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marblemoovt · 2 years

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Tattoo - Chrissy Cunningham/Eddie Munson

Masterlist

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 8k

Warnings: Fluff. A bit of angst cause Chrissy is a traumatized bean. Mentions of ED and abuse.

Summary:

Chrissy decides to get a tattoo, and who better to accompany her than her boyfriend, Eddie?

A submission for Hellcheer Fest. Prompt: "Take me to get a tattoo."

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“It’s only a tattoo, sweetheart.” Eddie winces at his poor choice of words, but Chrissy understands what he’s trying to say. She bites her lip to prevent the tears from spilling.

“Yeah, but my mom can be… overwhelming.” Chrissy knows that ‘overwhelming’ is an understatement. Words cannot express how terrible her mother is, but Chrissy’s learning to vocalize it.

Eddie smiles wryly and presses a kiss to her knuckles. “Really? I hadn’t noticed,” he says. His shoulder receives a playful smack from Chrissy. He gasps and dramatically throws his shoulder back. She giggles, and he grins so much that his cheeks hurt. “No, but seriously, Chris. Fuck Laura Cunningham.”

“Eddie!” Chrissy gasps.

“You’re right. That’s a bit too bold for your first tattoo. Maybe for your second one, then. I’m thinking right across the forehead would be good.” His face nearly splits in half at how comically wide her eyes grow.

Note:

Welcome to my debut in the Stranger Things fandom! I wanted to write something for Eddie and Chrissy after seeing their chemistry in the first episode of season four, and when I saw there was a hellcheer fest, I immediately knew I had to participate! This fic has honestly been sitting in my drafts for too long and, like most of my fic do, grew monstrously in its word count.

This was really fun for me to write, and I encourage you all to check out all the other submissions! Link to Hellcheer Fest

Warning!!! There are mentions of EDs and abuse. I only delve into Chrissy's struggles in this fic if that gives you a better idea of what to expect. This is mainly fluff but our two beans are still recovering from their traumas, so please exercise caution when reading if any of those topics are triggers for you.

Happy Reading! ヾ(•ω•`)o

─── ⋆ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ｡⋆ ───

“Nervous?” Eddie asks, holding Chrissy’s hand while her other arm is prepped for tattooing. She hums and shakes her head, strawberry-blonde locks whipping around her face. He tucks some of her hair behind her ear to unveil her beaming smile. He doesn’t comment on how she’s holding his hand tighter than usual.

“Just excited for my first tattoo. My parents—well, you know how they are.” Chrissy doesn’t need to finish because Eddie knows all too well what her parents are like.

“Ah yes, the pool party incident of ‘86.” Eddie looks away into the distance and pretends to reminisce. He turns back to her and grins wolfishly. “Your mother is much more agreeable when she’s unconscious,” referring to how Laura Cunningham fainted when she saw his assortment of tattoos.

Chrissy giggles. “My mother was convinced they were satanic symbols embedded into your skin. And the lecture she gave me when I called them your ‘sweet ol’ tatties.’” Chrissy shakes her head and bites her lip to contain her laughter. She’s already been scolded for moving too much. “‘Christina Cunningham, how dare you invite that Munson boy and allow him to brandish his dark marks,’” Chrissy mocks in her best Laura impression.

“Dark marks? Sounds like something an evil wizard would have.” Eddie makes a mental note to incorporate the idea into a campaign. Before he can brainstorm further, Chrissy squeezes his hand and smiles cheekily at him.

“You can add dark sorcerer to your resume,” she says. He snorts and kisses the crown of her head.

“Ah yes, my ever-growing list. I’ll add it right under cult leader.” He sticks his tongue out, but with only one hand, his devil face looks ridiculous with a missing horn. It works as intended when Chrissy grins at him, her lips curling upward in amusement.

“I see you’re a man of many talents.” Chrissy plays with the sleeve of his jacket, rubbing the leather between her fingers.

“What can I say? I’m multi-faceted.” Eddie studies her expression and grins. By now, her cheeks are rosy and glowing. She tugs on his hand and avoids his gaze, lips pursed in thought. He waits patiently and rubs his thumb across the back of her hand. She turns to look up at him through her long lashes.

“Hey, Eddie? Thanks for not freaking out earlier.” Her tone is borderline apologetic, and it makes Eddie frown. He crouches down so they’re at eye level and holds her hand in both of his. His hands are so warm, and they swallow her dainty hand. Safe. Eddie makes her feel safe.

“It’s only a tattoo, sweetheart.” Eddie winces at his poor choice of words, but Chrissy understands what he’s trying to say. She bites her lip to prevent the tears from spilling.

“Yeah, but my mom can be… overwhelming.” Chrissy knows that ‘overwhelming’ is an understatement. Words cannot express how terrible her mother is, but Chrissy’s learning to vocalize it.

“Eddie!” Chrissy gasps.

“Oh my God, Eddie. She’ll kill me.” She knows he’s only teasing her, but the dread that fills her stomach at the thought of it is suffocating. Eddie notices her distress, and he brings a hand up to her cheek. She nuzzles into his touch and tries to focus on her breathing as her therapist taught her. Eddie joins her breathing exercise, and she squeezes his hand.

“You’re 18, princess,” he reminds her. She shakes her head slowly, and a tear rolls down her cheek.

“I still have to live with her.” She shudders. She graduated at the top of her class, valedictorian, honour roll. But none of that means anything to Laura Cunningham. All her mother could see was Chrissy quitting cheerleading, Chrissy breaking up with Jason Carver—who is ‘such a nice, upstanding man’—and Chrissy dating the local freak and drug dealer. Chrissy thinks the list is probably infinite; her mother will always find a fault.

Before she can spiral, Eddie brushes her tears away and kisses the corners of her eyes. “Only until the semester starts.” He stares into her eyes, and any trace of playfulness is gone. “You know my offer still stands, right?” She licks her lips and hesitantly opens her mouth.

“I don’t want to impose or be a nuisance.” She’s spent many nights at the trailer, but living there feels like a giant leap. Living there means that she’s ready to leave the old Chrissy behind. While she hasn’t been the ‘old Chrissy’ for months, it’s still a skeleton in her closet, a reminder of a life she never wants to return to.

Eddie knows about her struggles. He’s learned to not take it personally when she rejects his offers to help. “You’re always welcome. And you’ll never be a nuisance. Anyone who’s told you that is full of shit. Wayne adores you, and I would love nothing more than to have you there.” Her lips twitch into a smile, and his chest swells with warmth.

“Later… when you….” Chrissy stumbles over her words, not used to asking others for help. She bites her lip and stares at the ceiling for a minute until she gains the courage to look Eddie in the eye. “At—will you help me pack?” she manages to spit out. The grin on his face is full of joy, and it makes her regret not asking sooner.

“Are you serious?” Eddie is over the moon. That little voice in his head snarls with doubt, but he ignores it. Chrissy's cheeks go dark, and he feels like he’s placed his hand on a heater.

“I am. Unless you’re rescinding your offer?” The disappointment in her big, blue eyes does critical damage to his heart.

“And miss out on going to bed with you in my arms every night? Not a chance, princess.”

Tiny, the tattoo artist, chuckles and mumbles something about young love. “If you two are done flirting, I’m going to outline the tattoo now.” Eddie drops his hand from Chrissy’s face, and she slams her back into the seat. The couple continue holding hands, hoping the buzz of the machine will fill the awkward silence as they wait for their embarrassment to cool down. Eddie focuses on Chrissy’s arm as ink is applied to her skin. He thinks back to a few days ago that led up to this moment.

─── ⋆ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ｡⋆ ───

“I can see the gears turning in your head, darling. What’s up?” Eddie asks. Chrissy looks at him with puppy eyes, the face she always makes when she wants something. Eddie munches on some cereal as he waits for her request.

“Take me to get a tattoo?”

Eddie nearly drops the spoon in his hand. He sets it down in the bowl and pushes his breakfast aside. “Are you sure that’s what you want?” Her face scrunches up, and Eddie curses under his breath. He reaches across the table and places his hand on Chrissy’s. “I’m only making sure, Chris. They don’t exactly wash off.”

She slowly lets out a breath and nods. “Yeah. Maybe just a small one to start?”

“Anything you want, sweetheart. Got any ideas?”

Chrissy bites her lip and shakes her head. “I’m not sure. Should it be something important to me?” She mulls over what she would like permanently displayed on her skin. Eddie pats her hand and smiles encouragingly at her.

“It can be whatever you want it to be,” Eddie tells her. His smile turns into a grin. “You could tattoo ‘Fuck Laura Cunningham’—which would be metal. Although from the face you’re making, you don’t think the same.” Chrissy giggles, which becomes full-blown laughter when Eddie starts wiggling his eyebrows.

“I think she would disown me if she ever saw that tattooed on my body,” she says, shivering at the thought. She can’t lie; a part of her really wants to do it.

Eddie props his cheek against his hand, using his other to boop her nose. “You just gotta make sure she doesn’t see it then.” Chrissy wrinkles her nose and jerks her head back to avoid his next attempt.

“I’m still not doing it.” She shakes her head and tries to hide her grin behind her hair. She decided to leave her hair down today, her usual scrunchie on her wrist. Eddie’s bottom lip is jutting out, and his eyes look like they’re going to pop out of his head. When she snickers, Eddie’s expression returns to normal with a smug smile.

“Maybe some pom poms?” he suggests, waving an imaginary pom pom with one hand. Chrissy’s grin falters, and Eddie freezes.

“I do like cheerleading, but it’s always been something my mom pressured me into. There aren’t a lot of good memories associated with it.” Chrissy thinks about her uniform, which always shrank. The disappointment in her mother’s tone when her spot at the top of the pyramid was taken. For a second, Chrissy can taste bile in the back of her throat, and she takes a deep breath to quell the incoming wave of nausea. Eddie squeezes her hand, and she grounds herself with his touch.

“What about your favourite animal? Can’t go wrong with that.” Chrissy perks up at Eddie’s suggestion. There’s a sparkle in her eyes and a rosy glow on her cheeks. She fidgets in her seat, and Eddie has to stop himself from screaming over how adorable he finds her.

“Don’t laugh but… Hey! I said not to laugh!” she chastises. Her cheeks immediately darken, and she tries to tug her hand back, but Eddie keeps a firm grip and places a kiss on it. She stops her movements and stares at the texture of the table. The notches in the wood are old, and there are some stains she would rather remain ignorant about.

“I can’t help it, darling. You look so cute, all flushed and embarrassed,” Eddie teases. Chrissy lets out a whine in her throat and rests her forehead on the table. The oak feels cool against her skin.

“Seals,” she says, her voice muffled by the table. Eddie hums and tries to remember what they look like. He’s probably seen one on tv; Wayne likes to leave the nature channel on as background noise.

“Those creatures that look like giant bouncy balls when they’re on land?” Eddie chuckles, recalling how ridiculous they look, sliding and bouncing around the ground.

Chrissy whips her head up and says in a defensive tone, “They’re big sea puppies! And they’ve got the cutest faces.” She gestures frantically with her hands, continuing to ramble about how adorable seals are. Eddie loves the way her eyes crinkle at the corners when she smiles and the little dimples that form around her mouth.

“I don’t know, there’s a pretty cute face in front of me right now,” Eddie says. Chrissy pauses mid-ramble and narrows her eyes.

“Are you calling me a seal?” Eddie shrugs and struggles to keep an indifferent expression on his face. He can feel Chrissy burning a hole into his head when he doesn’t respond immediately. His shoulders quiver. She might as well close her eyes if they narrow any further.

“No, I’m saying you’re cuter than one,” Eddie says, and Chrissy firmly shakes her head.

“Then you’ve never seen a seal in person,” she says in a matter-of-fact tone. Eddie hums and tilts his head.

“And you have?” Chrissy looks at him like he’s grown a second head.

“Of course I have!” she answers. Eddie stares at her in silence, and she clears her throat. “Once… when I was seven. My grandfather came to visit.” Sensing a story, Eddie hops off the stool and leads her to the couch and—oh! Can’t forget breakfast! He grabs his bowl of cereal and sits beside her, conscious of his munches as she continues talking. “I was being difficult because I really didn’t want to go to my gymnastics class, which drove my mom crazy. I was a lot younger, so my mom….” Chrissy lets out a bitter chuckle. “She wasn’t as mean as she is now.” She licks her lips and says, “and so he offered to take me because I always listened to him. My mom practically shoved me towards him and left to self-medicate. It made me wonder at the time why she wanted to get rid of me so badly.”

Her eyes become glossy, and Eddie scoots closer and wraps an arm around her. His cereal is forgotten on the table, too soggy to be edible anyway. Anyone who enjoys soggy cereal is weird, and that’s coming from Eddie, the local ‘freak.’ He tries his best to soothe Chrissy, telling her how much he loves her and that he’s here for her. She looks him in the eyes, and his heart breaks. “Does she not love me? Why doesn’t she want me? Thoughts that no child should ever have.” Her voice cracks between sentences, and she brings a sleeve up to wipe her eyes.

Eddie opens his arms, and Chrissy crawls into them. He strokes her hair, and she sniffles into his shoulder. Minutes pass, and she chokes out a laugh. “I remember sitting in the back of his truck, and nothing outside the window looked familiar. I told him that he was going the wrong way for my gymnastics. ‘I thought you didn’t want to go,’ he said. I told him I didn’t want to make my mom angrier. And he said, ‘it’s ok, I’ll handle your mother. I’m not taking you to gymnastics. We’re going on an adventure,’” she recalls with a smile.

“Sounds like the best grandpa ever,” Eddie murmurs.

Chrissy nods enthusiastically and giggles. “He was the best.” Eddie wipes a stray tear from her cheek. She takes in a deep breath, relaxing into his embrace. “We drove for what felt like forever until he pulled into a huge parking lot. I remember holding his hand as he led me to the ticket booth. He asked for two tickets to the aquarium, and I asked, ‘what’s an aquarium?’ ‘You’ll see,’ he told me and wouldn’t tell me more no matter how many questions I asked. And when we got inside…. Oh, Eddie.” She pauses in wonder, reliving the memory. Eddie makes a mental note to bring her to an aquarium in the future. “It was beautiful. I’ve never seen so much blue in my life—and it’s my favourite colour!” Her whole body is buzzing with excitement, and it’s incredibly infectious. Eddie can’t help but smile and nod as she continues talking.

“We saw all kinds of sea creatures, and I got to touch some of them!” She goes on to describe the different textures she felt. Some of the memories cause her face to scrunch up, which in turn causes Eddie to laugh and kiss her flushed cheeks. “Eventually, we went outdoors.” Chrissy pauses and grins. “And I remember being so short, and the railing was so tall.” She exaggerates the height difference with her hand gestures. “My grandfather picked me up onto his shoulders, and I saw seals for the first time. ‘Look, grandpa! There’s puppies in the water!’ He laughed so hard and told me what they were called. He even read to me those little plaques with the creature information, and I….” The smile on her face is radiant, and Eddie wants to burn it into his memory. “I hung onto every word about seals.”

Eddie kisses the top of her head and runs his hands up and down her arms. He touches Chrissy like she’s the most precious thing in the world because that’s what she is to him. “Tell me a fact, seal expert,” Eddie says with a smirk. Chrissy’s face lights up like this is the first time someone has asked her a question on a topic she loves. His hands dig a little deeper into her skin, and he tries not to frown.

“Hmm, ok,” Chrissy hums as she tries to think of an interesting fact, letting out a small gasp when she remembers one. “Did you know that seals are one of the closest living relatives to bears?”

“No fucking way.” Eddie refuses to believe that those cute sea blobs are in any way related to bears. “You’re not trying to pull one over me, are you?” His fingers lightly skim over her stomach, and she giggles.

“Are you the expert, or am I?” Chrissy smirks. Chrissy Cunningham just smirked at him. Where has she been hiding this confidence?

Eddie lets out a breathy chuckle and rests his forehead against hers. “I don’t know. It’s been over ten years since you’ve seen one. Your knowledge might be outdated.”

She huffs. “You know, there are these fantastic things called books that contain information. They can be found in the library for the public to read,” Chrissy informs him.

“I know what books are, Cunningham. I just don’t read any of the non-fiction stuff.” The corners of Chrissy’s mouth curl up, and her eyebrows raise. It’s been a while since they were on a last-name basis.

“Well, Munson, you should try it. Maybe you can debunk my facts next time.” Eddie pulls her close and plants a trail of kisses from her shoulder to her neck. Chrissy hums in approval and tilts her head.

“If it’s something you like, I’ll read whatever you want me to. Maybe you can recommend one of those raunchy novels I found in your room.” Chrissy mentioned before how her grandfather used to read the Hobbit to her but that she hasn’t read the Lord of the Rings series yet. Unwilling to let this injustice continue, Eddie offered—forced—his copies to Chrissy. When he came over with the books, she directed him to the bookshelf in her room, and he took the liberty to peruse her literary tastes. He’ll never let her forget what he discovered that day.

“Eddieeee!” She shoves him back with a whine. Eddie debates adding ‘Cherry’ to the list of nicknames he has for her. Chrissy pulls some of her hair forward to hide her face.

“In order to become a Chrissy expert, I need to expand my knowledge and research topics, no matter how dangerous, to accomplish my goal.” Eddie adjusts the nonexistent glasses he’s wearing.

Chrissy snorts and slaps his chest lightheartedly. “You’re such a dork.”

Eddie chuckles and catches her hand, holding it to prevent further attacks. “Yeah, but you think it’s endearing,” he says. No matter how much she denies it, Eddie knows that his theatrics never fails to make her laugh. He keeps to himself how laughter is a good look on her. It’s definitely not the reason he acts like a goof half the time. Nope. Not at all.

“I do.” Chrissy bites her lips and begins playing with her hair. “So… tattoo?” She looks at him with those puppy eyes again, and Eddie has to lean against the couch for support.

He swallows the lump in his throat and says, “Right, tattoos. I know a guy.” Eddie clears his throat and can’t help but smile at Chrissy’s focused expression. He tucks the strand of hair she’s been playing with behind her ear. “His studio is outside town, so you don’t have to worry about running into anyone.” As fun as it would be to run into her mother or Jason, Eddie doesn’t think the screaming match over tattoos would be worth it.

“Did he do all of your tattoos?” Chrissy asks, fingers grazing against the inked spider peeking out under the collar of his shirt. He shivers from her touch, and a pleased smile forms on Chrissy’s lips.

“Pretty much. Tiny’s got these rad pre-designed tattoos for a fair price, or you can order a custom one.” All of Eddie’s tattoos are custom. He was adamant about wanting something unique. He was involved in the design process as much as Tiny would allow, which wasn’t much, given his talent to annoy people. But his sweet ol’ tatties turned out great, so every year, he sees Tiny for a new tattoo.

Chrissy laughs in disbelief. “I’m sorry, his name is Tiny? Is that… is that really his name?” Her expression is more curious than put-off.

Eddie waggles a finger at her. “Don’t let the name fool you. Tiny’s built like a mountain, and he’s covered in tattoos. As far as his real name goes, no one knows. Tiny likes to keep people guessing.” Despite the intimidating description, Chrissy doesn’t feel afraid in the slightest.

“Well, you weren’t how I thought you’d be, so maybe it’ll be the same with him.” Chrissy’s optimistic comment causes Eddie to smirk.

“I think you’ll be sorely disappointed, sweetheart. I’m much more handsome and charming than Tiny—don’t tell him I said that.” He finishes with a panicked look in his eyes.

A bit of rebellion stirs inside of Chrissy, and she grins devilishly. “Now I definitely have to tell him.”

“The betrayal! The deception!” Eddie brings a hand to his chest and clenches his shirt, letting out gasps and wheezes as his body eventually goes limp. He lolls his head against the couch and shuts his eyes, leaving his tongue to poke out of his mouth. He cracks open an eye and sees Chrissy frozen in shock. Then she bursts into a fit of giggles. “The beast is dying from a broken heart, and the fair maiden does not grieve but laughs,” Eddie laments.

Chrissy shakes her head. “Maybe she laughs because she knows the beast can be cured with a kiss.” She plays along, enjoying how silly she can be around Eddie.

Eddie shakes his head solemnly. “I don’t think one is nearly powerful enough.” Pretending to be gravely ill is extremely difficult when your entire body is trembling with repressed laughter. Eddie bites on the inside of his cheek when Chrissy beams at him.

“Must be a terribly dark curse, then.” She tuts and pats his head like he’s some pitiful child.

Eddie nods. “Oh yeah. A broken heart is pretty high up on the list. Don’t you know it’s the leading cause of death of beasts in love with pretty maidens? 9 out of 10 wizards recommend at least 5 kisses as treatment.” Chrissy hums and inspects his face. “What are you doing?” Eddie asks.

“I’m trying to figure out where to place the kisses for maximum effect,” Chrissy answers. “Now, hold still. I can’t focus with you squirming.” Eddie sits there quietly. Chrissy has a chokehold on his attention right now. Maybe that’s why it feels difficult to breathe.

“One.” She places a kiss on his forehead and counts out loud.

“Two.” His cheek

“Three.” His other cheek.

“Four.” His chin. By now, Eddie is starting to feel lightheaded and floaty, better than any weed high.

“Aaaand five.” She plants a final kiss on his lips.

Eddie remains stunned until his body acts on impulse. “It lives!!” He sits up like a reanimated corpse. His arms wrap around Chrissy, and he playfully bites her shoulder. She giggles and fakes screams and sounds of distress like she’s in one of those cheesy horror films. Eddie pulls away, adoration etched into his features.

“It’s a miracle!” Chrissy throws her arms up and returns the embrace, laughing until tears come out of her eyes.

Eddie brushes away her tears with his thumb. Warmth blooms in his chest, and he smiles. “Christ, you’re adorable, Chris,” he says.

Chrissy shrugs and grins. “What can I say? You’re rubbing off on me.”

“I like the sound of that,” Eddie says, hands resting on her waist and squeezing gently. Chrissy leans forward and brushes her lips against his. He can feel her warm breath on his face and waits for her to make the next move.

“You and me both,” Chrissy whispers into the small gap between them. Eddie holds his breath. Chrissy’s hands are cradling his face, and she’s stroking his cheeks with her thumbs. All the air in his lungs escapes in a long sigh when Chrissy pulls away. “Now that you’re no longer on the verge of death, lunch?” She looks at him with hopeful eyes, and Eddie can never deny her.

Eddie eyes the bowl of soggy cereal on the table. “Yeah. Benny’s? I’m craving some pancakes.”

Chrissy perks up at the suggestion. “Ooh, can we get the ones with berries and cream??”

Eddie stretches to place a kiss on her forehead. “Whatever you want, sweetheart.” The smile she gives him melts his insides.

─── ⋆ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ｡⋆ ───

“Can we go get pancakes after this?” Chrissy asks, barely flinching from the tattoo machine, which impresses Eddie. He definitely won’t be telling her how he teared up a little when he got his first tattoo. Tiny is finished with the outline and is now adding all the details and shading.

“With berries and cream?” Eddie asks, to which Chrissy answers with an enthusiastic nod. Her excitement is infectious. “Yeah! We’ll have a celebratory… brunch—is that what you fancy people call it?” Eddie doesn’t really understand the concept of brunch. Who decided to combine breakfast with lunch? He personally doesn’t associate specific times with his meals. If breakfast is the first meal of the day, then he’s had breakfast before at 12am—still technically his first meal. Eddie honestly thinks brunch is just an excuse for people to drink during the day without being scrutinized by others.

Chrissy’s voice brings him out of his reverie. “Former fancy person here, and brunch is more of a formal thing. At least the ones I attended growing up were.” Her nose scrunches up, and it looks like she just sucked on a lemon. Eddie knows there’s a country club on the outskirts of town where all the upper-class families play dress-up and pretend they’re better than everyone else.

“Then we’ll have frunch,” Eddie says, feeling quite proud of himself. If people can create names for mealtimes, then so can he.

Chrissy chortles. “You did not just make that up.”

Eddie grins. “I am a wordsmith, m’lady. Using my legendary powers, I have combined the word ‘freak’ with ‘brunch’.” He brings up both of his hands and smashes them together. “Thus creating ‘frunch.’”

“It sounds like you’re badly pronouncing the word ‘French,’” Chrissy points out.

Eddie ignores the flaw in his naming choice and turns to Tiny. “Tiny, my good sir. Have you any knowledge of such an establishment that offers pancakes?”

“You are an idiot,” Tiny responds, not even looking up from Chrissy’s arm. From what Eddie can see, the tattoo is nearly done. The round face of a seal stares up at him; they are pretty cute, he has to admit.

“That wasn’t my question, but I thank you regardless for the compliment. No, but seriously. You know any places?” Eddie drops the facade. If Chrissy wants pancakes, then he’s making damn sure she gets ‘em. He feels Chrissy squeeze his arm, and he flashes her a reassuring smile.

Tiny jerks his head and says, “There’s a cafe a couple of miles up the road. They make killer pancakes.” The whirring of the machine stops. “You need to stay still, hun. I can’t make clean lines with you bouncing in your seat.”

Chrissy flushes and immediately stills her body. “I’m sorry, it’s just…. I’ve never been to a cafe before. Do you think they have cakes??” Her feet start to wiggle, and Eddie wonders if Chrissy has a supernatural ability to be cute; there’s no other explanation.

“I’ll ask to borrow their kitchen if they don’t,” Eddie says like it’s an entirely normal thing to do. He’s confident that he can charm his way in there. The awe on Chrissy’s face morphs into horror.

“I wouldn’t survive the embarrassment,” Chrissy whispers. Her voice is low and solemn.

Eddie waves his hand. “You survived high school. The cafe will be a piece of cake, pun intended.” Chrissy giggles while Tiny groans.

“Tattoo’s done. Thank god because I can’t stand to be in this room any longer,” Tiny huffs and looks at Eddie with exasperation. Eddie knows he can be an annoying gremlin, but he thinks Tiny secretly likes it. Chrissy lets out a little gasp, and Eddie watches her reaction unfold.

“It’s so cute!” Chrissy gushes over her tattoo. She traces the shape of the seal; the skin is tender and red. “I love it so much!” Chrissy is a ball of sunshine right now, and Eddie is basking in her light. The baby seal on her arm is frankly adorable, and the flowers around it are a nice touch. Sure, it’s nothing like Eddie's tattoos, but the smile on Chrissy’s face is everything. Warm affection blooms in his chest, and he resists the urge to shower her with kisses, wanting to avoid further antagonizing Tiny.

“Looks great, man. How much do I owe ya?” Eddie asks, reaching for his wallet. He has to stifle a laugh when Chrissy gapes at him with wide eyes.

“Oh no, Eddie. I can pay for this.” Chrissy reaches into her pocket and pulls out a bundle of cash. Every birthday and holiday, she sets some money aside to buy things she wants. She remembers how careful she had to be about buying anything that would be visible to the public eye. Cassettes and books were always a safe bet if she hid them well enough, but anything worn would be scrutinized by Laura. Every article of clothing would come back smaller from the laundry because ‘sometimes clothes just shrink in the wash, and if they didn’t, then you must be getting fat.’ Some of her accessories or makeup would vanish under the pretense that it’s not ‘appropriate’ for her to wear. ‘How embarrassed would Jason feel standing next to a tramp?’’ Laura’s words are venom dripping into Chrissy’s ears.

Sometimes Chrissy will stare at the garden in their front yard, watching Laura fret over the weeds that are suffocating her precious plants. Every flower and bush is meticulously trimmed. If a seedling isn’t up to standard, it’s ripped out of the soil and tossed into the compost. Often times there is nothing wrong with the flower. Chrissy thinks it’s still beautiful; Laura thinks it’s a disgrace. Even if the flower appears without flaws, Laura will always find something wrong with it—find some way it could be better. Chrissy doesn’t want to dwell on these thoughts much longer. She has a tattoo now, a permanent mark inked into her skin for the world to see. And screw what Laura Cunningham will have to say about it.

During her mental battle, Eddie hands money to Tiny before Chrissy is aware. Her face is full of betrayal when she snaps out of her daze and sees that Eddie has paid for her tattoo. Eddie presses a kiss to the crown of her head, and he plays with her hair. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. Consider it a gift to celebrate the start of your rebellious streak,” he says.

Chrissy is hesitant but finally relents. “Fine, but only if you let me pay for lunch.” She gives him puppy-dog eyes for good measure.

Eddie grins and holds out his hand for her to shake. “You got yourself a deal, Cunningham.”

After saying goodbye to Tiny, the two of them get into Eddie’s van. The drive to the cafe is silent except for the low thrum of music. Chrissy watches the landscape blur past the window, and she has to be careful to not make herself nauseous. The smell of weed permanently lingers in the van, and it sends her stomach into a frenzy. One thing she learned from getting high is that her appetite increases, like, a lot.

The first time she succumbed to the munchies, she managed to eat two whole pizza slices before feeling disgusted with herself. Eddie comforted her and told her his opinion. But he also told her he wouldn’t stop her from going to the bathroom if she absolutely felt the need to. She struggled but managed to refrain from throwing up. The smile on Eddie’s face when she downed it all with a soda… it’s what keeps her eating most days. Her stomach rumbles, and Eddie chuckles. He places his hand on her thigh and squeezes gently.

“Almost there, princess.” The roads are empty, so Eddie sneaks a peek at his girlfriend. She is practically vibrating in her seat with excitement. Her shoes are tapping against the floormat to the beat of the music, and she looks out of the window every few seconds to catch a glimpse of their destination. God, she’s too fucking cute.

Chrissy laughs and puts her hand on top of Eddie’s. She says, “I can’t help but get excited every time I think about what they might sell at the cafe.” Cafes mean carbs, sugar, butter, and anything delicious that Chrissy isn’t supposed to have. But she doesn’t have to worry about that anymore—she doesn’t have to sustain herself on air.

Eddie grimaces when he sees the conflicting look in her eyes. In an attempt to cheer her up, he offers, “I’ll buy you one of those lattes.” He’s no coffee connoisseur, but it’s a drink he’s heard Nancy and Robin mention in passing. From what he understood, it’s coffee and steamed milk.

Chrissy perks up at the mention of a latte, another forbidden drink. The only way she was allowed to have her coffee was black. No sugar. No milk. “We already agreed that I would pay for lunch,” Chrissy reminds him. “We shook on it.” She doesn’t want him to pay for everything today.

“Yeah, but I’m paying for your drink,” Eddie emphasizes the difference, but Chrissy knows better. If she lets him pay for her drink, he’ll end up paying for their entire bill.

Chrissy snorts and shakes her head. “That is not a loophole, Eddie.”

“Au contraire, I think it is,” Eddie says. They never specified what lunch entails, and he feels like spoiling her today.

Chrissy crosses her arms. “Using French does not make you more right. Where did you hear that phrase anyway?”

“Sorry, princess, but I’m buying you one of those obnoxiously named drinks.” Eddie dodges her question.

“Then I get to buy you an equally obnoxious drink,” Chrissy counters, offering a compromise.

She has that little pout on her lips when she gets stubborn, and Eddie melts inside. He pats her knee and says, “Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

─── ⋆ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ｡⋆ ───

They pull into the cafe parking lot, and it’s fairly empty. Cars are sparsely spread throughout, so Eddie parks just about anywhere. The smell of sugar and coffee waft into the van. Chrissy’s stomach lets out another rumble of protest. Eddie gets out of the van and jogs around to open the door for Chrissy before she can open it herself. She beams at him and takes the hand he extends to her.

“Why thank you, good sir,” she jokes, stepping out of the van like a princess descending from her carriage.

Eddie bows grandiosely and offers his arm. “Your Highness, may I have the honour of escorting you to this fine establishment?”

Chrissy sighs and hooks her arm with his. “I suppose you’ll do.” She looks at him with her nose turned up, like he’s beneath her—which he honestly is, at least Eddie thinks so.

“How benevolent of you, Princess,” Eddie says with a touched expression on his face. Chrissy only smirks and kisses his cheek in response. They continue to laugh and joke around on the walk to the entrance. When they enter the cafe, they’re instantly enveloped with the warm scent of coffee. They can practically taste the chocolate and cream on their tongues already.

Chrissy drags Eddie to the display cases next to the cashier. “I’ve never seen so many different kinds of cake before!” she remarks in awe. Cupcakes, fruit cakes, carrot cakes, and many more sat tantalizingly in front of her. Chrissy brings a hand up to her mouth to check for any drool.

Eddie nudges her side gently. “What happened to pancakes?” he asks; the corners of his lips twitch upwards.

“But, Eddie, they have cheesecake,” Chrissy says, gripping his arm tightly.

“Oh, fuck me,” Eddie says, immediately spotting the cheesecake section. “We’re definitely having some.” Eddie loves cheesecake. Wayne made him a no-bake cheesecake once for his birthday, and 12-year-old Eddie was never the same afterwards.

Chrissy smiles impishly at his choice of words. “Maybe after.”

“Is that a promise?” Eddie asks, rubbing his thumb in circles on her hips.

“I wonder,” Chrissy responds, leaning into him.

The employee at the till slams open one of the display cases and restocks some cookies. Chrissy clears her throat and stares at the different cheesecakes, willing the prickle of heat on her skin to go away. Eddie presses a kiss to the side of her head and wraps his arm comfortably around her waist. He looks at the blackboard containing the daily specials and orders the latte with the longest name he can find. They sit beside each other in a booth after placing their orders, which Chrissy promptly pays for before Eddie can take his wallet out. She sticks her tongue out at him and relishes in the small victory.

A good five minutes pass before their orders arrive. Both their drinks come in these wide mugs, and Eddie realizes the various white blobs in his latte are actually hearts. He looks at Chrissy’s mug, and her design has a cat. At least, that’s what he’s choosing to interpret the white mountain of foam as. Why is hers so much cooler? “Your latte looks absolutely ridiculous,” Eddie says.

Chrissy hums and admires the carefully crafted creature. “I think it’s cute!”

Eddie sips his drink and watches as the milk vacuums toward his mouth. The hearts are now stretched out and misshapen, a sad state compared to their initial look. “I don’t see the point in making art with coffee if it’s all going to mix in my stomach,” he comments.

Chrissy has barely touched her drink, her lips slipping into a frown whenever she attempts to take a sip. Her first taste of the latte was delicious, but the plump cat wobbled, and she almost drank the poor thing. Now she’s putting off finishing her drink in good conscience of the foam cat in her cup. It’s silly, she knows, but the cat with its little painted face is too cute to destroy. So far, she’s managed to distract Eddie, but he’ll catch on eventually. “The little hearts don’t do anything for you?” she asks.

Eddie snorts and shakes his head. “No, but I’ll tell ya what does. The fact that they named it Hazlenut Heartthrob.” Eddie clutches his chest and crumples over, his head resting on the table with a soft thud. He doesn’t dare risk a glance until Chrissy’s melodic giggles fill the booth. He peeks at her through the wild curls of his mane, grinning like a love-sick fool because he is one.

“We both knew what we were getting into when we decided to have lunch here,” Chrissy reminds him of their latte deal. She picks up her fork and digs into the cheesecake. Her content hums fill the silence, and she does a little dance in her seat.

Eddie falters for a moment. He wipes away crumbs from the right corner of her mouth. Seeing her get so excited over food shortcircuits his brain. He likes seeing her happy, plain and simple “C’mon, princess. Hazelnut Heartthrob? No one would drink something with that name.”

“You are,” Chrissy mumbles around a mouthful of cheesecake, pointing her fork at him.

Eddie rolls his eyes and takes a bite from his cheesecake. “Anyone who doesn’t have a girlfriend trying to buy them an obnoxiously named coffee,” he adds. The tang of the cream cheese melts in his mouth, and the graham cracker crust adds a crunch to the otherwise smooth texture of the cake. He groans and shovels another forkful into his mouth, washing it down with a sip of his latte. The hazelnut is faint, and he’s not even sure he can taste it. “I don’t think the names even have anything to do with the drink,” Eddie says. He’s half expecting heart palpitations any minute now, hence his fake heart attack earlier.

Chrissy grimaces and pokes at her cake. “It’s all about presentation. If something sounds nice and looks pretty, people don’t tend to question it,” she remarks. The plate squeals as she stabs the cake and chomps another bite, making no further comments.

Eddie holds her hand and gently unclenches her fingers from the fork. “I have a feeling we’re not talking about coffee anymore,” he says with a wry smile.

Chrissy sighs and slumps in her seat. “I’m sorry, I just—it still haunts me,” she says, stumbling over her words. She hates how she can’t just move on. The Upside Down is sealed. She’s going to college soon. Jason is out of the picture. Why is this still affecting her? Why can’t she drink coffee like a normal person?

Eddie squeezes her hand. “That’s alright, darling. We’re gonna work on the apologies, but know that I’m not going anywhere,” Eddie reassures her because she has nothing to be sorry for. Chrissy survived her mother, Jason, and Vecna. The girl deserves a goddamn medal for the suffering she endured, which is why it breaks Eddie’s heart to see her in pain. He tries his best to remind her of the present, but once in a while, she gets trapped in the past. God knows Eddie still has nightmares about monster bats; all the suitcases in the world wouldn’t be enough to contain the baggage of their entire friend group. Chrissy seems to forget that it takes time to heal, a fact her therapist often reminds her of.

Chrissy blinks away the tears in her eyes and the smile on her face wobbles. “Eddie….”

“Come here, sweetheart.” Eddie opens his arms and pulls her into a tight embrace. They sit in silence and just hold each other. Chrissy breathes in the minty smell of his toothpaste and the scent of weed that clings to his clothes like it’s woven into the fabric. Eddie strokes her hair and presses a tender kiss to her forehead. “Now that we’re stuffed with cheesecake, I have a surprise for you.”

“Is it another cheesecake?” Chrissy’s question is full of hope.

Eddie chuckles and pecks her lips when she pouts. “No, but we can bring some home. I’m sure Wayne would appreciate it.”

“Is it… condoms?” she asks, voice timid and small.

Eddie’s eyes widen, and he holds her hand. “Christ, Chrissy. Please tell me you’re joking.” When she bites her lip and doesn’t respond, anger begins to simmer inside Eddie. “Did someone try to surprise you with them before?”

“Jason—he….” She’s unable to find the right words. Because even now, her mind is trying to justify Jason’s actions. She knows now that none of it was her fault, and it was a terrible gift. But self-doubt is a bitch and a relentless monster inside her head,

“Look at me, Chris. What he did was a shitty move, ok? I’m going to surprise you with so much romantic shit—flowers, chocolate—that you won’t even entertain the possibility of condoms,” Eddie rambles. His face morphs through various expressions, determination being the most prominent.

Chrissy swallows the lump in her throat and manages a watery smile. “I look forward to that,” she says.

Eddie squeezes her hand. “Now, close your eyes.”

“Ok.” Chrissy follows his instructions and closes her eyes.

“Hold out your hands,” Eddie instructs, and she can hear him fumbling around with his pockets.

Chrissy giggles. “You know, the last time someone told me to hold out my hands was in kindergarten. I ended up holding a beetle,” she says.

“Did it scare you?” Eddie asks.

Chrissy shrugs her shoulders. “No, I named it Bella.” She smiles fondly at the memory. Some kids tried to scare her, but the tables turned when she approached them and asked if they wanted to pet the beetle. She couldn’t take it home, of course. God forbid she brings home any animals, let alone insects. Her mother would have lost her mind. So Chrissy left it in the garden behind the school, coming back every recess to see if she could catch a glimpse of it again.

Eddie sounds surprised—no, impressed. “You are something else, Cunningham.” She feels something light and flat against her hands. Some sort of paper, perhaps? “Alright, you can open them,” Eddie says.

She opens her eyes and glances down at the mystery object. “Tickets? General admission to—the aquarium?!?!” she squeals. Chrissy tackles Eddie with a hug, peppering kisses all over his face. Eddie instantly flushes red, and not even his hair can hide his embarrassment. She places one last kiss on his lips, conveying every ounce of her appreciation. Eddie can’t help but lose himself in her sparkling eyes. She is the sun, and he is feeling the gravitational pull.

Eddie caresses her cheek and says, “Let’s go see those seals, and I can judge whether or not they have the cutest faces.”

“Mhmm. You’ll find out that I’m right.” Chrissy sounds so sure of herself, but Eddie knows he’ll find a way to prove her wrong.

“I’m not gonna lie, princess. They have some stiff competition with you around,” Eddie says, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead.

Chrissy shakes her head but can’t stop the smile from spreading across her face. “Since I only paid for lunch today, I still have some money left. Take me to go shopping? I want to find something to wear for our date.” She wants to surprise him with something nice, maybe even pick something out from the lingerie store. She’ll have to do a rain check on the latter idea; she needs some help from her friends for that.

“Sure. What’d you have in mind?” Eddie asks. He finishes the rest of his latte and slings his arm around her shoulder. Chrissy doesn’t vocalize it, but his arm feels comfortable there and not suffocating.

“Honestly, Eddie, I don’t know. I just want to wear something I feel good in,” Chrissy admits. The last time she bought a shirt she liked, her mother confiscated it and told her that it accentuated the rolls around her stomach. The next day, her mother wore Chrissy’s new shirt. But now she can wear what she wants, and it’s not like Eddie will steal her clothes to wear. Although she does wheeze at the image it creates in her mind.

Eddie squeezes her shoulder and smiles softly. “Alright, you can go on ahead. I’m gonna buy some cheesecake, and I’ll meet you in the van.” Chrissy nods and exits the cafe, skipping her way to the van. Her stomach is full of delicious food, and the seal on her arm is gorgeous. Life is good.

Chrissy sits in the passenger seat and sings along to the song that’s currently playing. She wonders if she would look good in a skirt with some chains. Maybe she’ll also buy a set of pyjamas; she can’t keep stealing Eddie’s clothes if she’s going to live with him. Movement from the corner of her eye catches her attention. It’s Eddie exiting the cafe with a large box that most definitely contains an entire cheesecake. She examines the aquarium tickets in her hand and bites back a grin. Chrissy can’t wait to show him the seals and all her other favourite sea creatures.

─── ⋆ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ｡⋆ ───

End Note:

I love how cute this is. Reading this gives me so much serotonin, I hope it gave you guys a mood boost as well! I'm glad I got to write for them and this lets me live in my little bubble where Eddie and Chrissy get to be happy together.

If anyone was curious, this is the tattoo I like to imagine Chrissy got.

Thanks for reading and see you guys at my next hyperfixation! (。・∀・)ノ

Reblogs are appreciated!

#stranger things #eddie x chrissy #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #hellcheer #eddissy #fluff #domestic fluff #established relationship #lots of banter #cute shenanigans #Chrissy and Eddie get to be happy #Buckle up and enjoy the ride

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foundtherightwords · 7 months

Text

Sunlight Through the Mist - Chapter 8

Pairing: Hellcheer (Eddie Munson x Chrissy Cunningham) Regency AU

Summary:Having witnessed the broken marriage of his parents, Edward Munson, Baron Hurstfield, always regards love with a cynical eye. When circumstances compel him to marry and produce an heir, he quickly proposes to Christine Conyngham, a debutante whose reputation is hanging by a threat after an ill-fated affair. All Edward wants is to save his family estate, but as beautiful, fragile Christine finds her way into his wary heart, their marriage of convenience may become something neither of them ever expects - a union of love.

Warnings: angst, past domestic violence, suicide attempt, smut (non-explicit)

Chapter warnings: smut (non-explicit)

Chapter word count: 3.8k

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Edward's first thought upon awaking was of Christine. His second thought was the realization that she wasn't in bed with him. The sky was a uniform shade of pewter gray, so he couldn't tell if it was late or early, but perhaps she had woken already and gone back to her room to wash and dress.

A clanging sound from next door confirmed his guess. With a grin, Edward jumped out of bed, only remembering at the last minute to swipe his robe off of the floor and throw it on before tip-toeing—well, more like limping as softly as his injured ankle allowed—through the dressing room and into Christine's bedroom, hoping to sneak up on her with a kiss.

But Christine was nowhere to be seen.

The sound was coming from a servant, one of the widows that Mrs. Wayne had hired from the village shortly after Edward's marriage, as she firmly believed they were more trustworthy and hardworking than flighty young girls. She was noisily raking cinders out of the hearth and looked up as Edward entered. Her eyes widened, and Edward self-consciously tightened the robe around himself, aware that he was wearing nothing underneath.

"Have you, um, have you seen her ladyship?" he asked.

"Nay, sir. She warn't here when I came in."

Then where was she? Had she gone downstairs to breakfast? Edward nodded absently at the woman and went back into his room to get dressed.

Christine wasn't in the breakfast room either.

"Mrs. Wayne, have you any idea where her ladyship is?" he asked the housekeeper as she brought in the tray of bread and preserves.

"Nay, sir," the old woman replied, looking rather mystified.

A maid following behind Mrs. Wayne with the silver teapot chimed in, "Beggin' your pardon, sir, I saw her walkin' toward th' ruins."

Edward frowned. The maid meant the ruins of a medieval abbey not far from Hurstfield. It had been given to the Munson ancestor, Guillaume de Moyon, who came to England during the Norman Conquest, and the stones to build the Hall had been taken from there. Was Christine taking a walk? Why there, and why so early in the morning? After the night they'd had, he'd expected them both to stay in bed till noon, perhaps getting to know each other more thoroughly, more intimately. Now, Christine's inexplicable absence had brought all his fears and doubts to the surface again. Was she trying to avoid him? Why else would she be trampling through the wet and the cold and the mud before breakfast? Had he done something to offend her, or had their night together been so horrible for her that she couldn't face him? He refused to believe that, and it wasn't simply his male ego that drove his conviction. He couldn't believe that because he still remembered how she'd cried out in his arms, how she'd looked at him, smiled at him. Such responses had to be genuine... hadn't they?

Edward waited at the table until the tea had gone cold, and still Christine didn't return. If she had been walking anywhere else, he might have been worried for her safety, but the way from the Hall to the ruins was clear, straight, and level. There was a stream running by the ruins, but it was shallow, and the flood had receded. Nothing could have befallen her. No, the only explanation was that she didn't want to see him.

That thought lodged in Edward's mind like a pebble in a horse's shoe and refused to budge. And just like a pebble, it irritated at first, and then it stung. If he had offended her in any way, at least she could have had the courtesy to tell him to his face, instead of running away again. He had laid bare his soul to her, why couldn't she return the favor?

He forced down his breakfast and got to his feet, using a walking stick he'd unearthed from the attic, which must have belonged to one of his foppish great-great-grandfathers.

"An' where'd ye think ye're goin'?" Mrs. Wayne asked when she caught him limping toward the stable.

"I'm going to the Home Farm to see to the damages," he said over his shoulder.

"Ye jus' came home barely alive last night!"

"I'm taking the gig and shall be perfectly safe," he replied, ignoring her protest. "Don't keep dinner waiting."

Warlock was hitched up, looking rather guilty after Edward gave him a rather stern talking-to about losing his head and bolting at a landslide. As the gig rolled down the muddy road, Edward tried not to think about Christine. He noted and wrote down all the damaged bridges and fences, of which there were plenty, and stopped to talk to a few people he met along the way. They reported another rockslide, which had injured some sheep, but so far, the damages seemed confined to roads and buildings, and there was no loss of life, human or animal. That was something to be thankful for.

But Christine refused to stay out of his head. He could almost still feel her with his body, still smell her lavender scent on the leather covers of the gig. His pining for her fought with his vexation at her absence, and he had to make a detour at the ruins in the hope of running into her. The ruins stood empty and cold, its few remaining stone spires rising toward the low gray clouds, while its stream, a branch of the River Ure, flowed screaming and roaring by. There was no sign of Christine.

Edward drove all morning in that agitated state, alternating between longing for Christine and being angry with her. He stopped at the farm by the trout pond to check on Mr. Buckley's daughter, Robin, and her friend, Victoria. The two young women were managing their little farm with more competence than he'd seen from some older tenants, and when he accepted their invitation to stay for dinner, they bustled about preparing the meal with such domestic harmony that it made him quite envious. It was so simple for them, yet why was it so difficult for him and Christine?

He drove back to Hurstfield Hall after dinner, determined to talk to Christine. When he came in, however, Mrs. Wayne told him that Christine had come back, had dinner, and gone for a walk again. Edward felt as though he had been struck by a bucket of ice-cold water or a fist. The morning walk could have been a misunderstanding, but this was deliberate. There was no longer any doubt in his mind that Christine was avoiding him. A horrible new notion entered his head: her responses may have been genuine, but they hadn't held any significance to her—at least, not the same way they had signified to him. The pleasure had been purely physical for her. He tried to remember how she'd kissed him, the way her lips had trembled in his, but he couldn't convince himself that her heart had been touched, as his had been.

"Should I tell her that you came back lookin' for her then, sir?" a puzzled Mrs. Wayne inquired, as Edward stormed out again.

"No!"

He drove to the village public house, the Boar's Head, surprised the men there when he treated them all to drinks, and had a fascinating conversation with Mr. Mayfield, a member of the Society of Civil Engineers, who happened to be in the area to survey for a new aqueduct. As they discussed the building of roads and bridges and the flood, Edward resolutely kept Christine out of his mind, and he mostly succeeded, though the irritated feeling remained. When the landlord started lighting the tallow candles around the pub and Mr. Mayfield begged to be excused, for he had an early start the next morning, a mischievous idea occurred to Edward.

So Christine didn't wish to see him, did she? Well, he would be more than happy to oblige.

"Would you do me the honor of having supper with me at Hurstfield Hall, Mr. Mayfield?" he asked the engineer. "I would love to continue our discussion about reinforcing the bridges to prevent further collapses."

"'Tis very kind of you, my lord, but I cannae possibly impose—"

"Oh, 'tis no imposition at all. I shall have you back here with plenty of time to rest, so you can catch the early coach tomorrow."

After some back and forth, Mr. Mayfield accepted the invitation, and they returned to Hurstfield Hall in the gig. Edward had rather hoped Christine would run out to meet him, but as the gig rolled into the front drive, he could hear her voice coming from the garden along with Henderson's. So she was still going about her day, without a care. A childish, petulant anger rose within Edward as he led Mr. Mayfield into the front hall and told Mrs. Wayne, who did come out to meet them, to set an extra place at the supper table.

Edward was showing Mr. Mayfield around the hall, pointing out the old tapestries and stained-glass windows, when Christine finally came in, flushed and flustered, with dirt stains still on her hands and arms. The sight of her blushing face and slightly disheveled hair almost brought down Edward's determination to stay indifferent, but he composed himself and introduced Mr. Mayfield. A flash of annoyance crossed Christine's face, though she said nothing and greeted the engineer with her usual charm.

Her annoyance remained throughout supper. Edward was engaged in conversation with Mr. Mayfield, but every time he glanced at Christine at the other end of the table, her face grew darker and stormier. Good. Let her experience some of the pain he'd been through that day.

After dispatching the carriage to return Mr. Mayfield to the Boar's Head, Edward remained in the study. If Christine wanted to talk to him, she knew where to find him. And if she didn't come to him... well, he would have to find a way to recover from this disappointment somehow. To distract himself, he brought out the notes he'd made during his drive around the village and went over them to see which farms needed relief and in what form.

His ears pricked up at the sound of the door handle turning. A scent of lavender and a rustle of muslin told him that Christine just entered the room, but he kept his face bent over the paper and quill.

"Aren't you coming to bed?" She sounded piqued. Perhaps inviting Mr. Mayfield for supper had been one step too far. But then again, she had never cared before when he brought guests home. Why should she care now?

"No, you go ahead," he replied, still not looking at her.

"What are you doing?"

"Figuring out how best to distribute relief to all the farms affected by the flood."

"No, I mean what are you doing to me?" She came to stand by his desk, forcing him to look at her. "Why are you trying to avoid me?"

Oh, she's going to act the part of the abandoned wife now? "Why do you think I'm trying to avoid you?" he retorted.

"I don't think it, I know! You were gone the whole day, and when you were finally come home, you invited that old windbag—"

"Mr. Mayfield is much respected in his profession," he said, purposefully sidestepping her question. He felt like a child who had been wrongly punished—something he knew well from his childhood, when whoever his guardian was that year decided that he was simply too quarrelsome and contrary for their taste. Whenever that happened, he would insist on being even more mulish and provoking. It had always earned him more severe punishment, but at least he would have the satisfaction of knowing he'd made his punishers feel equally bad. He realized he was doing the same thing to Christine now and knew it was immature of him, but he couldn't help it.

"I don't care about Mr. Mayfield!" she snapped, no longer bothering to keep her voice low. "Why were you avoiding me?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

"What?! You think I was avoiding you?"

"What was I supposed to think?" He forgot his decision to remain calm and was shouting as well. "When I woke up, you were gone. I waited for you for hours at breakfast, but you didn't come. At noon, I had to drive out of my way to come back here, and you were gone too. And when I came back with Mr. Mayfield, you were in the garden and didn't come in for ages! What else could it be?"

Remarkably, Christine's dark look started to lighten as he spoke, like a heavy cloud was lifted from her countenance, and her lips twitched with the hint of a small, amused smile. Edward suddenly felt rather foolish. So they had run circles around each other the entire day, and all for what? A simple misunderstanding, no more.

"I wasn't trying to avoid you, you silly boy," Christine said, her soft voice lessening the reproach. "I was waiting for you."

Something in the way she said it set his heart beating faster. "You were?" he asked, trying not to show his excitement. "Waiting... to do what?"

"This."

She crossed over to him, bridging the gap between them in one decisive step, and for a brief, bemused moment, Edward thought she was going to hit him. But no. She reached out for him, took his face in her hands, and lowered her mouth to his.

The moment their lips met, all of Edward's fears and doubts vanished. This wasn't the same way she'd kissed him the previous night, all shy and tender. This was like a fight where neither of them won, or perhaps both did, at the same time seeking retribution and reward for all the senseless misery they'd put each other through. He rose to meet her, to press her closer to him, only for his treacherous ankle to crumple, and she landed on his lap with a giggle, the hem of her dress riding up over her legs. Holding her to him with one hand, he moved his other hand under her skirt and petticoat, pushing them higher, until he found the top of her stocking.

"Mrs. Wayne may still be awake," Christine said in mock horror. "What if she hears us?"

"Not if we're very, very quiet," Edward replied, smiling against her mouth.

Slowly, carefully, he pulled at her garter until the ribbon came apart. He then slipped the stocking down her leg, letting his hand dwell on her skin, smooth and cool as marble, letting his fingertips get reacquainted with her shape and her feel, before moving up again, reaching under her skirts, finding her secret places by touch and by memory, and stroking her in ways he now knew she liked.

"You're fast learner, aren't you?" she gasped.

"I have a good teacher," he replied, and that made her giggle again, a tinkling, silvery laugh, like the sweet murmur of the River Ure. If only he could find a way to keep her laugh forever so he could replay it, over and over in his mind...

And then she straddled him, and he discovered something even more titillating than her body or her touch. It was the knowledge that she wanted him, for him alone and nothing else. What he had failed to convince himself of during his drive, that her heart was not indifferent, he now believed with certainty. She could not be indifferent to him, when her hands were fumbling with his shirt and his breeches like she couldn't get them off fast enough, when she was dropping scorching little kisses on his face and his chest, when she firmly refused his suggestion to move to the bedroom, afraid the fire between them would go out if they moved away from each other even for a second.

As if such a fire could ever go out.

He grabbed her waist and inched closer until their bodies were flush with each other, as if held together by a magnet. The way she writhed and wriggled against him made him fear he may not last long yet again, and this time there would be no hiding it. The last thing he needed was more embarrassment. But somehow, he managed to keep himself on the brink. In truth, he wasn't even thinking of himself. His thoughts were for her, for all the pleasure he could give her, for all the pleasure they could discover together, so when she moved, he understood what she wanted and moved with her, until they were joined.

"Like this?" he asked, arching his back to meet her.

"Yes," she panted. "Yes."

Just as he had the night before, Edward found that he didn't mind letting Christine take the lead. If anything, it enhanced his pleasure, knowing that he was doing exactly what she wanted, touching her exactly how she wanted. As her hips moved in time with his, as his head and his body filled with the sensation of her, he kept thinking what a fool he'd been, letting his own fears hold both of them back from such intimacy, such ecstasy.

She cried out then, her fingers digging into his back, and he stopped wondering, stopped questioning, stopped thinking altogether as their entire world narrowed down to the place where their bodies became one, and Edward could have wept, for here it was at last, that connection he'd been craving for his whole life, here in his arms and his heart and on his lips—her body, her face, her name. Christine.

***

It was a while before they made their way to the bedroom—Edward would have loved to be able to carry Christine there, but alas, his injured ankle meant that she had to be the one helping him—and even longer before the heat between them simmered down enough for them to learn about each other in a different way.

"So where did you go this morning?" Edward asked, running his fingers through Christine's hair and marveling at its silky texture as she laid her head on his chest.

"I told you, I went for a walk. I wanted to... to gather my thoughts."

"About what?"

"About you. About us."

"And did you come to any conclusion?"

She lifted her head to look at him, her lips parted in a smile. "That we should have done this a long time ago."

He laughed and kissed her. "We can make up for it now, can't we?"

She laughed as well and returned the kiss, before snuggling up against him, pulling his arms around her waist. "But why didn't you do... any of that... before? On our wedding night?"

Because I didn't know how? Because I didn't love you then, or at least didn't realize it yet. Finally, he settled for "Because you didn't want me to," hoping she would take it to mean that he was respecting her wishes and not that he was blaming her.

But she was thinking of something else. "I thought that husbands would just take from wives what they want," she said. "That it was their right to do so."

Edward shuddered. Christine's words brought back too vividly the memories of his mother's cries and his father's shouts, all in the name of his father's "rights" as the lord and master of their family. "I've witnessed my mother suffer at the hands of my father enough," he said quietly. "I vowed I would never, ever force myself on a woman."

Christine must have heard the pain in his voice. She turned around to look at him, her eyes full of compassion. "You are not your father," she said. If only she knew how much those simple words meant to him. Filled with love and gratitude, he kissed her with even more ardency than before.

"What about... that second time?" she continued. "When I came to you?"

Ah. He knew she would ask about it sooner or later. He wanted to be truthful with her, but he also wanted to spare her the pain of talking about that night, about how he had doubted her and failed to understand the enormity of her desperation and her pain. "That was my own fragile ego, I'm afraid," he said, trying to deflect. "You were coming on too strongly and I thought that my... um, lack of experience would be too noticeable." That, at least, wasn't a lie, even if it wasn't the whole truth.

It might have been the wrong thing to say, though, for Christine sprang up. "That was it?" she exclaimed. "That was it?! Of all the stupid, idiotic..." For a moment, she looked genuinely angry, and Edward's heart dropped, thinking he had lost her again. "Do you have any idea how much I've tortured myself over it? Had you let me stay, I wouldn't have run away, Will wouldn't have been shot, and there would have been none of this misery!"

"I know, I know." He took her hands and pressed them to his lips, kissing her palms, careful to avoid her wound. "I'm sorry. When I proposed to you, I wasn't thinking what it would mean to be married. I just thought it would solve both of our problems. And when you became so miserable, I was frightened. I didn't know what to do." The floodgates were opened and it was coming out now in a rush, all his guilt, all the blame he'd laid upon himself, all the words he'd wanted to tell her since her illness. "I barely knew how to live with another person, let alone a wife. I should have been honest with you. I pride myself on it, yet I was too much of a coward to be honest when it mattered the most." He laid one of her hands against his cheek and kissed the other. "I can only thank God that you're still here with me, so I can atone for those mistakes."

Christine still scowled at him, but then she relaxed slightly and let him draw her closer. "I suppose we both still have a lot to learn about this whole marriage thing, don't we?" she said.

He let out a breath of relief. "I think we're doing quite well, considering. And we have the rest of our lives to figure it out."

It was only when she'd fallen asleep in his arms that he realized he'd forgotten to tell her that he loved her. He leaned over, brushed her hair out of her face, and whispered it in her ear anyway. I love you. Like his music, he'd like to think that she could hear him in her sleep, and it would make her dreams sweeter.

Chapter 9

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