Chapter Text
Tapping his fingers on his knees, Eddie stared out of the window. His head thumped against the headrest on the scrappy bus seat. His earbuds blasted Metallica's Justice for All album. Mind racing, he replayed the last few days in his head.
Technically, he was still meant to be in Indy for at least 3 more weeks. 3 more weeks with his Mother's side of the family; he'd already survived at least 5 and a half months. And isn't that just a headfuck within itself. Ever since her passing, his grandparents and family are adamant about still seeing him. No fucking clue why; they badger him about finding a girlfriend, or why he doesn't add a pop of colour to his wardrobe. That all ended, though, when his Aunt Brenda decided to be a bitch and spew her Christian beliefs through the family dinner. His Grandfather had looked at Eddie, then at the table, and nodded, quietly telling his grandson to grab his bags and that he'll ring Wayne and drop Eddie off at the bus stop in the morning.
Which brought him here.
Somewhere in the middle of bumfuck nowhere Indiana, sprawled across a bus seat that smelt vaguely of old coffee and regret, heading back to Hawkins.
Back to Wayne.
Back to the record shop.
Back to Chrissy.
Back to the trailer with the shitty mattress that squeaked every time he rolled over.
Back home.
He could feel the sun warm his face as it crept up through the trees. Rubbing his eyes, he watched the 'Welcome to Hawkins' sign buzz past, slightly rusted around the edges, and slightly hanging on an angle. Yep, same old Hawkins.
Benny's diner rolled past, the same scuffed blue paint decorating the sign, the lights flickering, clearly on their way out. Main street looked the same. Old storefronts that may look run down but are filled with people who show love. Claudia's bakery. God, Eddie could almost smell her cinnamon rolls now, wiping the stray drool away from his lips.
Stretching his legs out in front of himself, he grabbed his bag from the floor, shouldering it as the bus came to a shuddering stop. The door squeaked open with a rough hiss. Eddie gritted his teeth, stepping out of the bus. There were maybe two or three other people who got off as well as him. The air was cold, making him grip his leather jacket closer to his body.
Nothing says 'welcome home bitch' more than this. Early morning. Blistering cold. He's pretty sure his fingers are about to fall off. Next time he's gonna listen to his grandfather and bring gloves, not that he'll ever tell him that.
Squinting in the morning sun, he looked around, unable to find the rusted green pickup that belonged to his uncle. The old man had said that he was gonna come grab Eddie. Though the lack of a pickup says otherwise.
"Eddie Munson?" A gruff voice asked from behind. Making the teen freeze.
Ah shit.
Not even a full minute back in Hawkins, and something was already happening.
Spinning around, Eddie found himself face to face with an older man.
The guy was built like a brick shithouse.
Broad shoulders. Thick forearms. The sort of muscle that came from decades of work rather than a gym membership. Salt and pepper hair dusted the man's head, coming down to follow in a scruffy-looking beard. It was his eyes, though, that made Eddie slump in relief. Hazel eyes that held a cheeky glint.
"Your uncle told me 'bout you. Said he's sorry he couldn't make it. But he got called into the auto shop." The man grinned, chuckling gently. If Eddie was to guess, this guy seemed to be in his late fifties, maybe even early sixties.
Eddie nodded, raising an eyebrow. "You know my uncle. Strange man I don’t know." He snarked back, not able to stop it before it spilled out. Curse his fucking quick mouth and slow brain.
The man held a hand out, "I do. Work at my shop. Names Otis. Otis Du Pont. I own the garage just outside the town."
Eddie looked down at Otis' hand, before grabbing it in a firm grip. Otis' hands were work-worn, clearly having been used through years of labour.
"Eddie Munson. But you already knew. I'm guessing Wayne asked you to come grab me?"
Otis nodded, turning around and heading off. Tripping over his feet, Eddie mentally cursed himself as he followed.
"Yeah, he did. Customer only wanted him to work on their Chevy Impala. Claimed they didn't want no young blood touchin' his precious car."
Eddie grinned, knowing how Wayne would've responded to it.
"Y'know. I thought you'd be taller. Wayne made it out that you were this tall lanky giraffe."
Snorting, Eddie rolled his eyes. "Sounds like Wayne. Old man talks too much."
He could hear Otis chuckle as he was led over to another pickup. Same-looking model as Wayne's, but instead of a rusted green colour, this one was a dark cherry red.
Clearly, he'd been staring too long as the pickup rumbled to life. The passenger side window rolled down to show Otis sitting in the front seat, grinning slyly at the younger male.
"You gonna stand there and gawk. Or we taking you back to your old man?"
Eddie scrambled to get in the car, feeling his face flush slightly with heat. Throwing his bag down at his feet, Eddie shuffled further into the leather seats. He looked at the interior of the car, the dash looking super clean. Otis flicked on the radio, soft country music floating through the speakers. Eddie smiled slightly; this was the sort of shit that Wayne listens to.
Leaning his head against the window, Eddie let the rumble of the truck roll through his body. They passed through Main Street, watching people wake up and slowly go about their day. Shops now showing signs of life. Kids rolling on bikes heading towards the school. Fuck that place honestly.
It wasn't long before Eddie could see it. The workshop. It didn't look like those huge places back in Indiana, looking too clean, full of young assholes who think they know better than anyone. This place was different; an old faded sign hung on the front. The font loopy and swift, reading 'Jaybird's' in bright red and white lettering. Two of the roller doors were open. With a few cars sitting around the area. Followed by another shed sitting behind the front, looking slightly smaller, if Eddie had to guess.
Pulling up to a stop, Eddie caught Otis looking at him briefly before the older man stepped out of the truck. Laughing as a brown and white Border Collie ran up to him, muddy paws staining his red flannel, before heading inside.
Eddie slipped out himself, grabbing his bag and throwing it over his shoulder before heading over. The smell of motor oil and WD-40 immediately hit his nose. Loud noises of cars, tools being used, and metal clanging against metal filled his ears.
So this is where Wayne ended up.
Huh.
Better than that god-forsaken factory he was at.
Otis looked back at Eddie, raising an eyebrow as if to say, 'You coming? Or gawking?'
Honestly, Eddie was starting to like Otis. Picking up his pace, he wandered inside. Looking around, grease stains lined the floor under the bays, maybe an oil spill or two. Stacks of old tires sat somewhat neatly against a fair wall. The collie sat lazily on top, tongue hanging out of its mouth. There were a couple of men who walked past, each one holding a tire. Greeting Otis in passing. They came to a stop in front of a Chevy Impala, the navy blue paint job gleaming off the overhead lights.
"Wayne, you have a visitor." Otis hummed, crossing his arms over his chest, kicking the bottom of a steel cap that poked out from underneath the car.
Eddie heard a muffled curse before he watched Wayne shuffle out from underneath the car. He watched his Uncle stand, wiping his hands on the old rag hanging from the pocket of his jeans, the plain black shirt clinging to him with sweat. Wayne gave a playful glare at Otis before looking at Eddie. He watched the other relax slightly, looking Eddie up and down before he cocked his head back and grinned.
"What fucking old Wrench did you fight for that mop on your head?"
Eddie laughed, suddenly feeling the freedom he didn’t really have living in Indy. Nothing had changed in his time gone. Thank fucking god. Wayne opened his arms, and Eddie couldn't resist. Dropping his bag to the floor, he wrapped himself around his uncle. The only man who still made him feel like a child. Made him feel. Safe.
"How much is left on the impala?"
Otis' voice shook Edie from his mind, pulling back, he slung an arm around Wayne's shoulders. Not quite wanting to release his hold on his uncle yet.
Wayne hummed, rolling his head around on his shoulders. "Nothing much, just finished doing the oil change. She just needs some detailing and a good clean now."
Otis grinned, before pulling out his wallet and slapping a bill to Wayne's chest. Eddie raised his eyebrows in surprise at the 50 that now sat in his uncle's hand.
"Go treat you and your boy then. I saw that Benny had his place open. I'll get the kid to do it, once I fucking find him."
Eddie wasn't sure how Otis could look any older. But judging by the way that he rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed out the word kid. He had a gut feeling it may be a bit of a troublemaker, possibly another rev-head wanting to be high and mighty in a repair shop.
"Pretty sure I saw him storm through to the back." Wayne nodded his head towards the other shed. "Though he ain't looking happy."
Otis hummed, leaving the two alone and heading off in the direction Wayne pointed at. The older of the two grinned. Pocket the 50. "Anywho. I'm fucking starved. Waffles?"
Eddie grinned, "Well. What are we waiting for, good sir? Lead the way to fried goodness!"
Fuck does he miss Benny's. The diner kept its 80s charm. The old jukebox was slightly worn, but still running the good tunes. But holy fuck does he miss the waffles. Moaning around another mouthful of maple syrup-covered waffles and chicken. He could hear Wayne chuckle, peeking an eye open, seeing the old man smile over the top of his mug of coffee.
"Enjoying yourself, boy?"
Grinning through a mouthful of waffles, he flipped Wayne off.
"Yuff." Swallowing after talking, he grinned at the disgusted eye roll his uncle gave him.
"Thought your daddy told you not to eat with your mouth full." Raising an eyebrow, Wayne set his coffee down. Going in for a bite of his omelette.
"You didn't." Taunting Wayne would have to be one of Eddie's favourite games. Knowing full well that his uncle knows he sees him more of his own father than his actual father.
Diving back into his waffles, he felt something hit his forehead. He watched a balled-up napkin fall into the pool of maple syrup on his plate. Jaw dropping, Eddie looked up at his uncle- who couldn't control his snickering behind a mouthful of egg and bacon.
"Blasphemy! That is child abuse!" Eddie fell back against his seat, knife and fork clattering to the plate as he threw his head back, hands covering his heart in a wounded manner. "My own flesh and blood. Turned against me!"
"Ed's your fucking 19. That ain't a child by my standards." Wayne leaned back against his chair smugly, draining the last drop of coffee from his mug.
"More coffee, Wayne?" Benny looked down at the duo, chuckling softly at Eddie's theatrics. Steaming pot of coffee in his hand, already refilling Wayne's mug. "Didn't realise your boy was as bad as you for dramatics."
Eddie snorted, suddenly coughing on a piece of waffle that came back up at Wayne's face.
The older blanched, eyes widening as he gaped open-mouthed like a fish.
"I ain't fuckin' dramatic." He folded his arms over his chest, deflating under Benny's grin.
"Last I checked, you were." Benny shuffled onto the next table, refilling others' coffee in the morning rush at the diner. Eddie looked at his uncle, finally swallowing back down the suicidal waffle piece.
"So," Eddie cleared his throat, looking at his uncle. "Why the change of heart with the job? Thought you loved the factory." Blinking his eyelashes, he finished off his chicken and waffles, finally able to move on to his strawberry thick shake. So he's a strawberry guy, sue him.
Wayne sighed, grabbing the refilled mug in between his hands.
"That place was killin' me, boy. You know that. Eventually I threw me hat in. Couldn't keep going at the rate they wanted me to. I came here late after a shift, hoping to grab something to go. When I ran into Otis outside, old fart was sitting in the back of that truck back when it was rusted. He was going through some family shit and needed a chat."
Taking a sip of the coffee, Wayne cleared his throat.
"He told me 'bout his grandson. And all the bullshit that is happening- still is. So I told him about dropping the factory. The idiot laughed, then offered me the head mechanic at his shop. And well." Grinning, he looked down at the dingy table, eyes drawn to the new coffee stain from his mug. Eddie could see how his uncle was not only just happier, he looked healthier too. As if he was finally getting decent sleep.
"You took the job." Eddie finished, looking at his uncle with a soft smile. Wayne nodded. Looking up at Eddie, those same brown eyes that Eddie had himself looked bright. Brighter than Eddie had ever seen them.
"I took the job. Nearly got enough for us to upgrade the trailer too. A new double bedroom one. Speaking of which. Stole your bed whilst you were gone."
Rolling his eyes, Eddie hummed, sipping the last bits of his thick shake. "Oh the horror. Now it's gonna spell like an old fart."
"Oh, by the way." Eddie raised an eyebrow; the mischievous glint in his uncle's eye was something Eddie didn't often see directed at him. And when it was, it was never for anything good. "Miss. C keeps coming round to the trailer, askin' when you'd be back. Pretty sure she stole your Metallica hoodie."
"What!" Eddie was up and out of the diner before Wayne could stop him. The last thing he heard was his uncle's laughter ringing through the diner.
He walked through the streets of Hawkins, feet leading him to his only destination. Slipping through the crowd along the sidewalk, it was surprisingly busy for a Wednesday morning. Feeling slightly guilty for ditching his uncle at the diner, Eddie looked at the shop in front of him. He couldn't help the grin that slipped across his face as he looked up at the ugly ass neon sign.
Tune Shack.
Fuck he missed this place- the ragged-ass carpet that was peeling in place. The bong water stain on the rug in the break room from that time that he and Ronnie fucked around. The broken fishbowl that Eddie is pretty sure is still hiding in one of the broom closets. Fucking Freak had to dare Eddie to do a handstand, didn't he.
Oh yeah. This is home.
Swinging the door open. The sound of Nirvana blasted Eddie's ears. Posters lined the walls, multiple different bands laying over the top of others. The sickly yellow walls barely even able to be seen from shitty ass glue and permanent marker graffiti. Shelves of records, CDs, and cassettes littered the shop floor. The shitty-ass carpet had been pulled up in the months Eddie had left, shitty wood-looking linoleum in its place.
He could see the influence of Chris in his absence, more Radiohead and Offspring, Joan Jett and the Ramones. Also, was that a pink ass fluffy blanket in his armchair? That wench, she was taking all his shit. Walking around, he finally spotted her, stacking records in the pop section of new releases, taking note of how many there were in a notebook. Humming along to the music blasting, alone in her own world. Wearing dark blue denim shorts over the top of fishnet tights and pink Doc Martens. Her hair was pulled up into a messy bun, showing off the few piercings in her ears, courtesy of Eddie and drunken late nights. As well as-
"Isn't that my hoodie?" He grinned, ducking as she spun and swung a fist in his direction.
Chrissy froze. The notebook slipped from her fingers.
"Eddie?"
Then she was moving. Squeezing him tightly as she rested her chin on his chest, looking up at him. An evil glint in her eye.
"Not like you were using it. Plus, Wayne said,I could."
Eddie scooped her up, laughing at the squeak she let out.
"Fuck I've missed you, Chris." He buried his nose into her hair, breathing in the scent of her vanilla and coconut shampoo. Honestly, he was turning her into a metalhead and she still smelt like vanilla. The audacity of this bitch.
She pulled away, shoving him away from her as she stuck her finger towards him. If she didn't look like a fluffy kitten, he would be more terrified.
"Firstly, you should've called me. You left me for five months! Five months! Theodore!"
Cringing at the name, Eddie dared to look guilty. "Does it count if I say my grandmother's strict?"
"Nope. I've met Grandma Smith; she's a bloody saint. Unlike her devil of a grandson." She stuck her fingers up, mocking devil horns behind her head. Grinning evilly herself.
"First my Uncle gangs up on me, and now my sister from another mister. What has become of this world." He stumbled backwards, acting like he's been shot, falling into the fluffy pink blanket. He could hear Chrissy cackle as he acted. Letting out a soft "Oomph." A pillow was then thrown at his head.
Yep. No place like home.