Destiny Knocking (Steddie)

Accidental Friends

My parents were out of town again, so I was throwing yet another of Steve Harrington's epic parties. And about an hour ago, in the kitchen near the keg, I'd met a girl named Angela. She said she had come with a friend who I didn't know, and she tried to explain who knew who and how she'd come to be there, but I didn't really care. You know what I cared about? I cared about the really short skirt and really low-cut top she was wearing. It left little to the imagination but still more than I wanted to have to imagine. So, I invited her upstairs to my bedroom and offered to get her out of them. She eagerly agreed.

So here I was, sitting on the side of my bed, waiting, listening to the noise from downstairs. I was mellow and relaxed after smoking some weed before I came up. I'm not sure why he was here, The Freak, Eddie Munson, but I was glad he was because when he showed up, he always brought the best weed. Other people carried, but it was skunk weed, crap, the kind of stuff you smoked because it was all you could get. But Eddie's was always potent and packed a good kick. He charged more, but it was worth it.

I heard someone coming down the hall towards my bedroom, so I turned and reclined back against the headboard, put on a smile and waited. The footsteps sounded heavy, and I thought maybe she was drunk, especially when I heard a stumble and a soft muttered curse. Then the doorknob was rattling before it finally opened. I called out her name quietly and the shadow in the dim outline of the door turned in a circle, head jerking back and forth like they were looking for something. Then another stumble.

"Nope, not Angela."

I sat up straighter. Was that Eddie? A bright orange ember glowed in front of his face as he took a drag from the cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth and I could see his face better. It was Eddie. Damn it. I reached over and turned the lamp on next to my bed and he stumbled in the sudden light, beer sloshing from the red plastic cup in his hand.

"Dude, what are you doing up here?"

"No idea," he slurred. "I think I'm lost." He turned in a circle again, more of the liquid sloshing onto my carpet. I jumped up and reached for the cup, taking it from him before he could spill any more of it.

"I think you're right." I turned him towards the door and gave him a little shove. "Get out."

"Angela left," he said suddenly with a snap of his fingers. "That's why I'm here."

"She left?" I turned him around to face me. The cigarette in his mouth was burning low and his wild hair was getting awfully close to it, so I plucked it from between his lips and dropped it into the cup I'd taken from him. "What are you talking about?"

"Angela, the cute chick, with the..." He held his hands out in front of his chest, simulating breasts. I nodded. "She left with..." He turned towards the door again and pointed at it, then looked back over his shoulder at me. "You know, the asshole."

"She couldn't have," I said. "You're standing right here." He turned slowly and tilted his head, looking at me like I was speaking a foreign language. "Never mind." It's no fun insulting someone when they're too out of it to even realize you're doing it. "Give me a name."

He reached into the pocket of his jacket and came back with a hip flask. He looked at it, confused, then handed it to me and went back into the pocket and fished out his cigarettes. He lit one and was putting the pack back when something suddenly occurred to him. He snapped again.

"Tommy."

"She left with Tommy?"

"She left with Tommy." He nodded once and his hair bobbed dangerously close to the lit cigarette between his lips. I took that cigarette as well and dropped it into the cup then sat the cup on my bedside table. He watched me do it then looked up into my eyes. "Why the fuck do you keep taking my smokes, man," he asked with a laugh.