It's Us or Them Ch. 5
Rating: M
Ship: Eddie Munson/Original Character (male) non-romantic mostly
Chapters: 5/18?
Current word count: 16.212
Excerpt from Chapter Five
“Better perk up before tonight, Grand” Eddie said, bumping him on the shoulder as he passed. V groaned and gave him the finger, but Eddie could see that he had a small smirk on his face.
Eddie pulled a piece of notebook paper out of his bag, offering it to V between two fingers.
“Background info you’ll need for tonight, plus your plot hook to join the group” Eddie explained as V opened the paper and gave it a quick scan.
“Oh god, The Freak and The Beast are communicating. Someone get a crucifix or they might start breeding” snarked a voice from the other side of the room.
Eddie rolled his eyes and didn’t dignify them with the response they wanted, choosing to walk away quickly instead. He made sure to give V a nod goodbye as he left.
It had sounded like fucking Jason Carver. He was still running his mouth in the classroom as Eddie fled.
Usually when Carver started yapping, he was looking for a fight. Eddie wasn’t about that on a good day. But this could be his year . And he was passing his first week of classes with flying colors.
He was mostly ahead of his work, and hadn’t missed turning in a single assignment or skipped a class… yet.
He wasn’t going to mess that up by getting into a fight with a minor . Regardless of how much of a douchebag he was.
After the first period, the day went slower than Eddie would have thought possible. He’d been cornered by the Dweebs several times throughout the day.
The first time, it was just Wheeler, who pressed a shirt into his hands with a look of absolute pride. He told Eddie he’d had a friend draw the logo, and then his mom had made shirts for everyone. He was already wearing his own.
Later, Wheeler realized that he’d not been able to get one for V. He cornered Eddie again, worried V would be upset . Eddie had just ruffled his hair and walked away laughing. He’d changed into his in the bathroom between classes.
Henderson caught him once, and spent the entire passing period telling Eddie how excited he was for tonight. It was actually kind of flattering, but Eddie pretended to be annoyed until he left.
V wasn’t at the table at lunch, which was becoming the trend for their A-days. But Eddie had been planning on giving him the run down of the rules for their table. He ended up just giving everyone else a refresher instead. He figured he’d just stop V and let him know when he saw him again.
Normally, he’d see the blonde walking around the halls with his headphones on, but the dude was nowhere to be seen after first period.
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It's Us or Them Ch 1
Rating: M
Ship: Eddie Munson/Original Character (male)
Chapters: 1/18?
Current word count: 2,559
Chapter One
Hawkins High School, Home of the Tigers . Prospective state basketball champions. Award winning band. One of the great gems of Indiana, and the pride of Hawkins itself.
What utter fucking bullshit.
Eddie swung his van into his parking spot, at the back of the lot. His spot for the last 6 fucking years . But it was almost over. Today was the first day of the spring semester. And with a stroke of luck, Gods did Eddie need some luck, this would be the last semester of his life .
Now, being late on his first day probably wasn't the best start. But it had been a rough start that morning, and getting out of bed had been… difficult to say the least.
Normally, Eddie would take a moment to smoke a quick joint before rolling into class at the very last second. Today he didn't have the luxury of time.
Eddie slammed the door of the van as hard as possible, just because he could, as he huddled into his leather jacket and vest. It didn't do much against an early morning in January in fucking Indiana, but it's what he had. The jacket had cost him two months of income, and he'd missed an Iron Maiden release and only a couple meals. But it was so worth it.
Eddie lit a cigarette as he walked through the parking lot. He exhaled like a dragon, letting out a roar that bounced off the other cars, and cackled openly at the noise. The smoke mixed with his frosty breath in the air, creating an effect he wished he could bring to the table during Hellfire.
He huffed steadily on his cigarette as he walked, trying to finish it before he got to the door. Idly, he noticed a car in one of the front spots he hadn't seen on the lot before. One of the rich asshole’s Mommy and Daddy had bought their precious spawn a new ride for Christmas. It was an older model, but had obviously been lovingly restored. He was The Freak, but even he had to admit that the shiny black and chrome was sexy. But he looked at it disdainfully anyway.
Fuck it was cold.
He quickly took one last drag, before flicking the offending butt to the tire of the Impala. He wrapped his arms around himself and sprinted the rest of the way up to the school.
Not for the first time in his highschool career, Eddie was grateful that most of the senior classes were close to the front of the school.
He batted off the snittering of the receptionist, both of them used enough to this song and dance by now. Neither of them tried to bother with the conversation of a late slip anymore.
He doubted that Mr. Daughtry would give a shit at this point either. Everyone here, including Eddie (obviously) was fucking ready for him to be out of here. And Mr. Daughtry liked Eddie better than most of his other teachers anyway.
History was one of the only classes he was actually moderately successful in. One had to have a particular affinity to history to be as prolific of a Dungeon Master as Eddie was. Of course, he'd be in much better standing if he could manage to turn in the homework. Acing tests would only keep his grade afloat for a time. And being late to class wasn't helping either.
Fuck.
Eddie slammed the door open to Mr. Daughtry’s room, effectively cutting off his lesson, all eyes in the room coming to him. Mr. Daughtry sighed, sliding his reading glasses down his nose to look at Eddie over the top of his book. Eddie flashed him his corniest smile and gave a little finger wave to the old man.
"Sorry I'm late" he told him with a false, bashful, lilting voice.
"Mr. Munson, so glad you could join us," Daughtry drawled, not even flinching at Eddie's performance, "find a new seat. You've lost yours… since you were late"
Eddie's head snapped up to see that his seat was in fact filled, by the only person undisturbed by Eddie’s entrance. He expected it to be one of the usual prep assholes. James Tyler's girl sat to his left, and he'd tried it before.
But instead, it was some stranger.
He looked as out of place as Eddie did in the sea of polos and pleated skirts, and Eddie almost had to double take at the sight of him.
For starters, he looked older than most everyone in the room, like Eddie. Plus, he had the oddest haircut. His bleach blond hair was shorn on the sides, like a wide mohawk, but the top was all floppy, cut in a blunt line just below his ear. Technically, it'd probably be considered a mullet instead of a mohawk, but Eddie wasn't an expert. The rest of him was a weird eclectic mix of styles.
He was stocky, and his long black denim clad legs were sticking out awkwardly from under the desk. His thick arms were stuffed into a worn black jean jacket that was adorned with a few buttons on the front. He had on a black t-shirt, with a colorful band logo across the front that Eddie didn't recognize, even if he could have read what it said. Almost every finger had a glinting silver or black ring. The top of one ear was pierced with a small black hoop, the other with a matching hoop halfway down the ear. Eddie could even see a few tattoos peeking out from under his thick wristbands. It may be goth and punk and metal, but he was totally stealing Eddie's look.
And he was in Eddie's chair .
Daughtry cleared his throat and Eddie flushed as he realized he was staring angrily at the kid. His classmates snickered as Eddie put his head down and hurried to the remaining seat closer to the back, next to the drafty window. Eddie slunk down and didn't even bother to pull out his book as Daughtry continued on with the lesson like nothing had happened. The New Kid never even raised his head once, intently focused instead on whatever he was scribbling into his notebook.
He didn't flinch as Eddie stared daggers into the back of the poser's head.
The back of his jacket had a few patches ironed on. Most of them were more art pieces than anything solid, but there was Iron Maiden and Slayer, the obvious suspects. He might listen to decent music, but probably hadn’t been for long. The shades of black on everything, except the jacket he was wearing were all matching still. There was even a tattoo poking out of his collar, leading up the middle of his neck. Committed, but the dude was definitely trying too much. What a douchebag.
Eddie didn't absorb anything that was said in class that day. As soon as the bell rang, New Kid was out the door, throwing on his headphones.
He was able to focus much better in his next class. Jeff brought him up at lunch. Gareth had his second period with him, and they spent a few minutes laughing about his hair cut. The Dweebs didn’t get why it was such a big deal. Henderson said they’d passed each other in the hall, and thought he seemed cool.
They were young, they would learn. Until then, Eddie would just have to deal with their confusion. Eventually the topic of conversation switched over to Sinclair, and his silly little shorts he'd put on too early for practice next period.
And Eddie didn't think about the poser again for the rest of the day.
He had a couple drop-offs to worry about after school, and a fresh mound of homework he had to sit over. Eddie wholeheartedly pretended to work on it, getting distracted with finger drumming to his music playing over the speakers instead. He would much rather be putting his final touches on the campaign for Friday, though. The whole task was nearly impossible, but eventually he got enough on paper for it to be passable. That's all he needed.
If he could keep up with passable, everything would be fine. This should be his year . It should be easy, really. He was going to keep it cool, he had a plan. He just had to keep steady, and not get distracted.
That plan hit its first bump as he pulled into the parking lot the next morning to see a black Impala parked in his spot .
It wasn't like there wasn't plenty of other room for them, no one ever parked this far back unless they were doing something they didn’t want the general populace of the school to see. But Eddie had arrived early for once. The entire row was empty, except for that car. But that was Eddie’s spot . And sure, he could just park somewhere else. But so could they. That was his spot . It'd been his spot for six fucking years.
No rich asshole was going to take that from him. This should be his year .
Thankfully, it looked like the car was still running, which meant Eddie could get them to move. He just hoped it wasn’t someone getting in an early morning necking session. That was not what Eddie needed to see this early in the morning.
He pulled up recklessly into the spot to the left of the car, and climbed out of the van. He wanted to light up, but it wasn't worth the effort with the cold, and hopefully he'd be back in the van soon enough. It was thankfully a touch warmer out than it had been yesterday. The sun was out at least. Eddie still had to stuff his hands in his pits as he hurried around the back of the van to the Impalas driver side door.
He kept his attention on the parking lot around him, not totally sure this wasn’t some sort of prank. Everyone knew this was his spot. It wouldn’t be the first time Carver and his gang had tried something at the very least; so he wasn't exactly paying attention as he came up to the car. All he really clocked was that the window was rolled down slightly, and a steady stream of sweet cigarette smoke was billowing out from it. He stood just behind the door, wanting to have a quick getaway in case it was a trap.
Eddie knocked, looking around and bouncing on the balls of his feet to try and generate what warmth he could. No response.
Eddie knocked again, the bouncing becoming agitated instead of being born out of necessity. No response.
He really should have just lit up his own cigarette. This asshole's stale second-hand smoke wasn't going to cut it for Eddie. He rapt the window harder this time, the swell of anger lighting a fire in his stomach.
Eddie didn't wait very long for a response, taking the steps towards the front of the car, hoping to catch the douchebag's attention. At the very least he wanted to see who it was that was ignoring his obvious attempts for attention, flip them the bird, and move on with his day. He wouldn't make any great show of bravery if it came down to it, but that was his spot damnit.
"Hello" Eddie sing-songed as he walked around, ducking down to look inside and rapping the hood lightly. His already sour expression fell further when he caught sight of the asshole inside.
It was the fucking New Kid.
He didn't react at all as Eddie slid into his field of vision.
His eyes were closed tightly as he chewed steadily at the inside of his cheek, screwing up the rest of his face with the action. He was gripping the top of the steering wheel tightly with both hands, his cigarette being ruthlessly crushed between two knuckles. He had on his headphones and was bobbing his head lightly to the beat of whatever was playing. Occasionally he would halt the assault on his own cheek to mouth the words to himself.
His breathing was unsteady, and Eddie got the impression that he might be trying to… prepare or steady himself somehow? He looked slightly unsteady, and Eddie briefly felt bad that he was going to have to interrupt the moment.
Too bad he's in Eddie's spot.
Eddie planted both hands on the hood of the car and shoved down, having to hop onto his toes to get enough leverage. The Impala bounced and the New Kids' eyes finally flew open.
They widened in surprise, pale and glassy, at the sight of Eddie. All the blood drained from his face in an instant, and he quickly snatched the headphones off his head.
Eddie watched with unveiled agitation as New Kid fumbled with his tape player in the passenger seat. Eddie walked back to the window as the asshole turned to scramble with the crank.
"Hi," Eddie bit, bracing himself on the roof, leaning down into the newly open space, "you're in my spot"
New Kid startled again, like he couldn't believe Eddie was talking to him. He turned his head quickly to the side, taking in the empty row of parking spaces to his right.
"Uh," he started, voice cracking on the single syllable, like it was the first sound he'd made today. He cleared his throat a couple of times and then much more clearly, "do I need to move?"
He had a thick accent, and his voice was deeper than Eddie would have expected. Though, it sounded slightly put on. He was obviously uncomfortable and over-compensating, but Eddie wasn't really in a forgiving mood this morning. He'd shown up early with his black lunch box in tow, having rolled himself a nice treat for this morning. Now he wasn't even going to have time for that.
He'd even have to smoke his cigarette running up to the front of the school, again. He could relent the spot just this once, and save himself the precious few minutes of time he'd need to start the day the way he'd originally planned. It was starting to look like he'd actually need it.
"It's your lucky day, I'm feeling charitable" Eddie said with his winning fake grin plastered on his face, "I'd rather not waste anymore time on this… little interaction" he wiggled his fingers, "but just for future reference" Eddie swung his arms wildly in the general direction, "mine"
Without waiting for a response, he slapped the roof of the car, careful not to scratch the paint job with his rings, and spun around, making a hasty retreat.
He really had no leg to stand on here, but the New Kid didn't know that… yet.
Eddie retreated into his van and turned the rust bucket back on, filling the cab with music and hot air. He'd only have time for half his joint, but that'd be enough for now, and he could smoke the rest at lunch. Actually, it probably made more sense to do it that way anyways.
He reclined his chair back and let the smoke curl around his head, trying to reset his frame of mind for the day. New Kid be damned, this was going to be his year.
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(another steddie club scene...don't mind me)
Eddie doesn't dance.
Not in clubs, at least. Not that he even finds himself in clubs all that often (actually, he's only ever been to this gay club, and he can count the number of times he's been here on one hand).
Okay, maybe he kind of dances. Sometimes. When he's cooking alone in the kitchen, or when Gareth is having a bad day and Eddie knows an exaggerated shimmy will make him crack a smile. He headbangs, too. Headbangs plenty. If it counts.
But he doesn't really dance like Steve Harrington is dancing right now – with his head thrown back, with a smirk on his lips, with the rhythm taking control of his blue denim-clad hips.
Goddamn it, he wishes he could dance like that.
Damn his long, gangly limbs, and his inability to move his upper body and lower body at the same time. And damn Robin Buckley for bringing him here, for subjecting him to the sight of Steve leaning back into some fucking guy, mouth half-opened, eyes closed. Neck exposed. Beads of sweat making his golden hair stick to his forehead.
Eddie really, really wishes he could dance like that. Wishes he could –
"Why the long face?" a new voice asks, and Eddie follows the sound until his eyes land on a guy standing right behind him.
The guy's green eyes lock with Eddie before they take him in, up and down, with no hint of subtlety.
He's not unattractive. He's got a couple of cool pins on his jean jacket, an earring dangling from his right ear, and Eddie can see a dusting of dark hair sneaking out from beneath his cropped t-shirt.
And it makes sense, he supposes. Eddie guesses that his black hanky, his long hair, his Judas Priest t-shirt and his rings don't exactly scream don't bother trying unless you're a polo-clad, ex-jock babysitter.
He doesn't share any of that with the guy, though. He just says, "Funny, I can't remember"
He adds a smirk to that, something that says please, please take my mind off of the fucking Apollo tearing up the dancefloor a couple of feet away from my aching hands.
And the guy must get it because he smirks right back, offers his arm to Eddie, and brings him to the dancefloor. Eddie lets himself go despite his two left feet, despite the ball of nerves in his stomach sitting right next to the burning pit of unwarranted jealousy.
He lets the guy (Christ, he really should have at least asked for his name) place Eddie's hands onto his own hips, lets him lead. He lets himself pretends he knows what he's doing.
Either way, it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter if he looks suave or ridiculous or what, because across the dancefloor, Steve isn’t smirking anymore.
His eyes are glued to Eddie, his lips caught in a slight pout, his eyebrows worn down by the subtlest of frowns.
But Eddie catches it. He notices the stiffness of Steve's movements, notices the disinterested way in which he sways to the music, eyes never leaving Eddie and the stranger's hands around his waist.
So Eddie dances.
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