee bounces, hands twitching like they don’t know whether to hit something or hold onto you tighter. "It’s killing me."

You shift closer, curling into his side, arms around his waist as his arm slides over your shoulder.

He pulls you in without hesitation, like he needs to feel you pressed up against him to keep breathing. His body is stiff with rage, vibrating with it.

"Baby, I’ll be fine", you whisper, cheek against his chest.

"You don’t know that."

"I’m not the same as last time", you explain quietly, steady, "Last time I didn’t see it coming. I was panicked. I couldn’t think. I froze because I was already running on fumes, trying to find you. This time… I’ll be ready. I know what I need to do."

Eddie doesn’t speak for a second, just holds you tighter. Then, "I’m gonna be close. You know that, right?" His voice drops even lower, almost gravel. "I’ll be watching. One wrong move, one wrong word, and I swear to god..."

You pull back enough to meet his eyes. They’re dark, wild with protectiveness, with fury he’s barely keeping chained. You reach up, brush your fingers along his jaw, "You won’t need to. I can handle this. I’m not afraid of him anymore."

His eyes search yours, like he’s trying to find something to convince himself it’s okay. But it’s not. It isn’t. Not for him. You pray he doesn't see the lie in them.

You're fucking scared of Billy.

"I still think we should let him talk to the cops," he mutters, gaze dropping to your lips, then your neck, then back to your eyes again, "I’ll take the charge. Whatever. It’s just assault. It’s not like I killed him. They’re not gonna lock me up for that."

"No", you shake your head, firm, "No, Ed. No one’s gonna work with a guy who’s got assault on his record. Doesn’t matter why. Doesn’t matter if it was to protect me or the Pope or a fucking kitten. People don’t care. They just see the word violent and shut the door."

"But it was to protect you", he says, like it should make all the difference in the world.

Like it does to him.

"I know that", you mumble, quieter now, "I know that. But this world isn’t built to care about the reason. It just cares about what’s on paper."

Eddie’s jaw clenches again, hard. He looks at you like you’re something breakable and priceless all at once, something he’d burn the world down to protect, and also something he doesn’t want the flames to touch. His hand lifts, gentle fingers brushing a loose strand of hair from your face, then lingering against your cheekbone. His eyes roam over every inch of your face like he’s memorizing it again, your eyes, your lips, the slope of your nose. His thumb traces under your lower lip, slow. "I just wanna keep you safe", he whispers, "That’s all I fucking want".

"You are", you tell him, lips brushing against his thumb as you speak, "You’re letting me fight for us. That’s keeping me safe, too."

He swallows hard. You can see every word he doesn’t say flicker through his eyes, bright and burning and ready to explode. You swallow, literally watching his brain rattle, thinking you managed to actually calm him, but then, his eyes turn sharp, jaw clenches so tight it’s ticking. That soft, pained concern from seconds ago hardens into something fiercer, heavier. Protective in the most stubborn, Eddie Munson kind of way.

"No", he says flatly.

You blink. "No, what?"

"You’re not doing it", he repeats, firmer this time, "I don’t care what we said before. You’re not meeting him. You’re not recording him. You’re not going anywhere near that piece of shit."

"Eds-"

He cuts you off, voice low, burning. "What happens if he sees the recorder? What if he catches on? What if he hears it ticking or rewinding or whatever the hell it does and realizes what you’re doing? You think he’s not gonna lose his goddamn mind? That he won’t do something worse this time? And even if it works, what then? You think he’s just gonna take the loss? You think he won’t find some other way to get back at us? To get back at you?"

He doesn't know it, but fuck, he hit the bullseye.

Your heart jumps on your chest, anxiety flaring again as you watch him.

He's right.

Eddie runs a frustrated hand through his hair, shoulders tense, "I know him. He doesn’t let things go. He’ll want revenge. He’ll twist it all, spin it, make it sound like you’re the manipulative one. And if people believe him, fuck, if anyone believes him, we’re back to square one. Worse".

You stay quiet, watching him unravel, watching every terrifying scenario race behind his eyes.

His fists curl at his sides, knuckles white. "I won’t let you do it", he says again, voice rough, "It’s too risky. I won’t... I can’t put you in danger again. Not for me. I can't allow it".

You sigh, slowly, like trying to breathe through thick smoke. And then you straighten in your seat, just a little, enough to meet his eyes evenly. "Eddie", you state, voice calm but firm, "you’re not in the position to allow anything." He flinches, just slightly, but you don’t stop. "This is my life. My body. My reputation. My choice." You pause, letting it sink in, fighting through your own fears to calm him. "You don’t get to tell me how to handle this. Not when it’s me Billy threatened. Not when it’s me he tried to use. This didn’t happen to just you."

He opens his mouth, but you hold a hand up.

"I love you, Eds", you say, softer now, but still strong, "And I know you want to protect me. But this is my fight too. You don’t get to take it from me just because it makes you scared."

He stares at you, chest heaving a little, lips parted like he still wants to argue, but the words are stuck somewhere in his throat. You can see the war in him. His need to protect you versus his need to respect you. Both things born from love. But only one of them can win right now.

"I’m not being reckless", you add, leaning in close, voice low just for him, "I’ll be careful. We’ll have backup. I won’t be alone. But I have to do this. You have to let me try."

Eddie swallows hard.

You watch him cave in the smallest way, his hand reaching for yours again, holding it like it’s the only thing grounding him to the floor.

His voice is barely a whisper when he finally speaks, "I don’t want to lose you."

"You won’t", you whisper back, "But if we don’t stop him now, we could both lose everything else."

His jaw clenches again. You can see it, feel it, in the way his fingers twitch around yours, in the way his leg bounces beneath the table like he’s trying to burn off the rage somehow, somewhere, but it’s caged in with nowhere to go. His eyes dart away from yours for a second, jaw working furiously like he's chewing on a hundred things he wants to say, none of them calm.

"Fucking hell", he mutters, voice tight, almost shaky with how much he’s holding back, "You’re too goddamn stubborn."

You lean in closer, hand gently curling around the back of his neck, fingertips brushing the warm skin just under his curls. "Wonder where I learned that from", you murmur.

He doesn’t look at you. Not yet. His eyes are somewhere far away, locked on a crack in the wood grain of the table, breathing sharp through his nose. Like if he looks at you, he’ll crumble into either a thousand curses or a thousand pleas.

So you kiss him. Not a rushed thing, not some frantic grasp at comfort, but a quiet promise. A tether. Something warm that says I’m here, I’m real, I’m yours. That pulls him back down from the cliff edge he’s pacing.

It takes a second before he reacts. Before the tension eases. But when it does, it melts. His hand finds your face, rough fingers gentle against your cheek as he kisses you back like he’s starving and terrified and finally breathing all at once. Like he wants to crawl into your skin just to keep you safe inside it.

When you finally pull away, barely an inch between you, his forehead rests against yours. His voice is raw. "You’re killing me."

"I’m keeping us alive", you whisper.

He exhales heavily, "You better let me be close. So close he’ll feel it if I even think you’re in trouble."

You nod.

"I’ll be watching", he murmurs, more to himself than to you, "He tries anything, anything at all, and I swear to god--"

"He won’t get the chance", you cut in gently.

Maybe if you keep telling that, you'll believe it yourself.

Fuck.

You are scared.

Of course you are.

But you shove it down, deep, where it can’t reach your face, your voice, your posture.

You can’t let it. Not now. Especially not in front of him.

All you wanted was to calm Eddie, to make him believe you're strong enough to do this.

So you sit steady against his side, beer in hand, face blank like you’re just thinking something through, not like your heart’s skipping in uneven beats, not like your fingers are slightly clammy against the cool glass.

Eddie's watching you, but you don’t let your face give anything away. Not the ache in your stomach. Not the thousand what-ifs hammering at your skull. You just sip your drink. Act calm. Calculated.

Across the bar, you spot movement. Robin and Steve weaving their way back through the crowd, Robin holding two drinks, Steve looking mildly annoyed about something someone said in the bathroom line.

Whatever peace you had in this moment is over now, shifting into strategy again.

Eddie's arm stays looped around you as they slide back into the booth.

"So", Robin says, setting a fresh beer in front of you, "we still doing this?"

Steve nods, looking at you and Eddie, "Yeah. What’s the plan exactly? You just go in with the recorder in your bag and try to make him talk?"

You nod, gently placing your half-empty beer down. "I guess, yeah. We keep it simple. I’ll meet him somewhere public. Tell him I’m scared. Say I can’t go through with what he’s asking. That I feel sick about it. Let him talk. He’ll want to defend the plan, maybe throw in more threats. Maybe try to charm me into it again".

"And the recorder will be running the whole time", Eddie mutters, still absolutely not a fan of this whole idea.

"We’ll test it beforehand. Make sure the sound’s clean and if you're able to hide it properly", Robin continues, and you all nod.

Steve adds, "And someone stays nearby. Close enough to step in if anything goes sideways".

"Me", Eddie says immediately. No room for debate.

You don’t argue that one. "I’ll need to think of where", you mumble, mostly to yourself, "It has to be neutral. Somewhere he won’t expect to be overheard, but where I won’t be alone."

"A diner?" Robin offers.

You shrug. "Dunno if the background noises aren't too loud, don't wanna risk the recording quality".

"Guess same thing counts for a café", Steve mumbles, and you nod.

"The record shop?"

You shake your head. "No way. I'm not doing this at my workplace, and there's also no room for Eddie to be close but unseen".

"Mhm, fair point", Steve mutters, running his chin and taking a sip of beer.

Robin puts her chin into her hand. "Okay, let's all think about this for a second. A public place, not too busy or loud, still private enough for that motherfucker to talk openly, but also with options for us, or at least him", she nods at your very tensed boyfriend, "to hide and stay close".

You’re all halfway through tossing around ideas when Steve leans forward, elbows braced on the table. "What about that motel? The one on Cornwallis, just outside town? Kinda dead during the week, not a lotta traffic."

You freeze.

The words hit like ice water down your back. You blink, beer halfway to your mouth, and then slowly set it back on the table. The booth quiets again, the air subtly shifting with the sudden stillness in you.

You know that motel.

You know the way the fluorescent ‘VACANCY’ sign buzzes at night.

The way the room smells like stale cigarettes and dusty curtains.

You know the crappy floral comforters, the humming air conditioner, the clunky vending machine out front.

That place was your shelter once, after you ran away from your father's trailer. After sleeping in your car, and before staying at Robin’s. Before your shared apartment with Lauren.

When things with Billy were… different.Still twisted in hindsight, still a mess under the surface, but back then? There were moments that almost felt like care. Like safety.

He paid for the room. Brought you food. Made you feel like you weren’t alone, like someone wanted you. Made you feel safe.

Eddie wasn’t part of it yet. At least, not to Billy. To you, he had always been a topic. A flicker at the back of your mind, even while you were tangled in someone else’s arms.

But Billy didn’t know that. Not then. Not at that motel, when you two almost behaved like a couple. Shared a bed. Had lots of sex. Kept each other company.

When things were still good between you. Easy.

Now the idea of going back there makes your stomach twist. And according to how Eddie tenses even more next to you, you're not the only one remembering your stay there.

"That place", you say quietly, eyes still on the table, "Billy and I used to stay there. After I left Scott's".

Robin’s eyes widen. "Ah, shit, I remember. Couple of days, right? Before you stayed with me".

You nod.

Steve’s brows draw in, regret flashing across his face, "Sorry, I didn’t mean--"

"No, it’s…" You wave a hand off it, though your voice is tight. "It makes sense. It’s quiet. Isolated. And it’s… familiar to him. He won’t be suspicious if I suggest it. He might even think it means I trust him again."

Eddie’s jaw tics next to you. He hasn’t said a word since Steve brought it up. But his hand slides across the bench, finding yours under the table, gripping tight. He doesn’t squeeze, he clutches. Like you’ll slip away again if he doesn’t. He knows that motel isn’t just a place. It’s history. Complicated, fucked-up history you’d rather forget, but now, you might have to use it.

"That fucking motel", he finally mumbles, "I also remember one of those nights you stayed there".

You glance up at him. He isn’t looking at you.

"We ran into each other at Hawkins High, you were about to meet Bucks after her band rehearsal, and I was just done with Hellfire. It was dark already, pouring rain, and you were nice to me as always", he goes on, "Bucks ditched you, and you were about to leave again, but your car didn't start. Saw you when I was about to drive off. Soaked from the rain, hood popped, all your stuff in the back seat. You looked… fuck, I dunno. Like you were about to give up. You barely even looked at me when I stopped again".

Robin remembers that night, too. You were about to meet with her to tell her everything that happened at home, and she was so caught up with Vickie she forgot and left to grab a bite with some friends from band, and her.

"I just wasn't in the mood to deal with you again", you chuckle, and that gets the faintest twitch of a smile from him. But only for a second.

"I couldn’t fix it", he continues, "but I didn’t wanna leave you there either. So I took you to the trailer. Gave you some of my clothes, a drink, rolled a joint for us, and… we talked. Fought a little".

"Flirted a little", you correct gently.

He finally looks at you, his eyes softer now. "Yeah. We did. I remember thinking… maybe. Just maybe. And then you pulled back."

You look away, guilt flickering in your chest. "I didn’t know what to do with what I was feeling", you admit, "You were always… complicated. And Billy was... ".

Eddie holds up a hand, shaking his head  "I know. You don’t have to explain it".

There’s a pause. Then his voice drops lower.

"What killed me was when I offered to take you wherever you were staying, and you said the name of the motel. Cornwallis. I didn’t think anything of it, not until we pulled into the lot, almost had a moment in my van again when saying goodbye, when I was just about to offer to even come back and pick you up the next day, and his fucking car stopped next to us. Like he owned the place. Owned you".

You wince. You remember that look on Eddie’s face, that moment he went cold, shut off completely, as he realized you're staying there with Billy.

"It fucked me up", Eddie admits quietly, thumb brushing across your knuckles again, "I already liked you. Hell, I more than liked you. And then I saw you with him and it just… it crushed me. I thought I’d finally made it through to you. Thought you’d see me for real, maybe even let me in. And then he was there, and I knew I lost".

"You didn’t lose", you whisper, heart breaking a little.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment.

"Took a long time for me to even look at you the same way again. Not because I didn’t still want you, trust me, I did, but because it hurt too much to think about what could’ve happened if you’d just stayed".

You reach up and tuck a curl behind his ear gently. "I was scared, Eds. Of you. Of me. Of what you were making me feel. Billy was… easy. I knew what he wanted. I didn’t have to feel anything real."

Eddie’s eyes meet yours again, sharp with something raw, "And now you’re walking straight back into that place. With him."

You nod, slowly."But this time", you say, "you’ll be close. You’ll be right there. I’m not doing this alone." 

He still looks pained. Still angry. But beneath it, there’s something else, something sad and full of longing.

"I should’ve kissed you that night", he mumbles, almost too softly.

You smile faintly. "I probably would've slapped you. But yeah, maybe. But you kissed me later, baby. When it mattered more".

Robin and Steve followed your quiet conversation, exchanging looks and drinking their beers.

Eddie blinks, realizes they're watching and focuses back on the actual conversations. "Anyways", he sighs, "Here we are. Thank God I kissed her at some point".

You chuckle softly, let him pull you into his side and kiss your temple.

"So, the motel it is?", Robin asks carefully, "You sure?"

You nod. "Yeah. It’s got a bunch of blind spots. Places to park out back, side entrances, alley behind the dumpster. No one pays attention to who comes or goes there, especially not on weekdays. And the rooms…" You glance at Eddie now, feeling his grip on you tighten again. "They’re basically paper thin. You can hear everything. If we get a room nearby, one of you could be just behind a door, or near a window. Hidden, but close."

Steve nods slowly, wheels clearly turning. "Yeah… yeah, it’s shit for privacy, which makes it perfect for this. We rent a room for a day, bring the recorder. Maybe we don’t even have to risk it on you carrying it. If you talk to him right outside, near the right window, and we crack it open..."

"... It’ll pick everything up", Eddie finishes, voice low.

"Exactly", you murmur, "If we get him talking, if he thinks I’m scared and have nowhere else to go… he might start repeating the same threats again. Like last time."

"And if we’re in the room next door", Robin says, sitting up straighter, "we’ll hear it all. Witnesses and a tape. Both."

Steve nods. "We just need to make sure he doesn’t see anyone else around. Or hear anything weird".

"We’ll be careful," Robin promises, "In and out. Quiet as hell."

Eddie’s still staring at you. His thumb is moving now, brushing across your hip, slow and restless. He hasn’t said anything else, but his eyes are dark, stormy with a hundred things he’s not letting spill.

You finally glance up at him, offer a small, uncertain smile. "It could actually work."

He doesn’t return the smile, not even a little. Just watches you for a second longer, then slowly exhales like it hurts. "I don’t like it", he mutters.

"I know", you whisper. "But it’s probably the only place fitting our requirements, where he’ll feel comfortable enough to let his guard down. It’s… familiar."

Eddie flinches, almost too subtly to notice.

He takes a deep breath. Looks at your friends. Then back at you. He shakes his head like he can't believe he's actually agreeing to this.

"Fine. Let's do it."