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ghosttotheparty · 1 year

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crybaby

this is the most unhinged thing i’ve written and it’s @thorniest-rose’s fault bc of this post (no this is not going on ao3 bc some of my irls know ab my ao3)

featuring: virgin!eddie; also bottom!eddie; eddie w an oral fixation; lots of crying bc eddie is pathetic (affectionate); unhinged horniness and then extremely soft tenderness

cw: brief mention of piss bc eddie is depraved; mention of drugs; f slur used once; obviously very nsfw minors go away you are not welcome here

~~~

eddie isn’t good at much, but the things he’s good at, he’s really good at. these things include things other people know about him. writing stories, drawing creatures, making up plot twists and snags and tangles during campaigns, playing complex riffs on his guitar, finding his place easily on stage in front of people. (not many people, but still. people.)

but he’s also good at things that nobody knows about, things that nobody should or will ever know about. specifically, he’s good at getting himself off.

he’s experienced, simply put. he knows his body. he knows what feels good, and what doesn’t, and he knows what he likes. he’s gotten practice. he’s also gotten… creative.

he’s been home alone often enough that he’s gotten to try things. things he’s read about in magazines, seen pictures of, things that he’s just randomly thought of and gotten curious about.

he likes being breathless, so he curiously wraps his fingers around his own neck and squeezes until he’s a little lightheaded and gasping. (he uses a belt to do it one day, and he’s reminded of the bite of the leather on his neck every time he wears the belt after that. so he leaves it in his closet for the times he’s feeling particularly depraved, because he can’t wear it out anymore.) he comes immediately when his hair gets caught on his rings and he accidentally pulls too hard, so that becomes a thing afterwards.

he shoves his face into his pillow to muffle his moans, and when he bites down on it he realises he likes having it in his mouth. (he’s always liked having things in his mouth, pencils and his hair and gum and his necklaces, so he supposes this makes sense.) so he starts biting his pillows and then the ends of his blankets and then his underwear, and then he sucks on his fingers and bites his arms when he tosses them over his face.

some nights it’s harder to come than others, and he tries everything. sticking a pillow between his legs and riding it, using too much lube to get four fingers inside himself as he groans into his mattress, pushing his knuckles against his taint and pressing a hand against his belly, fucking himself with the handle of his hairbrush until he saves enough money to get an actual toy.

it’s also fun sometimes when he’s high, his head full of clouds, every sensation somehow simultaneously heightened and muffled. (on one particularly desperate night, he gets too high and accidentally pisses himself as he’s coming, and if that awakens something inside him as he comes back down… well, that’s his business.)

he’s aware of how it would look if someone were to take a peek into his bedside table drawer and found the bottle of lube (and the empty one he just hasn’t gotten around to throwing away) next to the pills and weed. but nobody looks at his stuff.

sometimes he does it without even the intention of really getting off. it just feels nice. gives his brain something to focus on while he does other things, fondling his dick over his pants while he reads or does homework, putting a toy inside himself while he draws or works on a campaign.

there are nights that he sets aside just to get off. just to sit in bed with lube and a box of toys (some of which are just innocuous things, like the belt and the hairbrush, that are only used for this), to spend hours taking himself apart. (yes, hours. the only time he’s ever patient is when he stops himself just before tipping over the edge.) he always gets a little delirious after long nights, giggling breathlessly to himself as his come and sweat dries tacky on his skin, as he untangles his fingers and rings from his own hair.

he doesn’t have any experience with other people, to his own disappointment. he’s curious about if it would feel better for another man to pull his hair, if they would pull it harder, sharper, if their hands would feel better around his throat, if their dicks would feel better in his ass than Eddie’s fingers.

he manages by himself, though. (manages is a light term. he’s killing it, really.) a few times a week, when he gets to get away from the rest of the world for a while. it’s not gross, he doesn’t think. he’s a healthy amount of horny, in his own opinion.

until steve harrington.

steve turns his world upside down (pun intended), from the moment eddie pins him against the wall out of fear and steve makes those little gasping noises, and then it gets worse when he sees steve bite a fucking demon bat and rip it apart before spitting its blood onto the ground like it was nothing, all covered in sweat and blood and lake water. eddie has to focus on where exactly he is and the fact that the world might be ending to distract his dick.

(nancy notices him adjust his pants, and his face burns, but she just barks out a laugh that she disguises as a cough, thankfully.)

he’s distracted until everything is over, luckily, as it would be difficult to sneak off long enough to rub one out. (to king steve, of all people. jesus.)

when he’s released from the hospital, he goes home (home now meaning the apartment the government gave wayne in return for the trailer.), and he’s hard before the shower water is even warm. and steve is in his head. covered in sweat and blood, panting and grinning and hovering over eddie. eddie ends up pressing his face to the wall, his breathes and soft whines echoing off the tile, and he’s vaguely aware that he’s moaning steve’s name, but it doesn’t really matter. no one’s here to hear it.

and steve keeps doing this thing. which really isn't a thing at all. he's just... existing. but it's summertime, and he keeps wearing these shirts with cut-off sleeves, and these shorts that cling to his ass like saran wrap, and he keeps pushing his hair back in this way that's so casual it's clear he isn't aware that he looks like a fucking model. (his hair is also longer now than it was when they met. long enough that he sometimes borrows hair ties from the girls to keep it out of his face while he's cooking (which is a whole other story) and eddie has to physically turn away to tear his eyes away from his neck.)

obviously he doesn’t tell anyone that he’s hot for steve. because it doesn’t matter. steve’s hot. that’s that.

but the problem is that he’s falling for steve. beyond the way his neck looks when he looks up at the ceiling and the way his muscles shift when he lifts something heavy, eddie is falling for the rest of him. his kindness, his bravery, the way he acts with the kids and robin and nancy, the quips and bitchy faces he makes when he’s annoyed. the way he traces the scars around his neck absentmindedly. (the scars that match eddie’s.) and eddie doesn’t just want to lick his chest and feel his fingers in his hair anymore, but he also wants to just… hold his hand. kiss him good morning. borrow his sweaters to sleep in and let their hair tangle in a hairbrush.

which is a problem because they’re actual friends now, apart from the all the trauma bonding. they bond over other things. over dustin and the kids, over teasing robin and teasing each other, over hawkins. and most of the time, eddie forgets he’s hot for him until he’s horny, and then steve is all he can think about.

he discovers that steve is hot when he smokes. they’re in steve’s living room with robin and nancy and jonathan and argyle, passing a bong around, and the way steve’s eyes shine, framed by his dark princess eyelashes, and the way he blows smoke at the ceiling and grins lazily make eddie feel like his skin is twisting. so he excuses himself to the upstairs bathroom for a few minutes. he bites the hand towel hanging by the sink to keep himself quiet. (nancy gives him a knowing look and smile when he comes back and he just flips her off. she giggles, but no one questions it because they’re all high.)

it’s still not really a problem. he’s good at pretending steve doesn’t make him feel lightheaded just by looking at him.

steve might be eddie’s best friend. which is nice. but also…

steve is a tactile person. eddie notices it at the very beginning of their friendship, watching how steve drapes himself over robin as she’s watching movies or talking with someone, how steve tugs dustin closer just to hold the back of his neck or his shoulder, how he holds eleven’s hand whenever she reaches for his. and steve is the same with him, leaning against him on the sofa, setting his legs over eddie’s lap. he doesn’t question it when eddie starts to headbutt him, rubbing his head and face against steve’s shoulder or arm or back just because. he just smiles or laughs quietly when it’s particularly aggressive, which just makes eddie’s heart grow warmer.

steve gives eddie a key to his house when his parents move out. i know you have a place with wayne, but it’s just… i want you to know that you, like… have somewhere to go. if you need it. so eddie gets a key made for his apartment gives it to steve two weeks later. you too. steve tries to hide his watery eyes, but eddie doesn’t let him. he just pulls him into a hug.

it doesn’t occur to him that it wasn’t entirely a great idea until he’s facedown in bed, crying and fucking himself with a toy, and the front door opens.

“eddie?”

eddie can’t even move, his vision blurred as his door opens and steve appears and freezes.

“oh.”

eddie says steve’s name, tears sliding across his skin and soaking into his sheets as he continues to fuck himself, hanging just on the precipice of enough, his body flushed with desperation and embarrassment.

steve must see it all, the desperation and embarrassment and all the tears, because he falters, his voice soft when he asks, “are you okay?”

“i can’t come,” eddie whines, a small sob escaping him, his hand slowing, and he hides his face in the mattress, squeezing his eyes shut, because holy fuck, steve is seeing this. seeing eddie like this, bare and more naked than he’s ever been because someone’s eyes are on him now. (he kind of likes it. feeling steve’s eyes trail over his skin, watching the toy. he feels seen.)

“do you want some help?” steve asks softly, his voice almost disappearing before it reaches eddie’s ears. eddie sobs again, nodding into the bed.

“please.”

it’s quiet for a moment before he feels the mattress shift and steve’s fingers run through his hair. eddie whimpers, letting out a quiet yes.

“look at me,” steve says lightly, quietly, gently. eddie turns his head, blinking up at him, breathing hard. steve caresses his head, hesitating. “i just got off work,” he says slowly, like he knows exactly how eddie’s brain is lagging. “and i’ve been handling money and stuff all day, so i’m gonna go wash my hands. and i’ll be right back. okay?”

“okay,” eddie says weakly.

“okay,” steve repeats softly with a smile. his hand disappears from eddie’s hair, and eddie whines as steve leaves to the bathroom down the hall. he keeps fucking himself as he listens to steve’s footsteps down the hall, to the bathroom sink running, to his bedroom door shut. his eyes flutter open when the mattress shifts again.

steve is laying next to him, his eyes soft, trained on eddie’s face even though eddie’s ass is in the air.

“what do you need?” steve whispers. eddie’s heart clenches. his hand stops again, holding the toy in place, and his brows furrow as his eyes water again.

“i need it to be real,” he says weakly without thinking.

“…what do you mean?”

eddie is still crying, and steve wipes a tear from the bridge of his nose carefully.

“need you to mean it, stevie,” eddie breathes. steve blinks at him, touching his cheek.

and then steve is moving closer, nudging their noses together, and eddie’s eyes close as their lips brush against each other.

“i mean it, eddie,” steve murmurs. and then he’s kissing him.

eddie gasps, releasing the toy and reaching for steve’s head, clutching at him, more desperate than he’s ever been. when they part, eddie’s skin is wet with tears and spit and eddie’s fingers have gotten lube in steve’s hair.

“what do you need?” steve asks again, his fingers brushing over eddie’s cheek.

“fuck me,” eddie breathes.

“…you sure?”

“please, steve,” eddie cries quietly. “i need it, i need you so bad.”

“okay,” steve whispers, kissing him again. “like this?”

“mm.”

steve shifts, moving to kneel behind eddie, and eddie is trembling with anticipation as he listens to steve undress, flushing with heat as he feels steve’s hand slide over his ass.

“you know you’re beautiful?” steve says softly, touching him. he presses against the toy for a moment, pushing it into eddie harder, making eddie whine, before he slowly, carefully pulls it out. “fuck.”

“stevie,” eddie whines, arching his back. one of steve’s hands squeezes, and his other traces eddie's hole lightly, his fingertip just pressing inside for a moment.

“you have condoms?”

eddie groans, gesturing with a flop of his arm to his bedside table, and steve laughs softly, getting up.

steve rubs his skin when he’s back, running his hands over eddie’s ass and thighs and the small of his back, his hands soft and warm and gentle on eddie’s scars before they pull away and eddie hears the clicking of the cap of the bottle of lube.

“ready?” steve whispers.

“yes.”

it’s better than the hairbrush. better than the toys. eddie groans, his voice muffled by the mattress, and steve lets out a soft shit.

“how do you want it?” steve asks roughly after pausing for eddie to adjust.

“hard. please. steve.”

“i got you, baby.”

baby. fuck. eddie’s never been called baby before. he’s never been called anything but his name, but freak and fag. he’s never been called anything sweet.

he starts crying again as steve fucks him, leaning over him, his hands on either side of eddie’s body.

“you feel good?” steve asks when he notices eddie crying.

“yes,” eddie chokes, delirious, gripping the sheets so tightly they might rip. “yes, so good, stevie. love your fucking dick.”

steve laughs, his breath on eddie’s shoulder before one of his hands slides over eddie’s back.

“just my dick?”

eddie giggles like he’s high, his back arching.

“love all of you,” he says.

“love all of you too, eddie.”

it doesn’t feel like the world’s tipped upside down like it should have. it feels like eddie already knew.

eddie whines, reaching back and grabbing steve’s hip, feeling it move back and forth, feeling his muscles shift under his skin.

“talk to me, stevie,” he says desperately, too loud.

steve leans down closer, brushing his lips over eddie’s shoulder.

“you wanna hear me?”

“mm.”

“i’m so obsessed with you,” steve says softly into eddie’s ear, breathing hard. eddie tilts his head to listen. “i’ve gotten off to… to the thought of you so many times.”

“really?” eddie says weakly.

“fuck. yeah.”

eddie whimpers, biting his lip so hard it might start bleeding.

“me too,” he says, because he doesn’t know how to articulate anything he’s thinking. steve seems to understand him.

“shit.” steve presses a rough kiss to eddie’s shoulder. “you’re so amazing, eddie. fucking everything about you. so fucking perfect. so pretty. that fucking hair. your lips.”

eddie’s head is filled with clouds. he’s crying, spit dripping from his mouth as it hangs open.

“steve,” he chokes. “gimme your hand.”

steve’s hand starts to slide down, under his hips, but eddie stops him with a quiet no, and he releases his hip, holding his hand up for steve to take it. their fingers lace tightly for a moment before eddie pulls steve’s hand to his mouth, sliding his tongue across his fingers.

“jesus,” steve murmurs, letting go of eddie’s hand and sliding two fingers into eddie’s mouth. eddie groans, holding steve’s wrist tightly. “you’re so perfect.”

eddie whimpers, sucking on his fingers and melting onto the mattress as it creaks with every thrust of steve’s hips.

“you’re so much better than a dildo,” eddie mumbles around his fingers, and steve laughs, kissing the back of his shoulder.

“am i your first time?” he asks after a second, like he’s just realised. eddie hums affirmatively, sucking on his fingers harder, smiling dopily when steve pushes them farther into his mouth, spreading them over his tongue. “god, you’re a fuckin’ natural, aren’t you?”

eddie giggles, drooling.

“can i go harder?” steve asks.

“yes. please.”

steve pulls his hand away from eddie’s mouth, and eddie whines softly, replacing his fingers with his own as steve sits ups straight, gripping eddie’s hips tightly before he slams into him. a short scream escapes eddie before he reaches to grab a pillow, pulling it close and burying his face in it.

“alright?” steve checks, breathless.

eddie moans into the pillow, pushing his ass back out toward him.

“words, eddie,” steve says, sliding a hand over his ass, and eddie lifts his head enough for steve to hear him.

“yes.”

“okay.”

eddie can hear steve’s smile in his voice.

eddie groans into the pillow as steve fucks him, each thrust hard enough that eddie’s whole body rocks forward, and he mumbles into the pillow even though steve can’t hear him.

“so fucking good, stevie, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…”

he’s getting closer. his moans grow louder, higher and higher, until steve’s hands tighten on his hips, gripping him like they’ll fall apart at the seams if he lets go. (the seams being the matching scars that cover their bodies.)

“you gonna come for me, honey?” steve asks breathlessly, sliding a hand up eddie’s spine. eddie groans and turns his head so steve can hear him.

“can i?”

“…come.”

eddie comes.

he’s always noisy when he comes, and he’s used to holding a pillow to his face to muffle it, but today is different. he’s groaning, low in his throat, and then he’s sobbing, his shoulders shaking as he cries. steve moans as he comes soon after, a hand running comfortingly down eddie’s back.

“fuck, eddie,” he pants. “you okay?”

eddie whines, trembling, and steve pulls out carefully, moving to lay next to eddie, pulling him into his arms. eddie’s legs give out under him and he lets steve pull him close, taking a gasping breath.

“slow,” steve instructs gently. “i got you.”

eddie inhales slowly, shakily, pressing his face into steve’s neck, focussing on the feeling of steve’s chest hair on eddie’s skin. his hands find steve’s waist, sliding to his back before they roll slightly so his arms can wrap around him.

“you okay?” steve asks softly after a few moments.

“‘m so okay, steve,” eddie murmurs. steve’s fingers run over his skin. “i’ve never come that hard. fuck.”

steve laughs softly, tilting his head to kiss the top of his head.

“got worried,” he says softly.

“don’t worry,” eddie says. he closes his eyes. “i’m just a crybaby.”

“sweet boy,” steve murmurs into his hair.

they’re quiet for a moment before steve carefully lets go of him, shifting to take off the condom and tie it off, rolling over to toss it to the trash can next to eddie’s desk.

“touch me,” eddie says before steve’s even rolled back over, and steve listens, pulling him close, tugging at him until he’s on top of steve, their legs tangled.

he closes his eyes as steve traces lines over his back, his fingertips dancing over eddie’s scars gently.

“did you mean it?” eddie asks softly after a minute. steve’s hands pause for a second before they continue.

“mean what?”

“that you… that you love me.”

“yes,” steve says without hesitating, without thinking.

“really?” eddie asks weakly.

“yes,” steve whispers again. “i love you. like… a lot.”

“fuck.”

“are you crying again?”

“…no,” eddie lies, but his voice cracks, and he feels steve’s chest move as he laughs softly, reaching to run his hand through eddie’s curls.

“crybaby,” he says fondly, kissing his head again. eddie whines, nuzzling into his neck. “i got you.”

eddie takes a shaky breath when he stops crying, sighing softly.

“next time,” steve says softly, “i wanna do this at my place.”

“why?” eddie asks, smiling.

“wanna make you as loud as possible.”

eddie snorts.

“yeah?”

“mm. wanna hear you scream without a pillow in your face.”

“okay,” eddie says softly. he could fall asleep here, his chest pressed to steve’s. their heart pressed together, beating in tandem with nothing but skin between them, feeling steve’s fingers sliding over his skin like they can’t decide where to stop. “you really like me?” he asks after a moment.

steve is quiet, still touching him.

“i came over today,” he starts slowly, voice soft. “because i had a bad day.”

eddie sits up, his forearms crossed over steve’s chest as he looks down at him, frowning a little bit. steve looks up at him fondly and tucks his hair behind his ear. his cheeks are flushed and rosy, his hair tousled, his eyes half-shut.

“work was rough,” he explains without eddie having to ask. “had a headache and some customers were rude and i just…” he shrugs weakly, nonchalantly. “couldn’t wait to get—“

he cuts himself off and swallows, his eyes flicking back and forth between eddie’s almost nervously.

“get what?” eddie prompts softly.

“…home.”

eddie blinks, his brain whirling, because steve is at eddie’s apartment right now, not his own house, and it all clicks. steve came to eddie’s after he had a hard day. steve called eddie’s name not three seconds after shutting the front door.

“oh.”

steve smiles weakly at him. eddie leans down and kisses him. he touches his cheek as steve’s lips part, caressing him. his skin is soft. he shivers when steve’s tongue slides over his lip, and he smiles when steve sucks on it softly.

“jesus,” he breathes when they part.

“what?” steve whispers.

“so good.”

“yeah?”

“mm.”

he tucks his face back into steve’s neck, sighing and relaxing, melting against steve, who reaches for the blanket and manages to drape it over their bare bodies. steve mumbles something about changing the sheets tomorrow.

“stevie?” eddie says after a few moments, feeling steve’s breaths become slow and sleepy.

“mhmm?”

“next time will you choke me?”

steve snorts, his arms tightening around eddie as eddie smiles.

“if you want me to. yeah.”

“‘s nice.”

“will you show me how?” steve asks. his voice is slurring a little bit, heavy with sleepiness. “‘ve never choked anyone. don’t wanna hurt you.”

“i’ll show you.”

“show me everything you like.”

“…you sure?”

steve scoffs.

“yes. want everything you’ll let me have.”

“…oh.”

“go to sleep, honey,” steve murmurs. eddie nuzzles into his neck and bites him. steve just hums and presses a hand to the small of his back. “love you.”

“love you too, stevie.”

#this turned out so much longer than i meant it to be #me: im gonna go to bed early to fix my sleep schedule <3 #me at five am: writing this #anyway thank you brooke for awakening this in me i guess #never thought this is what id be writing when i started writing fanfic a few years ago #but here we are #steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie smut #nsft

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carnivalcarriondiscarded · 8 months

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heya, i have to wake up in three hours but! here's another lil human au snippet! ft. lightly implied Laughingstock! disclaimer i am so so tired so don't come at me for typos or strangely worded sentences or missing info <3

Before heading home, Eddie swings by a charming little store he’s been to once or twice before. He usually goes to the chain store by his house, but he doesn’t feel like dealing with the hustle and bustle and the endless aisles. This little store is quiet, nice, and strangely has everything anyone could need.

The lot is mostly empty at this hour, so Eddie claims a spot right at the front. As with the other times, the windows are littered with displays and stickers - half off on this, sale on that. Eddie enters Howdy’s Place with the chime of the door’s shopkeeper’s bell. He’ll get what he needs and get out, quick and easy and peacefu-

Boisterous laughter slams into Eddie like a hammer, so sudden that he jumps in place. An employee stocking cans nearby glances weirdly at him. Eddie clears his throat and hurries into the nearest aisle as the laughter tapers off. The silence barely lasts a second before loud chatter starts up. It’s too fast and muffled for Eddie to understand, but he can pick out two distinct voices - one deep, one less so but still decidedly masculine.

Eddie tries to tune it out as he gathers what he needs. Toothpaste, some paper towels, shampoo. For the hell of it, he nabs a box of classic bran muffins from the spacious food section. He lingers for a moment, enjoying how far-away the conversation seems at the other corner of the store. Unfortunately, theft is illegal, so Eddie is forced to move towards the noise.

A strange thing about the store - it’s a combination general store, antique shop, and diner, complete with a miniature gift shop separating the two. One long checkout counter stretches from the open store area, behind the gift shop, and into the diner, where the conversation is coming from. An interesting setup, but an understandable one. It allows anyone behind the counter to move fluidly between customers and sections.

As Eddie approaches, the conversation becomes slightly clearer.

“-said, no wonder you didn’t get her number!” the deeper voice barks, and the two dissolve into that almost-too-loud laughter again.

As it tapers off, the other voice says, “Sounds like a real charmer! But really, you oughta be careful, Barn. One of these days someone’s gonna throw a right hook at ya.”

Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up. A transatlantic accent? He hasn’t heard that anywhere outside of real old movies and a queen he once knew. It sounds natural too, like the man was born to sound like he belongs on a 1920s radio show. It nudges something in the back of Eddie’s mind. He’s started to get really sick of that nudge.

“Oh, this guy did.”

“No kidding? I don’t see a shiner.”

“Well, yeah. I went left.”

Both of them laugh again, and Eddie feels a tiny tug at the corner of his mouth. That wasn’t funny enough to garner an actual laugh in his opinion, but it wasn’t unfunny.

Eddie steps up to the counter and quietly puts his acquired items on it, not wanting to interrupt. He chances a glance to the side - walking space in front of the counter’s length lets him see right down into the diner.

A large man with dyed-blue hair and an interesting fashion sense is at the bar, talking to an employee leaning against the other side. The employee doesn’t really catch Eddie’s gaze, but the other man… Eddie swears he’s seen him before. He studies him from the corner of his eye, not wanting to be rude but unable to mind his business.

“Our bouncer didn’t even get a chance at the action - the idiot knocked himself out tryin’ a second swing!” The customer says. His deep voice, wavering with humor, only adds to the sense of familiarity. Metal glints in his right ear. Eddie knows this man from somewhere.

The employee shakes his head, tutting. His busy hands polish a vintage pitcher. “I swear, you get all the crazies.”

“Makes for a good story, though.” The customer takes a sip from his tall milkshake and scoffs. “Though if it wasn’t all well-ending, amusing bull, I doubt I’d be so tolerant.”

Minutes drag by as the two keep talking. Eddie goes from patiently waiting to awkwardly trying to get the employees attention. If only there was someone else behind the counter, but the only other staff member is elsewhere, likely still stocking shelves.

The two men are too absorbed in their little world, even though both are facing Eddie’s way. The customer has both elbows on the counter, one of them bent to prop up his chin. The employee has his hip leaned against the edge as they chat. They’re obviously very familiar with each other, and clearly deeply enjoy each other's company.

Still - and Eddie is sorry to say, but it’s bad customer service. He’s not in a rush, but he’d still like to be on his way home. He could be fishing out the complex keys right now. He checks his phone - he’s been here for nearly fifteen minutes. Picking out the items took less than five.

Eddie sighs, staring at the various cigarette packs displayed behind the counter. He’s never seen the appeal in smoking, but as the laughter starts up again, he almost wishes he did. He’s going to treat himself to a very long shower once he gets home.

The store’s other employee walks behind the counter, carrying a box. Eddie lights up. Finally - she pointedly clears her throat and heads into the back.

The constant conversation stalls for the barest moment, and he looks over. The customer grins at him for a second - lord he’s handsome - before turning that grin towards his friend.

“You’re losin’ your touch, Howds,” he teases, bringing his shake straw to his lips.

“I resent that statement. You’re just distracting.”

“Lil’ me? Distracting? C’mon, you can just tell me I’m pretty to my face. I’ll take it like a champ, I swear!”

“Ha, good try.” The employee sets the pitcher down and starts to mosey in Eddie’s direction. “Your ego is big enough for the both of us as is. One more compliment and your head’ll pop like a balloon.”

“Well, given that most balloons don’t really pop, they just kinda deflate slowly-”

“Sorry for the wait!” the employee says loudly in a glaringly obvious customer service tone. He stops in front of Eddie with a cardboard smile. At the other end of the counter, the familiar man snickers and hides his grin behind his drink. “I trust you found everything you did - and didn’t! - need.”

Eddie just stares up at him for a moment. At six-one, Eddie hasn’t felt small in a very long time. He usually stands at least a full inch above other people. This employee - Howdy, his name tag states - has several more on him.

“Uh, y-yes, I uh, I did,” Eddie stammers, glancing at his items.

“Wonderful! And again, my sincerest apologies for the delay. My friend makes a game out of keeping me from my job.” Howdy shoots his ‘friend’ a glare with enough heat in it to make an ice cube sweat.

“No worries.”

Howdy scans the items at an almost frightening speed. Beep, into a paper bag. Beep, in. Beep, beep - “Oh, no.”

“What?” Eddie says, dread plucking at his ribs as Howdy holds the bran muffins and shakes his head. “Is there somethin’ wrong?”

“Indeed there is! You’re making a mistake with these. They’re absolutely horrible, I tell ya - and bad for you, too!” Howdy tuts and puts the box to the side. “No, no, you don’t want those.”

“I… don’t?”

“Not if you knew better! Lucky for you, I’m here to set you straight. What you need is-” he snaps his fingers, “Barnaby, be a pal and-”

“Already on it,” ‘Barnaby’ says, appearing next to Eddie.

If Eddie weren’t already paralyzed, he’d jump right out of his skin from how Barnaby towers over him. He has to be a scant inch or so shorter than Howdy, but he still makes Eddie feel tiny. Unfortunately, Barnaby is even more handsome up close.

“Here ya go.” Barnaby hands a plastic container to Howdy and taps it, smiling lazily down at Eddie. “I’d take his advice on this one. Those bran-named muffins may sound fancy, but they’re pretty crumby! You want muffins of quality. Real breadwinners!

Eddie can’t help a soft laugh. “Breadwinners, heh, that’s a good one.”

“Are you selling these or am I?” Howdy says, raising a bushy eyebrow.

“Hey, I’m just doin’ what you asked! I’m bein’ a pal.”

“And I - I’m sorry," Eddie interjects, "but you’re awfully familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?”

“Eh, I’ve been around, but uh… you ever been to [INSERT GAY BAR NAME HERE]?”

Howdy clears his throat. “I’m trying to make a sale here, Barn. You can flirt on your own dime when you’re not costing me mine.”

“Didja know your nose gets redder when you’re jealous?”

Howdy rolls his eyes and shoves Barnaby in the diner’s direction. Barnaby goes with a hearty snicker. Despite the joke, Eddie thinks it has some merit as Howdy scans the final item and rings him up, considerably frostier than before.

Belatedly, Eddie realizes that he didn’t actually agree to the different muffins. Too late now. “Say, what kind of muffins are those?”

“Poppyseed-lemon.”

Eddie relaxes - that is a lot better than boring bran. “Y’know, my mother loved poppyseed-lemon muffins.”

“Did she now,” Howdy drawls.

“Like you wouldn’t believe! If baking was so much as mentioned, she’d jump right on houndin’ us to whip some up for her, or send us to go buy some. We’d never even get a taste! They’d be gone the moment they hit the air, I tell ya.” Eddie chuckles. “Took me a while to understand what all the fuss is about, but man was she right. They are good!”

“Uh-huh. Well, we have a fresh batch delivered every morning. They’re not the same type every time, mind you, but I can promise that they’re all of the highest quality.”

“Breadwinners, right?” Eddie jokes. Howdy doesn’t blink, but Barnaby snorts. He’ll take it. “I might have to come by more often, if that’s the case! Thank you kindly, sir.”

“Mhm, have a good day.” Howdy hands him the bag and strides away without a glance. The dismissal is clear as day. “Say, Barn, did you hear about the racket one of those cult crackpots stirred up at our dear friend’s tearoom?”

Eddie doesn’t catch the tail-end of the sentence as he hurries away, but he frowns. Cult? What cult? There’s a cult? He certainly didn’t hear of one before moving here, and none of his background checks had turned up anything of the sort. He hopes it was just a figure of speech.

The door chimes again as Eddie leaves. It isn’t until he’s in his car that the embarrassment of that whole exchange catches up with him. If he had a nickel for every time he’d made a fool of himself in front of a gorgeous, strangely familiar man, he’d have three nickels. At the rate he’s going, he’ll either be rich, or he’ll have to move.

Eddie subtly tries to peek around the store’s window displays from the safety of his car. He catches a scant glimpse of blue hair - come to think of it, it’s a similar shade to Wally’s. But where Wally’s had, to Eddie’s memory, been uniformly dyed right down to his eyebrows, Barnaby’s rich brown roots were obvious. His beard and eyebrows weren’t dyed, either.

As Eddie relaxes back into his seat, he re-reads at the store’s name. The color drains from his face and he barely restrains himself from slamming his forehead against the steering wheel.

Oh, of course. Of course he made a fool of himself in front of the owner. Eddie can never come back here again. And it was such a nice store…

#wait wym this is almost 2k words what the Fuck!#ok! the writing gods blessed me tonight i guess!#anyway slight context -#in my mind there's a whole Plot and stuff for this au #where it starts off with eddie running into The Group™️ and meeting them mostly separately #before they all meet up and go 'hey yeah you guys ran into eddie from high school too? cool. he's ours now'#and forcibly drag eddie into their little Circle #wh modern human au #snippets from the bog #also sorry about the [INSERT GAY BAR NAME HERE] lmfao i cant come up with one atm #i want it to be wh-related and Clever #but i am not very clever on a good day and this has been a bad one! and again! im tired!#i. dont know how to tag this. whatever! if you see it you see it!#ok im going to sleep. for a whopping three hours before my alarm goes off. *less than three. Sigh.#i always do this! its like 'oh i have to wake up early tomorrow! lets not sleep at all! im feeling so creative!'#gonna go think about this au's laughingstock as i drift to sleep #FOR THREE. HOURS.#have i mentioned the three hours????

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