A/N: Hey, hey! This is cross-posted on AO3 under the same title, but the Ao3 version has more swearing, and links to all of the songs I mentioned! My author name on there is zealous_whispers_of_us.

Also, this is rated M for drug references and will include future smut scenes. There is a plot to the whole thing, though. I hope you enjoy it! xx :)


Lucky Charms Records was one of those stores that barely got a second glance from the average person living in Hawkins, Indiana. Opened in 1975 and wedged between the old Radio Shack and general store, it was the place where the freaks of Hawkins congregated. Beaded curtains covered every doorway, and the place always smelled like incense. Plastic bins were piled high, always in danger of tumbling down and squishing anyone unfortunate to walk past. People put ads in the store's front window, right next to a painting of a peeling rainbow. Posters of every musical act imaginable covered the green walls, and vintage light fixtures hung from the ceiling. The owners were old hippies. They still owned a converted school bus that they refused to get rid of, no matter how much the yuppies of Hawkins complained.

It was Eddie Munson's favorite place to be in this shitty town.

School had ended forty-five minutes ago, and he was on a mission to find the perfect soundtrack to accompany Hellfire's Club's next D&D campaign. The Cult of Vecna was his tour de force. No other Dungeon Master could ever create what he created. Eddie considered every choice his players could make. Every solution his players could think of brought them failure. There was no way that anyone would be making it out of this alive. Eddie's win was guaranteed. He just needed the perfect song to play when he won.

Cheerful music greeted him when he walked inside, pushing beaded curtains out of his way. He was thinking something loud and fast without many lyrics would be perfect. Mr. Brennan (call-me-Michael) waved at Eddie. Eddie waved back, distracted with thoughts of his campaign. He was so preoccupied that he missed the overhead music change from some cheerful song about peace to something loud and obnoxious. The Freeze, Eddie realized. The box he kept padlocked tight in his chest gave an almighty rattle. It hadn't done that in ages. Not since Caoimhe Brennan left Hawkins for better things.

They met when Eddie started at Hawkins Middle School when he saw Caoimhe punch a kid in the face. He sometimes wondered if she remembered. Eddie: ten-years-old, self-conscious about his buzzed hair and gangly limbs. Caoimhe: wholly herself, even at eleven years old. Splitting her knuckles on the teeth of the kids that bullied her kid brother, bloody nose streaming as she grinned at Eddie with a mouthful of braces. Even then, she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen—loud and smart. Always trying to change the world. She dragged him to punk shows that ended with her getting into fistfights with guys bigger than her. She painted his nails bright pink when he was passed out and threw peanuts at him when his band played at the Hideout. She refused to play Dungeons & Dragons but blackmailed Eddie until he agreed to come to every stage performance she was in. She gave him a terrible haircut in ninth grade and then shaved her head in solidarity. Eddie had been half in love with her for years.

Eddie ducked behind a shelf, pulling an album out at random and pretending to be very interested in a box set compilation of the Fletcher Henderson orchestra. Eddie had spent the last decade of his life entirely in tune with Caoimhe's exact location relative to his own. He peered over the shelves and spotted her behind the checkout counter, bopping along to the music. Eddie flashed back to the nights when they stayed up all night shooting the shit and getting so stoned that Caoimhe started writing country songs for him to play on his guitar—watching Scooby-Doo and eating maple and brown sugar instant oatmeal until they were sick—giving her the best deals on psychedelics. Eddie told her it was gentlemanly of him not to get high while she was tripping in case anything bad happened, but he really wanted her all to himself. He wanted to remember the following day how it felt to have her in his lap, pressed so close he could count the freckles sprayed across her cheeks. Even though he didn't look it, Eddie Munson was a real romantic when you peeled back the layers to expose the pulpy mess of his crooked heart.

When Eddie next looked up, Caoimhe was staring right at him. He set the album down and fixed a grin on his face as she raced in his direction.

"The prodigal daughter returns," he joked after she'd squeezed the living shit out of his chest.

"Don't be cute. I've got a bone to pick with you," Caoimhe said, staring Eddie down even though she still had her arms wrapped around his torso.

"Already? What did I do?"

"Chris came into the store yesterday." Caoimhe glared at him. "With her new boyfriend."

Eddie had a terrible feeling that he knew where this was going.

"Uh-huh."

"Why the hell are you guys not together yet? You've had a thing for her for years, Eddie, for God's sake. Do I have to do everything around here?"

For as smart as she was, Caoimhe was dumb. She had been trying to set Eddie up with Chrissy Cunningham for years. She was convinced that the sappy, pining glances Eddie sent her way every three minutes were directed at Chrissy. Eddie assumed it was because she was blind and refused to do anything about it. It was fuckin' obvious who he was really looking at. Chrissy was Caoimhe's friend for some inexplicable reason. Eddie thought they met when they were kids in dance, gymnastics, or something like that. He and Chrissy were never close. They more so... existed relative to each other with Caoimhe as a buffer. When Caoimhe went to high school, Eddie and Chrissy stopped talking. The same thing happened when Caoimhe graduated high school. Not that Eddie much cared. Chrissy was nice, pretty, and sweet, but Caoimhe could curb stomp him, and he'd thank her.

"Eddie."

He collapsed against a shelf. Maybe if he pretended to be dead, she'd leave him alone.

"Eds, what the fuck?"

"I don't know. She's a cheerleader; he plays basketball."

"So? What's your point?"

"They're supposed to date. It's, like, fated or something."

"Jason goes to church," she hissed. "He is on an organized sports team."

"Why can't you talk to Chrissy about this?"

"Because you're the one who's liked her since middle school."

Eddie opened his mouth. It had been a decade; surely, that was enough time by now? He'd rehearsed it in his head more often than he cared to admit. Caoimhe, it's you, you idiot. It was never Chrissy. I love you. If you wore your glasses every once in a while, you'd notice that I've never once looked at Chrissy, you blind dumbass.

It would never work. Caoimhe was never easily convinced. Once she thought she knew something, it'd take getting beaten over the head and a three-day coma to get her to stop believing it. Eddie was just as stubborn, which is why he refused to tell her the truth. He bit his tongue.

"It's cool; I'm back now." She patted Eddie on the cheek. "I'll help you."

"I look forward to it," Eddie said, like a lying liar who lied. He sucked. "Why'd you decide to come back to this place anyway?"

As far as Eddie understood it, thanks to her insistence on sending him postcards like they were penpals during World War Two, she had spent two years in college, freaked out about the future, then took a gap year. These last six months she had spent living abroad with her extended family. Eddie detected a slight accent and teased her about it until she shoved him with a laugh.

"Shut up; I can't help the accent! I missed this place, believe it or not."

"I doubt that."

"I did. Also, hey, what's up with you? Are you graduating this year or not?"

"I'm getting through O'Donnell's class."

Caoimhe narrowed her stupidly pretty eyes and jabbed a finger in Eddie's face.

"You said the same thing last year."

"Yeah, but this year is my year." Eddie put his hands on her shoulders and shook her to emphasize how serious he was. "I know it is. I can feel it."

"You also said that," Caoimhe said skeptically.

Eddie groaned and draped himself over her shoulder.

"Okay, so O'Donnell hates me. She fails me on purpose. What do I do with that?"

"I dunno. Study?"

"Nope. I staunchly refuse. But..."

"Christ, I know that look," Caoimhe mumbled under her breath, "But what?"

"The best tutor in Hawkins has finally returned!"

"What."

"I, Edward the Banished, Master Thief -17th level, obviously-, ask you, the beautiful half-elf princess Caoimhe the Magnificent, on bended knee-" Eddie dropped to his knees on the dusty carpeted floor. -"To tutor me in physics so that I may finally graduate and leave this shithole town behind."

"What's in it for me?" Caoimhe asked with another scowl, but her mouth twisted like she was trying not to smile.

"My unending fidelity and admiration?"

"Don't I have those already?"

And then some, Eddie thought to himself.

"Uh, free drugs?" he offered.

She tapped her chin as she thought about his offer, drawing it out because she knew how much it annoyed him.

"Deal," she said.

"You've got to say it right," said Eddie. "'I, Caoimhe the Magnificent, Princess of the Sapphire Nexus, promise you, the ravishing, roguishly handsome thief Edward the Banished -'"

"I'm not saying that," she interrupted flatly.

"College didn't make you any less boring, eh?" Eddie said, leaping to his feet and throwing an arm around her shoulder.

"Tisch isn't known for its thriving Dungeons & Dragons campaigns. Did you want to start now?"

"With what?"

"Tutoring, Eddie. Remember what we just spent the last gruelingly long three minutes discussing?"

"I just got off school. What makes you think I want to do more of it?"

"If you want to pass the 12th grade on your third go, you should want to," Caoimhe pointed out.

"I forgot how much of a battle ax you were," Eddie grinned. "Jesus, I missed you."

"I missed you, too, bitch. Are we studying or not?"

"I got Hellfire at seven."

"And?"

"And I need a badass soundtrack to play when I win my next campaign. Hence why I came here in the first place."

"May I suggest-"

"No."

"You don't even know what I was gonna say!" Caoimhe protested.

Eddie began walking toward the metal section, tugging her with him.

"Yes, I do. "Death or Glory" isn't going to cut it this time. Or any other time."

"Bite me," she said mildly. "What about-"

"No. Not "Rise Above" either. I need an instrumental."

"God, you're dull, Eds."

She leaned against the shelves and let Eddie do his thing. Lucky Charms had a decent cassette tape collection and a corner where customers could listen to them before they decided to buy them. Eddie had his arms full of cassettes before he knew it and got a player. He unplugged the headphones so they could both listen. Caoimhe sat on the ground, legs stretched out, and head leaned back on the shelves. She was looking at Eddie in that way that made him all sweaty. Her eyes were intense. She kicked his ankle to get his attention.

"This one's decent," she said. "I still think you need something with words in it, though. Like-"

"Joe Strummer has nothing on Dave Mustaine," Eddie pointed out.

Caoimhe grinned the same grin that led them to three days in detention after getting into a screaming fight about whether Angel Witch was better than Black Flag. Eddie took the cassette tape out and made to head to the checkout counter. She got to her feet and hurried after him.

"Are we doing this now?" she asked.

"You started it. Punk has nothing on the musicianship of metal. For one."

"You always say that. Who cares about the musicianship? It's the message," Caoimhe said, scanning the cassette viciously. "No one cares about some dude with stupidly long hair playing the most stupidly complicated guitar solo ever invented -it's $7.49, by the way- But songs like "Know Your Product ?" The Saints, 1978? Anti-consumerist as hell. "Typical Girls ?" The Slits-"

"Fine. I'll give you that one."

"Ha! Name one metal band with a woman-"

"Warlock," Eddie said immediately.

"Quit interrupting me when I'm winning the argument, damn it. You ruin it when you do that. Here's your change."

"Thanks," said Eddie, pocketing it. "What are you doing now?"

"Why, so we can continue this argument when I'm off?" Caoimhe asked.

"No. I've already won, obviously."

"Nope. You've never won and never will. And I'm doing nothing. Why?"

"Sonic?" he suggested.

"You're a genius, Eddie Munson. And I forgive you for hating on punk music because I haven't had a nasty fish sandwich in months. Let's go."

Caoimhe ducked under the counter and returned with a worn leather jacket beaten to shit and covered in safety pins. Seeing that jacket again was like coming home after a long time. She'd gotten it the same time Eddie got his denim jacket, and they spent ages curating the perfect collection of patches and pins to put on each of their finds. Eddie cut the sleeves off to make a vest; Caoimhe tore up a pair of plaid pants to cover her sleeve. They'd done all the sewing when they were high, which, looking back, was a dumb idea. Eddie had stabbed himself with a needle and started freaking until Caoimhe grabbed his hand and stuck his finger in her mouth to stop the bleeding. Then he was freaking for another reason.

"Ready?" Caoimhe asked, grabbing his hand. "C'mon."

They ran out the door hand in hand and kicked ankles to get the other to trip. It was being eleven years old again when Eddie and Caoimhe would spend all summer in the record store playing hide and seek and building cardboard forts out of all the boxes. Eddie would lug his guitar to her house, and he would play whatever song she asked him to. She always sang like it was her last song before she died a gruesome death, with arms thrown out to the side and collapsing to the ground when it was over. She was born to be on Broadway.

When Eddie allowed himself to fantasize, it was him and Caoimhe living in some dirty shoebox apartment in New York. She would go off to rehearsals while he was in the studio recording music with Corroded Coffin. They would go to concerts on the weekends where she'd get into fistfights and kiss Eddie when he pulled her out, high on adrenaline. She would get his initials tattooed on her ribs, and he would let her finally pierce his ear like she'd been begging for the last five years. Then when they got home, he'd take her apart nice and slow, keeping her in bed for as long as he wanted.

"Are we taking my car?" Caoimhe asked, rustling through her jacket and breaking Eddie's concentration on the fantastic daydream he was having.

"Nah, I'll drop you off before Hellfire." Eddie opened the door for her and bowed. "M'lady, your chariot awaits."

"...Your van smells like old socks."

"Does it?"

Once Eddie got in the driver's seat, he pushed up his sleeve, read the note he left himself about finally taking his old gym clothes out of the van, and agreed with her.

"Oh, yeah. There it is in black ink. Whoops," he muttered.

Now that he looked at it, his van was pretty gross. Caoimhe's feet were buried under garbage. Then again, she'd puked in his backseat more than once, so it might not have been that bad. (Oh, but she was probably all cosmopolitan now, going to Tisch with all the artsy types who smoked French cigarettes and only watched black and white movies. Did he need to clean?) Nope, shut up. It was Caoimhe. She never cared before.

"Oo, what do we have in here? More tapes?"

Eddie lunged to grab the box, but she kept it away from him. He wasn't trying to crash the damn van but swiped at her halfheartedly to get the box back.

"Uh- hold on- wait!" he shouted.

She pulled her hand out of the box, one cassette held tight in her hand. It was the soundtrack to Grease. Eddie wanted to be embarrassed because it was obvious to him why he'd have that stupid cassette in his van. Caoimhe didn't give him much of a chance to be embarrassed, though. She turned in her seat to face him.

"Eds, you kept these?" she asked softly. (Was she blushing?)

Caoimhe, who, despite looking like she'd kick your teeth in if you looked at her wrong, was in every single stage performance that Hawkins Middle and High School put on. She'd only been a freshman when she'd gotten the part of Rizzo in Grease. She made Eddie see all four performances. By the second performance, he had the show memorized, brought a cassette player, and sat there listening to a Saxon album on repeat until the show was over. Caoimhe was a musical theater geek. Eddie was decidedly not, but he'd been pining hard lately- he had every single soundtrack to every musical she had been in because she practiced in his van. He had yet to get rid of them. Actually, he had been listening to them and hearing her voice instead.

"Uh, yeah," he said.

"God, this felt like ages ago. Remember when Ebeling wanted to do that one-act play about the elephant that Edison electrocuted?" Caoimhe snorted softly. "He didn't like it unless someone died horribly."

"What was the one with the old women who poisoned people?"

"Arsenic and Old Lace. That one was fun."

"I liked that one." He caught her eye as they sat at a stop sign. "Was super metal."

"You would think that." She nudged Eddie's shoulder. "Can I play "There Are Worse Things I Could Do?'"

"Sure. Why the hell not? Play your show tunes. Ruin my night before Hellfire."

"You're the greatest, Eds," she replied, popping in the tape and fast-forwarding.

The ride was silent for some agonizingly long minutes. Eddie started tapping on the steering wheel and muttering the script he had planned for today's campaign under his breath. They were bound to wrap it up either today or the next time they met, which was great because Eddie already wanted to dive headfirst into the Cult of Vecna.

"-Then go with a boy or two. Even though the neighborhood thinks I'm trashy and no good," Caoimhe sang and nudged him again. "Hey. Tell me about your current campaign."

"You want to hear about D&D? Since when?"

"Christ. Okay." She screwed her eyes shut and spoke through her teeth like she was being held at gunpoint. "You're going to make this a thing, I know you are, but I missed hearing you natter on about it, okay?"

Eddie couldn't stop the grin if he tried.

"Oh, I am definitely making this a thing."

He tilted his head in her direction and sang;

"You. Missed hearing me talk about it!"

"What? When did I say that?"

"Nu-uh, you can't take it back. Say it again. C'mon."

"Never."

"C'mon, say, "Oh, Eddie, I love it when you talk Dungeons and Dragons to me. It gets me so hot"."

"Why did I even open my mouth in the first place?" Caoimhe asked, looking heavenward like she was begging to be raptured so she could escape the conversation.

"Just a little? Say it again, c'mon," Eddie goaded. "Ha, I knew you loved it. Admit it. "Eddie, baby, talk druid to me"!"

"Fucking hell, now I take it back," she said, throwing her hands in the air. "You ruined it."

"No, c'mon, you want to know?"

"Not anymore."

"C'mon, yes, you do. I'll tell you all about it."

"I could hurt someone like me!" Caoimhe shouted along to the song. "Out of spite or jealousy!"

"Okay, okay. I'm done. I'll tell you. Can I tell you?"

"Will you stop making it weird?"

"Yep, I will. Swear."

"Good. Tell me about Hellfire, then."

"Okay, listen to this..."

And Eddie was off telling her everything about the current campaign. Telling her about the Blightlands, a world he made up where every hero who dared step foot there had to fight off monsters covered in oozing sores. If they bit you, you'd join them. The air was poisonous, so even if a magic user decided to use Vanish, they still ran the risk of being exposed and dying that way. He told her about the Blightmaster as the big bad that Eddie's players were in the middle of defeating.

He talked the whole way to Sonic when they'd ordered and gotten their food, catching Caoimhe's gaze on him whenever he stopped to take a bite. She had a small smile on her face, her eyes soft and pretty. She hummed at times and gasped at others- a perfect, captive audience of one. Eddie wanted to tell her then. See if she felt the same.

She squeezed Eddie's hand when he was finally done. He hadn't even noticed that she'd grabbed it.

"That sounds sick, Eds," she said.

"Heh," he replied, looking at her fingers intertwined with his. "My win's guaranteed, so. I'm pretty happy about that."

"What's your new one? The one you were looking for music for?"

"The Cult of Vecna."

"I am a sucker for a good cult."

Eddie fiddled with his rings. "I know you think it's stupid."

"I don't think it's stupid. Honestly, I just like how pissed you get when I tease you about it, s'all."

"Oh."

They blinked at each other. Was Caoimhe closer than she was a second ago? Eddie felt all sweaty again.

"D'you, uh, you know, wanna come tonight? Just to watch. Maybe, if you wanted to, do you?" he asked.

Caoimhe stole one of his tater tots.

"Don't you need to vote or something?" she asked.

"I'm the DM. I can invite whoever I want."

She considered that. "But I'm not playing."

"Obviously not. You'd suck."

"Hey, bite me, man. Just because I had to take remedial math in the summer."

"Twice," Eddie said with a grin.

"Real comedian over here, ladies and gentlemen. At least I graduated when I was supposed to."

"That's cold, Kee."

"Yeah, well, you started it. Are you going to finish your tater tots?"

Eddie tipped his head back onto the window with a groan. Every time. Every goddamn time they went to Sonic, Caoimhe ordered onion rings and ended up eating Eddie's tater tots. Every time. He could start telling her no. She was an adult; she needed to order what she liked. (Who was he kidding? He'd give her his stupid tater tots every time.)

"I knew it. I told you when we ordered not to get onion rings," Eddie said as he shoved his tater tots in her direction.

"I always think I'll end up liking them!" she defended. "Listen, I like the ones from the diner. Stands to reason I'd like them here."

"We've been coming here for six years, and you haven't liked them once."

"Do you want 'em? You seem so defensive."

"Fine. I'll eat your poor, abandoned onion rings." Eddie shoved one in his mouth and talked with his mouth full. "Poor things, cast off and loathed by the princess who asked for them."

"Why do you assume I'd be a princess if I played D&D, anyway? That's the real question."

"As your backstory. You'd be a half-elf-princess-turned-assassin," Eddie explained.

"Which means?"

"You kill a lot. Use poison sometimes."

"But how would a princess turn into an assassin?"

"Hm. You found out that everything you thought you knew about your home was wrong. So, you went to right those wrongs, but they could only be done by killing. So, you joined the Assassin's Guild and just, you know, started assassinating. Then you fell in love with a thief and couldn't go back to your home because you committed high treason, so you ran off with the thief and just kept assassinating bad guys," Eddie said.

"A thief named Eddie?" Caoimhe joked.

"Why would you- uh, no. Not that at, uh, all," he said.

Smooth. Like a car crash. Jesus Christ.

"Right, right, right, sorry. Because Eddie the thief fell in love with Chrissy the Gentle. Of course." She patted Eddie's shoulder. "My mistake, dude. That sounds cool, though, being an assassin."

"I knew you'd think so. So, are you in? Wanna watch the guys fight the good fight?"

Caoimhe wrinkled her nose and ate another one of Eddie's tater tots. He ate an onion ring and fiddled with his rings. She was purposely stringing him along, but Eddie waited anyway. She nodded when she had eaten three tater tots and the rest of her fish sandwich.

"Take me to Hellfire. I wanna see them dungeon those dragons," she said sagely with her hands folded in her lap.

"That isn't it at all."