sweetie little jean | stranger things

007 ━ dealer pt. 2

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007

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I don't wanna live
I don't wanna give you nothing
'cause you never give me nothing back

𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐄𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐄 𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐏𝐓 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄. The house was too obvious a place to stay in, declared Dustin the night before. They retrieved their belongings and slept in the boat, under the tarp, and coiled around one another little hibernating bears or snakes. She had curled herself so deeply against him that she wasn't sure who's hair was in her mouth by the time she woke up.

The lake rocked against the boathouse, the door open and exposing them to the outside world. They would have drawn the door down but there was something so peaceful about looking out into the dark water the night before, finally at home with her friends.

If only Zoya didn't hate her guts, then maybe it would've been a wonderful moment to share with friends.

Lucy and Zoya left when the rest of them did, explaining that they'd be back in the morning with food and a change of clothes (thank god). Jean could've gone home but Steve and Dustin disagreed strongly. They didn't know if the police released her name as a suspect yet, they didn't know what the police had found alongside Chrissy's body in the trailer. There was a good chance Jean could be a suspected murderer by the time morning came and there would be nothing to do about it.

Jean curled herself further against Eddie and he kept a protective arm around her. It was still cold here at night, no matter how closely they crawled towards summer. He smelled like leather, like old clothes and mothballs with the soft scent of forest and weed. His cologne was some cheap shit he loved and it was musky, like the woods and cedar but the weed couldn't be covered that easily. He always smelled like it, somewhat.

He ran his free hand over her back as he kept it circled around her. It was so soothing, almost like it was normal. As if they were back at home in his shitty bedroom with the shitty lights but they'd never get back there (would they?).

"Are you awake?" he asked in a whisper and she nodded against him. "Why'd he hug you like that?"

"Who?" she mumbled against the pocket of his jacket.

"Steve. Last night."

She pressed herself against him, burying her face as she stretched her legs. "We're–" She let out a yawn. "–friends."

He shifted slightly and sounded strained, "Friends don't hug each other like that, Jeanie."

"Like what?" she shifted again, pressing her arm into his chest so she could sit up and face him. He was staring up at the ceiling, the way the metal curved against the roof and she glared. "Like what, Eddie?"

"Like you've been fucking him, I don't know."

She dug her elbow into him this time, pressing it deeply into his ribs. "Say that again?"

"I didn't like the way he had his hands on you, okay!"

She didn't like that she was waking up annoyed, after being so curled deeply into his warmth but here she was. Warmth (and not the good kind) blazed her cheeks and neck. "How dare you." She slapped his chest with her other hand, awkwardly laying on him as she still tried to dig her elbow between ribs. "I don't sleep with everybody who breathes, you fuck-face!"