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Eddie leaned against the counter at the back of the Palace Arcade, staring fixedly at the phone. The phone sat silently, unringing. Mocking him.
“Time?” Eddie asked, already knowing the answer. It was going to be the same answer he’d gotten the last three times he asked.
On the other side of the counter, leaning against it with a tired expression, Steve let out a long-suffering sigh. “Two minutes after the last time you asked me,” Steve drawled.
“Hmm, definitely feels like more than two minutes this time,” Eddie muttered. He eyed the phone, which held up the middle finger and cussed him out. Well, no, it didn’t do that. It just sat there, being a normal phone.
But it felt like it was doing that. In reality, the phone did nothing. In his mind, it taunted him with cruel and increasingly vulgar language. Eddie’s eyes narrowed.
“It’s broken, man, I’m calling it.” Eddie straightened up, reeling back from the counter. He gestured at the phone. “No one’s calling because no one can.”
“It wasn’t broken when we tested it two hours ago, remember?” Steve pointed out.
“Well, alright, then I’m going to fucking break it.” Eddie barred his teeth at the phone, daring it to continue its silent existence. It did, because again, it was just a normal phone and cared not for his threats.
Another tired sigh from Steve. Eddie ignored him; the guy had known what he was getting into when he’d offered to keep Eddie company while he waited. They’d been friends for a year now, plenty of time for Harrington to figure out that he was nuts and stop returning his calls.
The fact that he kept coming around, hanging out with him, inviting him to movies with him and Robin proved it. Steve could bitch and sigh all he wanted, but he was in this. He wanted the phone to ring almost as much as Eddie.
It would have been weird, their friendship, in any other universe. But that was the thing about Hawkins. You didn’t survive the absolute shitshow that was the Upside Down and not get a little bonded to the guy that carried your almost-lifeless body out of hell.
Besides, they’d been in the hospital together for months, with very little to do but talk. So they’d gotten to know each other, and each had grudgingly accepted that maybe all the shit they’d thought about the other had been BS.
Steve came around the other side of the counter now, ignoring Eddie’s insistence that it was employees only, which was rude. What was the fun of working at a place like the Palace if he couldn’t enforce arbitrary rules on all his friends?
“You are not going to break the phone,” Steve said, putting two hands on Eddie’s shoulders. He looked him in the eyes, shook him a bit. “You need the phone.”
Eddie glared at Steve, who had just become a collaborator of his greatest enemy and clearly lying about being his friend at all. “Why?”
“Because that’s where you told Hopper to call you. You can’t break the phone.”
“It insulted my mother, Steve. It needs to die.”
“No, it didn’t,” Steve said, so evenly and reasonably, like he was just certain the phone was not making crude insinuations about acts it had performed with his mother the previous night. Jerk.
Steve dropped his hands from Eddie’s shoulders, turning as someone approached the counter. Eddie glared, annoyed at the customer walking up to them. Part of the appeal of hiding at the back counter was that it was so out of the way that most people never noticed it. It was just the phone and an old, defunct cash register back there.
The prizes were all at a booth closer to the centre of the arcade now, and Eddie had a belt with change and tokens in it, so there was no need for him to be stuck back there at all. Certainly no reason for any customers to approach.
Unless they needed tokens and were wondering why he wasn’t walking around the floor, like he was supposed to be. Customers were inconsiderate like that.
“Hey there, Mr. Wheeler,” Steve said, greeting the customer with a small smile.
Right, the guy did look familiar. He’d seen him picking Mike and the other kids up before, from the Arcade or Steve’s apartment, when everyone hung out there.
Ted Wheeler was a tired-looking, bespectacled man in his late 30s or early 40s, who seemed to give off the air of someone much older and much more exhausted with humanity. “Hmm,” he said, by way of greeting.
“I um, have been sent to get more tokens,” Mr. Wheeler said in a flat voice. He held out a handful of change, which Eddie took. He counted it out quickly, then gave the appropriate amount of tokens back. “Thanks.”
He pocketed the tokens, then glanced at Steve. “Do you have the time?”
“Yeah, it’s a quarter after three,” Steve said, automatically. Eddie grinned, and Steve shot him a glare, annoyed at having been tricked into revealing the exact time to him.
“Hmm,” Mr. Wheeler said again. “I was supposed to pick the kids up at three,” he said, looking sour. “Do either of you happen to know why Mike keeps shooing me away, and every single one of them refuses to look away from that game?”
“Uh, yeah,” Steve said, exchanging a look with Eddie. “Max is trying to beat the high score on DIGDUG again. She had the most points before, but with everything that happened last year...” He shrugged. It seemed pretty obvious why Max hadn’t exactly been able to maintain her high score last year. “So she’s trying to beat it again, and she’s close.”
“Ah,” Mr. Wheeler said. “Well, at least it’s something important,” he drawled.
“Yup,” Steve agreed, pointedly ignoring Mr. Wheeler’s sarcasm.
“You know, after everything she’s been through, I think it’s great to see her getting back to her old self,” Eddie agreed. “Life’s been a shitshow for the kid, right?”
Steve nodded. They both looked at Ted, who glared at them. He had no response to that, and they both knew it. Yes, he had to wait for Max and everyone else to play a video game. No, no one was going to be on his side about being annoyed about that.
Max had spent her fair share of time in the hospital with the two of them, and if she decided her new hobby was going around beating the crap out of old ladies, Steve and Eddie would have her back on that too.
“I thought you worked at the video store,” Ted said, changing the subject. He didn’t seem eager to head back to the cheering kids hovering around Max at the DIGDUG cabinet.
“I do,” Steve said. “I’m just keeping Eddie company while he waits.”
“Waits?”
Steve nodded. “Hopper’s calling soon.”
Eddie snorted. “No, he’s not. He's never calling, because he’s a lying liar who hates me and wants me to suffer in an eternity of torment.”
Ted raised his eyebrows; Steve just shrugged.
“What’s he calling about?”
“Whether or not I’m a murderer,” Eddie said glumly. He balled his hand into a fist and nervously pressed it against his mouth. “He was talking to the DA today about getting the charges dropped.”
Eddie hated this. Hated waiting, hated that his fate was so utterly out of his own hands. Hated that he was still dealing with this shit a fucking year later. But the town had been in so much chaos after the defeat of the Upside Down and Vecna’s death that it had taken almost six months for anyone to remember about Eddie.
But they had remembered eventually, and Hopper had delivered the news that he’d been officially charged in the death of Chrissy Cunningham while Eddie had still been recovering from his wounds at home.
It was a bullshit charge, Hopper said. They’d drop it easily, he’d said. The coroner's report clearly indicated that no external force had touched Chrissy. It was a seizure of some kind, most likely. The reports for the other three victims said the same thing, and no one could place Eddie anywhere near those.
Jason’s half-mad, unofficial testimony that he’d used black magic to kill Patrick notwithstanding.
Hopper would get the charges thrown out with no further action. He’d promised.
That was six months ago. The legal system moved at a snail's pace, and it was slowly eating away at whatever was left of Eddie’s sanity.
But today was the day. He'd find out that the charges were either dropped... or when his arraignment would be.
“It’s gonna be okay,” Steve said quietly. “He’ll call.”
Eddie just sort of groaned in response. He was staring at the phone again, willing it to either ring or spontaneously combust. It did neither.
“Right,” Ted said, shifting awkwardly. “Well, uh... good luck with that...” he muttered. “I’m gonna...” He turned and walked away, likely heading back to his son and the screaming group of his friends.
“What if they didn’t drop them?” Eddie muttered. “I mean, like actually, what the fuck am I gonna do? I can’t afford a lawyer... not a decent one.”
“It’ll be okay, Eddie—” Steve started.
“You can’t promise that!” Eddie snapped. He didn’t mean to yell at Steve, but he was freaking out, and he couldn’t yell at anyone he actually wanted to yell at. Fucking Jason Carver... Vecna... they were all goddamned dead. Which at this moment felt very rude. He wished they were back, so he could kill them himself. Earn the title of murderer that had already been handed to him.
No, he didn’t wish that. Especially not about Vecna.
But he was freaking out.
“Look at me, man,” Eddie said. “ Every jury in the world would convict me. Hell, I was almost a victim of vigilante mob justice! They didn’t even have evidence or the kind of fancy speeches that lawyers will have if this goes to trial.” Eddie shook his head miserably. “Maybe I can strike a deal, plead guilty, get a reduced sentence...”
“Eddie...”
The phone rang. Eddie yelped. “Shit shit shit, what do I do?” he looked at Steve, terrified. “What do I do?”
“Answer it, asshole!”
Eddie grabbed the phone. “HelloPalaceArcadeEddieSpeaking.”
It was Hopper. He spoke quickly. Eddie listened. He held his breath. Next to him, Steve moved in close, listening to what Hopper was saying. He said a lot of things that were having a not-easy time sticking in Eddie’s mind. He heard things like lack of evidence and inexcusable modern witch hunt. None of it made sense. Was Hopper even speaking English? Did Eddie speak English?
What were words?
But he saw the look on Steve’s face, and slowly the words began to sort themselves out. Steve looked happy.
“ The case against you has been thrown out,” Hopper had said. Whatever the fuck else he’d said, he’d definitely said that.
“So, wait... so I’m not a murderer?” Eddie asked. “I’m not being charged; I’m not... going to jail?”
“Nope,” Hopper said. “You’re a free man, Eddie Munson.”
Eddie blinked. He stared down at the receiver in his hand. Words were failing him again. Fortunately, Steve picked up the slack. He took the phone from Eddie and thanked Hopper for everything, explained that Eddie was just malfunctioning at the moment. Hopper invited them over for dinner with him, Joyce and the rest of his family later in the week, and Steve agreed for both of them. Then he hung up the phone and looked at Eddie.
“Eddie,” Steve said, a hand back on his shoulder, shaking him. “Eddie, did you hear him?”
Eddie nodded. He looked at Steve, his heartbeat picking up erratically in his chest.
“Did he say—”
“He did, he fucking said it—”
“It’s okay? It’s fucking okay?”
“Yes,” Steve practically shouted, shaking him again. He jumped up a little, getting excited. “You’re fucking free, charges dropped!”
“Holy shit, holy shit,” Eddie said, the truth finally hitting him. He wasn’t going to jail, didn’t have to go through a trial. He wasn’t a murderer, he was cleared. He felt dizzy and put a hand on Steve’s chest to steady himself. Steve was still shaking him, talking excitedly, saying they had to call Wayne, had to call Robin, had to tell everyone—
“I’m fucking free, I’m fucking free,” Eddie babbled. Steve’s excitement was making him giddy, and he shook Steve back, clasping his arms.
“You’re fucking free,” Steve agreed.
Happiness, relief, exhaustion and the desire to cry like a little bitty baby all welled up in Eddie’s chest. The nightmare was over, after so fucking long. It was more than a weight off his shoulders, he was weightlessness itself, floating and untethered.
He teetered deliriously on his feet, still clutching Steve like he might actually drift away if he let go of him. Steve’s face was close to his, and they were holding onto each other, elated and ecstatic. And then Steve’s hands were on his face, holding him, and Steve’s mouth was against his, kissing him.
And Eddie was so relieved, so happy, so free that he didn’t even realize. Steve was kissing him, and he was kissing Steve back, and everything was fan-fucking-tastic.
The sound of a throat being cleared brought him back down to reality.
Steve backed away, blinking and dazed. Eddie looked at him. They both turned and looked at Ted Wheeler, who had wandered back over.
“Umm... good news?” Ted asked. His face was neutral and expressionless, as usual.
Eddie cleared his throat. “Charges dropped,” he said gruffly.
“That’s great,” Ted said mildly. “I wanted to ask if you knew when the kids might be done... I can just go home and come back, if it’s going to be an hour or more?”
“Uh...” Steve said. “Probably, yeah.”
Eddie nodded in agreement. “DIGDUG can be challenging.”
“Right,” Ted said. He looked at them. They looked back. Several long moments passed.
“That wasn’t what you think,” Steve blurted.
Ted was silent.
“It was an accident,” Eddie added. Steve nodded quickly. “We didn’t—we weren’t—we just got caught up in the moment, was all.”
“Yeah, it was just, lots of emotions, uh... emotional... caught up,” Steve said, somewhat nonsensically. He crossed his arms, sticking his hands under his armpits. “An accident.”
“Right,” Ted said, a note of disbelief in his otherwise bored tone. “I’m heading out, tell the kids to call me when they’re done... Digdugging.” He walked off, leaving the two of them standing there, staring.
Neither of them said anything for a while. Eventually, Eddie found his voice. “Can we kill him?”
“Eddie!”
“What? He thinks he knows something—which he doesn’t, because there’s nothing to know because it was an accident—but still.”
“You just got murderer charges dropped, there’s no way you’re going to commit an actual murder.”
“Well, why not?” Eddie challenged. “Why not? I spent a year being called a murderer for something I didn’t even do! I think I should get to do a little actual murder,” he said. “As a treat.”
Steve glared, and Eddie threw up his hands. “You’re so goddamned unreasonable, Steven!”
“Look, it was an accident,” Steve said. “It’s not a big deal.”
“I don’t think Mr. Wheeler believes that.”
“Well, screw him, it was an accident. We know it was.”
“Of course,” Eddie agreed. “I wasn’t even thinking about it. It just happened.”
“Exactly, me too. It would have been totally different if we’d been thinking about it.”
“Right. On-purpose kisses are completely different from accidental ones,” Eddie said. Steve nodded.
A few more moments passed quietly. Eddie thought back a few minutes, to when Steve’s mouth had been on his. It had been an accident. But did that mean it was a mistake? If he was being honest... no. Not for him, at least.
It had been nice, kissing Steve.
Eddie cleared his throat and glanced over at Steve. “Um, I know how we can prove it was an accident,” he said casually. Steve raised an eyebrow. “If we go into the backroom and kiss on purpose, we’ll be able to see. Y’know, how different it is.”
Steve nodded slowly, apparently turning this information over in his mind. Eddie watched him carefully, looking for some sign of disgust or disinterest. “That’s smart,” Steve said. Eddie let out a relieved breath. “We can like, uh, compare,” he said.
“And then we’ll have proof,” Eddie said. “And that’ll show him.”
“Show who?”
“Mr. Wheeler.”
“Right,” Steve said. “Him. Yeah, that’s a good plan. Good idea.”
“The only kind I have,” Eddie said, grinning.
Steve snorted. “A second ago, you were planning on killing Mike’s dad.”
“Sorry, can’t hear you, heading to the back room already,” Eddie said, moving out from behind the counter. He walked in the direction of the back room, and glanced over his shoulder. “You coming?”
Steve nodded and raced forward, a big smile on his face.
Two hours later, when Ted Wheeler arrived (once again) at the arcade to collect his kid (and his kid's friends), Steve and Eddie were still nowhere to be seen. He sighed tiredly. “An accident...” he muttered. “Right.”