081

Morning light seeps into the hospital room, faint and gentle, casting long shadows on the sterile walls.

The hallway's coming alive, you can hear it from where you're at Eddie's bed.  There are clipboards flipping, footsteps moving with purpose, quiet voices exchanging updates.

You're still awake. Still watching him.

You didn't sleep a wink. Your body aches from sitting, your eyes sting from the crying and the long night, and your clothes feel like they've fused to your skin, stiff with blood, dirt and dried tears. But you don't move. You just sit, curled up in the chair beside Eddie's bed, fingers laced with his, eyes tracing every soft breath that moves his chest.

The scenes from last night kept replaying in your head.

Billy, the fight, the blood, the screams, the arrest.

It all swirled together like a nightmare you couldn't wake from, even though it's over. You should feel relief, you know that, but instead, there's this tightness in your chest. The weight of it all still presses down on you, heavy and suffocating.

You suppress a yawn and keep watching him. Eddie's still sleeping, his face soft and relaxed now, like the chaos of last night didn't even happen. His chest rises and falls steadily. His fresh IV is still in, still dripping and the heart monitor is quietly beeping in rhythm.

But even that comfort of knowing he's taken care of, he's resting and healing, can't shake the feeling gnawing at you that's even bigger than the absolute exhaustion behind your eyes.

But you couldn't let yourself sleep. You needed to make sure he's okay.

Eddie stirred a few times after he woke in the middle of the night. His brows pinched together in pain more than once. You were there every time, lying beside him, rubbing slow circles into his hand, brushing curls from his clammy forehead, whispering soothing things like you're safe, you're okay, I'm right here, baby. At some point, you managed to stand up from his bed without waking him, every inch of your body hurting from not moving for hours. You managed to track down a nurse and finally get his IV changed, held his hand the whole time, surprised he didn't even wake up during it and watched the painkillers start to pull him under again, his whole body loosening with it like an old machine finally getting oil. You kissed his temple. Sat down in the chair. And waited. For the rest of the night.

Now, he seems to be waking up again. It's a slow process at first, his hand shifts under the blankets, his fingers twitching like he's trying to push away the remnants of sleep. A groan escapes him, soft and low, as his eyes flutter open, just a sliver at first. He blinks, eyes confused for a moment as he processes the room, the quiet, the fact that he's in a hospital bed. He inhales deeply, his eyes closing again, and you think he's falling back asleep already. But then, another raspy grumble leaves his chest, his hand twitches in yours as he tries to lift it. "What..."

You're already on your feet, leaning over him, your hand gently cupping his jaw. "Eds, hey..."

His eyes flutter open again, hazy and tired. He inhales sharply through his nose, blinks against the dim light, disoriented and groggy. Then his eyes land on you.He frowns, still half-asleep, voice thick. "Where..." He clears his throat, winces lightly, "Where the hell are we?"

"Hospital", you murmur, brushing the curls back from his forehead again, "You passed out last night, remember?"

He blinks again.

You see it hit him in pieces, flashes of the fight, the pain, the blood. The arrest. Your face, terrified in the back of Steve's car. The stretcher. The beeping machines.

His hand curls into yours as it settles in. "Oh", he breathes. Then again, softer. "Oh".

You squeeze his hand, "You're okay, baby".

He shifts, slowly and painfully, his brows twitch again as he tries to remember. Then his eyes clear, find yours properly. "You're still here", he rasps, scratching his stubbly chin and blinking away the remnants of sleep.

"Of course I am", you say softly, brushing his curls off his forehead, "Didn't leave your side, like I said".

He looks at you properly now, and his tired gaze shifts, concern immediately tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Jesus. You look like shit".

You smile faintly. "Thanks, my love. You look great, by the way".

"You haven't slept".

You shake your head, sitting down on the edge of his bed, "Didn't want to. Not until you were okay".

He tries to sit up more, winces immediately, hand clutching his ribs, "Ouch. Fuck. Don't say that".

You hover your hands near him, wanting to help, not knowing how. "What?"

"Don't act like I'm some... some porcelain doll", he mumbles, "You can't just sit here all night and... God, look at you. You need, like, a gallon of coffee and a nap the size of Texas".

You chuckle under your breath, your hand ghosting along his cheek, "Coffee, maybe. Nap, not yet".

He looks like he wants to argue, but all that comes out is a long, shaky breath. His hand finds yours, weak and warm. "Don't do that", he mumbles, voice still thick, still slow, "Don't pretend you're not wrecked".

You sigh and move your hand back in his hair, scratching softly at his scalp the way he loves. His eyes flutter, almost involuntarily, and you feel the tension ease from him a little. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay", you whisper, "All night I just... I couldn't stop seeing it. Over and over again. Him. You. The blood. You screaming for me in the cop car. I couldn't-" Your voice breaks.

His fingers twitch again, then close around yours. "I'm okay now", he whispers, his voice barely there, "You need to rest, baby".

You reach up and run your fingers through his curls, tender and slow. "I will. After you do."

He watches you like that for a moment, eyes glazed but so full of love. Then he shifts slightly, reaching for you, like he can't stand the space between you. "C'mere. Want you closer".

You glance at the curtain. "Can't. Doctors are coming soon. You know they'll say something."

He makes a small, miserable noise. "Fuck the doctors".

You chuckle softly and stand up. "Five minutes. I'm just gonna hit the bathroom and grab the worst cup of coffee known to man, okay? I just wanted to wait until you were awake so you wouldn't miss me".

"I'd miss you in a coma", he mutters, eyes fluttering for a second, "Fuck, my head's... weird".

You instantly focus, "Weird how?"

He squints, trying to pinpoint it. "Like... nauseous. But not stomach-nauseous. Just... up here". He gestures vaguely to his head. "Like my brain's dizzy. Feels like static".

You frown, stepping closer. "You think you need to throw up?" Your eyes already start scanning the room for anything to hand him just in case.

"No, no, not that. It's just..." He makes a face. "Like car sickness. But in my skull. That makes no sense, does it?"

"Zero, at least to me. But I'm not a doctor", you mumble, already worrying again.

He blinks, takes a few deep breaths. "Just give me a minute. I'll start my engines and I'm good as new". He attempts a grin but ends up wincing again, hand flying to his side. "Fuck. Okay. No jokes yet either".

You grab your wallet and point at him. "You better stay in that bed, Munson. You want anything? You want anything? Juice? A snack?"

He rubs his eyes tiredly. "I dunno. My brain's soup. Maybe... I don't know. Juice? Maybe. Or like. An IV of sugar."

"I'll find you something", you promise, leaning in and pressing a kiss to the side of his head. "And I'll be back in five minutes."

He grabs your hand again before you can move. "Five minutes".

"Five minutes", you repeat, squeezing back.

Eddie watches you as you step toward the door, already missing you, already wanting you back close even with the meds in his system.

He looks like hell. But he's alive. Awake.

You glance back one more time. He's already settled back against the pillows, eyes fluttering closed again, one hand lying palm-up, like he's still holding yours. You'll be back before he even has the chance to miss you.

At the bathroom, you catch your reflection in the mirror and jolt back like a stranger's looking at you. A stranger with puffy eyes and dark rings beneath them, smeared makeup, blood-streaked clothes and hair you can't call anything else but an absolute disaster. You pee, wash your hands, splash water on your face and wrists, and use some paper towels to scrub away the remains of what used to be mascara.

You still look like absolute shit, and probably smell like it too. You lift your arm and take a careful sniff at your armpit, immediately pulling a face and dropping your arm again. The stress sweat yesterday brought you definitely overpowered your deodorant.

Amazing.

You sigh, wipe your hands and leave the bathroom to find some caffeine next.

Down the hall, you find it. Thank God.

The vending machine buzzes as you're buying a lukewarm coffee for you, and an orange juice for Eddie. You rub your tired eyes, pour an ungodly amount of sugar into your coffee and head back to his room, careful not to spill anything. You're just rounding the hallway corner while taking a slow sip and immediately pulling a disgusted face at the awful taste, when you spot two doctors and a nurse stepping out of Eddie's room.

He's sitting up when you come back, the bed angled higher behind him so he can lean back without too much strain. His hair's a mess, wild and tangled, but his eyes catch on you like they always do, soft and heavy-lidded but still with that damn glint."Hey, sexy", he grins, voice hoarse but teasing.

You snort, already half-sitting on the edge of his bed, "I just saw what I look like. Try again".

"I am trying", he jokes with a wink, thankfully grabs the juice from your hand and slowly lifts it to take a cautious sip, checking in with his stomach's reaction. "Nope. Not gonna puke. Yet."

"That's good", you whisper, watching him closely. "I saw the doctors. Everything okay?"

He nods, setting the juice down with a small clink. "Yeah. They said I can go. Didn't even have to bribe them or anything".

"That's good. Can't wait to get you home", you sigh in relief, sitting back down and taking a sip of your awful coffee. "You told them about the weird head feeling?"

He nods, sips his juice. "No worries. Just the concussion. Got a prescription for meds to help it".

"Anything else the said?"

"Mh?", he hums, avoiding your gaze now.

"What else did they say?" you ask again, eyes narrowing.

He groans and shifts, suddenly very interested in what's written on the back of his juice.

"Eddie", you warn. "What did they say?"

He grumbles into his hand, rubbing his jaw, "Prescription for pain meds too, for my ribs."

"And?" You sip your coffee, waiting.

He sighs like it's the end of the world. "Bedrest. For a week. No stress, no sudden movements, no TV marathons, basically nothing fun. And I guess no sudden movements also means no... fun fun".

"Fun fun?" You raise a brow.

"You know", he mutters, a mischievous little glint forming anyway, "fun fun."

You let out a soft laugh, brushing your fingers down his annoyed face, his jaw, his bruised cheek. "Really? Sex? You're thinking of that again already? Guess Nurse Sam will have to take very good care of you at home, baby."

His eyes light up immediately, and the grin spreads across his face like a wildfire. "God, yes. Nurse Sam in one of those tiny little dresses. Taking my temperature with her tits basically in my face..."

"Eddie."

"... bending over to grab my meds, nothing underneath, maybe just a garter".

You're laughing now, real and sudden and bright, your body aching from the movement. "Oh, my God. Stop talking."

His eyes go a little glassy at the sound. His hand slides over yours again, thumb grazing your knuckles. "Love you so much".

Your smile softens as lean in and press a kiss to his hairline. "Love you more. But promise me, no more hospital beds".

He exhales slowly, then nods. "No more hospitals".

An hour later, Eddie's allowed to go. He got his paperwork, his prescriptions and meds, and his arm around your shoulder while you slowly help him down the hall. His clothes from last night are wrinkled and smell like dust, sweat and blood. You tried to not reach to the red stains on his shirt when you helped him pulling it over his head. You don't even know whether it's his or Billy's. But just seeing it made your stomach turn.

Outside the exit doors, Robin and Steve are already waiting with their arms full. "Real coffee, incoming", Robin declares, holding out to-go-cups like a trophy, "And sweets for our sweetest couple!"

Steve smirks and lifts a box with donuts. "Thought you might wanna fuel your battled bodies."

Eddie chuckles as he carefully leans against Steve's car and takes one coffee from Robin's hand. "Thanks, guys".

You stay close to him, taking your coffee as well, slowly taking a sip and sighing blissfully. "Oh, my god. So much better than the one I got on there".

Robin smirks, opens the box of donuts and holds it out for you two to pick one. Eddie sneaks a chocolate one, you grab a pink one with sprinkles, munching on the sugary pastries while listening to your friends.

Robin's so relived Eddie can go home, says she wants to hug you two so bad but she's afraid she might hurt you.

You chuckle, opening one arm. "I'm good to go, Bucks", and she immediately pulls you in, squeezing you tightly.

"You smell awful", she mumbles, and you snort into your coffee.

"I know".

"Still the hottest chick around", Eddie smirks, throwing the last bite of his donut into his mouth and immediately reaching for another one.

You roll your eyes and sip your coffee.

"This actually helps a lot with that concussion nausea", he mumbles with his mouth full, and Steve beams at that.

"My idea", he grins.

You all finish your breakfast and pile into Steve's car, Eddie groaning again as he sits down, but looking way better already now that he has some caffeine and sugar in his system.

"Let's get you guys home", Steve sighs, starting the engine and pulling out of the hospitals parking lot.

You're already halfway back to Forest Hills, when Robin suddenly gasps in the passenger seat, digging through her bag.

"Oh! I almost forgot!"

She pulls out a slightly crumpled flyer, holding it up like it's treasure. "Someone pinned this to the board in the hospital. It's an apartment for rent. Didn't you guys say you wanted to move in together?"

You blink. "You stole it off the board? The whole flyer?"

Steve chuckles and nods, racing his car up the country road.

"Ripped it right off and shoved it in my bag. No one else saw it. You're welcome." Your best friend grins as she hands the flyer over. "Less other competitors if you guys actually wanna have a look at it".

You laugh as you take it from her hand.

Eddie leans in close, squinting at the crumpled flyer as you smooth it out in your lap. The picture shows a cozy little apartment, nothing fancy, but there's a small balcony, a kitchenette tucked into a corner, and warm light glowing through the windows like the place is already waiting for someone to come home.

"Kitchenette", he murmurs, voice rough, "And damn, a balcony? Looks good, doesn't it?"

You hum in agreement, eyes skimming over the handwritten details beneath the photo.

The price makes your heart jolt a little, not cheap, not by far, but manageable. Barely.

If you're both working. If things go well.

Eddie's finger trails across the page, stopping at the address. "Downtown", he says, eyes lighting up a little, "Close to the Hideout. Closer to your work". He looks up at you then, a little hesitant, a little hopeful. "Babe, this could actually work, y'know. If I... find a steady job. Get a few more gigs. Something regular".

You look over at him, at the bandage still peeking from under his shirt collar, the bruising around his temple, the healing cuts along his knuckles. And still, he's looking at the future like it's actually possible. Like it's not just something that happens to other people. You smile, soft and tired. "You think we should call?"

His eyes meet yours, already gleaming with the answer. "Hell yeah", he smirks, "Let's call. Worst thing they can say is no".

"Okay", you chuckle, nodding your head, "We'll call and say we wanna take a look at it. As soon as you're able to stand longer than 5 minutes."

Ten minutes later, Steve helps Eddie up the stairs to his trailer. Robin hugs you again, tells you to call if you need anything. "We'll be back tomorrow. With pizza, okay? Take care and call if you need anything!"

You nod, already half-asleep on your feet as you unlock the door. Steve carefully pats Eddie's back, mumbles a "take care, man", and steps back, waving a short goodbye and jumping back into the driver's seat.

His car starts, he honks, Robin waves from the rolled down passenger window just as you give her a tired wave back and finally close the door.

Then it's just you and Eddie, standing in the living room, broken but whole. Safe.

Finally home.

The door to Wayne's room is closed. He's still sleeping after his night shift.

Eddie's groaning softly as he slowly makes his way down the hall, one hand on his ribs. "I need a shower", he grumbles, opening the bathroom door and stepping inside.

You put his paperwork and meds down before following him. "Baby, you need help with that?", you call, stopping in front of the bathroom door.

A pained groan comes from inside, along with the sound of running water. "I got it", Eddie calls through the cracked door, "I can do it".

Slowly, you push the door open to peak inside.

He managed to turn on the water, and undress maybe half of his clothes. Now, he's holding on to the sink for dear life, wobbling on his bare feet, panting hard.His shirt is already tossed on the floor, his belt undone but still looped through the jeans clinging to his hips.

The door creaks as you push it open further. His eyes meet yours in the mirror.

"Let me help you", you offer softly.

He exhales hard. "I wanna do it myself".

"I know", you sigh, "But let me help you anyway, okay? I don't want you to be in more pain than necessary, Eds."

Eddie sighs, then nods in defeat.

You slip in and close the door behind you, the small room already fogging from the steam of the running water. Carefully, you slide the belt from his jeans, pop the button and finally tug the denim down his legs while he shifts his weight. He mumbles something about the indignity of having a hot nurse girlfriend undressing him while he's too weak to enjoy it. You just roll your eyes, smirking as you stand back up, playfully snapping the rim of his boxers before pulling them down as well.

They hit the tile floor and he groans again, stepping out of them and right into the shower, holding the tiled wall with both hands for balance, his head bowed under the stream.

You close the curtain behind him to give him at least some of privacy while you empty his jeans pockets and throw his clothes into the laundry hamper.

After a minute, you peak around the curtain to check on him.

He hasn't moved, just standing there, hands pressed to the wall, water rolling down his back and over the bruises lining his ribs.

"Eds?" you ask softly. "You need help?"

"I'm okay", he lies.

You sigh, because of course he's lying. So, without a word, you strip off your own clothes and throw them right on top of his.

Youre not mad about joining him in there. The thought of hot water and finally washing off last night sounds like fucking paradise.

Eddie doesn't turn when you open the curtain again. Just groans against the wet tiles. "Babe, I said I'm fine".

You don't step in yet. "Okay, so you want me to get dressed again?"

That makes him look over his shoulder. His eyes drop to your tits. Even now.

"...Okay, maybe I do need help."

You snort and step in, shivering when the warm water hits your back. "Let me help you, okay?" you murmur, placing your hands on his shoulders. He's slow to move, wobbly on his legs, but he turns to you and you gently guide his hands to your hips. "Just hold on", you murmur. "Don't fall, okay?"

"Holdin' on", he repeats, grinning crookedly. "Though I could think of better places to hold... like, all of them".

You chuckle, fingers threading into his wet curls. "Behave".

He leans back just enough for you to start working shampoo into his hair. Carefully, you massage his scalp, slow and rhythmic, avoiding the butterfly bandage above his brow.

His eyes flutter shut immediately. "Jesus Christ... never stop".

You smirk and keep going, letting the water rinse the suds through his hair as your bare body brushes his under the stream. You don't notice how close you are until his groan rumbles against your skin. But a different kind of groan now. His hands shift and slide lower, settling on your ass.

Still holding on, technically.

"Eddie", you warn.

"I'm just... stabilizing", he mutters innocently. "Medical necessity".

You grin, brushing soap across his chest, gentle over every scrape and stitch. His body leans into your touch, every little motion a whisper of relief as you clean him off.

"I think this is the most sensual sponge bath in history", he murmurs, eyes half-lidded.

"Shut up", you mutter, fighting a smile, even as you bend down to clean his legs, his thighs, his knees. "You're lucky you're adorable".

He makes some joke about the view, and you flick water at him in retaliation.

"You good to get dry and go lie down?" you ask after finishing rinsing his body. "I just need to do myself real quick."

He shrugs, hands still firmly holding your hips. "I'm good right here. Long as I get to hold on".

You roll your eyes fondly, reaching for your own shampoo and leaning your head back to soak your hair. His hands wander again, just as his eyes casually drop to your boobs again. His touch is soft, but unmistakably hungry now.

"Behave, Munson".

"I am", he murmurs, leaning down so his lips brush your shoulder. "Just appreciating art."

You close your eyes, start working shampoo into your hair while his hands slide across your stomach, his thumbs accidently touching the undersides of your breasts. His mouth finds your neck and leaves a damp kiss there.

"Eds", you warn again, eyes closed while you wash your hair, "you're half-dead. Stop groping."

"Still got half alive", he murmurs, lips against your skin.

You laugh under your breath, your head tilted back while you're letting the water run through your hair.

His mouth moves again. Another kiss, then another.

You sigh, relaxed and torn between scolding him and melting. "No funny business today", you whisper as you open your eyes to blink up at him. "Just a shower".

"I can live with that", he mumbles, "Long as you don't stop touching me."

You don't stop. How could you? Not when he sounds like that. Clinging to you like that. So you keep your touch soft. Keep your hands moving gently over his arms, his sides, carefully avoiding the bruised parts, just enough to soothe, to remind him he's here. That he's safe.

"Jesus", he mutters into your neck, voice hoarse and barely there. "This is better than the pain meds".

You smile, your nose brushing the side of his head, water running down both of you. "You say that like I'm not gonna make you take those the second we're done in here".

He groans dramatically. "Buzzkill".

"Keeping you alive. Again", you playfully groan as dramatic as he just did, grinning at him.

"Ugh. You're such a wife", he teases, pressing a kiss just below your ear, "So bossy".

You snort, squint at him and turn in his arms to grab the body wash and start scrubbing the grime from your own skin.

Eddie's hands don't leave you.

They move slowly, tracing the curve of your hips, your lower back. Not greedy, just needing contact. Needing to feel. You let him. Because you need it too. He rests his forehead between your shoulder blades after a while, and you feel his breath hitch. "I keep thinking about it", he says quietly, almost to himself, "How you sounded when he touched you. The fight. The cops. Them grabbing you".

You pause.

"I know", you whisper, "Me too".

"I thought I was gonna die. Not from the fight. From watching them take you".

You reach behind, blindly find his hand, and thread your fingers through his. "You didn't", you whisper, "We didn't".

He kisses your shoulder, his lips wet and warm. "Yeah. But I still remember the way you screamed".

You nod slowly. Because you remember the way he screamed, too. His voice breaking as they dragged him away from you. The sound of him shouting your name. The thud of the car door closing behind you.

That terrifying moment when you couldn't see him anymore.

You turn around, cupping his jaw in your soapy hands, making him look at you. "We're okay. We're home now. We're safe now."

Eddie nods, but his eyes shimmer a little.

You caress his stubbly cheeks with your thumbs, then step on your toes to kiss him, your slippery body pressed to his. He sighs, wraps his arms around you as the water slowly turns colder.

Back in his bedroom, you help him into a clean shirt and sweatpants, letting him do what he can but stepping in when his fingers fumble or a groan slips through his teeth. You smooth the shirt down over his bruised ribs, then guide him gently back to bed.

He's half-asleep already, swaying slightly, his eyes heavy-lidded and dazed.

The second his body hits the mattress, he lets out a relieved sigh, like gravity finally gave him permission to let go. You press the prescribed pills into his hand, watch him chase them with water, then carefully brush his curls away from his face. "Rest, okay?", you whisper, soft and loving, even as you stand there in nothing but your towel.

His eyes track you as you move across the room, and you pretend not to notice. You dig through your dresser, pull out a pair of his boxers and one of his oversized shirts, something faded and soft and smelling like him, and drop your towel to the floor.

"Jesus Christ", he mutters from the bed, his voice rough with exhaustion, "Stop turning me on".

You turn your head over your shoulder, smirk at him. "Sorry, didn't realize I was dating a teenage boy".

"I am a teenage boy", he grumbles, "Trapped in a very busted body. With a very hot nurse."

You get dressed and walk back to him to climb into bed with him. He groans as the mattress shifts, but immediately reaches for you, dragging you into his side like he needs the contact just to keep breathing. You settle against him, soft and warm, your hand stroking his chest, lips pressing to any skin you can reach. His collarbone, his shoulder, the corner of his mouth. You kiss him with all the quiet love he's earned, slow and warm, your fingers running through his hair, down his jaw, brushing just under his bruised eye."Try to sleep, okay?", you whisper, pulling the blanket over you both, "I've got you, Eds".

He tries to keep his eyes open, but they flutter closed again and again. You watch him struggle, his body too worn out to fight anymore, and when his chest finally rises and falls in that familiar, slow rhythm, you lean into him, curl around him, and close your own eyes too to finally let yourself sleep too.

It feels like just a second of sleep but it's actually hours later when you're woken up by the sound of heavy footsteps outside your bedroom door. For a second, your half asleep brain makes you think it's the cops coming back to arrest Eddie again, to take him away from you.

Your eyes dart open, your heart hammers in your chest as you sit up a little, your mind still half asleep as you stare towards the door.

The steps come closer. Your hand automatically reaches for Eddie, who's still sleeping next to you. Your heart hammers harder and harder.

A soft knock.

You blink.

Then the door opens slowly.

And your scared, exhausted brain finally realizes it's obviously not some cops who want to take away your man, but Eddie's uncle, who clearly just woke up.

His eyes land on you, staring back at him. Then at Eddie next to you, bruised and stitched together and still sleeping next to you. And to your hand, resting on his side, and the rest handcuff marks on your wrist.

You notice the hospital paperwork in his hand. You left it on the kitchen counter earlier, too tired to think that Wayne of course would see it when he gets up to make some coffee. He clearly just did.

There's worry written all over his face.

Finally, he finds his voice. "What the hell happened to you?"

Eddie stirs beside you at the sound. He frowns his brows, then his eyes blink open to you half sitting next to him, and his uncle, standing in the middle of your messy bedroom, staring at his bruised face.

"Uh, it's...", he starts in a hoarse voice, but his uncle isn't having it.

"No, no, don't try to brush this off."Wayne lifts the paperwork as evidence. "You've been treated for a concussion, Edward? And something with your ribs, too?"

Eddie clears his throat and tries to sit up, but his muscles are still too sore. He grunts, and falls back into the pillow, his eyes helplessly flickering to you.

You open your mouth, but Wayne doesn't give you time to speak.

"Was there another fight?"

You both stay silent.

Wayne glares now. "Answer me."

"Yes", Eddie just rasps.

"Is this about that Hargrove son of a bitch? Huh?", his uncle barks, "You fucking fought him again? Was it about those threats again? The shit he gave you, Sam?"

Wayne's eyes find you again. You just nod, your throat suddenly too tight to speak.

Eddie groans, rubbing his eyes. He doesn't want to talk. Not like this. Not when his head's still pounding and all he wants is to keep you close and pretend last night never happened. "We ended it", he rasps.

Wayne scoffs. "What the hell does that mean? You ended it?"

"It means", Eddie snaps, sharper now, "he's not gonna hurt her again."

His uncle's voice rises. "And how exactly did you end it, huh? You look like you got hit by a goddamn truck, son. Are you telling me you fought him? After everything? After I specifically told you to not do that?"

"I had to!" Eddie barks, then winces immediately, clutching his ribs. "You didn't hear what he said to her. What he fucking did to her, Wayne."

Wayne's face flushes red, his hand twitching around the crumpled hospital papers. "Instead of finally telling the police about this fucker of an ex lover of hers, or at least telling me the fucking whole story, you, what, huh? Fistfight again?"

Eddie flinches. "We handled it, okay? It's over now."

Wayne rounds on him. "What the fuck doey that mean, you handled it? Are you hearing yourself? You fucking killed that guy, or what?"

"No! I said it's over!" Eddie snaps. "It's fucking over, okay? He won't come close to her again."

Wayne's mouth opens, he drags in a sharp breath, ready to snap back at his nephew.

"We got the bastard on tape, Wayne", you cut in, desperate to defuse them. "He blackmailed me into letting him fuck me to keep him from telling the police about how Eddie assaulted him".

Wayne's mouth closes. His eyes find you again.

You swallow hard. "I-- I set him up, okay? I met him at the motel outside town, had Eddie and the others in a room and we recorded Billy confessing it all, even trying to fucking force me right there."

Hus face twists in disbelief, he looks like he's about to be sick. His voice is smaller when he speaks again. "He... what?"

"Eddie heard it all from the next room", you continue, tears burning in your eyes, "He had to listen to this bastard molesting me, touching me, telling me what he'd fucking do to me just to get back at him, and when we finally had it all on tape, he just... lost it." You sniffle, then glance towards your boyfriend, who's staring up at the ceiling with wet eyes.

"They... fought. It all escalated. Cops came. Everyone got arrested. Billy. Him. And me."

Wayne's breath is ragged as he blinks down to your wrists again. "You two got arrested?"

Slowly, you nod.

He can't believe what he's hearing.

"Arrested? Boy, have you lost your goddamn mind, huh? Fighting again, and then letting the cops fucking arrest you for it? You wanna ruin your fucking future for good now, son?"

Eddie sits up fully now, wincing but furious. "The fuck do you want from me, huh? What, you want me to just let it happen? He said he wants to fucking rape her, Wayne! He said he doesn't care she doesn't want it!"

Wayne flinches at that. Still, he doesn't step back. He takes a shaky breath. "I want you to think before you throw yourself into another fucking brawl just because of this girl."

And the second those words leave his mouth, the air goes ice cold.

Eddie's eyes go wide, and then narrow with something dangerous. He moves, holds his ribs and stands to be on the same eye level with his uncle. He sways lightly. "This girl?" he echoes. "Just her? Are you fucking kidding me right now?"

Wayne opens his mouth, but Eddie's already roaring.

"She's not just fucking anybody!", he shouts, pointing at you without looking, his eyes locked on Wayne's face. "She's everything I fucking have!"

"AND YOU'RE EVERYTHING I HAVE!"

The words slam into the walls like a car crash. Even Eddie freezes right where he's standing.

Wayne's voice cracks now, angry and grief-stricken. "You get that? You're all I got in this world, boy, and look at you, bandaged and bleeding and barely able to sit up! What if next time he hits you harder, huh? What if it's not just a damn concussion but an aneurysm? What if they can't fix you next time?"

Eddie's chest is heaving, every word cutting deeper, but he doesn't back down. "You think I wanted this? You think I like getting beat to hell?"

"I think you're too damn reckless", Wayne bites, "and I think you'd rather get killed than let anyone else help you".

You're quiet. Frozen. The tears are already running down your cheeks, silent and burning, but neither of them notices.

They're too caught in their own heartbreak to see yours.

"It's done", Eddie growls, "He's in jail. It's over".

Wayne scoffs. "You sure about that? You think he'll stay in a cell? Huh? What if there's no trial? What if he walks, Edward?"

Eddie doesn't answer.

You're choking on a quiet sob, staring at Wayne. You didn't even think about that.

"What if he's out today?" Wayne presses. "What if he's got a lawyer? What if he's bailed out and he comes looking again? You gonna fight him again? You gonna die for her next time?"

"If I have to, yes!"

Wayne's face crumples, not with anger, but with sheer, helpless fear. "Jesus, Eddie... Do you even listen to yourself? Stop ruining your life for her! Stop ruining your career, your health, your goddamn music!"

Eddie stares at him like he's been slapped, chest heaving, jaw clenched so tight it aches. "You think this is what I wanted?" he spits, "You think I planned this shit?"

Wayne throws a hand out, gesturing wildly toward the bruises lining Eddie's body. "You didn't stop it, either! You never do! You just keep throwing yourself in front of every fucking train for her like your body doesn't matter, like your life doesn't matter!"

"You think my life matters if something happens to her?" Eddie roars back, voice cracking under the weight of it, "She's the only reason I made it through that fucking cell! The only reason I didn't let that asshole kill me out there!"

"She's the only fucking reason you were in that goddamn cell, son! You just won a damn band battle! Someone could call tomorrow wanting to book you,m, you think they want to hear from a guy with a rap sheet and broken fingers?"

"They didn't press charges!" Eddie snaps, limping a step forward, "I'm fine, okay? I'm good to go. Nothing's stopping me."

"You're stopping you!", Wayne shouts, "Because you can't walk away from a fight when it's about her".

"Because I love her!" Eddie shouts so loud the windows might shake. "Because she's not just a girl to me, Wayne! She's everything! And I'm not gonna stand there and watch while some piece of shit--"

"She's not your whole goddamn life!" Wayne fires back, voice thunderous. "You're a Munson, don't you dare forget that. You come from nothing, and you're finally getting somewhere. You throw it all away again, and for what? Another fight? A fucking girl?"

"She's not just another fucking girl, stop fucking calling her that!"

"I don't give a flying fuck! She's not worth watching you destroy yourself for!"

You're curled up at the edge of the bed, heart pounding so hard it hurts. Wayne's words hit you like a slap. Like he'd ripped open your chest and shouted down the hollow inside. You know he doesn't mean it. Not really. You know that old man loves you. But it doesn't matter. Not when he keeps saying it like that.

Like you're a mistake Eddie won't stop making.

You're not even sure when the tears started. They're just there, hot and silent and endless, soaking your cheeks and trembling lips. You're shivering, arms wrapped tight around your knees, your whole body curling in like it can somehow protect itself from the storm exploding across the room.

But it's not working.

And now, with Wayne's words bouncing off the walls and Eddie's fury shaking the air, there's something else creeping in. Something cold.

What if it didn't work?

What if Billy isn't locked away?

What if he walks free?

You can feel it. His hands on you again. His voice. His scent.

You gasp, choked and sharp. Your chest is caving in. You can't breathe. You can't think.

Everything is too loud and too close.

The shouting, the memories, the fear.

Wayne's yelling again, not realizing what his words do to you. He's so trapped in this, he doesn't even realize you're here.

"You almost got yourself killed for her, Eddie. Twice! Do you even see that?!"

The yells fade, drowning in the rushing sound in your ears. You barely hear Eddie's answer as your heart races in your chest, your hands start to shake, panic floods your veins.

Your desperate sob cuts through the noise like glass.

Eddie stops mid-sentence. He turns to you. Wayne's mouth is still moving, but he doesn't hear him any more.

All he hears is you.

All he sees is you.

His anger drops off a cliff, the fire in his chest snuffs out like someone slammed a door on it, and suddenly all that's left is ash and horror.

"Baby", he rasps, his voice cracking like glass.

Wayne turns too, finally following Eddie's eyes. His expression twists, rage draining into something far more complicated, like he's only just realized he's been shouting in a room with a hurt girl in it.

The fight bleeding out of him in an instant as he stares at you. "Oh my god..."

You're curled even tighter in the corner of the bed, knees hugged to your chest, soaked cheeks and trembling limbs giving you away more than any words could. You can barely breathe. The room's too loud, the air's too thin, your head spinning with the sound of Billy's voice echoing in your memory, the phantom pressure of his hands on your skin. You can't tell if you're shaking from cold or panic or both.

Eddie stumbles across the bed, ignoring the agony in his ribs, hands out like he's approaching a wounded animal. "No, no, baby, look at me. I'm here. I'm right here, I've got you." He kneels in front of you despite everything hurting, one hand cradling your ankle, the other reaching slowly, like he's terrified to touch too soon.

You flinch anyway. That alone nearly kills him.

"Shit," he breathes, "I didn't see... God, I'm sorry. We shouldn't have-- I shouldn't've let it get like this."

Wayne is frozen by the dresser, pale and speechless. He's never seen you like this. Not this broken. Not this small. And suddenly his earlier words echo back at him, sounding crueler than he meant them to be.

Just a girl. Stop ruining your life for her.

"I-it's not--" you try to talk, voice cracking around each syllable, "I just... I-I thought it was done. I thought- what if he gets out? What if... what if it wasn't enough?" You press your forehead to your knees, body wracked with sobs. "What if he comes back to finally get what he wants? I can still feel him on me, I c- can't do this again".

That sentence lands like a bomb.

Eddie clenches his jaw, eyes burning, fury rising again, but this time it's turned inward, all aimed at himself. "He's not getting near you again," he whispers hoarsely, crawling up onto the bed so he can pull you into his arms. "Not while I'm breathing. You hear me? You're safe. Right here with me. With us."

Wayne's throat bobs as he swallows hard. His hands shake at his sides.

Us.

You being part of that equation, it was always true, but hearing Eddie say it like that... He takes a step forward, then another, hesitant now. His voice, when it comes, is rough but lower. "I didn't mean it like that, kid. You're not... 'just a girl'. You never were." He shifts awkwardly, clearing his throat. "You're family. You know that, right? You know I love you like my own".

You lift your head slightly, eyes rimmed red, breath shallow. Wayne meets your gaze, shamed, humbled, worried out of his damn mind. Your breath stutters, you shake your head, not at him, but at the horrible, gnawing thought that takes root and blooms like rot in your chest. "N- no", you whisper, barely audible. "W- what if he's out?"

Eddie freezes, arms still halfway around you, his heartbeat slamming into your back like a drumline. "What?" he whispers.

"I don't know if he's locked up", you choke out, eyes wide, locked on the curtain. "We left but they never told us. They never said if he-- what if he walked out after we left? What if... oh my god w- what if he's home already?"

"Baby", Eddie tries, but his voice barely makes it past your spiraling.

"He lives right there", you gasp, pointing toward the window, your hand trembling uncontrollably. "Across the street. What if he's outside? What if he's watching me right now, w-waiting for me to be alone?"

Your chest is caving in again, and the memory hits like a tidal wave once more.

The motel. Billy grabbing you, shoving his tongue into your mouth.Your scream stuck in your throat. His fingers bruising your arms, his breath hot and reeking of smoke and arrogance.

You'll see what a real man feels like.

For a second, you knew if it wasn't a setup, if Eddie and your friends hadn't stormed out with the tape, hadn't caught it all before it went too far, he would've dragged you inside. He would've done it.

He was ready to rape you.

The chaos.The fight.Eddie's fists slamming into Billy's face, blood flying, police sirens screaming.You yelling his name as they tore him away from you, cuffed him with blood on his hands and rage in his eyes.The panic, the endless statements, the ER lights too bright.

It should have been over.

But you don't know that it is.

You cling to Eddie, your fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt, your body refusing to calm down.

Everything inside you is screaming.

You flinch again when the wind rattles the window.

He could be right there.

Eddie grabs your face, forcing you to look at him. "Sam. He's not here", he says, fierce but gentle. "Even if he is, he's not touching you. Not while I'm alive".

You can't focus on the words. All you can feel is the ghost of Billy's hands. His breath. His sneer. The taste of fear and smoke.

He didn't care that you didn't want it. He wanted you afraid.He wanted to take.

Your panic rises, your heart clawing at your ribs as you stare at him. "It's not over", you sob, "I thought it was over but it's not, I-I can still feel him, Eddie, I... I can still hear him, what if he comes back and-..."You're choking on another sob, coughing, gasping for air, staring at your worried, beaten up boyfriend with big, teary eyes.

Wayne, silent now, steps back and turns away, turns back to you, not knowing what to do.

Your breath keeps breaking in jagged bursts, like your lungs are trying to fold in on themselves. You're gasping now, unable to stop the tears, the sobs clawing their way out of your throat.

Eddie doesn't hesitate, he cradles your face tighter in both hands, his thumbs catching the tears even as more spill over. His ribs are screaming, every movement agony, but he pulls you into his chest anyway, grunting through the pain like he could hold you tight enough to put all your broken pieces back together. "Shh, baby, I got you", he breathes into your hair, voice thick and raw, "I got you. You're safe, you hear me? You're safe. Right here with me. I'm not letting go. I'm not". He winces, but doesn't loosen his grip, even as you shake harder in his arms.

You're sobbing into his neck now, clinging to him like the world is crumbling around you and he's the only thing still standing.

His own eyes fill with tears as he holds you, tries to soothe you, desperate to make it stop with his body burning in pain.

Wayne stares.

He's seen Eddie cry before. As a kid. Maybe once or twice since. But never like this.Never holding someone so tightly, like he's holding on for both of you. Never whispering through grit teeth and pain and heartbreak, trying to piece someone back together with nothing but love and blood-stained promises.

Wayne sees it all. Your panic, Eddie's desperation, and it punches the breath from his lungs. He looks away. Not from discomfort, but from grief.

Then he moves.

He heads for the front door in silence, the old floor creaking beneath his feet. He pauses just long enough to peek through the blinds, scanning the outside.

The trailer park is still.

Billy's trailer is dark.

No sign of movement. No shadows behind the curtains.

No Camaro.

But it's not enough. Not for this.

Wayne walks over to the landline and picks up the receiver with a hand that trembles slightly. He dials fast.

You hear his voice as Eddie gently rocks you, lips brushing your forehead, whispering quiet reassurances through his own shallow breathing.

"Yeah, hey", Wayne says gruffly, "It's Wayne Munson. I need to talk to Hopper".

A pause.

"Tell him it's about Billy Hargrove. About the girl he tried to hurt. She's my kid. My boy's girl. She's here and she's... she's not okay".

Another pause.

Wayne turns, watches you for a beat, how small you are in Eddie's arms, how you shake and sob and try to disappear into his chest like the world outside might eat you whole. He turns back to the phone. "She's terrified he might've walked free. I need to know if he's locked up. I need to know he ain't two trailers down watching my girl fall apart."

Eddie doesn't say anything. He just buries his face in your hair and holds you tighter, lips pressed to your temple, whispering promises he'll never let himself break.

Wayne's voice lowers. "She doesn't feel safe", he murmurs, "And I can't fix that if I don't know the truth".

Another pause.

Then finally, "Yeah... I'll wait".

Wayne stands there, back to you and Eddie, phone pressed tight to his ear. He doesn't move, doesn't speak. Just waits, tense and still, like the line itself might snap with the weight of the silence.

In the bedroom, your sobs have dulled to hiccupped breaths, but you're still trembling, your hands tangled in Eddie's shirt like if you let go, you might dissolve entirely. He holds you like you're made of glass, every breath pained, every word soft and careful.

"I've got you", he whispers again, brushing your hair back with shaking fingers, "You're here. You're here with me. You're safe, my love". His lips press to your temple, then your cheek, then your jaw, lingering like maybe he can kiss away the memory, the fear. It doesn't disappear, but it eases something sharp inside you, grounds you. Just a little.

You tilt toward him, finally able to breathe, even if it's shallow and uneven.

Then, Wayne speaks again.

"Hopper. Yeah. It's me".

A pause.

"No, she's not okay", he says, and the edge in his voice is sharper now, "She's havin' a fucking panic attack, Eddie's holdin' her together, and I need to know one thing right now". His shoulders are rigid, jaw clenched tight. "Is Hargrove still in custody?"

Your heart kicks in your chest, suddenly hammering again. You grip Eddie harder, eyes wide, fixated on Wayne's back like the answer might shatter you all over again.

There's silence.

Then Wayne exhales, long and heavy. "Yeah. Yeah, okay", he says, relief softening his voice just a notch, "Thank Christ". He turns his head, just slightly, toward the hallway, toward you. "He's still in. No bail. Judge refused it. Hopper said he's locked down 'til the trial. Ain't going anywhere."

Your body goes limp in Eddie's arms, a shudder running through you, not fear, but release. A breath finally unclenched from your lungs.

He's not out. He's not outside.

Wayne stays on the line another minute, nodding at something Hopper says, then hangs up. He walks back toward the bedroom and stops in the doorway, watching the way Eddie cradles you like you're the only thing that matters in the world. "He's not getting out", Wayne repeats gently, voice low, "You're safe now. I promise you, sweetheart".

You look up at him through red-rimmed eyes. And for the first time since the panic hit, you manage a small nod.

Wayne's eyes flick to Eddie, his nephew still clutching you through his own pain, silent tears in his eyes, and something in his expression shifts. "I didn't know", he mumbles quietly, "How bad it was. What you both've been carrying".

Eddie doesn't say anything. Just buries his face in your shoulder and holds on tighter.

Wayne clears his throat and steps back.He lingers for a moment longer, then clears his throat and speaks softly, like he's afraid too much volume might tip you back over the edge. "Hopper said he could come by later. Talk to you. Walk you through everything that happens next, what to expect. He said it like... like he really gives a damn. Like you're not just another case to him." His eyes soften as they land on you again. "You should let him. Take advantage of that. He's a good man when it counts."

A beat, then he nods to Eddie and gently shuts the door behind him, leaving you wrapped in the fragile silence of the bedroom.

You're still curled into Eddie, tucked against his chest, his heartbeat thudding softly against your temple. Each second away from the window, away from that dark spiral in your head, lets you breathe a little deeper. You sniffle, eyes glassy, throat raw, but the worst of the storm has passed. For now. You shift slightly, the smallest adjustment, and that's when you how Eddie flinches. His entire body tightens under you. You pull back at once, guilt slicing through your fog like a blade. "Shit, Eds, I... fuck, I'm sorry", you stammer, eyes wide as you scramble off him, "Your ribs, I- I didn't think, I shouldn't have--" You reach out to steady him as he tries to sit up straighter, panting softly, one hand clutched around his side.

"I'm okay", he lies, and it's a terrible one. His voice is strained, like someone took sandpaper to it. His face is pale, damp with sweat. But still, he reaches for you again, stubborn fingers finding your wrist, tugging gently. "Come back".

You try to pull away, "Babe, you need to lie down. You need to rest. You're in pain, I-..."

"No. Don't," he breathes, gripping you tighter, even though it hurts. You hear the pain in his voice, the effort it takes to keep you close, "I don't care. Just... stay. Please."

"But it hurts you".

He shifts, groaning as he lies back against the mattress, pulling you with him, his face contorted with pain but his grip never loosening. "C'mere," he says again, rough but soft.

You hesitate. "Eddie..."

"I said come here. Please". His voice cracks on the last word, not from anger, but desperation. "Let me fucking hold you."

Your protest dies in your throat. Your eyes meet, and you see it now. He's wrecked. More than you realized. More than he wants you to know. Not just the bruises darkening his ribs, the angry cut above his brow, the swelling along his jawline, but the pain in his eyes. The helplessness. The way his hands shake just a little when he touches you. How close he is to crumbling himself.

So you do what he asks you to. Carefully, you move closer, him now lying on his back, one hand braced carefully over his ribs, the other arm curled tightly around you. You fit yourself to his uninjured side, your legs tangled with his beneath the blanket, your face only inches from his as he turns toward you. His forehead brushes yours softly. Face to face, you see the wreckage in him. Not just bruises and cuts, but the storm behind his eyes. The way he looks at you like he's still scared you'll disappear. Like he failed you. Like the weight of your pain is his to carry and it's breaking him, too.

"Feeling... better?" he asks, voice raspy, uncertain.

You nod slowly. "Yeah, a little". Your hand brushes a stray curl from his forehead, your fingers tracing the edge of his bruised jaw, his split lip, the fading scratches on his cheek. "You should rest. You're hurting."

He shakes his head. "Not tired of you yet," he whispers, giving you a faint, broken smile.

You laugh under your breath, then sigh, leaning in to rest your forehead against his.

His hand lifts shakily to brush the last tear from your cheek. "I'm sorry", he murmurs, voice rough and low, "For yelling with Wayne like that. For being so pissed off I didn't even see you... baby, I should've seen you."

You shake your head slowly, eyes still glassy, your voice barely a breath. "No. I'm sorry. For breaking down like that. For losing it just because I thought... just because he might be out. I don't even recognize myself anymore, Eds. This fear he put in me... it's like he still owns part of me. And I hate that".

Eddie's face hardens slightly, not toward you, but toward the thought of him. "He doesn't own you", he rasps, firm now, fierce. "He won't. He's going to get locked up for good, baby. And he is never coming near you again. Not while I'm breathing. I will always protect you. And I will always fight for you".

You sniffle, fingers reaching up to gently brush the bruise blooming across his cheekbone. His eyelids flutter at your touch. "But I don't want you to fight anymore, Eds", you whisper.

Eddie kisses you, slow, warm, aching with all the things he can't say. "I won't have to. He's getting locked up, baby. For years. It's over."

That hits you. You sob again, not in fear this time, but from release. From hope. From love. You bury your face in his neck, your lips brushing over his skin as you cling to him like he's your lifeline.

"Oh, baby," he breathes, cradling the back of your head, kissing your hair, "I'd burn the whole fucking world down to keep you safe."

The tears fall again, but they're different now. His thumb catches each one, wiping them gently. His lips find yours again, this time deeper, slower. It's not desperate, it's full. Of grief, and love, and pain, and all the things you've both survived.

You kiss like you're still piecing each other back together.

You sniffle and pull back a little, fingers reaching up to gently brush the bruise blooming across his cheekbone. His eyelids flutter at your touch. "I just wanna be happy with you. I want peace. I wanna live in our little apartment and play music and cook awful meals and laugh and be scared of dumb movies instead of real people", you mumble softly.

He smiles faintly, eyes wet. "Yeah?"

"Yeah", you nod, soft but certain, your hand still on his face, "Just you and me. And our music. And our dog."

Eddie's lips twitch. "And our dog, huh?"

You smile, small and tired. "Uh-huh. And our kids".

That catches him off guard. His eyes widen just slightly, head pulling back a breath. "Our kids?"

You nod again, your eyes roaming over every cut, every scar, every bruise, and still seeing nothing but the man you love. "Yeah. I wanna build a future with you. A whole life. I want us to have something... something that's just ours. Something no one can break."

He lets out a soft, disbelieving laugh. "You really wanna bring more Munsons into this world?"

"I do". You lean in closer, resting your forehead against his again. "Because the best man I know is a Munson".

Eddie blinks rapidly.

You keep going, voice quiet but firm. "This world needs more people like you, Eds. Kind. Protective. Loving. Real. Talented and honest and brave, even when you don't think you are. If it's even just half your heart... half your goodness... they'll be just as perfect as you".

He exhales shakily, like the air was punched out of him by something beautiful. His hand on your back pulls you just a little closer, bruised ribs be damned, "You want all that with me?"

You press a kiss just below his eye, soft and warm. "There's no one else I'd even survive this with", you mumble, "I just want a life with you, baby. One where we're safe. Where we can laugh and be stupid and sing off key in the kitchen while the dog howls at us. I want to grow old with you. I want to raise our kids with you, watch you teach them how to play guitar and roll their eyes when you won't stop with your dumb band name ideas."

He lets out a shaky laugh. 'I'd name 'em all metal puns. They'll hate me for it."

"Maybe", you whisper, smiling, "But they'll love you more".

He kisses you again, soft and messy, full of everything he can't say, everything he feels. His hand cradles the back of your head, his other still pressed to your back. "I'm yours", he breathes, lips brushing your cheek, your jaw, the corner of your mouth. "Forever, baby. No matter what happens, no matter who comes knocking, I'll always be yours."

You kiss him again, soft and slow at first, lips just barely brushing. He melts into it, sighing into your mouth, and when you start to pull back, he chases after you with a quiet, desperate sound, lips searching for yours again. You chuckle softly, breath catching, and give him what he wants, what you want too.

Another kiss, deeper now.

Your hand moves up to his neck, fingers gently curling at the base of it, then trailing down to his collarbone, his chest, feeling every breath, every flutter beneath your palm. He hums into the kiss, his hand strong and steady on your back, grounding you.

You pull back just a little, eyes fluttering open, your lips still brushing his. "I love you so much, Eddie Munson", you whisper, voice trembling with the weight of it, "So much I can't even find the right words for it."

He groans quietly, and the hand at your back pulls you down until your lips are against his again, firmer this time, needier. His kiss deepens, tender but consuming, like he's trying to show you everything he feels without having to say it. "I love you more, baby", he murmurs between kisses, "Always more."

You sigh into him, the sound soft and full of longing, and shift just slightly, pressing yourself carefully against his side, mindful of the bruises but needing to be closer. You bend over him, hair spilling down like a curtain around your faces, and kiss him again. And again. And again. He's warm beneath you, solid and familiar even through all the pain. His fingers curl into your side like he can't let go, like he won't.

Your hand glides gently over his chest, fingertips tracing the curve of his collarbone, the ridge of a healing bruise, the heartbeat thudding steadily beneath his skin. He winces slightly when you brush too close to one of the deeper cuts, and you pull back with a whisper of an apology.But Eddie just shakes his head, eyes half-lidded and warm. "Don't stop", he murmurs, voice husky and low, like gravel smoothed by water, "I need this. I need you."

That ache in your chest tightens again, not from fear this time, but from love so deep it feels unbearable.

You kiss him again, slower, more tender now, lips grazing his. You let your hand settle on the side of his neck, thumb brushing the hinge of his jaw.

He shivers beneath your touch. "I don't deserve you", he whispers against your lips, words spilling like confession, "I don't know how I got so lucky".

You pull back just far enough to look at him. His eyes are glassy again, wide and vulnerable in a way only you ever get to see. You shake your head slowly, brushing his sweaty curls away from his forehead. "No", you whisper, "I'm the lucky one. You saved me. You always save me".

His breath hitches, and he pulls you tighter against him, careful of his ribs but desperate for closeness, for contact. Your leg curls over his, your fingers splay over his ribs and chest, grounding him like he grounds you. You lean in again, nose brushing his, foreheads nearly touching.

His hand slides slowly beneath your shirt, fingertips barely brushing your skin, sending a soft shiver down your spine. "Kiss me", he whispers again, voice thick with need, the edge of a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "C'mon, baby... let me touch you".

"Eds", you murmur between kisses, your breath catching as his palm flattens against your skin, ''You need to rest. Doctor's orders".

"Doctor's not here", he whispers, voice low and wrecked with longing. His hand slides around to the small of your back, pulling you flush against him with a needy little grunt, "Need you closer".

You try, again, to pull back. Half-heartedly. "You're literally stitched together, Munson."

"And still the luckiest bastard alive", he smirks, kissing your jaw, then your neck. "Come on, baby, kiss me like you mean it."

You chuckle, kissing him softly, feeling his hands wander further up and pulling back again. "Eds... you really need to rest" you murmur, barely able to meet his eyes when he looks at you like that. Half-lidded, heat swirling behind his lashes, mouth swollen and parted from kissing you breathless. "You're supposed to rest, not grope. You'll hurt yourself worse".

He smirks, lazy and boyish, his thumb dragging across your ribs, just under the swell of your breast. "Hurts more not touching you", he murmurs, lips ghosting over your jaw. "You're right here, looking like that, saying shit about kids and forever and singing in the kitchen... how the hell am I supposed to lie still?"

"Dunno, maybe by remembering you have broken ribs and a doctor who will hunt you down if you tear something open", you tease softly, but the protest is already losing strength as his mouth finds your neck, pressing featherlight kisses just below your ear. You melt a little, sighing against him, your resistance thinning like ice under a rising sun.

He groans quietly when your hips accidentally shift against his thigh. "Fuck, baby", he breathes, pulling you closer again, his hand sliding over your back, warm and sure, "Kiss me again".

Your lips find his, this time hungrier, less restrained.

His hand fists in your shirt at the small of your back, pulling you flush against his uninjured side, his body heat wrapping around you like a second skin. He moans low into your mouth, the sound vibrating through you.

Your fingers lace through his curls again, cradling his head. Still, you break the kiss, panting softly, foreheads pressed together, the air thick and buzzing. "You need sleep", you whisper, lips brushing his.

He chuckles, voice low and raspy, "I need you, baby. Always just you".

You chuckle breathlessly as his lips catch yours once more, his hand trailing up your spine, then down again, stopping at your hip, your thigh, squeezing you just enough to make you gasp softly against his lips. "Behave", you whisper, smiling against him.

"I am", he counters, voice rough and dark with heat, ''This is me behaving."

You arch a brow, lips brushing his, eyes hooded but amused, "You're impossible".

"But you love me".

You kiss him again, deeper this time. He sighs into it, tilting his chin up to meet you, hand rising again under your shirt, slow and soft. His fingers brush the edge of your breast, and even though you know you should stop, you melt into him instead, threading your fingers through his hair. You shift gently, straddling the side of his good hip to keep your weight off him. His warm hand cups your boob, and you sigh into his mouth, arching slightly. He curses under his breath, kissing you deeper, needier. "God, you feel like heaven", he mutters, lips dragging across your jaw, your neck, back to your mouth, "Don't wanna stop. Can't stop".

"You have to, baby", you breathe, though you're barely convincing either of you, "Your ribs, remember?"

He groans, frustrated and burning and still so gentle. "I can be careful. Just let me touch you, baby, please, let me feel you". His thumb brushes over your nipple and you gasp, hips twitching slightly against him. He sucks in a breath at the contact, his own body reacting despite the pain. You feel the heat of him, how hard he already is.

Your lips find his again, soft and slow, and you whisper into the kiss, "You're not allowed to break yourself open for me again, Munson."

He chuckles darkly, biting lightly at your bottom lip. "I already did. And I'd do it again. For you? A hundred times."

You melt into him, moaning softly, hands curling into his hair as he presses you down, not hard, just enough to feel you, to hold you.

Your restraint is crumbling.

You try so hard to stay in control, to pull back, to remind him of every reason why this isn't a good idea. The stitches. The bruises. The pain. But it all disappears when he touches you like that.

His hand cups your breast again, thumb dragging over your nipple in a way that makes you gasp and tremble against him.

"You're not making this easy," you whisper, your voice thin, your forehead pressed to his.

He chuckles, low and rough, his hand sliding down to the curve of your waist, pulling you flush against him, "Not trying to. I want you too damn much". His lips graze your jaw, your neck, your collarbone. Each kiss pulls another thread from the fabric of your self-control.

Your fingers fist in the sheet beside his head, trying to ground yourself, but it's no use. You want him, every bit of him, even if it has to be careful and slow. "You're fucking irresistible," you murmur, your lips already on his again, soft and hungry and full of need.

"Yeah? Then take off your shirt," he rasps, his eyes dark. "Wanna see you".

You hesitate for just a second, then give in.

Tugging it up and over your head, you toss it aside, and his reaction is instant.

A sharp breath. A curse under his breath. His gaze drinks you in like he's starving, like he hasn't seen something beautiful in years. "Jesus, baby," he groans, "You're gonna be the death of me some day. You and your perfect tits".

You smirk, leaning down to kiss him again, your bare chest brushing his shirt, your hands exploring him carefully, mindful of his injuries. But he's already lost in the moment, his hand sliding up your back again, tracing your spine, splaying wide across your ribs. When your palm finds the hard length of his dick beneath his sweatpants, he gasps, hips twitching up into your hand.

"Fuck, baby", he pants, "Wanna fuck you so bad".

Your lips press against his again, murmuring, "You're not supposed to move, remember? Bedrest? No sudden movements? No fun fun?"

He groans like it physically hurts to hear it, large hands sliding up your sides to cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing your nipples again. "Then don't make me want you so bad", he grits out.

You chuckle at his frustration, your lips brushing his ear as you whisper. "You were the one telling me to take off my shirt, baby. But... how about I do the work, hm? We could try it very slow, very careful, but only if you promise to tell me if something hurts".

He laughs softly, breath hitching, "I'd never say anything to stop you".

You immediately pull back at that, brows lifting.

He realizes the mistake right away. "No! No, wait, I swear. I'll tell you. I promise, sweetheart".

"You better", you murmur softly, smirking as you lean down again to brush your lips over his. Then you stand, slide out of the boxers you've been wearing, now bare before him. His gaze drinks you in, his pupils blown wide, lips parted in silent awe. "Jesus Christ", he breathes, "I have the hottest girl on earth".

You chuckle softly while crawling back into bed. Eddie's breath hitches, he watches you crawl back over him, eyes locked with his, your skin glowing in the soft light as you straddle his uninjured side, careful but determined.

"Look at you", he murmurs hoarsely. His fingers tremble as they settle on your hips, brushing over your waist, trailing up to your ribs. He looks wrecked in the most beautiful way, bruised and split-lipped and completely undone for you. "You're so damn beautiful".

You smile softly, leaning in to kiss him again, slow and deep. His hands move up, cupping your breasts with a quiet groan. You shift against him, feeling how hard he is, how badly he wants you, and it only makes the tension build more. "Just relax", you whisper against his lips, "I'll be careful. Just let me take care of you."

His head falls back against the pillow, breath shaky, "You're already killin' me, sweetheart".

You chuckle softly and kiss down his neck, across his collarbone, pausing to murmur soft flirts as your fingers slip beneath the waistband of his pants. He lifts his hips just enough to help, wincing slightly, and you pause, but he shakes his head, his hand tightening on your waist. "I'm okay. Just... don't stop."

You nod, easing the fabric down just enough to free him, and he groans, low and wrecked, as you lean over him again, lips brushing his, your touch light but sure. "I've got you", you whisper, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead. "I'll take good care of you, I promise. Don't move".

And with that, you shift your weight, steadying yourself as your hand wraps around us dick, stroking slowly, watching the way his lips part and his eyes flutter closed. His hips twitch once, reflexive, and you soothe him with a kiss to his chest, then another to his lips. He's so hard, so hot in your hand you feel how your own desire grows bigger and bigger between your legs.

"You like that?", you tease, grinning as you move your hand a little faster, circling his swollen tip with your thumb, spreading his precum everywhere on it.

"Love it", he rasps, his hand falling down to the side of your ass to squeeze it.

"Yeah?", you murmur, bending down to kiss his neck, your naked boobs brushing over his shirt as you kiss his skin, before moving back up to his panting lips. "But I wanna taste you, baby, you think you're okay with that, too?"

Eddie's breath hitches the moment your words leave your mouth, his eyes flying open, dark and wide with both surprise and desperate want. "You serious?" he rasps, voice gravelled from arousal, eyes flicking between your face and the way your hand still strokes him, "Baby, yeah, f-uck, yes."

Your grin turns a little wicked as you start shifting lower, carefully pushing up his shirt and kissing down his chest, trailing your fingers lightly down the line of his stomach until you're kneeling between his legs. His hips shift instinctively before he hisses at the stretch of pain it causes, biting down a groan. "Hey", you murmur, soft and teasing, "Behave, or I have to stop".

"You started it", he shoots back, smirking despite the tightness around his eyes, "You climb on top of me, say that kinda stuff, and expect me to just lie still?"

You chuckle as you settle more comfortably between his thighs, hands smoothing along them. Slowly, you trail kisses along the sensitive skin of his inner thigh, your breath brushing against his dick just enough to make him groan again, low and wrecked. He fists the sheets at his sides, trying so hard to stay still.

"Baby", he warns, breath shaky, "if you keep teasing me, I might forget I'm stitched up and flip us both over".

You look up at him through your lashes, placing another kiss on his hipbone, grinning at how his dick twitches right next to you, "Is that a threat or a promise, Munson?"

He groans, "Whatever gets your mouth on me faster."

You grin and kiss your way right over to him, take a moment just to admire the view.

"Don't look at him like that," he pants, a flush creeping up his neck.

You laugh softly, eyes gleaming. "Like what? Like he's my favorite thing in the world?" You wrap your fingers around his dick again, stroking slowly, just enough pressure to make his thighs tense beneath you.

"God, you're evil," he gasps, his hand reaching for you, fingertips brushing your shoulder before dropping back to the mattress.

Finally, you lean in, lips brushing his tip, featherlight.

He groans, deep and broken, "That's it, baby" and tries to lift his hips, instantly winces, and collapses back with a pained chuckle. "Okay. Okay. You're in charge. Just... don't stop."

You tease him a little longer, kissing his tip softly, then trailing your tongue just beneath the sensitive edge. His breath hitches, and you can feel his heartbeat quicken beneath your touch. "Tell me what you want, Eds", you murmur, looking up at him through your lashes, your fingers still wrapped around him, squeezing gently.

His eyes darken, and he swallows hard, his voice strained as he responds, "Want your mouth, baby. Just... fuck, suck it, suck my dick".

You can see the way he fights to keep still, the tension in his body giving away how much he's holding back. It only fuels your desire, and you press another kiss to his tip before taking him deeper into your mouth. He groans raspy, fingers twisting in the sheets, his eyes fluttering shut as you start to suck him. You hollow your cheeks, keeping a steady rhythm, swirling your tongue around him as your head bops in that perfect rhythm. The groans that escape his lips shoot right through you, right between your legs. "God, you feel so good", he breathes, voice a mixture of reverence and desperation, "Just like that, babe, fuck yes".

You can feel your own arousal growing between your legs as his words urge you on, and you gently pull back to tease him again, a soft smile on your lips. "You sure? I don't want to push you too hard", you tease, but Eddie only groans louder, his head thrashing back against the pillow.

"Please, Sam, keep going", he begs, and the fervent look in his eyes makes you swoon.

So you do.

You grin, lean back in, picking up your pace just a little, each movement careful, but just enough to drive him wild. You're moaning softly, sucking him harder, your tongue circling his tip, your hand moving up and down his shaft, spreading your saliva everywhere on his length. His breaths become ragged, the world around you fading away as you focus solely on the way he feels beneath your tongue, the way he tastes, how perfectly he fits in your mouth.

"Fucking hell", he mutters, his hand now on his forehead, pressing on his closed eyes as he groans again, his dick twitching on your tongue.

You smirk around him, humming softly, letting your tongue vibrate against his veiny bottom, your hand moving down to play with his balls, causing him to inhale sharply and stare back down at you. You wiggle your brows, taking his dick deeper into your throat, making him lose his mind right there. He reaches for you, gasping, groaning lowly, touching your arm. "O-okay, better slow down", he rasps, "Fuck, you're gonna make me cum like that, sh-shit, babe".

You chuckle, not stopping, sucking him harder again, moaning around his dick, eyes locked on his.

He hisses sharply. "Please, baby, I- I... not like this", he grunts, "Wanna cum inside you".

You slow down, slowly letting him pop out of your mouth, licking your lips and grinning. "Oh, that's what you want, mh?", you ask, lightly out of breath, placing another teasing kiss on his tip, smirking at how his dick twitches immediately in return.

"Take a seat", he grins, still panting lightly.

Your eyes flick to his side, his bruised skin. You hesitate. "I don't wanna hurt you.''

Eddie blinks. "What?" Then, he seems to realize you're actually considering not to. "No, no no no, babe", he shakes his head, dark eyes glancing up at you, almost pleading, "you're not hurting me. Come here".

You sigh, letting his hands reach for you and guide you in his lap. You carefully straddle his thighs, watching his expression, but all you can see it pure hunger and desire for you.

His eyes rake over your body, his warm hands settling on your hips. "I'm fine", he whispers, "I'm amazing, actually".

You lean down to his face, catching his lips for a kiss, feeling his hand sliding up and down your spine, before reaching for your ass.

"I want you so bad", he rasps, "Wanna feel you, baby. Need to feel you".

"Yeah?", you whisper, letting your lips brush over his as you speak, "How bad exactly, mh?"

He chuckles, moves his hips just slightly to press his rock-hard dick right at your stomach. "You tell me", he murmurs back, his grinning lips catching yours again as he's kissing you deep, keeping one hand on your ass, the other one grabbing your boob, softly rolling your nipple and groaning at the soft moan he immediately lures from you.

You can't wait any longer. Your lips leave his as you sit back up, carefully moving right over his lap, your hand wrapping around his dick as you move right over it. Your breath hitches as you finally begin to sink down on him, inch by slow inch, your body stretching around him in a way that makes your thighs tremble. He's thick and hot and already pulsing inside you, you're feeling every inch of him sliding deeper until you're fully seated, thighs flush against his. The stretch burns in the best way, and you can feel the way he twitches inside you, every breath of his staggered and strained.

"Jesus", he groans, his voice hoarse, reverent, like he's trying not to lose his mind, "You're so tight, baby. You feel unreal."

You glance down at him, and your heart twists a little. His brow's furrowed, his lips parted, his hands gripping your waist like you're the only thing anchoring him. Still, you hesitate, mindful of the bruises shadowing his ribs. "You sure?", you whisper, barely moving, "I can stop-"

"No", he cuts you off with a gasp, voice wrecked and urgent, "Don't stop. Please, I need this".

"Okay", you breathe, starting to grind your hips gently in a slow circle, just to test, just to feel the friction, and he gasps, head tipping back, throat exposed and flushed.

"God yes" He's panting now, sweat already gathering at his temples, his hips twitching beneath you like his body wants to move but can't. "You're... fuck, baby, you're driving me insane."

You rock forward again, slow but firmer this time, and the drag of him inside you makes your toes curl. Your hands slide up his chest, fingers brushing over his nipples, and you can feel how hard he twitches in response, the vein along the side of his cock throbbing against your walls. You start to find a rhythm. He watches, eyes flicking between your face and the place where your bodies meet, his cock vanishing into you over and over again. You smirk at him, lowering your lips to his to kiss him passionately, letting his hands roam your body as you move, swallowing his groans, letting your own pleasured sounds vibrate against his mouth 

"Fuck", you whisper, rolling your hips again, and moaning softly at the feeling of him deep inside you, "You feel so good, fucking love your dick, baby".

He grins breathlessly, "Yeah?"

You moan again, biting his bottom lip while grinding a little harder, luring a shuddered breath from him. Slowly, you sit back up, careful of his injuries, throwing your hair back as your hips roll in your delicate rhythm

"You look so fucking good like this", he murmurs, his hands wandering up your body again, cupping your breasts, rolling your hard nipples. Your breath shudders, and you reach back to steady yourself, planting one hand on his thigh. He groans at the change of angle, his chest lifting with a shallow breath. "Such a good girl", he whispers, and that alone makes your thighs clench. "So sweet. So careful with me, but fuck, baby, you don't have to be gentle. I want you to fuck me".

You whimper at his words, your rhythm stuttering, need surging inside you. He sees it in your eyes, hears it in your breath, and his hand slips between your legs, his thumb finding your clit, circling slow and steady. You gasp, eyes wide, "Oh, my god-"

"Shh", he soothes, rubbing small, perfect circles over your swollen clit, "I got you. I've got you, baby. You feel that?"

You nod frantically, hips bucking slightly into his touch.

"Let me take care of you too, wanna see you fall apart".

You ride him faster now, driven by his touch, by the way he's staring at you like you're a miracle. His fingers never leave you, coaxing every sound from your lips. And when a particularly deep roll of your hips makes him groan, you freeze again, breath catching. "Are you okay?"

He laughs breathlessly, "I'm fine, you're fucking making me lose my mind, that's all". He presses his thumb a little harder, rolling tight circles as your hips rock down again, and your mouth drops open on a moan. "That's it", he whispers, "ride me just like that. So fucking perfect."

"Fuck, Eds", you gasp, trembling now, the pleasure building hard and fast, your hand clenching on his thigh as you grind down onto him with more force, more desperation. The sounds filling the room, wet, breathless, broken, are almost too much, and still not enough. He keeps whispering praises, keeps watching your every move, completely at your mercy now. You watch him crumble, feel how close he already is, his hand holding on to your waist, the other one still between your legs, dark eyes fluttering shut at the satisfaction of your hips. "Look at you", you grin, breathless as you move your hips again, your slick heat gliding over him, "All flushed and desperate. You love this, don't you, baby?"

He can't even speak now, just moans, eyes squeezed shut, jaw clenched like he's fighting to hold himself together. His hand slides up your back, trembling slightly, then down to grip your ass, guiding your pace even as he stays pinned to the mattress. "Harder", he manages, voice ragged, "Come on, fucking give it to me".

You obey, starting to move faster, bouncing on his dick now, each downward grind sending sparks through your core, mixing with the feeling of his thumb rubbing your clit.

The sound of skin meeting skin fills the room, slick and hot and obscene. Your breasts bounce with each thrust, his eyes flickering open to watch the way you move on top of him, completely lost in it, flushed and glowing. "Oh my- fuck, I'm cumming", you whimper, leaning your head back, gasping and biting down a loud moan as the tingly heat inside you builds, making your legs tremble against his thighs.

Your orgasm crashes over you in waves, sudden and overwhelming, ripping a strangled cry from your throat as your body tenses around him. You clutch at his chest, grounding yourself in the feel of him as your walls flutter and clench, milking every inch of him inside you, another row of breathless moans leaving your throat.

His thumb doesn't stop, dragging out your release until you're trembling, hips jerking helplessly as you ride it out on top of him."Fuck, that's it", Eddie breathes, eyes locked on you, completely undone, "Such a good girl, oh fuck, baby you're so fucking tight, holy shit".

Still gasping, you roll your hips, slower now but deep, grinding down on him with the last of your strength. He's right there, right at the edge, hands gripping your hips tightly now. "Don't fucking stop", he pants, reaching for your ass to guide your moves.

"You gonna cum for me, baby?", you pant shakily, grinning down at him and moving faster, "Gonna fill me up?"

He's groaning nonstop now, half-muttered curses, your name over and over like a prayer. His hands squeezes your ass, guiding you faster, and you can feel him starting to pump deep inside you. "God, baby-- gonna cum, fuck, don't stop", he chokes out, his hips bucking up just slightly, barely restrained, "You feel too good, I can't..."

You lean forward again, crashing your mouth to his in a kiss that's all teeth and desperation, moaning into his lips as your pace stutters, your walls clenching down hard around him, still vibrating from your own orgasm. The sensation tips him right over the edge, he grabs your hips hard, holding you down on him as he cums, deep and pulsing inside you with a guttural moan that shakes you to your core. You feel him twitch inside you, hot and thick, then the flood of warmth as he releases deep inside you. His whole body shudders, a broken moan escaping his lips as he spills into you, fingers bruising your hips as he rides it out.

"Dear Lord", he rasps a laugh, catching his breath. You stay there, catching your breath too, your body still buzzing with aftershocks as he softens inside you. One of his hands moves up your back, soothing circles over your spine as the other slips from your hip to lace your fingers with his.You look down at him, and he's already watching you, completely wrecked and totally in love.

"You okay?" you murmur, brushing damp curls off his forehead.

Eddie chuckles softly, lifting your joined hands to kiss the back of yours. "Never been better".

You roll your eyes, shifting gently and bracing a hand on his chest as you carefully lift yourself off of him, biting your lip at the lingering sensitivity. He hisses softly, more from the loss of you than pain, and your brows pull together with concern as you ease down beside him. "Eds", you murmur, your fingers brushing tenderly along his ribs, his stomach, checking for any sign that you've pushed him too far, "Are you sure you're okay? I didn't hurt you?"

Eddie blinks up at the ceiling for a beat, completely boneless, a dazed smile pulling at his lips. "Hurt me?" He lets out a low, breathless laugh, the kind that starts in his chest and rolls up his throat like he's never heard anything so ridiculous. "Sweetheart, that was incredible".

You watch him carefully, still not convinced, "Still, you're bruised to hell, Eddie".

"Yeah", he grins, eyes finding yours as he turns his head, "but I'm also inside you half a day after being told I might be out of commission for a week. I'd call that a fucking miracle".

You can't help but laugh, rolling your eyes at his shameless smirk.

He looks like a mess, sweaty curls plastered to his forehead, lips swollen from your kisses, and a faint flush lingering across his chest, but he's beaming, practically glowing. "Honestly", he continues, voice softer now as he tucks a hand behind his head, "it's working out perfectly fine with you doing all the work. Might make a case for full-time."

You give him a mock glare, swatting lightly at his arm as you settle into the bed beside him. "Uh huh. Let's see how long you last letting me call all the shots."

He winks. "Long enough to ask if I can have you take a seat on my face next".

You snort, burying your face into the uninjured side of his chest, your laughter muffled against his skin. "God, you're such a menace." But your voice softens quickly as you press a lingering kiss over his heart, your arm slipping around his waist.

He hums contentedly, pulling you in close, his palm gliding up your bare back to hold you there.

You trail slow, lazy kisses up to his jaw, then to his lips, soft and full. You sigh, warm and content. "You're really okay? Need anything?"

He nods, turning to kiss your forehead, then your temple. "I'm perfect. Think your magic pussy just healed me".

"Oh, my god", you snort, shakkinuyoie head, "You're awful".

He chuckles softly, reaches down, carefully tugging his joggers and boxers up from where they've pooled around his thighs. "Jesus", he mutters, breath hitching as he winces, "I look like a damn sex offender just lying here with my junk out".

You snort, trying to hold in a laugh.

He smirks at your sound, but the second he tries lifting his hips to get everything back in place, his face tightens, jaw clenched as a wave of pain shoots through him. "Okay. Yep. That's... definitely a reminder that I'm a fragile little Victorian maiden right now."

You reach out instinctively, steadying him. "Don't move, idiot", you scold gently, pushing the fabric up for him with way more care than he's using, "What did the doctor say? No lifting, no bending, no banging, remember?"

He hisses through his teeth, grimacing as he slouches back against the pillows. "Well, technically, I didn't do any of the banging. That was all you, sweetheart".

You give him a look. "That's not the defense you think it is".

He smiles, cocky but winded, "Felt like a damn Greek god. Until just now. Now I feel like a very old, very broken lawn chair."

You frown, brushing damp curls off his forehead. His skin's warm. Maybe from sex, maybe not. "You good? Feeling some kind of weird, dizzy, nauseous?"

"Only weird thing is the fact that my legs are jelly and I saw my life flash before my eyes when you took your top off" he smiles, but it's softer now, less bravado, "I'm okay, baby. Just... definitely gonna feel it tomorrow."

You exhale, tugging his shirt gently down over the bruises blooming across his ribs. "This was dumb", you murmur, "I shouldn't have let you talk me into it".

"Excuse me", he gasps dramatically, placing a hand over his heart, "Let me? I recall zero talking. Just a very determined woman who climbed on top of me like a sexy assassin".

You glare at him, "Zero talking, mh? Anyway, it's not happening again."

That gets his attention.

"What?", he asks, his eyes dropping down to your still bare tits for just a second before going back up to your face.

You shift away to sit at the edge of his bed, grab your underwear, stepping into them. "No more sex. For at least a few days. Maybe a week".

He gasps again, like you've just told him his guitar caught fire, "A week? Babe. I'm dying. I might not have a week".

You give him a deadpan look, "You'll survive, my love".

"Will I?" he croaks, eyes wide, lip jutting out in the most ridiculous pout. "You're gonna put me in a sexless coma, that's what's gonna happen".

You pull on one of his shirts, which only makes him more dramatic.

His eyes trail up your bare legs, then your thighs, and he makes an actual whimpering sound. "Don't put on clothes", he begs, "That's so cruel. Look at you. You're a vision. A goddess. An angel sent from the sluttiest part of heaven, and you're just gonna put cotton over that masterpiece?"

You snort, flopping down beside him. "You are the most dramatic person alive."

He groans, flopping his head to the side. "And now you're clothed. I'm in pain. This is hell. This is what hell is."

You grin, resting your chin on his chest, looking up at him with amused affection. "You're impossible".

"I'm needy, sweetheart", he sighs, utterly tragic, "And I'm injured. I should be coddled. Held. Tended to. Perhaps even ridden gently."

You burst into laughter, smacking his arm lightly, "Oh my god, you menace".

He grins through the ache. "Tell you what, I'll trade you ten minutes of riding for one less day of whining. Deal?"

"You're going to whine anyway, Edward".

"Exactly. Might as well make it worth your while".

You shake your head, biting back a smile as you kiss the tip of his nose, "You're ridiculous."

"But you love it", he murmurs, eyes soft as he tugs you gently back into his arms, already trying to angle you back over him.

"Not a chance, Munson", you whisper against his lips.

"Tomorrow then?" he offers hopefully, "Or later?"

You groan annoyedly, "Stop it, you menace. You need to rest, okay? To heal, sleep, let me take care of you, baby".

"You didn't say no", he smirks, shifting onto his side, trying to get comfortable. You wince as he lets out a sharp hiss, muscles locking up instantly. "Nope-- nope, that was stupid", he mutters, falling back flat onto his back, exasperated, "Damn it".

You reach over, brushing his hair back gently. "My poor baby, just try to lie still, okay?" you murmur, voice light with affection.

"But I hate this", he grumbles, brows scrunched, "I hate just lying here. I feel useless".

"You're not", you say softly, shifting closer, "You're hurt, Eds. You need to rest, that's all. Give it a few days, and you'll be good as new". Slowly, you curl into his side gently, mindful of the bruises, and he turns his head just enough to find your face.

"Come here", he murmurs, lifting an arm, his good one, so you can tuck yourself in against him. Your legs tangle easily with his as you settle your head against his shoulder, and his lips find your hair.

For a few minutes, it's quiet. Just soft, breathy exhales, the sound of your fingers lightly tracing the curve of his jaw, his throat, then back up into his curls. "God, I love you", he mutters, voice scratchy, hoarse from groaning and laughing and everything in between.

You lift your chin to press a kiss to his collarbone, "Love you too. So much".

He hums, almost a purr, "Don't go anywhere. Stay here with me."

"I'm not going anywhere", you whisper, brushing a few curls from his damp forehead, "But you need to rest, baby".

Eddie groans like that's the worst suggestion in the world. "No. I don't wanna. I wanna stay up with you, hold you. Talk. Kiss. I dunno. I just... don't want to close my eyes yet."

You smile softly, stroking his face again, your fingers so light they're barely there.

His lips twitch in the faintest grin, then he narrows one eye at you. "Hey", he mutters, "You doing that face-soothing thing? Again? Like I'm a toddler? You trying to lull me into sleep with witchcraft or something?"

You bite back a giggle, kiss his cheek, "You are so dramatic".

"I'm serious", he slurs, his words already thick, slowed by the cocktail of pain meds, exhaustion, and post-orgasm warmth, "You can't just... stroke my face like that to make me fall asleep. I'm a grown man".

"You're a very tired grown man", you whisper, brushing your knuckles under his eye, watching it flutter shut and reopen a second later.

"No, no. It's not gonna work", he mumbles, already losing the fight, "You think you're so smooth. Just 'cause you have magic fingers and a sweet voice and..." he yawns halfway through the sentence, "...all that".

You smile, kiss the tip of his nose, then whisper, "Sleep, Eds. I'll be right here. You're safe. I love you."

There's a low sigh from his chest. "Love you more", he barely gets out, his voice barely audible before sleep eventually pulls him under.

You stay a moment longer, watching him, your heart full and aching. Then, carefully, you slip out of bed, pulling on some shorts and sneaking into the hallway, silently opening and closing the bedroom door and stepping into the bathroom next door. You sit down to pee, hissing at the light, familiar burn you always feel after sex, standing back up and flushing before turning to the sink. "Damn", you whisper when seeing your reflection, pulling a disgusted face at how you look. Your eyes are red-rimmed and swollen from crying earlier, from the pressure behind your panic attack. Your face is pale, your cheeks still a little flushed from the sex, lips swollen from Eddie's kisses and the scratch of his stubble.

It's obvious you hadn't had any sleep last night and are only running on the short nap Eddie and you had after finally coming home from the hospital. You're tired, exhausted, drained, but still, you didn't wanna stay in bed with him. You sigh, wash your hands and splash some water into your face, hoping it'll work wonders and you suddenly look less dead.

When lowering your hands again, you freeze, staring at the red rims around your wrists.

It hits you like a freight train again, the memories of your arrest last night, how roughly the cops turned your hands on your back, how you screamed in pain, screaming for Eddie, pained and scared. How he had no other chance but watch you being pulled away, on his knees, his hands cuffed on his back, too, shouting your name. You hear his voice in your head again.

Don't fucking touch her! Sam!

Feel the cold steel on your hands, your tears in your eyes again, the pure panic in your chest.

Your shaking fingers carefully touch the hurt skin, you let out a shaky breath and suddenly pull your gaze away, forcing yourself to not spiral again.

I'm safe.

"Fucking hell", you whisper, shaking your head and leaving the bathroom again, seeking some sugar and caffeine. And a cigarette. Or seven.

You step into the living room space, already smelling Wayne's smoke before even seeing him sitting at the kitchen table. He's reading the newspaper, the radio softly playing in the background, a cup of coffee fuming in front of him, a cigarette burning between his calloused fingers. He hears your steps, lifts his head and looks at you. His eyes immediately soften at his sight.

You, looking all small in Eddie's way too big shirt, your naked legs, the bruised knees from when you hit the gravel last night, your marked wrists, your palms cut from the gravel too. And your face, all tired and pale, hair slightly messy, eyes small and so dark it looks like you've seen the whole horror this world holds.

"You okay?", he asks, his voice raspy from all the cigarettes he must've smoked already, at least according to the overflowing ashtray next to him.

You nod, fake a small smile and head for the fridge. "Yeah".

"How's our patient?"

You gran a cold coke and turn back to him, opening it with a fizzing sound. "Dead asleep, hopefully for a few hours now".

Wayne nods, takes a sip of coffee, mumbling, "Good. He needs the rest" before nodding at the empty chair across from him. "Come, sit with me for a second, kid".

You slowly move over, your naked feet padding over the linoleum floors, the chair scraping lightly as you take a seat with him.

Without a word, he pushes his pack of cigarettes over, along with his lighter. You take one, light it and take a deep puff, leaning back and looking at Eddie's uncle. He looks just as tired as you feel, "You know I didn't mean anything I said about you, right? About you being just a girl? I didn't mean any of that, kid, and I want you to know that. Love you like you're my own. You're family".

"All good, Wayne", you mumble, giving him another small smile.

"Okay", he sighs, taking the last drag of his cigarette before stumping it out, "But I'm really sorry, I just want you to know that. Didn't mean a word. Was just... pissed. Scared. Overwhelmed, maybe. Seeing him all bruised and stitched up again, that just... killed me".

"I know", you sigh, inhaling some more smoke, "I'm so sorry he keeps getting hurt for me. I never wanted any of this, Wayne, I-"

"It's not your fault, Sam", he cuts you off, "Never think that. It's always been this Hargrove bastard. And now he's getting locked up for a long time". You wince at the mention of Billy's name, taking a sip of your coke and looking down on your burning cigarette. "He won't come close to you ever again, kiddo. Hey, you hear me? You're safe now. I'm sorry this happened to you, to both of you. I had no idea it was that bad. No fucking idea. Breaks my heart to know how long you've been dealing with this shit all by yourself".

You sniffle lightly, not looking at him, your eyes burning again. "I'm sorry", you whisper.

A big hand slowly moves into your vision, gently grabbing your hand. "There's nothing to be sorry for, okay? Nothing. None of this is your fault".

You inhale shakily, blinking against your tears and finally looking back at Wayne, whose hand gently pats yours to comfort you. "But Eddie's hurt again because of me", you whisper.

"Yeah, maybe. Maybe he's hurt because he fought for you again, kid. But because of you, my boy's the happiest I've ever seen him, too".

You stump out the butt of your cigarette and lean back in your chair, his hand leaving yours again, dark eyes flickering down to handcuff marks on your wrist.

"Speaking of Hargrove", he continues, checking his watch and reaching for another cigarette to light, "Hopper will be here any minute now, said he'd stop by around 5. You ready to talk to him again?"

You gulp, nod. "I think so, yeah".

"He doesn't want you any harm, kid, this talk is only to update you, to answer all your questions, so you feel safe and prepared for what's yet to come, okay?"

"Okay", you breathe, still feeling nervous, but nodding your head anyways.

"I'll be right with you. You won't have to sit here with him all alone. We let our boy rest, and I'm gonna be the Munson at your side for this, you okay with that?"

"Yeah", you sigh, nervously playing with your bracelet, "Thanks, Wayne".

The knock on the trailer door is soft, careful. Wayne immediately stiffens, stubbing out his cigarette with a hard twist of his fingers. You glance at him, then at the door, nerves suddenly sparking in your chest again. "Must be Hopper", Wayne mutters, standing, "I'll get it".

You stay seated, curled into Eddie's shirt, holding your now half-warm coke in both hands as the door creaks open.

The sheriff steps in, broad frame casting a long shadow across the small kitchen, his expression tight, weathered, but his eyes gentle the second they land on you.

Wayne waves him in silently, walking around the table to take his place beside you. His hand squeezes your shoulder once as Hopper sits across from you both.

"Samantha, you okay?" Hopper asks, gaze steady, quiet.

Wayne barks a laugh, dry, sharp. "You serious right now? You blind?"

Hopper raises a brow. "You see her wrists?", Wayne goes on, anger bubbling fast beneath the surface, "The bruises your boys left when they cuffed her like a damn criminal? After what that Hargrove bastard did to her?"

You look down on instinct. The red rings are still visible. You fold your hands tighter.

'She spent hours at that station", Wayne growls, "Alone. Scared. Thinking she was the one in trouble. You know where they were right after that? The hospital. 'Cause Eddie passed out from exhaustion and a damn concussion Billy gave him. Broken ribs. Bruises all over. You know what happened when she finally got home? I said Billy might make bail and this poor girl had a panic attack so bad, she couldn't breathe. It broke her. So tell me, Hopper, you think she's okay?" Wayne slams his hand on the table, not hard, just firm. Final.

Hopper sits back, eyes narrowed, jaw tight, but when he speaks, it's not defensiveness. It's regret. "I'm sorry", he replies quietly, "I'm so sorry. For all of it. None of this should've happened to you. You should've been protected the minute you came forward."

You meet his eyes for a second. And just briefly, you see it. That heavy, aching guilt. Someone told you once his daughter died young. She'd be your age now. Maybe that's why this means something to him. Maybe that's why he looks at you the way he does now, like he's carrying a thousand-pound weight.

He clears his throat. "Billy's still in custody", he says, "Held without bail, due to the severity of the allegations and because the judge agrees he's a danger to you. There's no reason to be afraid. Not now".

Wayne exhales beside you. You feel some of the tension leave his shoulders.

"Formal charges were filed this morning", Hopper continues, "Attempted rape. Sexual battery. Criminal intimidation".

You wince at the words, flashbacks of last night popping up in your mind again. Rape.

Wayne nods grimly, "Good".

"They've reviewed the tape. It's strong", Hopper says, now glancing at you, "The DA says it's one of the clearest examples of intent and lack of consent they've ever had. His words. They're moving forward."

You stay quiet, but you nod slowly.

Wayne speaks for you again, "So what now?"

"There'll be a preliminary hearing", Hopper explains, "A judge will listen to the tape and decide if there's enough to move to trial''.

Wayne grunts, "There is. We all know there is".

"Yeah, I agree", Hopper nods, "But we have to go through the steps".

Wayne leans forward. "What about this bastard's defense? What's he gonna say?"

"He'll probably claim it was taken out of context. Or consensual", Hopper says bluntly, "But that tape? The distress in her voice? Her saying no, him ignoring it... her crying, his words... It's powerful. And her story's been consistent since the beginning. Timeline backs it up. He's not walking away from this easy".

You finally speak, voice small, "What's the worst he could get?"

"If the judge lets the Class A charge stand, attempted rape with aggravating circumstances, he's looking at 20 to 50 years", Hopper answers, "At minimum, with a Class B, six to twenty. And with the other charges stacked--"

"He's gone for good", Wayne finishes for him, eyes cold.

Hopper nods.

You exhale loudly.

"But", he adds, "he might try to cut a plea deal. Admit guilt in exchange for less time."

"No deal", Wayne states immediately, "No fucking deal".

"He can offer", Hopper says carefully, "but it'll be your choice whether to accept it. Or push for trial."

You don't say anything. Not yet.

"He'll probably try to smear her, too", Hopper warns quietly, "Character attacks. That's how these cases usually go. Especially in a town like this. You gotta be ready for him or his family trying to destroy your reputation before this all starts, so no one believes you".

Wayne's hand finds yours again under the table, rough but warm. "She's not alone", he says, "Not anymore".

Hopper looks at you, quieter now. "Whatever you choose, I'll back you up. We'll keep him away from you. You're safe now. I promise".

For the first time since last night, you believe it might be true. "Thanks", you whisper.

'Thank you", Hopper answers, "For speaking up. It takes guts. Especially providing this kind of evidence with it. You're very brave".

There's a shuffle behind you, soft at first, but enough to make Wayne's head lift and your spine straighten. Bare feet against the trailer carpet. A door creaking open. Then a familiar, sleepy rasp. "Sam?"

Wayne's mouth twitches, somewhere between a sigh and a smirk.

You freeze, half-turning in your chair.

"Babe?" Eddie's voice is scratchy, groggy and annoyed, like being conscious was not in his plan, "Where the hell'd you go?"

You rise to your feet as he stumbles into view from the hallway, hair wild and damp, half-matted to his forehead, eyes squinted, shirtless, his joggers hanging low on his hips, angry bruises on his pale skin. His eyes are squinting against the light, slow and heavy with sleep, but already narrowing when he sees the three of you sitting around the kitchen table. His voice is groggy, hoarse, low, "The fuck's goin' on?"

You're on your feet in an instant, heart tugging at the sight of him leaning against the wall, clearly trying to steady himself.

His brows are furrowed, eyes scanning your face before flicking to Wayne, then Hopper. He doesn't ask them anything. Only looks at you.

You hurry over, hands outstretched, brushing across the sharp heat of his chest, fingertips feathering along his ribs without pressure, "Go back to bed, I-"

"You said you'd stay", he murmurs, cutting you off as he cups the back of your neck and pulls you in. His lips find your temple in a kiss that lingers, warm, steady, "You okay?"

"I'm okay", you whisper, pressing your forehead to his bare chest, breathing him in. He smells like sleep and skin and the faintest scent of shower gel.

He nods once. Not convinced, but not pressing. Still, his body is between you and Hopper now. "I hate waking up without you", he mumbles into your hair, arms slowly circling around you, "Hate it. Need you with me".

Wayne and Hopper exchange a glance, one part amused, the other cautious, but they stay quiet.

Eddie grunts as he leans his weight more heavily into you, one hand wide and warm against your back, the other smoothing over your neck, pulling you closer. "Why didn't you wake me?", he grumbles again, "What's going on?"

"Nothing bad", you murmur, "Hopper's just updating us. That's all."

Eddie pulls back just enough to narrow his eyes at the chief, "And no one thought maybe I should be updated too?"

Wayne lets out a slow sigh. Hopper lifts a brow but doesn't flinch. He knew this was coming.

You help guide Eddie to the table, one arm slung carefully around his waist.

He groans in protest when sitting, his face twisting in pain, hand instinctively clutching at his side. But he doesn't complain. Doesn't lie back down. Doesn't move away from you.Instead, he tugs your chair closer, so close your knees bump under the table, one of his hands still loosely curled around your wrist as he glares across the table at Hopper, all bare chest, bruises, and defiance.

The air thickens.

They never liked each other, not really. The chief of police and the troublemaker son of a working-class uncle.

And after last night, when Hopper didn't believe a damn word Eddie said, interrogated him like he was the monster, it's a miracle Eddie doesn't rip into him now. If it wasn't for the tape, the one that clearly showed who the monster really was, Eddie might still be behind bars.

"Let's hear it again", your boyfriend begins, "What's happening with Billy?"

Hopper exhales through his nose, jaw tightening a bit. "He's still in custody. No bail. The charges are serious, and the audio sealed it. It's enough to move forward - attempted rape, sexual battery, intimidation, and a few others. He won't be walking out".

Eddie nods once, but Hopper's not done.

"Still might be a trial", he continues, "His lawyer may fight back, claim the tape was out of context, make it messy. You know how this shit goes."

Eddie stiffens, jaw clenched tight, chest rising sharply. "So what, there is still a chance he walks?" His voice is low and sharp, laced with disbelief. He looks like he might launch across the table, pain or not. "You fucking kidding me?"

Wayne puts a grounding hand on his shoulder, but Eddie shrugs it off lightly, his eyes never leaving Hopper.

"He touched her. He hurt her. She said no. You fucking heard it. Everyone heard it. He fucking forced her--" His voice cracks a little, eyes flicking to you for a second. "And you're telling me this still isn't over?"

"He's not walking", Hopper says, a bit more firmly, "Not if I have anything to say about it. The evidence is too strong, the case too solid. He's not going anywhere."

Eddie lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "Yeah, well, that didn't stop you from not believing me, did it?'' His tone is edged with something raw, personal, "You had me cuffed in a fucking chair while she sat god-knows-where, terrified out of her mind. You thought I was just some dealer punk trying to cover my ass."

"I was wrong", Hopper says after a beat, his voice quieter, "About a lot. I'm sorry for that."

Eddie scoffs, looks away, then back at you. "You should've never had to go through that alone". He touches your wrist gently, eyes flicking to the faint marks still there. His thumb brushes across one, and something in his face just breaks, "You should've never been anywhere near cuffs".

You reach for his hand, threading your fingers through his. "I'm okay, Eds. We're okay".

But you both know it's not that simple. It's just something you say to keep from falling apart.

Eddie squeezes your hand tightly, eyes still on Hopper, listening.

The second Hopper starts to talk about possible complications, you feel Eddie tense beside you like a coil ready to spring. His hand tightens around yours. "No", he cuts in, voice hard now, dark, "No one's getting near her again. I don't give a fuck what lawyer he hires. I don't care what kind of trial it is. You hear me? He so much as thinks about her again-"

"Eddie", you whisper, gently placing your other hand on his knee, grounding him, "It's okay. He's in custody. He can't touch me. He won't."

But Eddie's still locked on Hopper, jaw tight, muscles straining through the bruises on his chest. He's in pain, but he doesn't care. Doesn't back down.

Wayne, seeing the shift in his nephew, steps in. "Son, breathe. She's safe. I know you're angry. We all are. But right now, Hopper's trying to help."

Eddie scoffs but doesn't argue. Just pulls you closer into his side, keeping one arm hooked behind your back, hand resting on your waist. You lean into him, exhaustion finally catching up with you again. Your head rests against his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut as his arm curls tighter.

Wayne and Hopper both see it, how closely he holds you, how he shields you with his whole body, like even in his weakened state, he'd tear the world apart to keep you safe.

Hopper leans back a bit in the chair, watching the two of you for a second longer, then reaches into his jacket pocket. He pulls out a card and slides it across the table toward you. It lands just in front of Eddie's bruised forearm, but you're the one who reaches for it. "My direct line", he says quietly, "If you need anything - questions, concerns, you remember something new, or hell, you just need to talk, call me. Doesn't matter what time."

You nod, fingers curling tightly around the card, your knuckles pale. It somehow feels heavier than it should.

He stands slowly, hands on his hips. "I'll call you the second we know anything new. And if for any reason, and I mean any, there's a change in Billy's custody status, you'll be the first to know. Whether it's a court decision, a transfer, anything that could even remotely affect your safety."

Eddie's head snaps up at that, eyes sharp again, "He's not getting out. You said that".

"He's not", Hopper answers with quiet certainty, "But if he even tries, if there's any chance the court shifts something, we're locking this place down. No surprises. Not again."

Eddie doesn't relax, not fully, but he nods once, the fire behind his eyes simmering instead of raging.

Wayne gives a slow exhale, nodding at Hopper with a kind of reserved gratitude. "Appreciate that, Jim."

Hopper's eyes land on you one last time before he heads for the door. "Take care of yourself, kid. You're not alone in this. None of it."

Then he's gone, door clicking shut behind him.

Eddie stays silent, arms still wrapped tightly around you, his thumb now tracing small, slow circles into your side, grounding himself as much as grounding you. The business part of the conversation is over, but the emotional weight of it is still heavy in the air. The future uncertain. The path ahead rough and lined with memories you haven't even begun to process.

The quiet lingers for a long moment, the weight of everything Hopper said hanging in the space. Then Wayne speaks, voice calm but firm. "You might need a lawyer", he rasps, "Not because you did anything wrong. But because... well, these kinds of things, they can get messy. His defense team, if they're smart, and if they're ruthless, they'll try to twist it, maybe flip it back on you."

You stiffen slightly in Eddie's arms. "But... I don't have the money for a lawyer. I don't even know where to start."

Eddie's arms tighten around you instantly, protectively. "We'll figure it out", he mumbles, "You're not going through this alone."

Wayne leans forward, resting his arms on the table. "You didn't do anything wrong. You said no. You were clear. And it's all on tape. That audio..." He shakes his head, voice filled with quiet fire. "That's your truth. They can try all they want, but they can't twist that. Not when the world hears what he did".

"But what if he tries to plead out?" you ask softly, a tremor in your voice, "What if they offer him a deal?"

"We don't take it", Wayne answers, firm, "We go to trial. We stand in that courtroom, and we make sure the truth is heard. You tell them what happened. You listen to that goddamn tape one more time, and then you walk out of that courthouse free, with him behind bars. Where he belongs."

You nod slowly, trying to hold onto the strength in Wayne's voice, even as your chest tightens.

Eddie presses a soft kiss to your hair, his lips lingering. "I'll always be with you, baby", he whispers into your hair, "Wherever you go. Whatever happens. I'll be right there. Right by your side. They don't get to take that away from us."

Wayne stands with a quiet groan, stretching his back as he reaches for the coffee cup in front of him. "I gotta get a few more hours of sleep 'fore my shift tonight", he says, voice rough with fatigue. Then he glances between the two of you, "You two okay bein' alone tonight? If not, I'll call in. Ain't worth it if you need me here."

You shake your head gently, your hand still looped into Eddie's. "We'll be fine", you reply softly, looking over at your boyfriend, whose eyelids already look heavy, "He's gonna crash the second we lie down anyway."

Eddie grumbles, dragging from his cigarette, then pulling you in tighter, his body practically melting into the couch. "I'm done with sleeping", he mutters, smoke curling from his lips, "Just keep your witch fingers off my face and I'll be good."

You huff a soft laugh, nudging him lightly, and Eddie immediately launches into a dramatic retelling for Wayne's benefit.

"She does this... thing", he explains, gesturing vaguely toward your face, "This witchcraft, face tracing voodoo shit, and I swear to God, I'm out in like two minutes. I'm a man, Wayne. And she just, puts me out. Like a fucking switch."

Wayne snorts, a quiet smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he picks up his mug. "Your mama used to do that to you, too", he says after a moment, "When you were a baby. Only thing that got you to sleep when you were sick. Calmed you down every time."

Eddie goes quiet.

You glance up at Wayne, heart soft, smile catching on your lips.

Wayne looks straight at you. "Told you, kid. You got a lot of her in you. Even that". He sighs, looking down for a moment, before adding gently, "She was just as strong as you are. Even if that goddamn cancer got her in the end... you, you're gonna win this. Against him. You're doing what she never could with Ed's dad. You're fighting back. You're saying no. And you're being heard."

Eddie's gone still beside you. Completely still. He doesn't say a word as Wayne steps closer, pats his shoulder softly, then yours. "You're gonna make it through", he mumbles simply. And with that, he turns, walks to the counter, and leaves a folded handful of bills behind. "Get somethin' decent to eat. Please", he adds, with the faintest smirk, before disappearing down the hallway toward his bedroom.

Silence again. Just the low hum of the fridge and the distant creak of the hallway floorboards. You sit there, stunned by Wayne's words, your chest heavy with them. You reach out absently, steal a drag from Eddie's cigarette. Your hands shake slightly as you breathe out the smoke.

After a few seconds, you stand, needing to move, needing to do something. The can from your coke, the overflowing ashtray, Wayne's and Hopper's coffee cups, all of it suddenly too much to look at. You collect everything, bring it to the sink. Water runs over your hands, but you don't feel it. Not really. You just... clean. Hands busy. Eyes fixed on the wall behind the faucet. You hear him before you feel him, Eddie grunting softly, putting out his cigarette, then moving toward you. His footsteps slow and heavy. Still hurting. And then he's there, wrapping himself around you from behind. His chest presses against your back, bruised and warm. His arms snake around your middle, and his mouth brushes against your shoulder.

"How you doin'?" he asks quietly, "Really doin'?"

You pause, your hands still submerged under the water. You don't answer right away. "I don't know", you finally whisper. "I should feel... I don't know. Relieved, maybe. He's in custody. Hopper believes me. The tape's evidence. It's all happening. But it's like... it all happened so fast. Just three days ago we were thinking about this plan at The Hideout. Now he's in a cell and I feel like... like something's still coming."

Eddie's arms tighten slightly around you. You feel his nod, slow and quiet.

"I'm scared, Eds", you admit, voice almost breaking, "To go outside again. To walk through town. I feel like they're all gonna talk. Like they're gonna say I made it up. Like I'll be the girl who cried wolf or the girl who 'let him', and I don't know if I can handle it."

His arms tighten around you.

"I don't usually care what people think", you go on, "But this... this made me feel different. I don't even recognize myself in the mirror sometimes. I've always had guys like him around, Eddie. My mom's men. My dad. Narcissists. Abusers. Assholes. And still, Billy... he got to me. Like... he cracked something inside."

Eddie doesn't say anything at first. Just pulls you back into his chest, turning you to face him. He leans down, resting his forehead against yours, eyes soft, deep brown. "Of course he scares you", he murmurs, "Look at what he did. What he tried to do. You think you're broken or weak because you're afraid?" He shakes his head, brushing a thumb along your cheekbone, "That fear? That's human, baby. But underneath it... you fought. Over and over. You didn't run. You didn't break. You recorded him. You stood there, all alone with him, let him fucking touch you, kiss you, knowing your body was screaming at you to get out. You did that. For justice. For yourself."

Your eyes water again, your lips trembling.

"You're so goddamn brave, Sam", he whispers, voice thick with emotion, "You moved here just months ago, broke away from your dad, built your life from scratch. You worked, you studied, you kept going. And now... look what you did. You put that piece of shit behind bars." His hand lifts to your neck, cradling it gently."You stopped me, too", he adds, quieter now, "When I was about to kill him. Knife in my hand, and you stood in the door. You. You saved me, baby. You've saved me more times than I can count. You're the bravest, most beautiful, most powerful woman I've ever known."

You look up at him through wet lashes, your throat thick.

"We'll get through this", he promises, "Together. And when it's done?" He leans in closer, lips brushing yours, "We leave this fucking town behind."

Tears blur your vision. You blink up at him, about to say something, anything, but his lips find yours first.

Eddie kisses you so soft and deep, not rushed or desperate, but grounding. Like he's pouring every word he just said into that kiss, like he's giving you some of the strength you've lost in all this. His hand curls gently into your hair, the other resting flat and warm against the small of your back. You stay there, lips pressed to his, the kitchen light humming faintly overhead, the scent of smoke and soap and coffee still lingering in the air. And his warmth, God, his warmth, so constant, so steady.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead leans against yours, his eyes searching yours. "You're not alone", he whispers, voice low, hoarse, "Not in any of this".

Your fingers hold the fabric of his sweatpants at his hips, keeping him close, like letting go would somehow bring it all crashing down. You nod against him, eyes fluttering shut. Wayne's words swirl in the back of your mind, you're just as strong as she was... you're gonna win this trial... you're doing what she never had the power to do.

It hit something deep, something you didn't even know was inside of you. You never knew Eddie's mom, but hearing that she used to soothe him the same way you do, hearing that maybe you carry some piece of her with you too, it settles something aching in your chest.

You finally speak, voice quiet against the space between you. "I'm scared, Eds."

"I know, my love", he mumbles, "You're allowed to be scared."

You lean into him again, resting your cheek against his chest, letting his heart steady yours. You don't say anything more, just let the silence fall, your hands tracing small, familiar circles on his back now, like you always do. Like muscle memory.

He chuckles softly against your hair. "You witch. You're trying to knock me out again."

You smile a little through your tear-wet lashes, "Maybe".

He kisses the top of your head again. "If I fall asleep on my feet, you're carrying me to bed."

You hum, the tiniest bit lighter than before, "You're like six feet tall".

"You're scrappy"

You don't know how long you stay there like that, just holding each other in the dim, quiet kitchen, with dishes half-done and the hum of everything you've been through still echoing softly in the corners. But for now, you're here. Together. Safe. And maybe that's enough.

For tonight.