Chapter Text
“No, abso-fucking-lutely not.”
“What!?” Chrissy’s mouth gaped open at Eddie as they stood face to face in the hallway just outside of the cafeteria, “Why not?”
“Oh, lemme think…” Eddie tapped the pad of his finger against his bottom lip while he hummed thoughtfully before his hand dropped away from his smirk, “Maybe because it’s the worst song ever?”
“It’s not the…” she huffed as she crossed her arms across her chest, “There are worse songs, like ‘Eat It’—”
“Hey!” he shoved his finger into her face, at her now smirking lips, “Weird Al is a fucking genius—”
“Whatever,” Chrissy rolled her big blue eyes at him but fuck him if he couldn’t stop himself from feeling a bit giddy at that. That she was talking to him, smiling at him, being such a fucking bitchy brat just for him.
It all started a little while ago, right after she had broken things off with her shit stain of a boyfriend. Not even a week after the scandalous scandal of the queen dumping the king, there she was, turned around in her seat in their shared world history class, asking him if he wanted to partner up with her on the next group project.
At the time, he had done what any other bad ass motherfucker would have done, he sat there with his mouth agape, trying to get his vocal cords to work so he could tell the gorgeous queen of Hawkins High an unequivocal yes—which he eventually managed to choke out through his dry mouth.
But honestly, who could blame him for being thrown for a fucking loop because this girl, this ridiculously beautiful girl, had not given him the fucking time of day since they talked and joked together way back when, during the junior high talent show. She hadn’t looked at him, talked to him, or even acknowledged his existence on this fucking planet for six fucking years until that moment, and he had wondered why now all the sudden.
At first, he’d thought it was all a joke. Yeah, let’s all fuck with the freak. Lesser jocks and preppy kids had tried, so yeah, he’d give the queen a shot. He’d see what she could do. He’d go along with her game and play the fool and maybe get a little something out of it for himself. Although back then, he hadn’t been quite sure what that “something” would have been, but he would’ve figured something out before the joke would have been on him.
But then the most extraordinary thing happened, they did their history project together. She set up a schedule for them to meet up in the library during lunch and sometimes after school at the Hawkins Public Library. They’d study together, well in all honesty they mostly joked and laughed and got shushed a million times by various librarians, but they eventually finished the project and managed to get a B+ despite all their goofing off.
And then after they had finished their project, the second most extraordinary thing happened, she kept talking to him. She wasn’t required to ever speak to him again, but she did. She’d turn around in her seat in history class and talk to him when they had free time. She’d cover her mouth and giggle at his jokes that he’d whisper into her hair from where he sat behind her. She’d even fucking wave at him in the hallways between classes when all of her fellow members of Hawkins High royalty were around. It was like she wanted to be friends with him.
So yeah, he supposed that they were friends now. Friends that made each other laugh. Friends that busted each other’s balls and fuck, could she ever dish it out. She was fucking brutal to him all the time, making fun of metal or DnD, but she’d let him be brutal right back at her when he’d talk shit about cheer leading or the shitty top-40 radio station that she listened to or even the fucking jazz dance elective that she took… which reminded him…
“No, not ‘whatever’,” he flounced his hair with a wave of his hand as he imitated a valley girl accent and got a snorting giggle out of her—fuck yes!—before he told her in no uncertain terms, “Fucking ‘Uptown Girl’ is the worst fucking song on the goddamn planet. Look it up in the dictionary under ‘worst’ and there’d be a fucking picture of Billy Joel—”
“Eddie,” she sighed as she rolled her eyes again, but he kept going.
“—so, there’s no fucking way that I’d ever debase myself or my beautiful guitar by playing that shitty song, especially in public at a fucking pep rally—”
“Nooo, not a pep rally,” she sighed even more dramatically than the last time, “It’ll be for my creative dance class recital—”
“Whatever, it’s still in public and playing it would put a stain on my fucking soul forever and I’m not gonna fucking sell out, not for you, not for anyone—"
“Eddie…” her voice got a whiny twinge to it that made his crotch twinge in response, but in a good way—or a bad way, depending on your perspective—but she wasn’t done with him yet. No, not her. Not when she could bring out the big guns…
Chrissy bit her bottom lip and took a step closer to him so that he was towering over her. Her hands clutched behind her back as she looked up at him through her long lashes. Her big blue eyes staring right into his through her dirty blonde bangs, mesmerizing him.
“Please Eddie…” she whispered breathily, “You know I wouldn’t ask you if I could find anyone that played anywhere near as good as you can… but,” she blinked her eyes at him and he could feel his head cock to the side like the fucking good dog that he was, “But you’re the best, Eddie.”
Motherfucker…
Fuck, in moments like these, he really wished that flattery didn’t work on him. Well, it generally didn’t except for with Chrissy.
“I…” he choked as he watched her plump bottom lip slowly slide out from between her teeth. All pink and slightly swollen from being held… goddamn it… “Look, I mean… does the fucking song even have guitar—”
“I dunno,” her lips twitched a smile as she shrugged, probably because she knew that she had him caught in her trap, “I wanted you to play it on the piano.”
“You know I play piano?” he blinked. He knew that she knew that he could play guitar because back when they were working on their project, he had invited her to one of Corroded Coffins’ regular gigs at the Hideout, but she had never shown up. And honestly, he wasn’t surprised. She was far too good for that fucking, shit-hole dive bar. But still, how did she know that he played piano?
“I’ve heard you playing in the music room,” she smiled at him as she answered his unspoken question. Not a smug smile this time, but rather a soft smile. The kind that she sometimes got after he’d make her laugh. He couldn’t help but smile back as her cheeks flushed when she stammered out, “I umm, sometimes I can hear you play, like when… when you’re in piano class and if I’m in the halls and I umm, sometimes I stop and listen and umm…”
She looked down at her hands that she was wringing together in front of her like she’d been caught revealing too much to him. Like maybe she’d done that more than once, spent time standing in the hall listening to him play…
Goddamn fucking flattery…
“Okay fine—”
She looked up, her eyes bright and smiling, “Really!?”
“Yeah… I’ll do it,” he scrubbed his hands over his eyes, fuck he caved so quickly, but… but… He dropped his hands down and smirked at her, “But I’m not just doing this out of the kindness of my cynical little heart, Cunningham.”
Her eyes went wide and his smirk grew into a grin, “I want some reciprocity, Chrissy.”
“You do?” she swallowed, eyes still wide, hands now motionless but still gripped together, as she asked breathily, “What did you want… me to do?”
“Twenty-four hours.”
“What?” her eyes narrowed in confusion.
“If I’m gonna contaminate my very being by actually—” he mimed a dry heave and got a snicker out of her “—buying the fucking sheet music for a fucking Billy Joel song and learning it—"
“I already have the sheet music, you big baby,” she scoffed but he could see the tiny smile twitching at the corners of her mouth.
“Yeah, but I’m still gonna be tarnishing my reputation for you. So, I want twenty-four hours of your complete and absolute obedience.”
“Obedience?” she repeated back to him in a shaky, breathy voice as she looked up at him with eyes wide open in…
Oh shit, is that fear?
“Hey, hang on there Cunningham,” he flashed a crooked smile as he held up his hands in surrender and hoped that he hadn’t gone too far and hadn’t completely fuck up thing this that they had together where she would talk to him and he’d make her laugh. This thing that wasn’t supposed to happen, the queen of the school talking to the king of the losers. He knew he needed to reassure her that he wasn’t some asshole that had only expected one thing from her all along, so he put his hand over his heart, “I swear to God or Satan or whatever that I’m not gonna force you to do anything you don’t wanna do.”
His shoulders relaxed when she covered up her mouth after snorting a laugh. Then she dropped her hand away to show her gorgeous smile as she asked, “Do you even believe in God or Satan?”
“Not really,” he shrugged with sheepish grin, “But I do believe in the divinity of Jimi Hendrix, so I’ll swear on my Band of Gypsys album, original pressing, if that’ll help.”
She bit the inside of her lip as she hummed thoughtfully before she smiled and told him, “No, you don’t have to swear on that, I believe you… but…” she scrunched her face to the side and told him, “Twenty-four hours seems like a lot in exchange for one hour of your time.”
“Don’t you mean four hours?” he snorted a laugh, “I still have’ta fucking learn the song—”
“Oh, come on,” any fear or trepidation she might have had completely vanished from her voice, and his smile grew because she was back to her feisty self as she scoffed, “It’ll only take you one hour, tops, to learn it. I’ve heard you play, remember? I know you’re good.”
Fuuuck… There’s that goddamn flattery yet again…
“Fine, two hours.”
She opened her mouth to refute him, so he quickly clarified, “One to practice and one for the recital.”
“Okay, so two for two—”
“Uh-uh,” he shook his head. He wanted that twenty-four fucking hours because, “Let’s not forget the eternal damage that fucking song is gonna cause to my immortal soul.”
“Okay, fine,” she groaned and rolled her eyes again but then crossed her arms across her chest and pursed her lips as she made her own demands, “But I want more time too because two for twenty-four is a lot.”
“Okay,” he shrugged, “That’s fair.”
“I want twenty-four hours too—”
“Oh no you don’t!” he chuckled, “There’s no damage to your soul, so there’s no way you get as much time as I do—”
“What about all this—” she suddenly cut herself off after cutting him off and her voice dropped to a whisper, “This… BS—”
“Say it,” he smirked.
“Say what?” she blinked innocently as though she didn’t know what he was talking about, but oh she knew. He’d given her shit for this before, how she never cussed. Not even when the situation demanded it. Not even when she wanted to.
Even though she was a little hellcat that would rip him a new one every chance she got, she’d always lower her voice to a whisper even when she’d say things like “BS” or “poop” or if she was feeling especially saucy, “fudge” and he’d tease her about it relentlessly. Needling her and pushing her to just say what she meant, especially if the situation demanded it until one day she’d finally broke down and yelled “Fuck you, Munson!” in middle of the Hawkins Public Library.
Oh fuck, the way her eyes opened wide as saucers and how she covered her mouth with both of her hands after she said it was absolutely worth him getting reprimanded and being a hair's breadth away from getting banned from the library by Marissa the librarian once he had managed to convince said librarian that it wasn’t Chrissy that had cussed and then he screeched out the words as proof that his voice could reach that high pitch.
But the part that made it all worth it wasn’t watching her pretty lips form the word fuck, but rather afterwards when Chrissy admitted to him that even though she was afraid of getting in trouble for cursing and she herself getting banned from the library, she had never felt so free as when she had said it and he wanted to her to feel free again, so…
“You know what I wanna hear, Chrissy,” he grinned.
She rolled her eyes with a huff, but then quickly looked around and when she was sure that the coast looked clear, she said in a low voice that was just above a whisper, “Bullshit…”
“Good girl,” his grin widened.
A rosy flush spread across her cheeks as a smile spread across her face, but then she quickly looked down at her hands that she was wringing together. Still so afraid of being bad. So afraid of getting into trouble. The trouble that he was causing…
“Okay, maybe…” he scrunched up his face, and she looked up at him as he admitted, “Maybe I’m giving you more shit than necessary…”
“A lot more,” she huffed a laugh.
“I’ll give you twelve hours.”
“I want twenty-four,” she quickly replied with a smile through her pursed lips, probably to let him know that she was serious.
“No fucking way,” he snorted, “Fourteen.”
“Twenty-two,” she folded her arms across her chest.
“Okay, twenty-two, but—” he narrowed his eyes “—but, the four hours of practice and recital—”
“Two hours,” she corrected as she narrowed her eyes right back.
“Fine,” he conceded, “Those two hours count as part of your twenty-two.”
“Okay, but they can’t be all in one big chunk because the recital is on Thursday—”
“I only have two fucking days to learn that shit!?” his mouth dropped open in incredulity, but she ignored it.
“—so, the twenty remaining hours can’t be consecutive because that wouldn’t be fair and—"
“Fine,” he shifted his jaw, thoroughly annoyed at her but at the same time… fuck, he wanted to grab her by her shoulders and kiss her to seal the deal, but he didn’t, instead he clinched his fists down by his side as he silently told himself to get a fucking grip—
“Okay,” she nodded and then stuck her hand out for him to shake, “Deal.”
He almost took her hand, but then hesitated because… Something didn’t feel quite right about this deal… Why did it feel like he was getting the short end of it? Why did it feel like he was missing something? Maybe because it felt like she could weasel her way out of it and he’d probably let her, so he wasn’t going to shake her hand without…
“A witness…” he mumbled.
“What?” her brow knitted.
“I want a witness to this deal.”
“Why?” her defiant smirk was back, “You afraid I’m not gonna pay up?”
“Yeah,” he smirked back, “Kinda.”
She breathed a word that he could have sworn was “asshole”, but before he could needle her to say it louder, he spotted the perfect witness walking right towards them.
“Nancy!” Eddie waved at Nancy Wheeler and motioned for her to come over before she went through the doors into the lunchroom, “I need a favor.”
Nancy’s eyes narrowed, probably because she and Eddie weren’t exactly “favor” friends. They weren’t really friends at all. They were I-play-DnD-with-your-brother acquaintances, which made her the perfect witness for this particular deal. Someone without any stakes in it. Well, not any stakes that Nancy knew about…
“What do you need, Eddie?” Nancy asked before she looked at Chrissy who gave her a small wave and got a smile out of Nancy.
“I just need you to witness a deal—”
“What kind of deal?” Nancy’s eyes narrowed again.
Always the reporter, always investigating… Eddie smiled, “It’s nothing bad just… I’m gonna help out Chrissy by playing a song for her at her dance recital—”
Nancy’s eyes opened wide with curiosity as she asked Chrissy, “What song?”
“‘Uptown Girl’,” Chrissy smiled even as Eddie groaned painfully when the realization of what he was going to do hit him right in the gut.
“Really!?” Nancy laughed as she looked at Eddie but then told Chrissy, “I like that song but…” she looked at Eddie again with a vicious smirk on her lips, “Am I right that you don’t?”
“You are correct,” he shifted his jaw as he let out a long breath.
“Okay, so what’s the deal you guys are doing?”
“I play the song for her, and then she has to be at my beck and call for twenty-four hours and has to do whatever I tell her.”
“That… doesn’t sound fair…” Nancy’s eyes narrowed again as she looked at Chrissy, “Are you sure you want to make this deal?”
Chrissy nodded, “It’s okay because Eddie said that I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to and he won’t try anything… umm…” Chrissy bit her lip.
“Perverted?” Nancy supplied with a smirk and Chrissy nodded.
“And…” Eddie said the word loudly to get their minds off the possibility of him being some sort of fucking asshole who’d ever force anyone to do anything, “And she gets twenty-two hours of me at her beck and call—”
“Wait… why does he get two more hours than you?”
“For his pain and suffering,” Chrissy smirked at Eddie and got a snorting laugh out of Nancy.
“Ha-ha, Cunningham,” he shifted his jaw in annoyance at the all too true statement, “But anyways, twenty-two hours—”
“But for me it’s broken up because of the recital is on Thursday—”
“Yeah, yeah,” he breathed out an exasperated sigh at their continued interruptions, “Twenty-two nonconsecutive hours where she can have me do whatever she wants but two of those twenty-two hours are already used up for the recital and so I can learn the song, right?”
Chrissy rolled her eyes as she groaned out, “Yes Eddie…”
“Okay, so you both agree on this deal?” Nancy asked.
Both Eddie and Chrissy nodded their heads.
“Okay, shake on it.”
A shit eating grin spread across his face as he took Chrissy’s small hand into his and she gave him a firm handshake. Oh, the poor girl had no idea that for twenty-four hours this weekend, she was going to be dressed in her cheer uniform while she was the one and only roadie for Corroded Coffin at a gig that Eddie somehow managed to score them in Chicago. Fuck, she was going to look so good carrying his guitar in that short skirt in Hawkins High colors, but…
His grin faded as he looked at Chrissy and her bright, guileless eyes. But there was something there, something cunning behind them, like a cat’s eyes… And for a moment, he had the sinking suspicion that he was a canary caught in her jaws.
Fuck…