Chapter Text
Eddie wakes up to the intoxicating smell of breakfast food for a second day in a row and rolls over with a grunt, splaying his arm out, and mumbling to himself when Chrissy isn’t there.
They’d been up late— really late, actually— so this time, it is a little surprising she’s already awake again. He can tell everyone’s awake by the commotion from downstairs. Eddie stretches, finally blinking his eyes open.
“Morning,” Chrissy chirps from the edge of the bed. His vision’s still adjusting to the din of the room, but he can see she’s showered and ready for the day. She’s got a white tennis skirt on and a tank top with a pattern of blue roses. “I’m gonna pull the shades, okay?”
“Morn— no, no, Chrissy, don’t— it’s gonna be so bright, I can’t—” Eddie shields his face with his forearms as soon as she pulls the shades up, letting the light in.
“Rise and shine, grumpy dragon,” comes her singsong voice, then he feels the bed shift before she’s crawling up his body. That part’s nice and he grins. She nuzzles into his neck, peppering chaste kisses up to his nose.
“Grumpy dragon, huh?” Eddie rubs the heels of his palms into his eyes, chasing off the siren song of sleep. “W-What time is it?”
“Early for you,” Chrissy laughs. “Come on, Eddie. Nancy is making mimosas, Jonathan and Steve are making pancakes,” she says that last part with a dreamy tone, so Eddie pulls her in for a kiss.
“Mmmph,” he mumbles. Chrissy’s hair is down, so he threads his fingers through it. “Uh-huh. Let’s make out first.”
When they end up back by the water in the afternoon, everyone’s a little more spread out. Steve and Jonathan decide to take Rick’s boat out while Nancy and Robin are side-by-side on the dock, both reading.
Eddie’s back on the blanket, under the umbrella with Chrissy— she’s resting her head in his lap, grinning up at him. She just let him ramble for way too long about the summer campaign he’s DMing for the Hellfire crew now that Will Byers is in Hawkins again.
“You’re so sweet,” she says, reaching up to play with his guitar pick pendant. When he raises his eyebrows at her, she just laughs. “I’m serious, the way you talk about all of them. It’s always been really nice to hear it. They look up to you, you know.”
“Yeah, well,” Eddie glances away. He’s not about to get too sappy about his sheep right now. “They’re a blast, they make the game a good time, too. I keep telling them this is it, then I pass the torch, but Henderson keeps reeling me back in somehow.”
“It sounds fun, Eddie. You should play as long as you can.”
Now he looks back down at her, cheeks burning, a sly smile finding its way through. “That mean I can convince you to sit in on a game one of these nights?”
“Will you at least, um, explain it to me? Or answer my questions?”
“Of course, princess.”
“Then,” Chrissy purses her lips, “I could probably survive that, yeah.”
Eddie’s whole body shakes when he laughs. “We can come up with a safe word when it’s too much. When you’re desperate for air from the nerd shit.”
“Will you watch ‘Murder, She Wrote’ with me?” She tugs at the guitar pick.
Eddie groans, rolling his head back. “Chrissy.”
“Please? Pretty please?” She tugs at his arm now. “I think it’s a fair trade. Eddie, you need to give Jessica Fletcher a chance.” Eddie groans again, but he’s weak. He wants to tease her, but Chrissy has a point about fairness. “She’s like, she’s a badass, Eddie.”
“If you’re serious about coming to a D&D session, Cunningham… Yes. I’ll, uh, I’ll assess the, uh, the badassery of Jessica Fletcher.” (Next week, Eddie finally agrees— Jessica Fletcher is badass.)
“Holy shit, what?” It’s Robin. She’s standing a few feet away, arms folded across her chest. “Did I hear that right?”
Eddie grimaces. “Buckley…”
Robin just waves him off with a laugh. “Gross. You two are just gross. But you guys are the only ones who came down here with your shoes while Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb are sailing the seven seas, so Nancy and I were wondering— can you two grab us some firewood for later?”
It’s been a dry, hot-as-a-Balrog’s-balls summer in Hawkins, so finding firewood in the surrounding forest isn’t too hard. Chrissy’s carrying the sticks, while Eddie’s got an armful of broader, broken up logs.
There’s a comfortable lull in their conversation as they walk through the brush, but Eddie notices it’s gone much quieter— so he turns to see Chrissy standing perfectly still, her lips parted and her eyes wide. Eddie frowns, about to ask her if she’s okay, when he hears a series of twigs snapping.
He looks off to the side, a little spooked and jittery if he’s being perfectly honest with himself— and then he sees them. A family of whitetail deer.
“Eddie,” Chrissy’s whisper is so soft he barely hears it. “Oh my gosh.”
It’s a doe with two fawns. The doe is eyeing them while the tiny fawns are bounding from plant to plant, eagerly getting mouthfuls of green as they go. When Eddie looks back at Chrissy, she’s pouting adorably, and he’s a little flustered at how much he just wants to run over to her.
Eddie feels a little like he’s back at the butterfly house— though sufficiently less creeped out and stressed— while he glances from the deer to Chrissy. He’s a lot more moved watching Chrissy’s face lit up with wonder and amazement than he is at the admittedly very cute deer. It hits him how sheltered the Cunninghams must be in Loch Nora, surrounded by development, Hawkins’ finest sycophant phonies, and Homeowners Association rules about garden hedges.
All of this when Chrissy is the girl who carefully traps spiders to put them outside, speaking gently and quietly to them like they’re old friends— who doesn’t flinch and yelp at dragonflies like Eddie does, who once told him that when she was a little girl she wanted to live on a farm.
He has the briefest, crazy, passing urge to ask her to just hole up with him at Rick’s all summer. Maybe they can just live there. Maybe Rick is never getting out of county again— shit, when is his trial date, anyway? What even was it, this time? Maybe they really could just—
Chrissy gasps a little at the sound of more twigs snapping, and Eddie turns, grinning as the deer bound off together further down the sloping hill of trees.
She makes this absurdly precious whining sound and he finds himself drawn in, at her side before he thinks about it, and leaning down to kiss her. Eddie grunts when the sticks in Chrissy’s arms poke at his chest from every direction.
It’s worth it, though, because she’s smiling against his mouth and it’s the best feeling in the world.
They get the bonfire started just before sunset. Jonathan just told them a story about Argyle getting lost inside an aquarium on a school field trip back in Lenora Hills— prepping them for the longhaired stoner’s arrival to Hawkins next month.
“He sounds like more of a burnout than Munson,” Steve jokes, narrowing his eyes at Eddie.
“It’s a rare occurrence, but you’re right, Harrington,” Eddie juts back, raising his can of PBR. “Congratulations. I’ve never gotten lost in an aquarium.”
“We did almost lose you in Bradley’s Big Buy that one time, before graduation,” Robin says. She has the plush Kermit in her lap, like she’s cradling a baby. Eddie has no idea why his friends are like this.
“I wasn’t lost, I was distracted —” he defends. Chrissy is seated on his thigh and shaking with a giggle. “Hey, no, I’m serious—” Eddie leans in. “Don’t listen to them—”
“No, wait, this is a good story,” Harrington laughs, looking back at Robin. “Should I tell it or you?”
“Guys,” Nancy interrupts. Thank fuck for Nancy Wheeler. “Before we get lost down memory lane, why don’t—”
“I should definitely tell the story,” Robin bites. “It’s funny. A little embarrassing for our boy Edward, maybe, but—”
Jonathan clears his throat. “What’s the plan for dinner? Weren’t we making something with pasta? Isn’t that, uh— isn’t that gonna take a while?”
Eddie reminds himself to offer to play live music at Nancy and Jonathan’s future wedding, whenever that is. He’ll even play The Smiths, god fucking help him, and save all of his mortified gagging for after the reception. In the parking lot, even. He’ll be on his best behavior.
He catches the way Chrissy’s eyebrows pull together, like she’s a little sad to miss the story, but doesn’t want to pry. He feels like groaning. Or drowning Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley.
“Why don’t, um, Robin, Steve, you, and I get up to the house and get started on it? That way Eddie and Chrissy can keep the fire going and we can eat down here as it gets dark. Like a fancy evening dinner, yeah?” Nancy ‘A Real Fucking Saint’ Wheeler. The sister Eddie never had.
Everyone kind of mumbles and acquiesces to this, shuffling around the bonfire. Nancy gives Eddie a sympathetic smile before they leave to head back up to Rick’s house.
It’s quiet when Eddie sips his beer, leaning forward a little with a stick to poke at the fire. The sun is getting lower, causing a ripple of orange and pink to melt into the soft blue cloud cover. He kisses the back of Chrissy’s shoulder and she hums, raising her solo cup to her lips, the rattle of ice cubes almost fucking deafening around the crackling of burning wood.
“I’ll put another log in,” she nods, standing. Eddie instantly misses the weight of her on his leg, but she is back in that white tennis skirt from the morning, so he gets a nice view of her legs when she’s bending over at the small woodpile.
She’s too quiet, though. Robin Buckley opened a can of worms for a girl that likes bugs. Eddie smiles at her when she looks back at him, setting the fresh slab of wood into the metal frame pit. Chrissy smiles back, but… Goddamnit.
“You, uh— you want to know that story, huh?” He mumbles, taking another sip of PBR.
“It’s okay, Eddie,” she shakes her head, smoothing her skirt out before she sits on his leg. He knows she’s not lying, exactly, but—
“No, um, y’know, I almost mentioned it yesterday. The earrings you had on, the sunflowers? Yeah, I thought about it.” He sips his beer again. He needs some liquid courage. “They’re busting me up about it now because, er—” Eddie rolls his eyes. “I wasn’t lost in Bradley’s. I was distracted, like I said.”
“Robin said it was before graduation?” Chrissy leans back against him and he wraps his arm around her waist.
“Uh-huh. I was looking at this, uh— display thing? It was all these little charms, um, for fuckin’ necklaces and keychains or somethin’. Bracelets, whatever.”
Chrissy sips her drink again. Eddie does the same.
“Anyway, I was thinking about getting you a gift. For graduation.” In reality, Eddie had only given her a card, which she had still been surprised about. “I chickened out last minute, as I’m sure you know. I mean, in my defense, you were still with— y’know.”
“Eddie,” Chrissy tips her drink back again before setting it down on the ground. She touches his face, tender, like he’s something precious again. “What was it?”
“For the record, I wasn’t gone that long. Everyone found me pretty quick— too quick,” he groans finally, shaking his head, and leans his cheek against Chrissy’s palm. “Don’t laugh.”
“Never,” she promises. Eddie believes her.
“It was this sunflower thing? Like— god, Chris, it was fuckin’ corny, I just— like, it opened up and in the middle it said ‘You Are My Sunshine’ and Harrington snatched it out of my hand and they all just ragged on—”
Eddie doesn’t get to finish his sentence because Chrissy’s kissing him hard, really hard, swiveling in his lap so abruptly he actually drops his beer can. It’s not a major loss, not when she’s straddling him like this in that fucking tennis skirt.
“Chrissy,” he moans when she rocks her hips into him. “H-Hey,” he leans back, breaking their kiss, cradling her face in his hands. “What’re y—”
“That was mean of them,” she pouts, bringing her hands up to hold his. “It sounds so sweet. I would’ve loved that, Eddie,” Chrissy’s dragging his hands down now, pushing them against her perky tits, making him squeeze them.
He swallows. He was halfway there just a minute ago, but now he’s definitely rock hard, and he’s in sweatpants, so it’s kind of laughable what a fucking mess he’s turning into underneath her. Chrissy rolls against him again with a whimpering sound. “F-Fuck, okay, hey, maybe we—”
“I want you,” she whispers, licking her lips. Eddie doesn’t really think, just leans in, sucking her bottom lip between his teeth. Chrissy moans at that— moans more when he kneads into her tits and raises his own hips against hers. “Eddie.”
He kisses her, hungrily, and regrets every second of pulling away. Eddie laughs, resting his forehead against hers. “Listen, this is fucking hot as hell, Chrissy, I just don’t have a co—”
“Yes, you do,” she interrupts. “I, um, I put a condom in your pocket. When you were showering. I thought, I dunno, we keep—”
This time, Eddie cuts her off with a heated kiss. There’s a moment they go silent, listening for their friends, and then they start shifting and fumbling around each other. Eddie’s sweatpants are pushed down to his thighs and he laughs, knowing full well the canvas weaving of the lawn chair he’s in is going to leave an awkward pattern on his ass, but it’s fucking fine. It’s fucking fine because Chrissy’s in such a rush to fuck him, she only gets one leg out of her underwear, letting it stay hooked around her knee— he sees the garment drop down to her ankle when she settles over him.
Somehow, Eddie doesn’t come when Chrissy wraps her hand around him and glides his swollen latex-covered tip once over her slick folds. “I want you so bad,” she whispers, sounding strained in a way that makes his brain short-circuit. He has the decency not to come right there, either.
“Fuck, Chrissy, c’mon,” he pleads, not at all worried about the desperate whine in his own voice anymore. He doesn’t care. “I w-wanna fuck you.” His hands tighten around her hips, where Chrissy’s tennis skirt is hastily gathered up.
She squeezes her eyes shut and nods, slowly easing herself on and around his cock. Eddie has to clench his jaw when he hisses through his teeth so he doesn’t cry out. Jesus, he can’t get over how tight she is, how warm and good and right it feels to be inside her. His groan turns into a tense kind of chuckle when she raises her hips, then thrusts down into him again.
Chrissy murmurs his name a few times and then gasps when he starts playing with her clit. Eddie can’t really see what he’s doing, which sort of fucking sucks, because that damn skirt is a little in the way now— but he feels how taut the bundle of nerves under her skin is and bites down on his lip at the way her mouth parts with each fast stroke of his thumb.
Their rhythm coasts between synchronized and chaotic as he’s trying to meet her hips with his, too wound up in the way it feels to let her just ride him out on her own. Where’s the fun in that, anyway?
Eddie drags his lips across her neck, careful not to leave a mark beyond the trail of mouth-watering wet. “That’s it,” he grunts, kissing her pulse point. “God, you feel fucking amazing, Chrissy. I love you,” Eddie nips a little at her skin, feels a patch of goosebumps under his tongue. “I love you, I love fucking you, love everything about you, everything—”
“Eddie,” she sighs, dropping her head to the side to give him a bigger expanse of her skin. “I love you, too— ah, oh,” she keens.
He has to reel in all of the things he wants to say so he can stay right here. He moves his hand from her hip to the back of her neck, pulling her down into a kiss while his thumb pushes a little harder against her clit.
“Eddie, I’m gonna—” Eddie feels it before she says it, which makes him nearly cross-eyed from the blazing heat coiling down in his gut.
He’d love to ride it out longer, make her feel half as dizzy as he does, but he comes undone only seconds after she does, stuttering into her as his cock throbs. Eddie kisses her so he doesn’t embarrass himself with the sounds he has to choke down. They’re trying not to draw their friends back outside to investigate whatever’s getting slaughtered at the bonfire.
Chrissy’s legs are trembling when they pull apart and try to make themselves look halfway normal, which makes Eddie feel smug as all hell. He likes knowing where the blissed out color on her face is from or why she has to gently ease herself back onto his thigh. She apologizes for his beer getting knocked over and he just laughs, kissing her neck, and telling her nobody’s ever cried over spilt Pabst.
A short while later, their friends come down with plates of food and more drinks— even a few rolled joints to pass around as they eat and talk. The sun’s all but disappeared when it leaves a sliver of red and gold along the horizon.
Chrissy smiles every time Eddie looks at her and he gets a funny feeling in his chest— almost like he wants to cry.
So he does cry, later that night, holding her close in bed. He tries to laugh it off as just being too high, but she cries with him, tells him she knows what he means and knows how he feels— and he really, really believes her. Eddie falls asleep feeling like home can be a person, like he finally seems to connect the dots on a sentiment that his cynical self— the one Before This, Before Chrissy— used to deride. It's funny to imagine that the things he did for a sense of self-protection would have kept him from this.
The next morning, Eddie wakes up first. He can’t help himself when he leans down to kiss Chrissy’s hair, brushing it out of her face when he does. He lingers, watching the rise and fall of her chest under the covers, feeling like a million bucks at how peaceful she looks. He toys with the idea, again, that maybe they should just stay here all summer.
She’s a stark contrast to a grumpy dragon— Eddie thinks he’d be less so if he keeps waking up in the same space as her.
Eddie told Steve he’d help him with breakfast if he managed the feat of early rising, so he’s just about ready before he turns around to smile at his slumbering girlfriend one more time.
He feels a little bad he won’t be able to watch her face when she wakes up. Eddie wonders if she’ll notice the sunflower charm he left on his pillow right away, or if it’s going to take her a minute of sleepy blinking and cat-like stretching. He’s kept it in his wallet since he bought it at Bradley’s back in May, like a sad little talisman; an unfinished sentence for all the things he worried he’d never get to say.
It’s fitting, as he looks at her, and the morning sunlight frames her like a halo.
She is his sunshine.