Chapter Text
You can’t remember who brought up the idea in the first place, the specifics long since lost to an afternoon spent high together. Though if you had to hedge a bet, you’d say it was probably Eddie. He’s never been one to shy away from making outlandish statements, often in a dogged attempt to make you laugh. You try your hardest every time not to crack — but you always do, in the end.
Now the haze is wearing off, but you can’t get the thought out of your mind. And, it seems, neither can Eddie.
“So, you know…” His words are still ever so slightly slurred as he turns to you, leaning on his elbow as you make eye contact. “How about it?”
“How about what , Edward?” You arch an eyebrow at him, although the effect is ruined when he groans and you try not to laugh. “You’re never short on words usually. Why don’t you use them?”
“I hate it when you call me that, you know.” His lips quirk upwards. “You know, you’re actually the only one who ever does.”
“Best friend privileges.” You make a show of listing things with your fingers. “I get to use your full name whenever I want, I get to crash at your place whenever I want, I get to eat as much of your food as I want… oh, and I absolutely get to insist that you use an air freshener in here at least three times a week. Your room stinks of weed, Eddie.” You fan yourself as he looks on, amused.
“Yeah? Well, you weren’t complaining a couple of hours ago.” He grins. “Besides, what’s this I hear about stealing food? Does that mean I can just waltz into yours and raid your fringe whenever? Because I’m not hearing a no, so…”
“Okay, fine. We both get to steal each other’s food and turn up whenever. Happy, Munson?”
“Hey, it’s only fair, Y/N!” For a moment, he’s distracted by rooting through the bottom of a packet of snacks you’d brought with him. “Equivalent exchange, right?”
Eddie lobs a small candy piece at your hair, grinning widely as you squeal in protest.
“How is that fair when I don’t have any ammo?”
“Come and get it, then.” He wiggles the pack in your direction, and you see a mixture of breadcrumbs and candy rattling around inside the plastic wrap.
You lunge yourself at him with all the poise of an Olympic athlete, leaving him squirming helplessly as you place yourself squarely on top of his abdomen. “Can’t move now,” you whisper, taunting him as you snatch the little pack from his hands. It can hardly be called a packet at this point; between you and Eddie, it’s so torn up that all its contents spill out over the floor in one fell, sugary swoop.
“You fight dirty,” he frowns as you toss a small handful into his hair, giggling slightly as it’s lost almost instantly in a dense mop of curls. He twitches, his left hand instantly trying to find them and coming up empty.
“Sure do.” You make absolutely no efforts to help him whatsoever, content to watch him root around his tresses with a sly look.
After a moment’s fruitless searching, he holds a few candies in his fingers, waving them in front of you before shoving them in his mouth with a grin. “I still won, though.”
“Yeah, sure you did, Eddie. But I’m still on top of you, and you still can’t move, so that counts as winning in my books.” You smirk down at him, lording over the fact that — for the briefest of moments — he seems incapable of speech.
“We could really do it, you know.” His voice is soft, barely above a whisper, and there’s something in his eyes that you can’t quite place. It takes you a moment to register the fact that he’s gone back to his earlier point of discussion because his expression has completely unmoored you. “You and me, just… helping each out, because that’s what friends do, right?”
“Uh, I… I guess so?” You laugh nervously.
“I’m being serious, Y/N. I trust you, and you trust me. And hell knows you’re the only girl who’s ever been in my room and likely ever will at this rate.” He scoffs. “Hell, you even sleep over here on weekends, so why not, you know, actually sleep together?”
“Because we’re not dating.” You cross your arms stubbornly, then uncross them once you realise it’s brought his gaze to focus squarely on your chest.
“So?” Eddie shrugs. “Who says we need to be dating, anyway? Is that something you want?”
“No! Eddie, you’re - you’re like a brother to me!”
He bursts out laughing so hard that you fall off his lap with as much grace as a heavy sack of potatoes. “Y/N, if I thought of you like a sister, would - would I -” Another peal of laughter escapes him as he doubles over, unable to finish the sentence… and then the joke hits you.
“Not like that, dumbass!” You give him a playful shove, and he pretends to clutch his arm in agony. “I was just trying to…”
Deflect?
“I guess it kinda scares me a little,” you admit quietly, to your shoes as much as anything else really, because right now making eye contact with him is a hurdle you’re not able to jump over. “I’ve never done anything like that before with anyone. I don’t even know if I’d be any good, Eds.”
Your dating prospects have been, quite frankly, non-existent. Not since you started at Hawkins High and made it very clearly known how close you and Eddie were, always sitting together at lunch or chatting in hallways. Having a so-called “freak” for a best friend and members of a supposedly Satanic club on a first-name basis with you had pretty much dried up any opportunities for a social life, and aside from the few people who were polite enough to greet you in classes and ask who you were, you didn’t really know that many people in school altogether.
It didn’t matter if you’d had fleeting crushes on people because they didn’t even know your name — and the likes of Jason Carver had substituted it with enough crude words that suggested what he thought you and Eddie did behind closed doors that that was usually the first thing that sprung to mind for your classmates. “The Hellfire whore,” he’d called you once, and the name had stuck… amongst his cronies at least. You weren’t sure you wanted to know if anyone else used it.
You’ve never really discussed it with Eddie. You don’t want him to feel like it’s his fault, but you especially don’t want him to feel guilty enough to try and defend your honour. As highly as you think of him, an athlete or martial artist he is not, and if Eddie tried to fight Jason, it would probably end — at best — with his nose broken in several places, a split lip and a whole score of bruises from head to toe.
There is a sudden squeeze around your waist; his arms are wrapped around you before you can even process what’s happening. “Oh, sweetheart,” Eddie coos gently, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. There is a fierce warmth in his eyes, an almost unbearable tenderness writ plain for you to bask in. “You don’t have to be good. I don’t exactly have a lot of experience either, you know.” He shakes his head, a playful grin stretching across his face. “I mean, I know I have queues of ladies just lining up for me in the hallways, but…”
You chuckle. “Oh, I’ve bumped into a few.”
“See? I’m a local celebrity, sweetheart, I gotta reap the rewards.” His gaze turns serious again. “If you really don’t want to do this, that’s fine. I won’t say another word, and we can just pretend like this never happened.” One of his hands moves slightly lower, skirting just inches from your waistband. “But like I said, I trust you. I trust you enough to want this.” Eddie waves his hands in a wide, sweeping gesture, as if your mutual lusts can be encompassed in a single gesture. “I want to learn how it all works, and there’s no other study buddy I’d want by my side more than you. Besides, I’m not bad at biology.”
You snort at that, earning you a beaming smile from him. “So you want to… what, build up experience, I guess? So then you can just, I don’t know, sweep some girls off their feet and go full Casanova?”
“Something like that. And it’s as good a way to pass the time as any, right?” He shrugs, quickly deflecting. “Again, like I said, if you don’t -”
“That’s not what I said, Eds.” His mouth forms a little shocked O, and it’s hard not to laugh. But if he’s going to bare his heart for you, then you’ll do the same. “I don’t mind -”
Sound decisive.
“I want to,” you say, trying to put some conviction into it. “I guess I just… don’t know where to start? Like, how do we even get from here to…”
“Full-on fucking?” he supplies helpfully. The two of you share a grin at that, aware of how comical the whole situation is. “Well, we don’t just get there immediately. Takes a little warming up, getting in the mood and stuff. I know that much, at least.”
“So do I,” you challenge back, which only makes him grin further. “And that’s not what I meant, Munson. I mean, how do we actually start? Do we, like, schedule a day and time or something, do we-”
“You’re overthinking it big time, sweetheart,” Eddie laughs. “We just go about stuff the way we usually do. You come here, I go to yours. Just with added, uh, spice.” He wiggles his fingers, like he’s pretending to do one of those incantations he’s so fond of mentioning to you as he writes his campaign notes together, and you laugh so hard you fall into the crook of his neck. You’re still trying to splutter your way into a straight face when he adds, “We could do it in the van too, right?”
“ Edward Munson, you will be the death of me, I swear,” you wheeze against him, which only makes him laugh too.
The two of you compose yourselves, at least as much as a pair of nervous but hormone-addled teenagers can. You find yourself sneaking a glance at him, wondering to yourself what it might actually feel like… only to find him looking right back at you, smirking broadly.
“Already thinking dirty thoughts about me, Y/N?” he grins.
And who are you, really, to deny it? “Your Casanova charm worked,” you murmur.
You share a heated stare for a moment, both of you wanting more but unable to take the first step.
Go on. Take the initiative. Seize the moment.
“Okay,” you say quickly, clearing your throat. “First things first…” You pull a hair tie from your wrist, gesturing for him to turn away from you. He does, almost reluctantly, until he’s facing the wall and you can reach the back of his head. You gather up his curls as gently as you can, tying them into a neat but hasty bun, patting it once to check it’s secure. “There,” you smile, admiring your handiwork for a second as he turns back to face you. “That’s all out of the way now.”
A whispered “God ” is all you get from him before he cups your head in his hands and pulls you to meet his lips. There’s a clack of teeth at first and a hastily murmured apology from you both.
But when your lips meet properly this time, you feel like you finally understand what all the fuss over kissing was about. Eddie feels so soft, so warm, so perfectly moulded to fit together with you that you can’t help but sigh into his mouth. This is what they write songs about.
An unexpected boldness creeps over you. You wrap your arms around his neck and run your tongue over his bottom lip, earning you a deep groan in response.
You seize the opportunity to slide your tongue inside his mouth, and he follows your lead, chasing after you with equal abandon as you begin to squirm your way onto his lap, wrapping your thighs around his waist. Eddie gifts you with a long moan in response, burrowing his hands beneath your waistband in an effort to make you rock against him. To your delight, the movement feels as natural to you as it does gratifying; with each little roll, your jeans meet his with the most delicious friction, making you clutch him with growing desperation. And by what you can feel twitching underneath your legs, you’re not the only one feeling a certain way.
This is… surprisingly nice, you muse to yourself. Not at all what you’d expected — and certainly not who you’d expected. But it feels so much better than all your dreams and late-night fumblings put together.
Your ability to think is cut off by the arrival of Eddie’s hand under your shirt, snaking its way up to ghost over your bra. “God, sweetheart,” he groans, pulling his lips from yours and wiping his forehead with his free hand. “You feel this good with a shirt on, I can’t wait to see you without it.”
“Then what’s the magic word?” You smirk at him as he flounders before you.
“Uh… come on, Y/N,” he whines. “You’re gonna kill me here.”
“ Eddieeee,” you coo to him softly, giving the collar of his T-shirt a little tug. “Let me take yours off and you can pull off mine.”
“Deal.” He grins, all sense of self-assurance returning to him in spades as he flings his jacket away, instantly forgotten. You let your hands rest on the hem of his top for a fraction of a second, suddenly cognisant that you’re about to see your childhood best friend half-naked… then most likely fully naked soon afterwards.
Then you pull, gently but firmly, as he raises his arms above his head to ease the way for you. He wriggles free as you place it behind you.
When you turn back to meet his gaze, Eddie is suddenly sheepish. A lovely shade of crimson flows from his cheeks to the tips of his ears, daring to paint his neck a similar pink as he fidgets underneath you.
“Err, yeah,” he says quietly, eyes darting from yours then away and back again in a frenetic pattern. “That’s, uh, that’s what it looks like. My chest, I mean.” His hands rest at your waist, strangely chaste for how he was pawing at you moments ago.
You drink in the sight like a dying man in a desert. You always knew he had tattoos on his arms, but the rest are unfamiliar. A spider lurches across the left side of his chest, and there’s a demonic-looking skull underneath it. Then there are the ones you do know, an ever-present sight come the summer heat: his dangling puppet on strings, a wyvern, and a swarm of bats mid-flight. Your gaze moves slowly lower, taking in the gentle swell of his abdomen, and you can’t help but touch it, marvelling at its softness.
A medical miracle, really, to have your heart skip a beat for so long and still live to tell the tale.
“I know I’m not in shape, not like those Hollywood -”
“Eddie.” Your voice cuts across his murmurings like the crack of a whip; he looks up at you as suddenly as if you’d struck him after all. “Eddie,” you repeat, gentler now, “you’re lovely as you are.”
You cringe internally at your choice of words. Lovely? It’s hardly the most erotic turn of phrase, more akin for a best friend than… Well, that’s what you are now, right? Best friends who fuck each other? Perhaps it’s not so bad after all.
He offers you a demure half-smile, still a little floored. “Thanks, Y/N.” Then with a wink and leering grin, Eddie’s back to business. “Now, where are those tits I was promised, sweetheart?”
“Tits?” You all but splutter. “I don’t remember that being part of the deal.”
“Right you are.” He shakes his head, smile growing fond. “You always were a sharp one. Well, you said I could take your top off. I’m saying I want to take your bra off too. Reckon that adds up?”
“Math of the century, there.”
You both chuckle at that.
“Right.” He claps his hands, eagerly grabbing your T-shirt like it’s a precious cloth. You can’t help wishing you might’ve worn something a little more figure-grabbing, had you known what the day would have in store. “Enough maths, more…” Eddie pauses, trying to search for a suitable metaphor and coming up blank. “Ugh, ‘nough school shit already. Don’t need that in my head when I have this before me to look at.”
He’s speaking as he relieves you of your top the same way you did his, but his words trail off at the sight of your breasts. His eyes are practically bulging out of their sockets. “ Holy …”
“Uh, Eddie? Could you maybe take it off my entire facial area while I can’t move my arms?”
“Oh, yeah. Sorry.”
He pulls it off the whole way, unable to resist giving it a little sniff before he dumps it somewhere. “God, you smell amazing. What is it, anyway?”
“Doesn’t matter right now, Eds.” You smile at him, he smiles at you, and the two of you meet an impasse of frozen bodies.
“So, uh -”
“Do you-”
“I mean, I have -”
“If you want -”
“Do you want-?”
You’re speaking over each other, words coming out in a flurry to disguise the fact you’re not doing much else.
“Okay,” Eddie says, trying to affect a calmness you know for certain that he’s not feeling with the way his erection moves each time he sneaks a glimpse at your cleavage. “We can, you know, stop here for the day. If you want. Already got my fill of stuff if you prefer to, uh, pause or… um, go where we left off another time… err, yeah?”
“Yeah?” When you don’t continue, he starts shuffling about on his knees, searching for the top he flung away. “And is that what you want, Eddie?” You move to a standing position, wincing at the pins and needles that briefly send your legs into a spasm as you hobble your way over to his bed. He looks up at you from the floor as you sit on the side of his bed. “Because if you want to keep going, we can. Or we can do anything waist up instead, if that’s easier.” You offer him a gentle smile, one he instantly returns as he moves to sit next to you. “There’s no rush.”
“I know.” He pauses, searching for words that elude him. “I don’t want to pressure you, either.”
“Do you want to continue?” you ask softly. Your hand slides to rest on top of his, squeezing briefly.
“Yes - maybe?” He swallows, looking into his lap as his face falls. “God.”
“It’s okay if you don’t, Eds. We can do whatever you like.” A second squeeze, firmer this time. “We’re friends. Best friends. And all this stuff, the ‘full-on-fucking’ -” you imitate his voice while your other hand makes air quotes, “it can come later. We do as much and little as we want, because I’m sure as hell not doing anything you don’t want to.”
“‘S it weird if I just wanna, like… cuddle, for now? Make out and stuff? Not do… y’know…”
He sounds so crestfallen, so ashamed, that your heart cracks and bleeds like a fountain for him.
“Of course, Eddie.” You tilt his head so that his eyes meet yours, and you see the way his nerves gradually melt. “It will never not be okay.”
He snorts a little at that. “‘Never not.’ Okay, Miss A-Grade English.”
“Oh, shut up.” You shove him for the second time that day, but you’re both grinning wide enough for it to hurt.
The pair of you lay back down, legs hanging off one side of the bed as your heads graze the other. You roll onto your side as he does, each smiling back at the other.
“Want me to grab your shirt?” He offers, sliding so that he’s half-sitting up, poised to move.
“Nope.” You gently prod him onto his back, using his chest as a pillow. “You’ll just have to snuggle some warmth into me.”
Eddie chuckles, sliding an arm round your shoulders. “Can do, bossyboots.”
“Bite me, Munson.”
“Well, seeing as I’m inches from your throat…” He leans in closer, peppering sloppy kisses from the side of your cheek down to your collarbone, half-sucking as he goes. You can’t help but giggle, even as you swat him away before he can reach the breasts he’s now so enamoured with.
“Eddie, you’re not a vampire!”
“Oh? Or am I?” He gives you a sarcastic ‘oooh’, gesturing to his teeth. “Sharp, aren’t they? Could bite you to death. Pretty thing like you would be dead in a flash. Maybe all this was just me seducing you into a trap.”
“Worked, didn’t it? You’ve got me exactly where you want me.” You shuffle closer, trying to inhale his scent into your deepest memories, willing it to stay in your mind for eternity. There’s a musky cologne, the smell of sweat — his and yours both — and a particular man-smell that’s all Eddie. The perfect fragrance. You want to just bottle it up.
“Damn right. Perfect prey.”
“‘Course I am.”
You both settle into an easy, comfortable silence, safe in each other’s arms. The world melts away; you’re sure there could never be anything beyond the four walls of his bedroom, not even the trailer, because how could anything compare to this? A world-within-a-world — perhaps Tolkien would be proud.
You yawn against his chest as he leans in closer, cocooning your limbs into the perfect tangle.
“Tired, sweets?” Eddie chuckles when you nod weakly, pressing an all-too-brief kiss to your forehead. “‘M sleepy too.”
“We could sleep together,” you murmur, echoing the words he’d said to you earlier that day. It all feels like an aeon ago, now.
He laughs at your double entendre. “Oh sweetheart, you’ll be the death of me.”
“Night night, sleep tight.” You pause. “Don’t let the Eddies bite.”
Whatever response he might have given you is meaningless, because the two of you fall asleep shortly afterwards, each whisked into a dream that features a semi-clad version of the other. You smile against his chest as the vision turns raunchier; face amidst your hair, he smiles in return.