trigger warning: harassment, groping. take care before, during, and after.
*
Eddie should've known better than to trust Maverick at the best of times, but she should've definitely known better than to trust Maverick after he'd smoked a joint right in front of her. All she managed was a soft sigh when the moment he opened the door, the sound Rush's godawful rendition of Paper Rings spilled onto the street, and Maverick practically hurdled someone's table to get back to Everleigh so they could sing it at each other in the most disgustingly they're too fucking in love with each other way with arms wrapped around necks and waists and noses pressed together and Everleigh's hands were in Maverick's hair and Maverick's smile could light up a worldwide power outage and Eddie was going to vomit if she looked any longer so instead she walked away.
If the Meadowlark-Maverick's weren't enough, there was something positively evil about the fact that Eddie got a block away from the bar and was immediately met with footsteps behind her. Made her walk faster until a familiar voice called her name.
"Bo, I'm not in the mood—"
"I won't talk to you about anything, I just want to get shit-faced somewhere else."
If he was into women, and if he wasn't already dating someone, Eddie might've been forced to kiss him for saying the most romantic thing she'd ever heard.
"Tonight was worse than the time I told Rush and Axel that folklore wasn't in my top five."
"You're probably lucky Maverick and Stevie weren't there."
"I learned my lesson from seeing them on Twitter with Midnights to keep my Taylor Swift opinions away from them. Fuckin' Blondie police."
"They do share the same three brain cells."
"You think Maverick has access to three brain cells?"
"Rude."
"You didn't have Maverick's phone number when Barbie came out last year, did you?"
Bo frowned. "Why? He didn't like it?"
"How dare you ever doubt Maverick," Eddie said. "On the contrary, he spent the next six months sending videos of him singing I'm Just Ken to Everleigh. Only of his face, because he's nothing if not a fucking Leo, but she was there. Yelling at him to shut the fuck up, to be fair. But she was there."
"Every day?" Bo asked.
"Every single fucking day."
"Did she even see Barbie?" Bo asked. "She gives... Oppenheimer vibes."
Donny snorted. Loudly. Covered his mouth with his hand.
Bo looked at him. Like the answers were on his forehead. "Yes?"
"She's both."
Eddie raised an eyebrow.
"She'd watch both," Donny said. "Maverick gives just Barbie."
Eddie had fought a lot of battles in her life but trying not to laugh at an Australian saying Barbie was, somehow, the worst of them all. She supposed that should've been her first hint that Axel was sitting across from her at the bar—that man couldn't pronounce an R properly if his fucking life depended on it.
"He's definitely both. Nobody is more into both than Maverick," Eddie said. "Have you spoken to him?"
"Apparently not at length," Bo said.
"I have," Donny corrected.
Bo stared at him. Like he was about to unlock the answers to the universe.
"Kind of," Donny corrected.
"Carry on."
"You can't be mad at me for this."
"Did you date him?" Eddie asked.
"I flirted with him," Donny said. Almost like it confused him. "I didn't know it was him."
"You..." Bo frowned. "Babe, what?"
"Throuple?" Eddie offered.
"Okay, I've never dated Maverick." Donny considered his next words carefully. Which was strange, considering it wasn't like Eddie or Bo knew the story. He could've told them a lie and they'd be none the wiser. "Technically, I never dated anyone."
"So..."
Donny cleared his throat. "I may have slept with someone. Multiple times. Well. Quite a few times, actually."
"Don—" Bo tried.
"The number doesn't matter."
"Hey, buddy," Eddie said.
"What?"
"Nobody said the number mattered."
Donny cleared his throat. "I'm assuming you can put together the rest."
Bo and Eddie exchanged looks. It probably didn't help Donny's case they'd both been on injured reserve in the last couple of years due to concussions. Eddie twice in the last five years.
"Oh," Bo said. "Everleigh knew your name."
"Bi rights," Eddie said. For whatever fucking reason. The awkward fist pound that followed was worse.
"Barbenheimer," Donny said as he tapped their knuckles together, "Or whatever the fuck."
"Can we go get drunk?" Bo asked.
"Yes," Eddie said.
"Please," Donny said.
*
Maybe it was a bad idea to say Donny could take body shots off her in the middle of a gay club, but Bo cheered him on and that seemed okay.
Eddie cheered when Mr. Brightside started playing as Donny finished his shot, as did the rest of the sweaty crowd. Even Bo humoured her. His shirt had been tucked into his boyfriend's back pocket ages before and was promptly used to wipe boozy dribbles off Donny's chin, Eddie had dropped her jacket at coat check the moment they had walked in.
"I love this fucking song!" Eddie yelled, raising her arms in the air. Waved them around. Like there wasn't a single thing in the world except her and her friends listening to a silly song in their mom's basement and feeling like life was good.
"Never would have guessed!" Bo yelled. Laughed. Drunkenly shoved his nose into his boyfriend's cheek.
"Eddie," Donny said, "maybe you should consider that cup of water you were offered."
Except they weren't in someone's mom's basement.
And life was anything but good.
Eddie liked to kiss people. Men, women, anyone in between or still deciding. She was a big fan of kissing cheeks and all of her friends knew this. Drunk Eddie would kiss a fucking cactus if it looked too much like a human being in glassy eyes. Drunk Eddie would kiss Rush if there was enough of a smile on his stupid face.
She kissed Bo and Donny on the cheeks. She cheered when they both kissed her in return. A whoop escaped her lips the moment Bo and Donny started kissing and didn't look like they were planning on stopping any time soon.
The next thing Eddie knew, her hands were pushing a set of shoulders away from her. Tearing a hand off her thigh. A frown creased her brow as she tried to focus on the person in front of her. Nothing quite like haze in a club to block out someone's identity; all she had was some spit from their tongue running along her lip.
"Come on," they said. There were strobe lights and they weren't working in Eddie's favour. She couldn't see Donny or Bo anywhere near her, but that felt like it didn't matter. They were taller than her by too much. Had hands ripe for wandering. "Can't give that look and not want—"
"What look—" The music was so loud.
"Flirty little smile—"
"Pardon—" Eddie tried to shuffle off the edge of the table she leaned on. Hands met either side of her hips. Pinned her in place. She swallowed hard.
Maybe she had too much to drink. Maybe she shouldn't have continually bought tequila shots for the three of them and drank the extras when Bo and Donny said they were done for the night. Maybe this wasn't her fault and she needed to stop thinking she could ever control the actions of someone else.
There was no denying Eddie had two feet—she needed to use those feet. Everything was a little too heavy and Eddie's head was a little too fuzzy and why were there strobe lights because they made her head hurt more than it usually did and where the hell did Donny and Bo tumble away to—
Eddie slapped a hand away that began sliding from her hip.
"My friends are—"
"We can be friends, baby. Anything you want."
"No—"
"I know you're not like the others here—"
"No—"
"Don't you have a twin—Oh man, twins—"
There were a lot of things people could say about Eddie that would be true. One of those things would be that she would always throw a first punch. Her sister had always taught her throwing the last one was more important, but that never mattered to Eddie.
What usually happened was Eddie would do so and it would connect with the jaw she was aiming for. A flash came from beside her and she wasn't sure it was from the strobe light. A hand wrapped around her fist, stopping it from meeting the target. It was gentle, gentler than the ones in front of her, that was for certain.
"Hey—" Eddie knew that voice. Even over the sound of blaring music, Eddie knew that voice.
"Bo—"
"My friend's just leaving. We're just leaving."
"She can leave with me, man—"
Bo shoved his way in between Eddie and the person in front of her. Reached a hand behind him and gently pushed Eddie toward Donny, who draped his sweaty jacket over her shoulders silently. "Better manners."
"Or what—" The name he called Bo didn't bear repeating.
"Or I step back and let her hit you. Between you and me, that's not what we want here."
Donny took Eddie by the shoulders and began walking her out of the club.
"Don't touch me," Eddie said. And she wasn't sure if it was to Donny or a delayed reaction. He listened either way. Stayed behind her so he was between her and what had happened.
It wasn't until the music was softer that Eddie looked away from the ground and realized there were tears streaking down her cheeks. They had made it around the block and away from the front door—Bo was right behind them.
Not a moment to breathe before the same lights as the club had erupted. Not strobes. Eddie knew she recognized them: camera flashes. She was always good at being the centre of attention for the worst reasons. Their puppet on a string, their doll in a dreamhouse. Forced to smile and wave through every single awful thing because god fucking forbid she have a feeling other than unadulterated happiness. Might as well paint that lipstick smile on because her mascara was surely running and the stories tomorrow wouldn't capture anything about why she looked the way she did, only that she looked horrid.
"What happened in there—"
"Is this a new relationship?"
"I'm not dating her—" Donny stumbled, Bo pushed him forward a little. Clearly they hadn't been together long enough for Donny to have media training. Eddie didn't know what she would've done in Bo's situation, he probably should've asked Maverick when Everleigh had media training. Then again, Maverick constantly acted like he didn't have media training, so maybe that was the key.
"Akuma, you look tired."
"Someone said there was a fight in the club—"
"Are you ever going to settle down and act more appropriately for your age?"
Bo let out a piercing whistle. Practically threw Eddie and Donny in the car she hoped was a taxi and not simply the first moving vehicle he saw. Said her address to the driver, who seemed to get the message that the tip would be big if they drove quickly.
Even after everything, Eddie got the middle seat. It happened from the moment she was born. It was usually fine. Until her stomach swirled. And her fist pressed against her lips. A burp escaped—a little too chunky. Eddie swallowed. Probably the wrong move.
"Eddie." Bo wrinkled his nose. His thumb ran along the palm of his other hand. "Jesus."
"Think you can give her a pass on the belch, mate."
"Mate?"
Donny chuckled into his hand.
"Bo," Eddie said.
"What?"
"Window."
"What—"
Eddie climbed onto Bo without asking if that was remotely okay. Kneeled in his lap, pressed the button to open the window, and leaned out. She hadn't thought much about how the car was still moving. Or how her hair was starting to fall out of her bun. All that mattered was that she didn't puke in the car. She didn't want to pay for the interior.
The only other time she'd puked out a car door was, unfortunately, Maverick's car the year before. And to his credit, he tried desperately to hold her hair while still driving. And somehow didn't kill both of them. Considering she sat on Bo's lap, there was no such luck in that he could get his arms out the window at a proper angle to keep puke out of her hair. It was probably the worst first impression she could've given Donny but at least she didn't get any vomit on his jacket.
Eddie climbed back to her seat. Made a face. "I'm sorry."
"You're good," Donny said. "You're okay."
"Fuck—"
"I'm sorry," Bo said. "For tonight."
Eddie shook her head. "Not your fault."
"I was the one who suggested—"
"I need a cigarette—" Eddie stuck her hands in the jacket. "Oh, this isn't—"
"I'll buy you a pack of—" Donny looked at Bo for a moment. Frowned a little. A little too close to the person in the club and their stupid names. "Cigs."
Bo cleared his throat. Raised his eyebrows a little. "I'll get your jacket tomorrow, Eds, okay? Bring it to the gym."
Eddie nodded. "Are—are you okay?"
"Fine." Bo continued to rub his hand. "Hell of a punch, Eddie."
"Should've let her connect," Donny said. "Dinknuts fucking deserved it."
"Can't punch your way out of every problem."
"Ouch," Eddie said. She wiped her face with her hands as the cab driver pulled up to the curb outside her building.
"Do you want us to stay—"
"No—no. It's okay. I'm okay."
Donny narrowed his eyes. "You know... I had—have a friend. She used to have the weight of the world on her shoulders. Didn't like to let anyone share the burden. Ended up breaking down, found out that people actually cared about her. A little too late."
"Thanks. I'll pay for the cab—" Eddie stuffed her hand in the pockets of the jacket. "My wallet's in—"
"Eds, don't worry about it."
"No, it's—"
"Do you need someone to walk you to the door—"
"No."
"We've got it. Take care of yourself."
*
Sometimes Eddie felt her entire life was carved from a hemorrhoid on Satan's flaming asshole. Shit only made things worse.
Insomnia wasn't new to her. She had a bottle of melatonin that knocked her out better than her second concussion—she hated it and kept it under the bathroom sink so she didn't accidentally overdose while drunk. It was, evidently, thousands of leagues of sea worse when Eddie didn't know if she should go for a walk because what the fuck was going to happen if she went out in public again.
It was every creak in the floor outside her apartment that got her. A bang a couple floors up made her stir. Her dog would shift in the bed and she'd think someone had joined her uninvited.
Going for an insomnia walk at half past one in the morning wearing a gigantic hoodie and sweats that hid any semblance of her femininity so she'd be less likely to be approached was normal, right? Maybe for someone certifiable. Eddie might've been. At least Bo wasn't there to stop her that time, she could punch the lights out on anyone who looked in her direction. Maybe she could get a good night's sleep in jail again. The couple drinks she had to try and get herself to fall asleep were likely enough for public intoxication. Wouldn't that be lovely?
Fuck.
Eddie kept her hood up but her wits about her. For someone who didn't really believe in deities, she was more than willing to pray to herself that nobody would approach the short Asian Adam Sandler looking motherfucker walking down the street probably looking too sad for her own good.
Leaving her headphones at home was more for her own safety than it was anything else, but hell if she wasn't hating every moment she spent listening to San Fransisco at night. Sometimes it was nice, when it was quiet. She would have a toasted white chocolate mocha in hand and it would be the greatest thing that had ever touched her lips including all the people she had kissed during drunken highs and she would be living the only way she knew how and maybe floating through life was the wrong journey but she didn't know any other.
Just because Eddie hated cardio didn't mean she wasn't good at it. If the night took her hours to fall asleep, she'd walk until she found a hotel when she decided she was tired. Because she was stupid and idiotic and, fuck, she'd lived in San Fransisco her entire life and what fucking street had she found herself on now?
Maybe August was right, Eddie did have a fucking death wish.
"Eddie?"
Eddie kept walking. Convinced it was a hallucination.
"Yo, Yakuma."
Nope.
"Earth to Yamaguchi."
Nope, nope, nope. A downward spiral.
"Did you hear that Eddie Yamaguchi's a wicked pissah?"
Eddie turned.
And oh, the kindest, stupidest smile met her. The sweetest eyes that twinkled in the streetlights. They crinkled around the edges in a way that didn't need kintsugi because they were perfect without the gold lacquer. Dumb blonde hair stuck up in too many directions but had definitely been washed since that silly serenading. Blue tinted lips that didn't worry her because, of course, he had an extra large yuzu lemonade slushie in hand at probably closer to half past two in the morning—that was a more than viable excuse to not be sleeping.
There was something about the way he pushed Eddie away when she leaned in to kiss him—God, she loved kissing people—that told her it wasn't the right thing to do.
"Are you okay?"
Eddie puked on his shoes. She was no fucking doll anyone wanted.