Chapter Text
The campaign had run longer than usual — laughter echoing through the basement, dice clattering across the table, and Eddie’s voice rising in dramatic triumph as he brought their ragtag party through another harrowing dungeon. By the time they packed up, the night sky was overcast, a heavy lid of clouds blotting out the stars.
Rain was falling in a steady, quiet rhythm as they drove—just enough to blur the streetlights. But as Eddie turned onto her street, the storm let loose. The downpour hit all at once, hammering the van with relentless force. The windshield wipers were not wiping fast enough to see their surroundings.
He eased the vehicle to a stop in front of her house, headlights cutting through the sudden curtain of rain. Water slammed against the windshield, neither of them moved.
“Well shit,” he muttered, glancing sideways. “Guess the weather’s got other plans.”
She looked at the flood of water pouring down the windshield. “No way you’re driving back in this.”
He huffed a laugh, resting his hands on the steering wheel. “Yeah, I think the van would actually drown.”
The rain showed no signs of letting up—if anything, it came down harder now, hammering against the van's roof in a relentless rhythm, like the sky itself was issuing a warning.
“You should crash at mine,” she said, glancing over at him. “Just until it lets up.”
Eddie leaned back in his seat, throwing her a dimpled smirk. “You just can’t stand to see me go, huh?”
She rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched. “Yeah, that’s exactly it. You’re just so irresistibly charming.”
That earned one of his crooked grins—the kind that made it impossible to tell if he was flirting or just being Eddie. His gaze flicked to the downpour outside, then back to her. “Alright then. I’ll wait it out. But only if I get to pick the movie.”
“Fine,” she agreed. Not like she had a choice anyway.
A flash of lightning lit up the trees around her house, casting eerie shadows across the dash. Thunder followed, low and distant, rumbling through the van’s frame like a warning growl.
Eddie raised an eyebrow and nodded toward the storm. “Think we can make it without getting completely soaked?”
She let out a dry laugh. “Not a chance.”
They glanced at each other, then out at the wall of water, then back again.
“Alright,” she said, fingers curling around the door handle. “On three.”
Eddie cracked his neck and stretched his hands in front of him like he was about to enter into battle. “Let’s do it. No heroic sacrifices. If I fall, leave me.”
She snorted. “No promises.”
They counted together, their voices light despite the storm.
“One... two... three!”
They flung open their doors and bolted. Rain slammed into them instantly, drenching them to the bone in seconds. Water splashed around their ankles as they tore across the driveway, breathless laughter rising above the storm, feet slipping and skidding on the slick pavement.
She reached the porch first. She fumbled for her keys with trembling, soaked fingers. Eddie hovered just behind her, panting, rain dripping from his hair and jacket, his breath warm and uneven against the back of her neck.
“Key, key—come on,” she muttered, squinting at the lock.
“Take your time,” he said, grinning behind her. “It’s not like we’re being waterboarded out here or anything.”
“Not helping!” she hissed, finally jamming the key into the lock with a triumphant clack.
The door flew open and they tumbled inside, gasping and soaked, the storm still roaring behind them as the door slammed shut with a satisfying thunk. For a second, all they could hear was the sound of their own breathing and the storm beating against the house.
Eddie stood just behind her, shaking out his hair like a drenched dog, water dripping off his denim jacket.
She looked up at him, pushing wet hair from her face. “Alright. Towels and dry clothes. We’ll get sick if we stay in this.”
Eddie arched a brow, a grin tugging at his lips. “Damn, I just walked in and you’re already trying to get me out of my clothes?”
She smacked his arm. “Shut up and give me your clothes.”
He peeled it off with exaggerated care, still grinning. “This is how horror movies start, you know.”
She snatched his wet clothes from him, leaving him in his boxers. “And yet you always come back for the sequel.”
She rushed to the drying machine, dumping his soaked clothes inside, water dripping from the heavy fabric. She peeled off her own wet clothes, adding them to the load before starting the machine’s low hum. Shivering, she darted down the hall on bare feet, the hardwood cool beneath her as she grabbed fresh towels for both of them. Cradling the towels, she slipped into her room to fetch some dry clothes for him, wrapping one of the towels around her shoulders to soak up the lingering chill.
“I’m starting the movie now!” Eddie shouted from the downstairs living room.
“I’ll be right there—grab a drink if you want! There’s beer in the fridge!” she called out, tugging on an oversized t-shirt and a pair of soft sleep shorts. The fabric clung lightly to her still-damp skin, but it was warm and dry, and that was all that mattered.
She snatched a fuzzy blanket from the end of her bed, along with a pair of sweatpants and an old hoodie Eddie could borrow. Arms full, she padded quietly downstairs, the distant hum of the dryer and the faint rattle of rain against the windows filling the space.
Rounding the corner into the living room, she found him exactly where she expected—legs spread across the couch, a beer already cracked open in one hand, his damp curls pushed back and dripping all over the couch.
“I’m glad you made yourself at home. Here—before you start dripping on everything.” She threw the towel right into his face.
He sprung up and placed the beer can carefully on the floor, but not before doing a mock salute. He definitely didn’t want his ass kicked for making a mess.
“You spoil me.” He grabbed the bundle of clothes from her arms.
“Just trying to preserve the couch,” she shot back, flopping onto it and throwing the blanket over her lap.
Eddie raised an eyebrow as he took the clothes from her—an oversized hoodie and a pair of worn-in sweatpants that definitely weren’t made with his frame in mind.
“These from your kid sibling’s closet?” he asked, holding up the sweats with a skeptical look.
She flopped onto the couch, already tugging the blanket over her legs. “You’re lucky I had anything at all.”
With a groan, Eddie shrugged off the towel and stood there in nothing but his boxers, completely unbothered by the state of things.
“You’re welcome, by the way,” he said, giving her an exaggerated spin. “You’re getting a free show.”
She tossed a throw pillow at him without looking. “Put on the pants before I go blind.”
He chuckled, tugging on the sweatpants. They clung stubbornly to his thighs like they were personally offended by the concept of stretch. The waistband rode low, and the cuffs hovered somewhere around mid-calf like they’d given up.
The hoodie followed, barely skimming the top of the sweats.
“Okay, yeah, this is a crime,” she muttered, catching the flash of fuzzy midriff. “You look… adorable.” She snickered.
He sighed dramatically and shoved the sleeves up his arms. “Admit it. You gave me these so I’d suffer—and you could witness it firsthand.”
“You got me.”
He attempted to sit, but the pants protested like they had a vendetta. With an irritated grunt, he shoved them off and flung them across the room with all the grace of a man evicting a spider. She cackled as he glared at her.
“Sorry, I don’t think you’re gonna fit in anything else in my closet!”
“Well, I hope you and your throw pillows are emotionally prepared to spend the evening with me in my boxers.”
He plopped down beside her, dropping the towel over the arm of the couch like he owned the place. “Now,” he said, grabbing the remote, “time to indulge in one of cinema’s greatest triumphs—Killer Klowns from Outer Space.”
She groaned, sinking deeper into the couch like it might save her. “We’ve watched this so many times, I could reenact the entire thing.”
“Exactly,” he said, already navigating to the movie. “You’re finally developing taste.”
“I wanted something else tonight,” she muttered. “Something funny. Or action. Or—God help me—a rom-com.”
Eddie clutched his chest as if she’d just stabbed him. “A rom-com? What is this, a hostage situation?”
She raised an eyebrow. “You’re seeking refuge in my home and you’re getting free beer. The least you could do is let me watch a rom com.”
He leaned in, elbow brushing hers. “You say that like alien space clowns aren’t romantic.” Already clicking play on the remote.
She sighed—long and dramatic—but didn’t move to stop him. Instead, she pulled the blanket up over both of them, their shoulders pressing together in the cozy quiet between thunder outside and the start of the movie playing on the screen.
“Fine,” she said, feigning defeat. “But I swear, if you quote every line again, I’m gonna smother you with a pillow”
Eddie grinned without looking at her, already leaning into the familiar opening scene like it was the first time he’d seen it. “No promises.”
The opening credits rolled, all neon lights and unsettling circus music. She glanced sideways—just in time to catch him lip syncing to the intro music.
She shook her head, unable to hide her smile. “You’re so insufferable.”
“It’s a classic,” He retorted. “And it still hits.”
She chuckled, giving in completely now. “You’re such a weirdo.”
Eddie beamed. “And yet, here you are. Curled up beside said weirdo. Watching creepy-looking rubber-nosed clowns murdering people. Again.”
“Don’t remind me,” she said, though her voice had softened. She tucked her feet up under the blanket, leaning closer to his warmth. “You’re lucky I like you.”
Eddie turned just slightly, his voice quieter this time. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
She smirked. “Don’t get used to it.”
And for a moment, the storm outside faded, the only sound between them the low hum of the TV and Eddie’s familiar, ridiculous laughter.
At some point into the night, her head had landed softly on his shoulder—maybe during the second ridiculous death scene. Eddie hadn’t noticed it happen, not really. Just that it felt natural when it did. His arm had curled around her without a thought, like it had always belonged there.
The rain continued its steady percussion on the windows, a rhythm so familiar and constant it faded into the background. The movie droned on, all bright lights and absurd dialogue, but their laughter had softened. She shifted once or twice, each time the two of them settled a little closer. Close, but not quite tangled. Not yet.
Eddie glanced down once, halfway through the film. Her legs were stretched across the couch now, her body curled up against his chest. Her breathing had evened out. Still awake, maybe, but barely. She gave a quiet hum, almost like contentment, and that was enough to keep him still, afraid to move and ruin the warmth stretching between them.
Eventually, the movie fade to static and the static to silence. The storm, too, softened—its rage dulled to a gentle murmur. And the house was quiet, with only the quiet steady sounds of their breathing.