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Jeff’s hand is already on his seatbelt as Eddie pulls into the parking lot of George’s Diner. In the month since Eddie was awarded the new van as recompense for the Catholic mob burning the last one, Grant has proven himself unequivocally incapable of making the sliding door open. It’s almost funny, how badly he fails at it. Gareth’s in the third row’s window seat, so it’s either Grant struggle or Jeff do it, and Jeff would like to avoid another curse laden meltdown on this fine morning.
Except there’s no opportunity to. Eddie finds a spot and parks the vehicle, but he doesn’t disengage the child lock, leaving his friends trapped in the back of his new van.
“It is very important that you get this. Understand this. Master it. Deep, deep, down in your soul, cosmic level, Robert Heinlein grok it.”
“Okay, man,” Gareth rolls his eyes. It makes sense. He’s spent the least amount of time with Eddie, by pure fact of being a sophomore. It’s not a good excuse. It’s still been a year and a half of friendship. He should know better than to poke the bear.
Jeff, on the other hand, knows him the most. For a few financially tight years, the Connors lived in Forest Hills, half way down the park. They used to carpool, share leftovers, take down each other’s laundry at a sudden onset storm. He knows the difference between Eddie being showy because he wants attention, and showy because he’s deadly serious about something and thinks he needs to be spectacular to be listened to.
Eddie twists halfway out of the driver seat to make eye contact. “If you in any way make it seem like you don’t appreciate my relationship and pull some ‘daddy with a shotgun’ bullshit, I will burn your houses down.”
“Okay,” Gareth scoffs.
Jeff exchanges an alarmed look with Grant. Gareth’s been in a pissy mood for weeks, ever since the basketball team went overtly sociopathic and assaulted him and Eddie ended up in the hospital with injuries he won’t talk about. Jeff gets the upset, of course he does, but Eddie’s not a good person to clash against.
“Oh, I’m jesting? Something to smirk at? Nope, I definitely didn’t learn how to build molotovs over spring break.”
“As far as first dates go, not the best,” Grant laughs, trying to take the tension off the fact that none of them know what happened during spring break. Eddie holds back information for dramatic purposes, he doesn’t keep secrets. Or at least he didn’t used to, before Carver lured the rest of the town into insanity. Jeff is never going to press, he cares too much to demand Eddie talk about something he doesn’t want to, but he hates not knowing.
Eddie’s tension doesn’t break. It only ratchets up as he whirls on Grant. “Exactly the bullshit they don’t need. Don’t insult our dates. It’s been hard and I don’t want it to fall apart.”
“If it could so easily, just by a friend being quippy, why do you even trust this?” Gareth points out. It’s mean, but true. It’s also likely to set Eddie off again.
It does. “It’s fresh, it’s new, and there’s some shame. If any of you motherfuckers make it worse, you’ll be finding a new place to sleep.”
“Walking in and being perfect gentlemen to random people you still won’t name. Got it,” Jeff sighs.
They don’t know a lot. Of course Eddie wants the theatrics of first introducing his lovers to his friends at a crowded diner rather than showing off a picture, or delivering a smitten catalogue of characteristics. All they know about Eddie’s relationship is that it’s multiple people of multiple genders. Having a permanent threesome is the least shocking part. Eddie doesn’t believe in monogamy, has made that clear in multiple cafeteria rants, screeching over the quarter Valentine’s rose delivery fundraiser. Jeff just really thought Eddie was just gay.
“Riff. Nicely.” Eddie hisses. The child lock disengages, and Jeff yanks on the sliding door so they can tumble out of the van. After a moment of metal-style primping, fluffing long hair and straightening pins on battle jackets, they follow Eddie into the diner.
It’s not a threesome. There are four people at the table Eddie leads them to, not two. The words ‘what the fuck is this’ are coiling on Jeff’s tongue, but he can’t drop them. There’s a fifty-fifty chance Eddie really will commit arson. Not actual full blown house incineration, but Jeff wouldn’t put it past him to light the lawn, and when a parent rushes out shrieking about what the fuck have you done, to blame it on an accidently flicked still lit butt or roach. It’d be great revenge, a guaranteed pain in the ass encounter. Eddie is scary like that.
Honestly though, all these people are unstable. Jonathan’s been in a bunch of fist fights since coming back from California, and because his mom is dating the newly no longer undercover Chief, charges don’t stick. Everyone saw Nancy threaten Carver with a gun the day he went missing and heard her subsequent claim that he got what was coming to him. Mr and Mrs Carver want Hopper to arrest her, but Jonathan and Nancy are the outward facing couple, apparently, and Hopper won’t touch a hair on her head. Harrington’s insane, turning down everything his rich daddy built for him to work at a rental place. And Argyle is already notorious around town, proclaiming satanic things like board games are just board games, and gender is a construct, and all drugs should be legal, and that he’s not a Satanist, he’s Pagan,which everyone knows is just Satanic but with like flowers and tree humping. If there’s anyone who doesn’t care about pissing off the town, it’s these guys, who’ve already got a ton of shit around town in the last month, despite volunteering to help, and the PD clearing them. Eddie needs that rebellion in a partner. Jeff’s not sure why he needs that four times over, but he apparently does.
“Hey, Eddie’s brochachos. Come, join us,” Argyle calls out.
“Good morning, Eddie,” Steve says a beat later, twisting in his seat to face them.
It’s Jonathan who actually makes joining possible. Unlike Argyle and Nancy tucked in on the padded booth half of the double-table’s seating, all Jonathan has to do is push out his chair and he’s standing. It’s the work of a few seconds and an ungodly scraping noise that he pushes the next small table over. It gives them six official spots, Eddie sitting beside Nancy in the booth and Gareth grabbing the chair opposing him. Jeff grabs another from an empty table and slots in at the end, Argyle to his left, Jonathan to his right. Better that Grant, opposing him, is surrounded by Corroded Coffin. Jeff can handle two aggressive stoners.
“Buckles couldn’t make it?” Eddie asks the table, throwing an arm around Nancy’s back. Jeff never could have guessed a blouse that pristine would let a patch covered denim jacket rub up against it, but Nancy isn’t flinching.
“She’s hanging out with Vic. We’ll see her later today, she promised,” Steve answers.
Jeff knows what the rumour mill has to say about Steve Harrington driving Robin-from-Band to school every day for a year. Namely that she puts out. But Jeff’s pretty sure she’s a lesbian. She has titties drawn on her sneakers. He thinks they’re just best friends in a can’t leave each other’s sides kind of way. That bond makes even more sense if Steve is queer enough to be in a relationship with three other guys alongside his high school sweetheart.
“So we weren’t sure if you wanted to get a full breakfast, or just a snack. Have you eaten already?” Steve asks.
“Eddie? Eat already? Hah. It’s too early in the morning to be alive,” Gareth bites.
“It’s ten o'clock!” Nancy protests.
“Either I get a chocolate milk or a cigarette, or I’m going to throw myself into traffic,” Gareth doubles down on his night owl persona. They definitely woke him up when they picked him up this morning, Jeff has no doubts about that. He answered the door in boxers. Jeff gets that he probably slept four hours before they rang, all their schedules have been slipping since school got postponed until June. Still, he could tone down the grumpiness a level.
Eddie throws a sugar packet at him. “Wanna fuckin’ chill out, a bit?”
It’s funny, watching the different reactions to the little temper tantrum, one so similar to the ones Eddie theatrically throws. It gives Jeff a bit of insight into how they’ll treat his best friend. Nancy rolls her eyes, mildly exasperated, but doesn’t comment, just puts up with it. Jonathan winces, pained by suicidal talk, but similarly doesn’t get involved. And then, diagonally from each other, you have the social lubricant of the group. The problem solvers of awkward situations. Steve scans the room until he finds a waitress to make eye contact with to politely wave over, while Argyle reaches into his pocket for a tin.
“What ratio of weed to tobacco are you looking for?” Argyle asks Gareth.
“Not everyone is a stoner, Arr,” Nancy says from her high horse.
Argyle shrugs. “Not everyone is scared of it either.”
“He’s got you there, teddy bear,” Eddie croons.
“Ratio? Uh, I mean, I like weed? I dunno. Whatever’ll take the edge off, I slept wrong,” Gareth replies to Argyle.
Jeff just stops himself from scoffing at Gareth. He loves the guy, mostly, but it’s Hard to feel sorry for a cricked neck when Steve and Nancy both have neck scars like Carver garroted them. Robin does too. Jeff doesn’t have to rent a movie to know that, Hawkins’ rumour mill had that spread within hours. It’s not his place to ask, Spring Break was fucked up for everyone, but he wonders.
“Before we resort to drugs before breakfast,” Steve turns his little jock smile on the waitress now hovering. It would be way more suburban annoying if Jeff didn’t know he sucks dick. “Can we get eight large milkshakes, please?”
The waitress sighs, like food gathering isn’t her job. Jeff bets it’s the company, not Steve himself. All the girls cream themselves over Harrington. The real question is which company? In February it would have been him and Gareth and Grant and Eddie repelling people with their metal, but Nancy has been dragging the basketball team’s names through the mud as Jonathan fights anyone who protests, and Argyle is practically a proclaimed Satanist.
“Eight?” She asks, the word another sigh, like she has to go out and milk the cows in a shit strewn field herself.
“Yes. A strawberry, two chocolate with brownie bits, a strawberry vanilla marble, and a peanut butter,” Steve orders for his lovegroup, correctly guessing Eddie’s strawberry marble. Jeff can only presume he orders accurately for everyone, because there are no overriding voices.
The woman -Maddy, according to her nametag- rolls her eyes. “That’s five?”
“You can count, congratulations,” Grant answers. She’s absolutely spitting in their drinks now, if she wasn’t before. Oh well. Jeff knows Eddie appreciates Grant supporting Steve. “Six’ll be a banana with fudge drizzle. If you can count that high?”
“Vanilla with caramel drizzle,” Jeff requests. There’s no dessert in this world that caramel doesn’t make better.
“Chocolate with chocolate brownie bits, obviously,” Gareth tacks on last.
It takes about fifteen minutes for darling Maddy to return to them platter balanced in her arm. The delay was clearly in putting in the order, not the delivery of it, because the drinks are still the proper level of frozen. In that time Jeff has developed a pretty damn good feeling. Nancy is sharp with words and gestures, like Eddie. Argyle is lazy and unmotivated, like Eddie. Steve is nurturing, a caretaker of basically all the kids Eddie adopted at the beginning of the school year. Jonathan is artistic, albeit in a different medium than storytelling and clothing alteration. They all have reason to vibe with each other, beyond all of them thinking the others are hot, which they definitely do. One or two causal touches can be explained away, but this many all around? Corroded Coffin is definitely crashing a date, that much is obvious. Eddie’s going to be understood, and desired. And stood up for, if their contempt for Hawkins and society is anything to go by. As Eddie’s wingman forever, that’s all Jeff really wants for him.