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Eddie can tell within seconds of waking up that he had gotten way too drunk the night before. Which isn’t exactly a surprise considering that the night before was Corroded Coffin's first gig in Indianapolis. And Eddie’s first gig after spring break. The bar was small and shitty, and the crowd hadn’t been much more impressive than the ones back in Hawkins. But it was the biggest stage in the most notable neighborhood they’d yet to play so far. All of their friends came to watch.
Literally all of the ones over seventeen.
He groans a little as he rolls onto his back and rubs at his eyes a little too hard before opening them. By the way the sunlight leaks through his closed curtains he can tell it’s well into the afternoon, and considering he already feels like going back to sleep he anticipates spending most of the day in bed.
Which, he notices out of the corner of his eye, he isn’t alone in.
The girl is lying on her side facing away from him and he freezes with the realization that he isn’t one hundred percent sure he knows who she is. When he thinks hard enough to get a headache he remembers her coming home with him, remembers how her lips tasted and how she sounded. But her face, that’s now covered by short curly hair, is blurry. She’s wearing his Fleetwood Mac shirt that’s a little big even on him and, knowing how he is when he’s drunk, wonders if he offered to let her keep it when he gave it to her. Her arms are tucked under her head and her face into her arms. The comforter lays over her waist and he can tell with what’s left visible that she’s small and thin.
As carefully as he can he slips off his bed and creeps around his room like it’s someone else’s. Eddie crouches down on her side and pushes some of her curls away from her face with as feather light of a touch as he can manage, and nearly chokes on air at the sight of Wheeler.
Nancy. He thinks it’s safe to say they’ve graduated to a first name basis.
He remembers her at the show. He remembers how she looked cheering in the front row with Robin and Steve and a drink in her hand. He remembers the sight of her wasted being funny.
And when he thinks hard enough he remembers the angle of her lips and the flutter of her lashes when she told him how good he played, how he really looked like he knew what he was doing. He remembers insisting on dropping Robin off before her even though Nancy was a lot closer to Steve’s house. And though he wasn’t sure about how they came to the agreement about where she would be going that night he remembers struggling to close the front door behind them when her tongue was down his throat.
Eddie had vague recollections of whispered rumors that he never paid much attention to about her being a slut. Something about a movie. Or the movie theatre. He never really cared.
But as he watches her sleep curled up like a happy kitten in his bed it’s the last thing he would describe her as.
Eddie’s hand is still touching her hair, frozen from when he uncovered her face. But instead of pulling away he runs his fingers through her curls that are fluffy and soft to the touch. They brush against her head and she stirs a little bit and though he’s terrified of what she’ll say when she wakes up he makes no effort to stop her.
Sleepy doe eyes blink open and she lets out a soft moan as she turns her face up a little bit. “Eddie?”
“Morning.”
Nancy takes a second before propping herself up on her elbows. “What time is it?”
“Almost one,” he says after glancing at the clock. She groans again a little bit and sits all the way up. “Someone had a lot of fun last night.”
She laughs and tries to smooth down her hair, looking around the room a little bit. He’s pretty sure she hasn’t been in his room since spring break. “Yeah. You could say that.”
She looks down at him at his still crouched position and neither of them move.
“Do you remember-”
“Should we talk about-”
They blink at each other and Nancy waves one of her hands. “You go first.”
“Do you…” Eddie sits back on his heels, wrapping his arms around his knees. “Do you remember much of last night?”
“I remember enough,” she says. And she sounds confident in it.
“Like… what?”
Nancy’s lips twitch upward a little bit as she swings her legs off the side of the bed, her knees brushing against his. “Like why I’m still here.”
His face burns bright red and the effort it takes to not hide it hurts. “And, uh… how are you feeling about that?”
A full smile makes its way onto her face. “I’m feeling like I’m glad I was drunk enough to do it,” she says. “And that I’ve never thought about it before but I probably will be a lot now.”
“Yeah?” he asks, and he tries not to sound too hopeful. He fails.
“Yeah.” Nancy reaches forward and it’s only when her hands rest where his neck meets his shoulders he realizes he isn’t wearing a shirt. “What are you feeling about it?”
He’s barely thinking anything.
He thinks his brain short circuited.
“I think I really wanna kiss you.”
A light layer of pink coats her freckled cheeks. “I’m thinking that too.”
He feels a grin crack his face in two as he moves to sit on his knees and quickly takes hold of her face before kissing her. Her lips are soft and sweet and smile against his own, and he hopes she can get used to what associating with someone like him in such a way will bring her because he could definitely get used to this.waking