Curate, connect, and discover
zccming·:
.
“okay…” max began her amendment with plenty of attitude, “don’t blow up my shithole trailer.” satisfied with her new answer, she added, “please.” and flashed a sarcastic smile. she glanced to his hands, wondering if he’d scathed them. though she figured, if it was really that bad, he’d probably say so.
with the weight of eddie out of the kitchen, max finished up her cleaning. although she was irritated she had to do it in the first place, she forced herself to stop and be appreciative. eddie was only here in hawkins for so long, and they were having their substitute family dinner. no time for grouchiness. it wasn’t lost on her that he didn’t have to come back and visit, but she was always grateful he did. while their experiences in hawkins were vastly different at points, she still felt like he understood her. he understood the feeling of being alienated (more intensely than most at that), and generally speaking, he understood, by some miracle, what max always needed.
she stopped, glancing to eddie from the kitchen. she never did stuff like this with billy. their routine when they were alone typically consisted of billy rushing to dump her off his hands at the first chance he got, usually scaring her with harsh words or reckless driving in the process. eddie, on the other hand, was sat on her couch, making up for his mess in the kitchen by finding them a decent show to watch. despite the fact she ordered him to, max was sitting in the feeling of gratitude.
if they were here together and the most pressing matters in hawkins were the unsolved mysteries that robert stack narrated on her television, she couldn’t be all that annoyed. in fact, she’d go as far to say she was happy.
now both were nestled with their plates, that happiness quickly became muddled by her momentary aggravation, “i didn’t think you could either, but this is nasty.” she told him, lips pursed. max watched as eddie took a bite and she maintained an unwavering expression of i told you so. “you really shouldn’t need a recipe to make pasta, you know. that’s like…baby stuff.” she then rose from the couch, “pay attention to the tv you’re going to have to fill me in!” max made it clear she was invested in the program.
it really wasn’t a huge deal. it took all of fifteen minutes and a very oblivious restaurant employee to get their food ordered. when she wrapped up with that, she grabbed them each a beer from the fridge, and for hopefully the final time for a while, max plopped down beside eddie. sighing, she informed, “here.” she handed him his beer, “give the food like an hour. hope you’re not hungry.” her eyes flicked to the screen for a moment as she took a sip of beer, then asked, “what’s this one about? is it a real mystery or another case of the incompetent coppers?”
+++
“ ‘baby stuff’ ?”, he echoed with feigned outrage. “max, i nearly lost a finger in there. cuttion onions and shit is like, hard.” with a proud grin, however, eddie leaned back, folded his arms behind his head. “but i didn’t even cry. ‘cause i’m hardcore. if this is such ‘baby stuff’ then why don’t you do it yourself, smartass?”
well, it was eddie who’d wanted to do something nice and thoughtful for the both of them. and as disappointed and frustrated as he was with himself that he couldn’t even cook a simply pasta dish, he was equally happy and glad that they could joke about it now so easily.
eddie had grown up alone, his uncle cared about him, of course, more than his parents ever had, but he’d been working his ass off to keep a roof over their head so eddie had grown up alone. lonely, sometimes, too. but looking over at max bitching about his cooking, mumbling to herself incoherently, jumping up to go order delivery. eddie sometimes wondered if, in another life, he’d been destined to be a big brother, growing up in a household filled with laughter and chatter and not a moment’s peace.
this, however, this was nice, too. he’d gladly do it all over again if it meant he got to end up watching unsolved mysteries with max in her trailer, feeling a sense of belonging he didn’t even feel with wayne. eddie smiled fondly, took the beer from her and craked it open. “fuck, you’re an angel, maxine. thanks, man,” he muttered, eagerly took a sip.
“not sure yet. it’s called ‘sons of sam’. looks pretty incompetent copper-y so far, but you never know.”