ccunningham | for @polemical - clandestine tavern meetings or something like it

for @polemical - clandestine tavern meetings or something like it

Chris had left a carefully folded character sheet slipped into Eddie's locker, something he'd had to do quickly on the way past between classes. He hadn't put his name on it, though that was more out of concern of someone else finding it than anything, since he was reasonably sure she'd know it was from him.

The thing was, the character was technically good, in that all the technical aspects were balanced and correct, if a little hastily scribbled. All of it was hastily scribbled, really, as he'd been filling it out under the guise of taking notes during a church fellowship outing to one of the parishes out in Indianapolis. The character backstory made it painfully obvious that Chris had only rarely -if ever- been encouraged to use his imagination for anything.

Milo Overhill, a halfling bard who had formerly been a noble, but had been disowned for reasons unknown, and who had a habit of settling arguments via headbutting contests. Chris wasn't entirely sure that part fit, but the book had suggested an interesting quirk, and he hadn't been able to think of anything except what he himself had been banned from Sunday nursery lessons for when he was younger.

Really the best part of the character sheet -aside from those technical parts being correct- was the sketch in the frame, looking a little bit like a children's book illustration of Johnny Appleseed, but beardless and with a much fancier mustache.

There was no note to go with it, but as it was Friday afternoon, he had track practice and wouldn't be that difficult to find.

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Waking up to Chris quietly murmuring to her as he tried to slip out from beneath her had been a real fucking trip, mostly because Eddie had been half-convinced she was still dreaming the entire time. Not that she spends a lot of time dreaming about the boys in her school — she doesn't! — but the idea of falling asleep with someone and getting gently shushed back into the tangled sheets is sweet, and charming, and filled with the kind of tender longing that she's embarrassed to even look at head-on.

If she were to fantasize about the morning-after aspect of a hook-up, there would be worse people she could fantasize about than Chris Cunningham, that's for sure.

It hadn't been until he'd whispered a goodbye and shut the porch door behind him that Eddie woke up enough to realize that it had been real, that she can Chris had fallen asleep in her bed together, that she really had spent the past few hours curled up with her head on his chest and his arm around her back.

It had been hard to go back to sleep, after that.

That had been a while ago, though, and despite how much she might wish they could just sidle up to each other in school, she's not stupid. They run in different circles. Literally. Him talking to her would be social suicide. Her approaching him would just be inviting ridicule or retaliation, or both. So she contented herself with smiles in the hallway, with quiet cooperation in their one shared class, with the occasional look across the cafeteria at lunch time, and that's it. It's fine. They're friends, but they're not close. Eddie doesn't let herself get torn up about Brenda Matherson not going out of her way to talk to her, and she bummed a tampon off her last month. If that's not friendship, nothing is. So. It's fine.

When she opens her locker to have a slip of paper flutter past her to land on the floor, Eddie first thinks someone's asking to buy from her something. It's a fairly standard way to placing an order, setting up a time or place or requesting something specific and tucking the note into her locker, a more clandestine way of purchasing than straight-out asking. When she opens the paper, though, she has to take a second to figure out what the hell she's looking at.

It's a character sheet, obviously. But whose? She knows the handwriting of all the members of Hellfire, and nobody else would be nerdy enough to write out an entire sheet without being coaxed or bribed.

Unbidden, a memory floats into her head of Chris telling her he'd read the rulebook, that he had a vague understanding of how D&D worked, and her threatening to make him play. She squints a little more at the sheet in her hand, trying to compare it against the few quizzes she's seen of Chris's in their history class, and yeah, the more she looks at it, the more she thinks it's probably his.

Which. Holy shit. She has to find him. Is he asking to play with her? Does he want to sit in on Hellfire? She has so many questions. Forgetting what she went into her locker for in the first place, Eddie stuffs the sheet into the inside pocket of her jacket and turns on her heel to head outside. The track team are practicing or whatever it's called right now. She's pretty sure she knows where Chris is.

It had been surprisingly pleasant when she'd drifted off to sleep using him like a lizard on a heat rock, and he knew he'd drifted off for a couple of hours as well. It had been weird, but it had been nice. Nice enough that there had been a handful of times in the following weeks that he considered catching up with her in the hall to check on how she was doing, but he always managed to stop himself, as that would be good for neither of them.

Other than that, finding a bookstore in Indy that had the rulebook in stock had been luck, but also finding the one that would let him xerox the relevant pages when he'd taken a moment to explain that his mom would probably kill him if she found the book in the house had been a sign.

Which was really what had started the whole thing, or continued the whole thing, really, since it had been Eddie's shock and even delight at the fact that he had even sort-of an idea of how to play that had really started it.

Her half-teasing threat to come watch practice, or one of his meets, sometime to see if she could throw him off his game was the only reason he didn't react when he saw her coming, because even at a distance there was no one else that hair could be. He just wasn't sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing that had her coming to find him right then, though he hoped it was a good one.

At that point they were nearly done, having finished with laps and speed checks, working on cool-down stretches, some of the team already peeling off to head home.

It's almost disappointing to realize that practice is almost over when Eddie makes it out onto the athletic field and climbs up the bleachers. She doesn't fully understand what the track team even does — run, obviously, but like, how? — and since she and Chris are friends now, there's a part of her that is, admittedly, curious about his hobbies. Would track be considered his hobby? He's good at it, apparently, but she's never gotten the impression that he's all that invested in doing it, that he'd choose this if he wasn't forced to pick a sport.

She's never asked him, so she doesn't know. Something to think about, maybe to bring up later, when she's a little drunk and he's come over to babysit her again.

Perched on the uppermost bench, her legs sprawled out and a cigarette dangling from her lips, Eddie watches as the team stretches and chats with each other, Chris's bright red hair standing out like a beacon in the afternoon sun. She's pretty sure he's seen her, but if he hasn't, she'll try to catch him again later. The thought of going down onto the track, into the midst of the fray, isn't exactly appealing right now, so she's hoping he'll come to her.

Chris considered giving her a wave, but realized that drawing attention to her or to himself that way was probably a bad idea even if most of the track team wasn't as openly antagonistic as the basketball team was, he still didn't want to cause any problems.

He did make his way over once practice was officially finished a few minutes later, smile tilting as he dropped down to sit on the next seat down so that he could change his shoes, "So, I've got about an hour before I have to go pick up Jeremy from the library, I'm guessing you're here about the guy?"

It was possible, of course, that her being there was just random coincidence, or that she was waiting for someone else -it wasn't like he didn't know about her side business after all- and maybe he was presuming too much, but he doubted it in this case.

Chris comes right up to her, plopping down on the aluminum bleachers like he isn't wearing shorts and they aren't horribly uncomfortable, and Eddie finds herself offering him her cigarette almost instinctually before she catches herself and snatches it back.

"No, wait, you can't have this! You're a runner!" She gives him a horrified look like her was the one who asked her for a puff, holding it away from him. "Smoking is bad for you, Chrissy."

Pot, meet kettle.

She grins at him once she's got her equilibrium, patting at her pocket where the sheet is still safely tucked. "Headbutting, really?"

Edited 2024-01-30 23:07 (UTC)

He'd been about to wave off the offer when she rescinded it herself and he just laughed, shrugging and leaning back on his hands at the question, "They say write what you know, right?"

Another, somewhat more exaggerated shrug, "When I was like, three or four I got asked not to come back to Sunday nursery school until I could 'control myself' and 'react appropriately to disagreements', mom actually had to write a formal apology to a couple of the other moms. Mrs. Carver was one of them, actually. I apparently clocked him a good one, but he bit me first, so it was only fair."

She keeps giving him a slightly baffled look; she can't help it. They've never had English together, but she's never gotten the impression that Chris is much of a writer. He's not nearly enough of a nerd to pull it off, and how the fuck would he know about headbutting?

"They do say that," she agrees, one brow lifting beneath her messy bangs as Chris shrugs again and continues to explain.

The snort she lets out when she learns about his brawling history couldn't possibly be contained, and she's just lucky that she didn't have a lungful of smoke or she'd be choking in a highly embarrassing manner. She's supposed to be a consummate professional when it comes to this shit.

"Good for you, sunshine," she murmurs, holding out a hand for a low-five. "Did Carver have to apologize to you too?"

He couldn't help but laugh softly at her reaction, though he did reach over to slap her five, shaking his head at the question that followed, "Nah, wasn't a serial problem for him like headbutting was for me. At least, I don't think so." Another rolling shrug, leaning back on his hands again, "I was maybe four, I don't really remember."

His brow creased then, blinking over at her, "Wait, do you remember stuff that happened when you were four? Is this just something I have a problem with but everyone else can actually do it?"

There's a split-second where Eddie's tempted to dart her hand away, but Chris is a jock and definitely faster than her, and also, she likes it when he touches her. Which sounds creepy even in her head, so she tries not to think about it, and then she's so busy not thinking about it that he's already slapped his palm against hers.

She shakes her head at him, chewing on her lower lip for a moment before giving a shrug of her own, not nearly as nonchalant as the one he gave her.

"I don't remember most of my childhood at all," she admits. "Bits and pieces, but most of it's blank."

The books she's read all say that's a by-product of abuse, so. That's fucking depressing as hell and not something she wants to get into with the boy she has a crush on while they sit bathed in warm afternoon sunshine.

"I'd definitely remember giving Carver a good what-for, though. So. Makes sense you do too."

He probably would have caught her fingers at least if she'd darted her hand away, but he was weirdly pleased that she didn't. Not that he knew she'd had the urge to, of course.

He did relax a little at the response, nodding, because his only remembering certain events of anything before about age ten was just the way things worked for everyone, and just that moment of doubt had been enough to rattle him more than he'd expected it to.

"I guess he just brings that out in people." He replied, smile inching into place again, "But, that's not what we're talking about right now, right? Headbutting aside, is that a character that will work?" A little head-shake, "Maybe not right away, still have to figure out how to get myself the extra time without flat-out lying, because I'm uh, not good at that."

Eddie could sense Chris settling beside her, like he'd been tense about something before she replied, and she pointedly stopped herself from thinking any more deeply into that. Her childhood was a complete shit show, the kind of thing you see on TV. It's a miracle she didn't descend into drugs — well, more so than she has already — or something worse. Chris thankfully didn't have to deal with that, but she knows enough about his mom to know that his life isn't all sunshine and rainbows, either. If his childhood was bad enough to affect him the same way hers did...

Nope. Not thinking about it.

She knocks her knee against his, shifting out of her sprawl temporarily to get close before sinking back into place.

"Trust me, I've worked with less." Leaning away from him to ash her cigarette, she gives him a curious look from underneath her bangs. "You're seriously interested? Like, you're not just humoring me because I'm a giant fucking nerd and this is all I talk about?"

He laughed, soft and warm, shaking his head, "It might be a little bit because you're a giant nerd and it's all you talk about, but it's because you make it sound interesting, and fun." He shrugged, "And it would be something new."

More than that it would be something he'd decided to do for himself, not something he'd picked from someone else's ideas of what he should be doing with his time, but he didn't fully realize that himself, and wouldn't have had the language to explain it even if he did realize.

A little head-shake followed, "And look, I know it'll probably take some time to convince the rest of them that I'm actually interested, I get that. I know I'll be working uphill for a little while, but I'm okay with that."

Chris has a nice laugh. Especially when he pairs it with a shake of his head like that, a smile curling his lips that Eddie might even classify as fond.

She flaps a hand at him dismissively when he admits it'll take a while for him to get up to speed. "We're due for a one-shot soon enough," she says, then realizes he might not know what that is. "It's a, uh, short little adventure that you can usually knock out in just one session. Maybe two, if things spiral out of control." Which they tend to do when she's involved.

"Then if you hate it and never want to do it again you don't have to make yourself suffer through multiple sessions to wrap things up."

He was still smiling, even as he shook his head again, "That would probably be good, because then nobody else has to suffer through me being there for more than a session or two." He shrugged, "I know your other friends don't like me much." It wasn't the same as the obvious dislike of Jason and the rest of the basketball team, but he knew that the fact that he was still friends with Jason put him on a lot of Eddie's friends' shit-lists.

"And hey, if it doesn't work out I'll just have to join the yearbook committee or something. At least I won't have to make excuses up for that one." His mom wouldn't encourage something like that, but she wouldn't be wholly against it the way she would be with Hellfire.

Eddie can't help herself from leaping forward to defend Chris...to himself. "Oh, that's not true," she protests, even though she can't quite keep the conviction in her voice steady for all four words. He's not wrong. Chris himself is kind of neutral, as far as jocks go, but he's notoriously close with the blow-hards that have tried to come forward to fill the gaps left by King Steve and Billy fucking Hargrove.

"They just don't know you," she settles on, which is only partially true. Not everyone in Hellfire is a senior, but enough of them are that they've absolutely had more than one class with Chris over the course of their academic career; they know him alright.

Eddie's still convinced all it'll take is a little time together and all her friends will be friends with each other and then they'll hold hands and sing Kumbaya or whatever.

"If it doesn't work out you can tutor me or something. Surely your mom won't complain about tutoring." Well, she would if she knew who he was tutoring, but that's a detail she doesn't have to know.

He arched a brow, but didn't argue, instead just asking: "How much revision is going to be needed before the guy is playable? Like, be honest." A pause, considering, brow creasing just a little as he did, "And how prepared should I be to make it so they'll be less cranky about me being there?"

He was willing to put in the work to make a good first impression, or, whatever number impression this was going to be, since 'first' had passed a long while back and he knew it.

A twitch of a smile followed, mellowing into an actual smile even as he replied, "And tutoring is an option, too. That's definitely less likely to be something she'll have a problem with, helping the less fortunate." It would absolutely blow up in their faces if she ever found out just who he was supposedly tutoring, but that was beside the point and unlikely to happen.

She does him the courtesy of actually thinking about her answer before giving it, looking him over but resisting the urge to pull out the sheet from her jacket pocket. At the moment, them just sitting together is fairly innocuous, but she doesn't want to give the jocks too much ammunition. She's used to them making her life difficult, but Chris doesn't need them to hassle him for talking to her.

"Maybe a little bit," she admits. "But we can work on that together. Like I said, I've made do with a lot less. As for making them less cranky... You could bring snacks, I guess?"

Beer would probably go over better with the 'big kids,' but a large portion of her club are freshmen now, and technically none of them are of legal drinking age, not even Eddie. Plus she can't imagine Chris getting his hands on beer, not without there being a party involved.

Chris was pretty sure there were only a couple guys on the team, maybe three or four tops, who would actually give him any trouble for it. Coach on the other hand probably would, and the news of who he was hanging out with would definitely get back to his mother, though it would at least be a day or two delayed, but even that would be too much.

He nodded at the answer, "I've usually got at least an hour while Jeremy's in the library, on the days he hasn't arranged to walk home with somebody else, I mean." A small smile emerged, "And snacks I can do." It would probably be chips, but if he made sure to clean up after himself and practiced his excuse that they were for an after-school get-together, he could probably wing a batch of cookies while he was at it. But he wasn't going to say as much since he wasn't sure he'd actually be able to manage.

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for @polemical - clandestine tavern meetings or something like it

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