A/N: Prompt was for EddySarah with Eddy noticing she's all grown up. Fun to get a chance to write this ship!

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Eddy would say he's not sure how he got roped into this, but he'd be lying. He got roped into this because Ed had made that ridiculous wibbly face that shouldn't work for a guy his age but always does. Ed had gotten on his knees and pulled that face and whimpered, "Please," and Eddy had caved like a house of cards in a hurricane. Ed had then rubbed salt into the wound by swinging him around in a hug and smiling like the friggin' sun, so Eddy couldn't even have the satisfaction of being upset with him.

That was fine, though. He may not be able to be upset with Ed, or even Double Dee- who'd had the nerve to have a valid excuse to deny The Face- and he may have spent too long being upset with himself to want to bother now, but he still has Sarah and he can be plenty upset with her.

"Are you even paying attention?"

Yeah, he can be plenty upset with her. Driving Sarah to the mall for a flash sale so Ed wouldn't miss the start of his movie marathon, Eddy had agreed to. Playing fashion yes-man to Sarah, not so much.

Still, the faster she picks her clothes, the faster they can leave. Heaving a sigh, Eddy looks Sarah's way to fake a compliment about whatever she has on. In the next instant, he's on his feet, the jacket he'd tossed over his arm barricading Sarah from the view of the rest of the boutique.

"What are you doing?" she demands, shoving at his hands.

"What are you wearing?" he demands right back, voice pitched puberty high. "And where the heck's the rest of it?"

She makes an outraged noise and kicks him in the shin. "It's a crop top and shorts, you weirdo," she growls, flouncing back into the fitting room, swaying hips he doesn't remember her having, and slamming the door.

Eddy slumps back down onto the bench, head reeling as the world shifts around him. "Oh, boy," he mutters, scrubbing a hand over his head like it'll scrub away the memory of Sarah's legs stretching out of those shorts like ten years of dance classes. His mind turns to the heap of swimsuits she'd picked out to try on and only sheer force of will keeps him from crying. "Ohhh, boy."