Chapter Text
If there was one good thing that came out of the past hellish week other than his newfound friends, it was that with the help of some shady government organization, Eddie Munson is an innocent man in the eyes of the law. Of course, the citizens of Hawkins are a very different story, so he's still forced to lie low.
Hiding. That's just what life is now, isn't it? Eddie thinks bitterly. He's leaning heavily on Steve, who's helping him into the very shitty-looking cabin. It's a downgrade from Rick's place, for sure, but honestly, it's probably still better than the trailer. He looks around when they get inside. It seems like it's been cleaned up, a few piles of debris still present and a massive hole in the ceiling hastily patched with some plywood and a tarp. "This place is real homey," he quips, " Super excited to hole up and isolate here." Steve lets out a short laugh, gently helping Eddie onto the couch. He lets out a soft hiss, the wounds in his sides burning as he tries to adjust himself. "Fuck, Steve, this hurts way more than you let on." he relaxes into the surprisingly comfortable cushions of the couch.
"They got you way worse than they got me," Steve reminds him. "D'you need anything?"
"A six-pack? Some weed? About 600 Tylenol?" He grins up at Steve, who just rolls his eyes, a small smile on his face.
"... I'll see what I can do." He says, squeezing Eddie's shoulder and heading out of the room.
"Thank you, Nurse Harrington!" Eddie calls after him before sighing and trying to relax. He closes his eyes and finally starts to process the last few days. Fuck, he really thought he was going to die. If those bats had him for any longer than they did, he probably would have… Thank god for Dustin. He should've known that the kid would come back for him. He hears footsteps and opens his eyes back up, expecting to see Steve. Instead, he finds himself face-to-face with a wide-eyed teenage girl staring at him from across the room. Right. His refuge was not just for him alone. Steve had told him on the ride over that he'd be sharing the cabin with the girl, El. "Oh, superhero girl, right? I thought you'd look… scarier." He gives her a disarming grin. "Heard you're pretty badass." She doesn't smile back, just holds eye contact for a moment. Not much of a talker, then. That's fine. "Not gonna bite or anything, Phoenix. Promise." He gestures to one of the chairs in the room, and she seems to get it, coming in and sitting down, curling her legs under her.
"What is Phoenix?" She asks. The way she talks sounds… scripted, almost, but also like she's not quite sure how to read the said script. Eddie is more than familiar with that. It reminds him a lot of himself.
"Oh, she's a superhero? X-men?" He looks to her for understanding, finding none. "Doesn't really matter. She's a badass."
"Like Wonder Woman?" There's a hint of a smile on her face now, and Eddie feels proud of himself. He laughs softly.
"Kinda, yeah. Different powers, though. And universes. We'll get our hands on some comics for you to read while we're cooped up in here" Just then, Steve re-enters the room.
"Okay. I found some ibuprofen. It expired in like, October, but it's probably still good, right? There were also a few beers in the fridge. I grabbed you one- Oh, shit. Hey, El." He sets the two bottles, one of beer and one of ibuprofen, on the table in front of Eddie, crossing the room to wrap El in a loose hug. "How're you doing, kid?"
"Okay," El responds. "Happy I'm home." She smiles up at him, and Steve smiles back. Eddie finds himself smiling, too. It's adorable, watching Steve with his kids. He reaches for the bottles on the table, then pulls out the bottle opener on his keychain to open the beer, taking a swig before fishing out four ibuprofen tablets and downing them before Steve can reprimand him for taking too many.
"So, are we going to get to see anyone else while we're stuck here, or just you?" Eddie asks. Steve hadn't given him much detail on the drive over, just that he had a safe place to stay and that he'd be hiding along with Eleven. He'd been hiding at Steve's before, but with everything that had happened, Steve's parents were coming back early from their business trip, and it wouldn't be great to have Eddie around when they got home.
"Oh, yeah. The kids know you guys are here, so I'm sure they'll be begging to visit. And then El's parents Hopper and Joyce, too," Steve tells him. Wait, what..?
"Wait, Hopper? As in Jim Hopper, the dead police chief?" Eddie asks.
"He is not dead. Joyce brought him back. From Russia," El responds, holding Eddie's gaze with an intense stare. Jesus, he really needs someone to fill him in on all the details of all the secret bullshit that's happened.
"...Right. Is he like… cool? Because last time I talked to him, it was a little less than friendly," Eddie laughs nervously. Steve's rolling his eyes again.
"He is very cool," El nods, "A hero."
"Right, not really what I meant. Steve?" Eddie looks to Steve, who shrugs.
"He's different than he was before. I don't think he's going to get on your ass about anything, but maybe keep it to just cigs around him," Steve moves away from El as he speaks, hovering by the door. "El, you've already got enough food here, right?" Steve asks, and El nods. "Okay, good. You guys need anything else before I head out..? I promised Lucas I'd take him to see Max." El and Eddie look at each other for a moment. She shakes her head, and Eddie shrugs.
"Bring back some movies or something? Oh, is there a phone here?" he asks, and Steve tosses him a walkie.
"No phone, but one of us should be on the other end if you need anything else. Movie requests?" Steve asks. El and Eddie look at each other again.
"You got any favorites, kid?" He asks, and she shakes her head, looking a little lost. "...Do you… know any movies..?" He tries, and she shrugs.
"I know Ghostbusters. And Star Wars?" She offers, and Eddie sighs. Right. She was like, kept in a lab or some shit. Probably doesn't know much about media.
"Jesus, okay. Do you like scary shit? Magic? Funny? Romance?" He asks, trying to wrack his brain for movies a teenage girl might like.
"Not scary. But the other ones sound good." Okay, he can work with that.
"Pen? I'll make a list." He glances around the room, and Steve looks, too, finding a pen and a scrap of paper and offering them to Eddie. Eddie takes them, writing down a few titles before passing the paper back to Steve and tossing the pen onto the table. The other man smiles at the list.
"Okay, I'll swing by later. Try not to scare her too much, Munson." Steve waves at them both. They both just wave back to him, and then they're alone. There's a moment where they just stare at each other again, but it's not uncomfortable. Eddie recognizes the sort of haunted, far-away look in El's eyes. He sees it every time he looks in the mirror. They're the eyes of someone who was dealt the shittiest hand imaginable and never learned the rules of the game.
"Hey," Eddie offers a small smile, finally breaking the silence before he can get too deep in his own head, "love the hair, by the way. Super metal." Her eyes go wide, and she reaches up to touch her head, smiling back.
"I love your hair. It's so long. What is… metal?" She asks.
"Oh," Right. Lived in a lab. "It's like… cool? Badass?"
"Bitchin'." She cuts in, smiling. Eddie laughs.
"Yeah, sure. Bitchin'." They fall back into silence after that. Eddie is itching to question her about… everything, but he doesn't want to freak her out. He bounces his leg idly, trying to think of something to say that isn't a barrage of personal questions. He hopes that Steve doesn't take all night bringing the movies. "Is there like… anything to do here? Games? Books? Harrington had paper, any notebooks?" He asks finally, and she nods.
"We have TV? And notebooks too, I think… Do you do art?" El asks, and Eddie shrugs.
"I mostly meant for like, writing or games, but I am, in fact, also an artist." He shows off the ink on his forearm with a slight flourish, grinning as the girl in front of him leans in, eyes wide as she eyes over the ink. "Helped design this bad boy." He points to the Master of Puppets tattoo that now holds a much more significant meaning to him. "Obviously not like, on my own, it's inspired by the song. Or maybe that's not obvious to you." He makes a mental note to ask Steve to bring some of his tapes back the next time they come. Gotta show this kid some culture. He turns his arm over, showing off the bats, which, fuck, those sort of mean a little more too, now, don't they? "These, too. I've got more, but well, a man's gotta keep some mystery, now doesn't he?" He grins, but El isn't looking at his face, just the ink on his arms. Eddie notices her absently rubbing at her own wrist. Nervous habit?
"Pretty." She says softly. "I like them. Big, though. They hurt?" He brings his arm back to his side, shrugging.
"Well, yeah. Tattoos always hurt, but it's not a big deal when you're in charge of the pain, y'know?" She nods, seeming to understand.
"It hurts more when someone else decides your pain." She says, and fuck, that's pretty deep. "How do you decide what you want for a tattoo?"
"Interested?" He raises his eyebrows at her. "You're a little young for a tattoo." She gives him a slight smirk, twisting her harm to show off her wrist, where he can see neatly printed numbers on her wrist. Oh, that is fucked up . Explains the name, though. He laughs a little awkwardly, not sure what to say. "That's, uh. That's a little different." He hesitates for a moment. "...Tell you what, kid. I'll help you throw some designs together. Just don't tell Daddy Police Chief. I don't need him to kick my ass." Her eyes light up.
"Really?" She asks, and he grins.
"Why not?" Not like she could get them done, anyway. No harm in doing a little art with a kid so clearly in need of enrichment. "Go get us some paper." She nods, and stands, heading out of the room. "And pencils!" He calls after her. There's no answer, but a few moments later, she's back, dropping a notepad and pencil on the table in front of Eddie and sitting next to him on the couch. He carefully sits up, wincing a little as the movement disrupts the wounds on his side, and grabs the notebook and pencil. "Okay. Ideas?" He asks. She falters for a moment, shaking her head. Okay, no problem. " Well , why don't we start with what you like? What's important to you?"
After thinking for a moment, she says, "I like waffles?" Eddie grins. That's fucking adorable. "And… Mike." Okay, gag . Less adorable.
"I will not help you design a tattoo based on Mike Wheeler, but that's an excellent start. Keep going."
"I like my friends, too. Hawkins. My family. Flowers..." She trails off, looking at Eddie expectantly. She must be done, then. That was… a short list. Eddie can't help but feel a little bad for her, but he sets the pity on the back burner for now. He has a mission to finish.
"Flowers is a perfect place to start. What kind do you like?" He asks. She shrugs.
"The ones that grow here. They're pretty." Ah, shit, what flowers grow in Hawkins? Eddie has no idea.
"...We might have to design that one later then." He'll ask someone to bring in a book on flowers, too, or maybe some physical flowers. "Fuck it, let's design a waffle one. That sounds great." He starts sketching out the shape and can feel her eyes on him. He's not used to having someone watching him draw, and it feels a little weird, but he tries to ignore it. How the fuck do you turn a waffle into a fun tattoo? It's just… a waffle. He looks over at El, finding her just staring at the paper, hand still on her wrist, and he's struck by an idea. "Hey, kid?" She looks at him instead of answering. "Y'know the uh-" he gestures to her wrist, and she nods. "Do you… want to get rid of that? Like, cover it up? Because this would be absolutely perfect for that." He grins at her, raising his eyebrows. She nods enthusiastically at him.
"I didn't know I could do that!"
"Oh, yeah, people cover up old tattoos all the time. Pass the pen. We can draw it on now if you want." He sticks a hand out, and she passes the pen to him, holding out her wrist. He takes it in his own hand to hold it steady and sets to work, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth as he focuses.
"Have you covered up old tattoos?" El asks. Eddie's struck by the memory of his first tattoo, a stick-and-poke he had done at 16. It was supposed to be a chainsaw, as an Evil Dead reference, but it ended up looking kind of like a fucked up dick. The old ink now lived safely buried under the bats on his arm.
"Nope, never," he lies, and she doesn't say anything else, watching him work. It doesn't take long for him to finish, backing up carefully with a proud grin. "Well? What do you think?" It's definitely not his best work, but he's working with limited space and supplies. The final product is a waffle with a little bite taken out of it, a few nondescript flowers scattered around the outside for some flair. Eddie watches El as she looks at the drawing on her arm, twisting her wrist to get a different angle. Finally, she tears her eyes away, beaming at Eddie.
"I love it. So cool." He can't help but smile back. Maybe indefinite banishment won't be the worst thing in the world.