Chapter Text
“She just ran it over with the boat and killed it! And Jake died! This was the worst one so far, I can’t believe you made me come and see this."
Carol’s voice pierced the quiet of the empty theater lobby where Steve was leaning against the counter, Robin draped over the scratched laminate beside him, chin in her hands. They were done for the evening, literally counting down until the end of the night — they could have closed an hour ago if Carol and Tommy hadn’t come in and gotten the only two tickets for the last showing of Jaws: The Revenge.
“Gee,” Robin muttered, “and I was so looking forward to the twist ending. What ever will I do now that the person exiting the theater has shouted what happens.”
“It’s a Jaws movie. Big shark, kill people, die violently. What did you expect?” Steve said. Robin tipped her head into one hand, looking at him with a frown.
“It doesn’t matter what my expectations were. They’ve been stripped from me, by a shouting customer. How many times will I have my viewing experience ruined?”
Robin pushed upright, arms flailing as she waved around the empty theater lobby, “how many of our dear customers?”
Steve shook his head, unable to keep his lips from twisting in bemusement, folding his arms across the horrifyingly bright yellow vest that was their uniform.
“It’s not that big of a deal,” he tried gently, watching out of the corner of his eye where Carol was walking with a nose wrinkled in disgust, Tommy’s arm thrown over her shoulders. They were the only two people left in the building, other than himself and Robin. Steve had been spared the earlier humiliation of serving them by getting stuck cleaning up the popcorn in theater three, but he wouldn’t put it past them to make a parting comment.
“But Steve,” Robin said twisting slightly to now be stood in front of the giant poster featuring the launching Great White, covering the shark with her own body to lay her forearm under the blood red tagline, “this time, it’s personal.”
Steve wasn’t able to hold it in any longer, snorting at her antics and being rewarded by her giggle in return.
“Harrington? You work here?”
“Oh, fuck me dead,” he muttered under his breath, watching Robin’s smile melt away with widening eyes, turning back toward the counter where Tommy was now grinning at them. His hair was longer than Steve remembered, face framed by a thick moustache that made him look several years older than Steve knew he actually was. Carol’s own hair was pulled up into a pony tail that popped out to the left so that she could tuck more comfortably into Tommy’s side, eyeshadow an electric blue in contrast to her neon jacket.
“That’s what the badge says,” Steve offered as cheerfully as he could.
Tommy chuffed a laugh as Carol erupted in giggles.
“Like, seriously?” Carol asked, and Steve let his brows dip while keeping the smile.
“Well, I’m not wearing it for fun,” Steve continued, glancing at Robin who was giving the entire interaction a look of confusion.
Before Tommy could say anything else, there was a blare of a horn outside, and the four of them tipped to watch a dark figure wave off a car as they ran across the street, moving toward the theater.
“Hey, isn’t that that guy who murdered Chrissy Cunningham?” Carol asked as the figure crossed under a street light, revealing a dark mop of curls.
“Munson. The devil worshiper dude,” Tommy offered, “they totally let him off. There wasn’t enough evidence or something, but you know he did it. Freak.”
“No he didn’t,” Robin snapped immediately, prompting Tommy and Carol to turn toward her for the first time.
“Are you some kind of whore for murderers or something?” Tommy sneered, and Steve dropped his arms to the counter with a bang, loud enough that Carol jumped in surprise under Tommy’s arm. Beyond the door, he could see Eddie peek through the glass, the corners of his mouth turning town into a grimace at the customers.
“Thanks for your business,” Steve said, making no attempt to disguise his sarcasm, “we’re closed for the night. You can see yourself out,” he said sharply. In his peripheral, Steve could see Eddie had moved back to the street corner instead, seeming to light up a cigarette, letting Steve refocus his energy on the couple in front of him.
“Fine by me,” Tommy said, “I’m not going to stay around here and get murdered by the fucking town freak. Come on Carol,” he tugged on Carol’s shoulder, who moved meekly under his guidance towards the entrance furthest from where Eddie had set himself up. Steve watched closely as they made their way out, waiting for Tommy to turn in Eddie’s direction — but luckily, if there was one thing he could count on, Tommy was a coward at heart, and he pulled Carol out into the darkened street beyond the theater without stopping.
“They seemed… fun,” Robin said blankly, and Steve wrinkled his nose.
“I used to be friends with them,” he admitted, something oily uncoiling in his chest at the reminder, “I’m not anymore. Obviously.”
“Good riddance,” Robin offered, “you’ve got better friends now.”
Steve shot her a quirked smile.
“Sure do.”
The doors of the theater squeaked as they opened again, and Eddie made his way in toward them, glancing around at the empty space with a raised brow.
“Flat off your feet?”
“What do you need, Munson?” Steve asked, re-adopting his relaxed position of leaning back on the counter.
“I came to see my favourite person,” Eddie offered back with a growing smile, throwing open his arms, “Robin,” he clarified, sending the grin in her direction.
“Aw, make a girl feel loved,” she said, placing a hand over her heart, “now why are you really here?”
Eddie rolled his eyes as he approached the counter, digging into his pockets and pulling out what looked like a familiar walkie talkie, but the colors were wrong. It took Steve a second to realize it was painted.
“You’re seeing Henderson tomorrow, right?” Eddie said, placing the walkie talkie on the counter, “care to play delivery man?”
“And you can’t drop it off yourself because…” Robin said as Steve picked up the device, twisting it in his hands.
“What language is this?” he asked as he eyed off the smooth lettering.
“Because I’m working,” Eddie said, eyes lighting up with his excitement that, miracle by miracles, he had finally started at the record shop, the first place to actually accept his application after months of trying, “and it’s Elvish.”
“Why did you put Elvish on a walkie talkie,” Steve said with furrowed brows, “how do you even know Elvish?”
“Because it’s for Henderson,” Eddie offered, rolling his eyes, as though that alone would answer everything, “and I’m a master of many things you couldn’t even begin to understand, Harrington.”
Steve glanced at Robin out of the corner of his eye, listening to her ask about the new job at the record shop to keep the conversation flowing before he looked back down at the walkie talkie. The paint was careful, and he could feel in the texture of the paint the small spots where Eddie had clearly painstakingly wiped and reapplied each stroke that hadn’t come up clear the first time.
It must have taken hours.
“Munson,” he said, glancing back up, cutting off where Eddie was already saying his goodbyes to Robin and aiming for the exit, “this is… really good.”
“I’m good at everything I do, Harrington,” Eddie offered with a wink before stepping beyond the doors back onto the street.
“Ha, nice,” Robin said from beside Steve, who was already looking back down at the walkie talkie in his hands.
“Look at this,” he said, holding it out to Robin, “he hand painted that.”
“It’s good,” she agreed as he took it, twisting it in her hands, “what’s your point?”
“Who the fuck is this dude?” Steve said, throwing his hands into the air, “who looks like that,” he pointed at doors Eddie had just left through, “and does shit like this?”
Robin grinned back at him, eyes sparkling knowingly.
“I believe,” she said, holding out the walkie talkie for Steve to take back, “that’s Eddie—
———
“-- Munson, who was previously suspected of the murder of 16-year-old Chrissy Cunningham, is once again under suspicion of his involvement in the murder of Carol Perkins and Tommy Hagan. Perkins and Hagan were last seen exiting Frank Movie Theater, followed by Munson, and were found brutally murdered this morning. Police are asking for anyone who might be aware of his whereabouts to con—“
Steve muted the TV hurriedly.
“Do you think…”
“Brutally murdered?” Dustin said, crossing his arms across his chest, “that’s definitely code for some kind of fuckery.”
Steve sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“One year,” he muttered, “just one fucking year.”
“Right,” Dustin said, looking back at Steve, “you know what this means?”
Steve dropped his hands to his side.
“I’ll get my bat.”
“No,” Dustin said, grabbing Steve’s shoulder. Fuck, he was getting tall, “I’ll gather the others, and your bat. You go and get Eddie.”