Chapter Text
You've had a supremely shitty day. From beginning to end, top to bottom. Absolute shit.
First, you received less-than-glowing marks on two papers you worked...moderately hard on.
Then, you stopped by Family Video to return the movie you rented over the weekend. Simple enough! But who else just so happens to be there? Billy Hargrove, of course. You and Billy dated for a few months over the summer until you realized he was an absolute garbage human being. He had just moved here from California and, fuck, he's so gorgeous. You couldn't believe he was giving you attention. And the sex. If there's one thing about Billy that is good...it's that. And if there are a million things about Billy that are bad...it's how he thinks he's better than everybody, the snide comments about your body, the cheating, the blatant racism, the shitty driving, the not showing up when he said he would, the constant manipulation, the list goes on.
You hadn't seen his car parked outside when you arrived, but as soon as you walked inside, there he was. You would've turned around and left but he saw you too. He smirked, letting his arm fall from his date's shoulders. She was looking at movies previously but looked over at you when she realized she had lost his attention momentarily.
"Hey y/n." He had said.
You grunted in acknowledgement and crossed to the counter, sliding the movie across to the employee along with your membership card.
Billy put his arm back around his date's shoulders and leaned down to whisper something in her ear. She laughed. Did he say something about you?
You told yourself to chill out, not everything is about you. But their gaze would periodically return to you and you quickly became insecure. As soon as the employee handed your card back, you were out of there.
AND just as the final icing on the cake, your mom decided to call. You love your mom, of course. But you were never the daughter she hoped for. She was never pleased as you were always...too something. Too headstrong. Too big. Too loud. Too risky. Eventually she sent you away to stay with your aunt.
Your aunt is your favorite person in the world and if you didn't know any better, you'd think she was meant to be your mom. She liked loud music, makeup, alcohol, and men. All your favorite things.
You looked like her too. Where your mom was a petite blonde with light features and perfectly fair skin, you were a curvy strong brunette with medium skin tone and dark eyes. Your mom always had you on a diet and when that didn't work, she dressed you in clothes that hid any curves or 'imperfections'. Not much for promoting self-esteem, but you couldn't necessarily blame her. She fit her own beauty standard perfectly and still didn't have any herself.
She called weekly. Dutifully. And it never failed to put you in a sour mood.
"I hope you're taking care of yourself." - Translation: I hope you're not eating too much
"You should consider joining some extracurriculars." - Translation: Cheer team
"I just wish you had a better example in your life." - Translation: Not your aunt, the town slut.
"Can I send you anything?" - Translation: You can't say I don't provide for you.
Etc.
After hanging up the phone, you had cranked your stereo and fallen face-first onto your bed. Turn Up the Radio by Autograph filling the room. You allowed yourself to cry in frustration and loneliness, but only for a few minutes. If your aunt was here, she'd know exactly how to cheer you up. She'd dress you up and take you to one of her favorite dive-bars to play music on the jukebox, drink, and dance. But your aunt was currently off with her newest love interest, a touring musician. She’d been gone for two weeks at this point. She called to check-in, of course. And made sure to send you money from the road. You missed her immensely though you were happy for her. And this left you alone to decide how to cheer yourself up.
You flipped over in bed and considered the day. Seeing Billy is mostly difficult not because you miss him, but because you miss sex with him. No matter how ugly he is on the inside, he is beautiful on the outside. Flawless skin. Long hair. Toned body. You couldn't help but flashback to images of him between your legs.
It has been a long time. Like...nearly a month. Previously, you had established a regular hook-up partner. One of the college guys from Perdue. He wasn't looking for anything serious and you weren't looking for anything serious with him. But it was great for stress relief. He has since gone back to college, leaving you with little options in Hawkins.
When you really need some attention or stress relief, you can always drive to one of the dive bars out of town. Those places are filled with guys who would jump at the chance of a no-strings-attached fuck. You usually get a few free drinks out of the deal, too. And that, you decide, is exactly what you need tonight.
You wipe your face and get out of bed, crossing the room to your closet. You have a black dress that hugs your body just right and is perfect for occasions such as these. You just have decide whether you want to go all out with heels and makeup or keep it low-key.
Typically, you would drive out of town for these purposes. Partly because the dive bar options are far superior in the surrounding cities, but more so because you're less likely to run into somebody you know and/or could potentially encounter again. But tonight, unfortunately, happens to be a school night. And the day has left you mentally and physically exhausted.
The hideout is within walking distance, only about two miles, from the place your aunt is letting you occupy. You decide to walk given the proximity and the very distinct possibility that the options at a Hawkins dive bar would require multiple drinks to be passable. Don't drink and drive, kids.
The walk to the bar doesn't take long at all. You left late enough that you’re sure any patrons would be sufficiently inebriated by the time you get there. Once there, you survey the parking lot to try to gauge how many people to expect inside. There are only four cars parked in the lot and a van by the open back door. Could be a slow night or...this could be typical for this place. You check your outfit one last time in the reflection of a dark car window before heading inside.
The inside of the bar is typical. Dim, of course. Smoky. Neon lights and random signage. Pool tables...a must in any self-respecting dive bar. A smattering of tables and an open area in front of a tiny corner stage. For karaoke, one would assume, but there's currently a drum kit and a couple amps so perhaps this place is a little cooler than you initially expected.
You make your way over to the bar for a drink. Luckily, not being 21 has rarely impeded your ability to talk or flirt yourself into inebriation. But at this moment, nobody seems to be tending the bar.
"Don't I know you from somewhere?" A voice asks from your right.
You stiffen, but only slightly. This line has been used on you before, but you've previously been comforted by the fact that you were out of town and most likely did not know that person from somewhere. It seems this time your luck has run out. That voice belongs to none other than Eddie Munson. You and Eddie Munson do not know each other. You've exchanged words maybe a handful of times. But you certainly knew OF him.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
"I certainly wouldn't say you know me. But I'm sure you've seen me before...at school." You reply, sliding onto one of the bar stools, a few down from Eddie. Your voice comes out much calmer than you feel. You're suddenly supremely thankful to the cosmos/gods/whatever that you didn't go with the red lip and heels tonight.
"Y/N...right?" Eddie asks, pointing a finger in your direction. “L/N.”
You nod your reply, looking around for the absent bartender and avoiding eye contact at all costs. You've never needed a drink more.
"Yeah, I've seen you around. Usually not so...dressed up, though." This stupid fucking dress.
"Hmm." You respond. Your gaze drops down to the hem of your dress which has risen around your thighs a little in the process of getting onto the bar stool. You consider shuffling it back down, but don't want to seem anymore insecure than you're sure you already do and decide to leave it.
Glancing at Eddie you notice that his gaze too had fallen to them hem of your dress around your thighs and a new wave of embarrassment floods through you. Or was that something else?
"Not that you look bad or anything typically. Just...different."
You don't respond this time, hoping he takes the hint. He doesn't.
"So uh..." Eddie starts, sliding off his own stool to step closer to yours "what the hell are you doing here?"
What the hell AM I doing here? This was clearly a mistake. A deviation from the tried-and-true formula that always got you what you needed with minimal embarrassment. You knew this was a risk and you chose to do it anyway and that's why...you're a fucking idiot. You don't say any of that to Eddie, of course. Instead you finally make eye contact with him and spit back, "What the hell are YOU doing here?"
"I'm here every Tuesday." He waves his hand around the bar, a smirk playing across his face. "My uncle's friend owns the place, he lets my band play. Corroded Coffin? Maybe you've heard of us?"
You had not.
"Oh. Well. I was just...in need of a drink. But apparently nobody serves those here." You can feel your face getting hotter by the minute. You tell yourself it's from the anger. Because Eddie is ruining any chance of this night going your way. But you know it's really embarrassment. It's the dress. And the makeup. And the need that you're certain is plastered on your forehead at this point because really...why would you be here?
Eddie doesn't seem to notice that he's making you uncomfortable. Or maybe he does and he's just enjoying it. In fact, you're pretty sure it's the ladder. Because at a glance you notice that stupid smirk hasn't left his face and you're curious just how red your cheeks have grown at this point. "Rough day at the office?" He presses.
He's fucking with you. And you're so not in the mood. "Funny. Something like that." You reply dryly.
Finally, the bartender returns and hands Eddie a beer before looking between the two of you. Eddie is standing next to you now and claps a hand on your shoulder. "Oh good, let’s get you that drink." He says mockingly before announcing, "Tommy, my friend here has had a really rough day. Could you get her set up with a drink?" The sarcastic tone in his voice makes you want to hit him.
"Is she 21?" Tommy the negligent bartender asks.
This is typically where you'd assure him you were 21. 'Oh my god, I'm seriously such a spaz, I can't believe I forgot my ID in my other purse.' But he just handed Eddie Munson a beer and Eddie was also...not 21. And you were also not in the convincing mood. So instead, you gestured with two hands to Eddie's beer, your eyes wide with annoyance.
Tommy raises his hands in defeat. "What can I get you?"
"Could I get a long island iced tea, but instead of coke can you put strawberry liqueur in it?" The drink order spills from your lips quickly and Tommy the bartender glances at Eddie who clears his throat, you assume, to choke back a laugh. This is not your go-to drink. But it is your go-to drink when you need to get drunk very quickly.
"Um...yeah" he responds before turning away to make your drink.
You sit in silence for a second, but Eddie's presence is difficult to ignore. Especially because he hasn't stopped watching you.
"Want to talk about it?" Eddie asks, sitting in the stool next to yours.
"About what?" You ask.
"Your day..."
"I really do not." You glance over at him as he slips a cigarette between his lips and lights it.
"I'm a good listener."
"I'm sure you are."
"Did you drive yourself here?"
"You ask a lot of questions."
Eddie smirks, "I'm curious by nature. Like a scientist." He winks at you.
"Or like a toddler." You respond, but you answer his question anyway. "I walked. I only live a few miles away from here."
Tommy slides your drink across the bar to you.
"Do you want a ride home?" Eddie asks.
You gesture to the drink Tommy just sat in front of you, "I'm not finished my drink."
Eddie laughs a little and continues, "Yeah...no. I mean obviously after the drink you got so dolled up to walk a few miles to get." He twirls a finger through his own hair during the 'dolled up' comment. "My band is still tearing down and packing up anyway. It'll be a bit."
This is obviously not happening tonight. You should just let Eddie Munson drive you home so you can lay in bed and think about how embarrassing this night has been. And how he's going to tell his dumb friends about Y/N, sitting at the hideout, desperately trying to get some attention from the town drunks.
You take a long sip of your drink, "Check in with me then."
Eddie smiles and winks at Tommy before striding away. Tommy offers you a straw and you take it, plopping it into your drink and taking a long pull.
"Did you get the sense that he was planning to pay for this drink?" You ask Tommy, stirring the strong concoction.
He picks up a glass and begins to polish it with a dish cloth. "It kinda sounded that way to me."
"Me too. How about another? Just as like...a backup." Tommy flashes a crooked, mischievous smile before getting to work on another strawberry long island. You observe him while he does so and think to yourself, he could've been the one tonight had Eddie not ruined your plan. Sure, he's older. Old even. But not old, old. His head is shaved so you can't tell if he's technically balding or just badass. And the way his checked button-up fits, he appears to be in shape.
Your disappointment abated now that you at least have your drink, you look around for Eddie and see him across the bar, helping a bandmate pack up their drum kit. He would be just your type, wouldn't he? Not that you had a type other than opportunity. But if you really had to think of a type...Eddie Munson would be it. He's beautiful. Mysterious. Eccentric. Dark hair and eyes. Doesn't give a fuck about anybody's opinion of him. A metalhead. Like Kirk Hammett. Eddie could be the one tonight if you didn't have to see each other at school tomorrow and every day for the next two years.
Tommy sets your backup drink in front of you, and you eagerly gulp the last of your first one before switching your straw into the new one. "Thank you." You smile.
You start to feel the familiar warmth of the strong drink spreading through your cheeks and thank whoever that your embarrassment has begun to subside. You recognize that it will be back with a vengeance in the morning, but at least for now you're free of it. That's tomorrow's problem. Maybe you'll just skip your classes tomorrow. After everything you've been through today, don't you deserve a day off?
Tommy leaves the bar area again and you're left alone with your thoughts. You survey the rest of the bar and note that, aside from Tommy, there is nobody in this bar tonight that you would've wanted to take you home. A couple is hanging all over each other at the opposite end of the bar. And aside from them there are only two older men arguing their way through a game of pool. The spectacle is entertaining, but certainly not arousing in any way.
You sip your second drink slowly as the effects from the first continue to work their magic on your shitty mood and weigh the pros and cons of letting Eddie Munson drive you home.
Pros:
Less physical exertion (you're already exhausted)
Faster arrival time (faster bedtime)
You get to look at Eddie (has he always been this attractive?)
Cons:
More conversation with Eddie about why you're at the bar in the first place (fuck)
Potentially being murdered as a sacrifice to Satan (is this a pro or a con really?)
In your contemplation, you've finished off your second drink and flag down Tommy when he returns for a third.
Tommy leans his forearms on the bar and lowers his voice, "Look sweetie, if you're walking home tonight you should probably just get going. It's late and two of these could put you on your ass. I can't, in good conscious, give you another knowing you might not make it home safe." The not-so-negligent bartender after all.
You flash your most convincing smile. "No worries, Tommy the bartender. I have a very high tolerance. Plus...didn't you hear?" You gesture toward the stool next to you that Eddie had previously occupied. "My good friend Edward Munson is driving me home." He cracks his crooked smile at the name 'Edward’ but doesn't move to make your drink. His gaze on you inquisitive. You assume he's trying to gauge how drunk you already are. You can't blame him. There are enough kids dying and disappearing in Hawkins. Imagine sending one on their way, inebriated, and they never turn up again.
Ultimately though he raises a finger to you "One more, kid. And then Eddie is taking you home." The thought of Eddie taking you home sends a familiar pleasant tingle to the parts of you which needed attention so badly tonight. You wonder what Eddie's home is like. What his bed is like. What he looks like under the layers of clothes he always sports.
Ugh.
You thank Tommy as he sets your final drink in front of you and notice the equipment has all been removed from the tiny corner stage. Eddie should be back any minute, but at least now you're in a better headspace.
"Ms. L/N!" Eddie calls in a fake British accent from the door opposite the bar as he re-enters. Always a flair for theatrics. "Your chariot awaits!" He finishes as he comes to a stop next to you. "What do I owe you, Tommy?"
Tommy waves a hand and winks at you, "we'll settle up next time."
Eddie eyes you suspiciously "How many of these have you had?"
"3." You reply, noisily slurping the very last bit from your drink.
His eyes widen and he looks from you to Tommy and back again, that smirk spreading across his face again. "An opportunist. I suppose I can't be angry at that. Let's get you home, you lush."