Chapter Text
"Holy shit, that was suffocating," Eddie mutters as he pulls Chrissy by the hand out of the bustling Hawkins High School gymnasium, passing a few people in cocktail attire making their way inside.
"It's not that bad!" she insists. "They're just curious."
"They're fake, is what they are."
Chrissy rolls her eyes as they walk down the empty hallway. "You can't blame them for being interested in you."
"Oh, pretty sure I can."
Corroded Coffin isn't exactly famous – no hits, still picking up odd jobs to pay the bills – but they're big enough for their old classmates to notice. Some articles in niche metal publications he doubts any of these people have ever read, a tiny blurb labeling them as "up-and-coming" in Spin, and, most importantly, they opened for Iron Butterfly on tour last year.
Word travels fast in small towns, and with Wayne blabbing his mouth to anyone who'll listen about what his boy has been up to, he and Chrissy were swarmed the second they walked into their 10-year reunion. As the only band member to show, people Eddie either never spoke to or who actively hated him as kids (even some of Carver's old cronies, what a trip) rushed up to him, eager to align themselves to the closest thing they have to a celebrity.
But they don't know jack shit about him, so he's spent the past half hour fielding comments about how he looks the same (thanks?), questions about what Iron Butterfly are like (fucking legends, but he could go a really, really long time without hearing Inna Gadda Da fucking Vida again), and vaguely patronizing surprise at the fact that he's still with Chrissy (fair – he doesn't know how he pulled that off, either).
She grins at him as she veers them into turning the corner down a darkened hallway. "Better get used to it, rockstar."
Eddie stumbles sideways into a bulletin board, clutching at his heart. "Baby, you can't be stroking my ego so recklessly. That shit's lethal."
Chrissy giggles and tugs on his hand. "C'mon then, hometown hero."
"That's not any better!" he argues. "Where are we going, anyway?"
"Homeroom," she responds, a little too casually.
"Right, of course," he nods. "But um, why?"
"Because it's too dark to go into the woods, and homeroom was the only other place we got to hang out at school." She stops in front of a closed classroom door and turns to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I wanna reminisce about you cheating off my tests in here."
Eddie chuckles and swipes a strand of hair away from her face. "Okay, first: I only cheated off you because you wanted me to, you corruptive little minx. Second: you know this wasn't our classroom, right?"
Chrissy frowns and looks at the number beside the door. "Yes it is! Room 114."
"Homeroom was in 141, princess."
Her mouth drops open, a cute little furrow between her brows. "What? Are you sure?"
He can't help himself and kisses the lines formed above her nose. "I know you actually went to all your classes, but having homeroom with you is the only reason I showed up to school on time that year. Never been so pumped to enter a classroom before or since, Miss Cunningham. Room 141 is etched into my heart."
She smiles. "I thought you said The Hobbit was etched into your heart?"
Eddie puts an arm around her waist and starts walking her farther down the hallway. "My heart is abnormally large, there's room for lots of important stuff. Wedding vows, D&D, how to make grilled cheese – it's all in there."
Her laugh rings out through the hall, and he thinks that may be carved into his soul, too.
Chrissy jiggles on the doorknob and sighs defeatedly. "It's locked."
"Well, worry not, fair maiden, for I have a key," Eddie declaims as he fishes into his pants for his wallet.
"Huh?"
He retrieves his Blockbuster card and waves it in the air with a shoulder shimmy. "VIP pass, baby."
She gawks, scandalized. "We can't!"
"Mm, we can though," he says as he begins sliding the card between the door and the frame. He looks back up and sees her chewing her cheek, glancing around with worry. "You did marry a criminal, Chrissy."
"You're not a criminal," she replies. Genuine. Sincere. So fucking sweet.
"You kidding? I'm bad to the bone."
"You're wearing Yogi Bear underwear."
"Yeah, and I'm breaking and entering. I'm multifaceted." Eddie bends the card slightly, and the latch pushes down. He turns the handle and the door swings open. "Aiders and abettors first, Boo Boo," he gestures smugly.
Chrissy gives him a squinty stink eye with only the faintest hint of mirth as she steps inside, flipping the light switch. Bright fluorescents flicker on, and they blink as their eyes adjust.
"Oh, wow," she murmurs as she scans the room. "It looks exactly the same."
"Yeah, that's Hawkins in a nutshell, isn't it?" He flicks at the corner of a worn poster of Lincoln. "Nothing ever changes." He walks over to the teacher's desk and picks up the name plate, scoffing as he reads it. "See? Mr. Rose hasn't even retired yet. Dude's gotta be pushing 70 by now."
He hears a gentle click and looks up to see Chrissy's back against the now-closed door. They lock eyes and something familiar in her face goes right to his dick. "Whatcha doin'?"
She gives a tiny shrug, adopting that air of indifference again as she begins walking through the rows of desks. "Do you think these are the same ones from the eighties?"
Okay. They can play whatever game this is.
"I mean, they look similar but I have no clue."
"Yeah, me neither." Chrissy smiles sheepishly as she drags a finger over the back of one of the built-in chairs. "I was kinda hoping to find mine with the little hearts I used to carve into it, but I probably won't."
"You got unfinished business with it?"
"Maybe," she replies with raised eyebrows. She walks to the back and sits atop a desk in the approximate space of where hers used to be. He follows her and plops himself on his respective one, right next to her. They sit in silence for a few moments, and then: "Remember the notes you used to pass me?"
Eddie barks out a laugh – he hasn't thought about that in years. His favorite thing to do in this room was write out filthy things he wanted to do to her, and then watch her face turn bright red as she read them. He was a real menace. "Sure do."
"I kept them all, you know."
"Wait, really?"
"I mean, I tore them up when I left that house, but I kept them the whole year. Had a shoebox in the back of my closet full of them." She's looking at him funny, like she's on the precipice of something. "I used to, um. Use 'em."
She's really gonna be the death of him.
"You never told me that." The room feels too warm.
Chrissy lets out a huffy breath of laughter. "I guess I was worried it was weird to like, obsess over them as much as I did? Especially when I couldn't even bring myself to write anything like that back to you."
Eddie gets up languidly and stands in front of her, bracketing his legs around her knees. "I mean, you made your feelings known in other ways." She giggles again, dropping her forehead against his chest. Such a shy little thing, after all these years. "Tell me what you'd do with my notes."
Her hands come up to play with the hem of his open blazer. "I, um. I sort of kept them organized in sandwich bags? By… activity. So I could read through the ones I was in the mood for."
Oh, this cute-as-shit pervert. "Okay, that's insanely hot, but not what I was asking."
She tugs lightly on his jacket, a tiny act of defiance. "I would touch myself."
"Uh-huh. Paint me a picture."
Chrissy sighs and he rubs a hand on her back. "I would lock my door and get out the box and pick a, um… a category, I guess –"
"Did you have a favorite?"
There's a long pause. "Yeah."
"Share with the class," he prods gently.
She tugs again, harder this time. "You – you wrote a lot about bending me over my desk."
Jesus. Unfinished business.
He takes a step back and tilts her chin up. Her cheeks are flushing pink, teeth digging into her lip. "Chrissy."
Her eyes flit to the door, then back to him. "Eddie."
"You didn't bring me here to reminisce."
He's actually impressed by how steady her gaze is. "Not exactly."
He nods, trying his best to seem unaffected, even as his cock strains against his jeans. "Good to know. Take your panties off."
Her lips curl up, in the sly way they always do when she gets what she wants. Chrissy stands and reaches under the skirt of her sundress. She gets her underwear off of her right ankle and is maneuvering it over her left stiletto when Eddie grabs her hips and spins her around, pressing her chest into the desk as she yelps.
He slams his pelvis against her rear and strangles a groan when she starts grinding against him. "Eddie, please," she whimpers.
He looks down as his fingers urgently fumble with his fly. He yanks his jeans to his knees and pulls his cock out of his boxers and – for a brief moment, it occurs to him how absurd it is that he's about to fuck the girl of his dreams in their old classroom, in front of Honest Abe, Yogi Bear, and anyone who might wander down this way. Life is so goddamn strange.
He flips her dress up as Chrissy wriggles in front of him. He delivers a sharp smack to her bare ass, watching it ripple as she keens and parts her legs.
Eddie slips the head of his cock up and down her folds with ease. "Jesus, baby, how are you already so messy?"
"I've been – been thinking about this a while."
"Yeah?" He reaches a hand around to rub her clit. "How long?"
She moans and cants her hips back against him. "Since we got the invitation."
He pauses as he's lining himself up with her. "That was six fucking months ago ."
Chrissy pushes back on him desperately, trying to get him inside. He presses his other hand down on her lower back and sinks into her, hissing at the warm pressure.
"I wanted it to be a surprise," she gasps, cheek against the desktop, writhing to get him to start moving in her.
And the thing is, Eddie believes her. She's the most considerate person he's ever met, and loves surprising him with shit, big and small, sexual and innocent. This is a very Chrissy thing to do.
It's just that wanting to feel like she's not the sweetest creature on the planet is also a very Chrissy thing to do.
"I didn't even want to come here, sweetheart. You whined and begged for an entire month for me to go to this thing with you." He punctuates this with a thrust into her that sends the desk scraping against the floor as it slides forward. He grits his teeth as she wails, withdrawing his hands and leaning over her to grab the edge of the desk to keep them in place, framing her with his body. "You brought me all the way here so you can get this cunt filled, and you want to pass it off as selfless?"
She shakes her head and wraps a small hand around his wrist, the other disappearing under her to take over on her clit as he sets a punishing pace. "That's not – oh my God – I wanted this for you."
Eddie lets himself beam at that, only because she can't see. He just really adores her. "Not buying it. Sometimes I fantasized about fucking you in class because I was bored. You're the one who stuffed your fingers in this tight little pussy for an entire year thinking about it."
Chrissy only moans in response, making soft hiccupping grunts as he fucks her.
"Bet you got that frilly pink bedspread all wet imagining getting ruined in front of everyone, didn't you?"
"Yeah," she mumbles deliriously. "Wanted you so bad."
"You had me, Chrissy. You just wanted more." He rolls his hips into her and she keens. "Never fucking satisfied, are you?"
"No," she whimpers, "I need you, need you all the time, fuck."
He can feel her tensing under him, and his ever-present urge to cause a little trouble rears its head. "You close?"
"Yes, yes, so close, please, I'm gonna –"
Eddie pulls out swiftly and hears her take a big gulp of air that exhales as a small sob. Chrissy twists and looks back at him with distraught, fucked-out confusion. "What are you – do you hear someone?"
"Nope," he replies, shaking hands betraying his cool as he tucks himself back into his boxers. "We should get back to the reunion you wanted to go to so bad."
The cute little furrow is back. "But I didn't finish."
He pats her bare ass sympathetically. "Aw, shucks. Should've thought about that before you lured me here under false pretenses."
"I didn't – you –" she sputters. Her mouth snaps shut as she blinks, comprehension sinking in. "You're so mean."
Eddie grins. "What'd I tell you? Bad to the bone."
Someone is projecting old photos onto the white wall of the gym as they reenter, walking past a short line to enter the raffle to win a meal for two at Enzo's.
"Chrissy!"
They turn to see a tall brunette waving them over from the line – a girl from the cheer squad. Sandy, he thinks. Or Mandy?
"Oh my gosh! Hey, Candy!" Close enough.
He ducks his head down to kiss the top of Chrissy's head. "Go catch up, I'm gonna grab a snack. Try not to think about your soaked panties burning a hole in my pocket, 'kay?" Eddie murmurs.
Her breath catches, but she nods and saunters off, stealing a look of desire back at him.
He finds his way past people he doesn't know greeting him, and loads a tiny plastic plate with various bite-sized foods. He sits at a small table in the corner, watching Chrissy as she converses with her old friend. He pops a pretzel in his mouth as she glances over at him and flushes. She's squirming, weight shifting and nostrils flaring, and from his vantage point it seems almost embarrassingly obvious what's going on in her head, but no one else seems to notice. Shame.
He sees her give Candy a quick hug before heading towards him, only to be intercepted by another classmate, and then another. She bounces slowly around the room from person to person, seeming to melt back into the role of popularity she hasn't had to care about since graduation. It's the way it should have been when they got here, he thinks. Eddie's a novelty to them now, but Chrissy's the timeless classic. Truly the people's princess.
After bidding farewell to the umpteenth loyal subject, she makes a beeline for him and he shoves his plate in front of her as she drops down in the seat next to him. She picks up a baby carrot and chomps into it. "I feel bad, but I have no idea what most of them said to me."
"Hm, gonna have to work on your listening skills."
She shoots cute little daggers at him as she chews, holding a dainty hand over her mouth. "I was a bit preoccupied, you know."
He leans in close. "Wanna be occupied?"
She laughs as she swallows, her nose crinkling. "Are you offering to occupy me? Gross."
"I was actually thinking you should occupy yourself. Be real sovereign about it."
Someone waves at her as they pass, and she flashes her Normal Chrissy smile as she returns the gesture, dropping it into something more sardonic – perpetually amused by his antics, despite herself – when she turns back to Eddie. "People are gonna think there's something seriously wrong with us if we keep leaving the gym."
"I wasn't even suggesting leaving the table."
The furrow makes an epic return, complete with the squinty eyes. "Are you messing with me, or do you actually want that?"
He takes her hand, kissing her knuckles. "Both."
Chrissy licks her lips and looks down at the white tablecloth, the hem an inch from the floor. She looks at the crowd, most on the dancefloor, grooving to a loud, vaguely familiar song. She looks behind them, at an empty table and then the wall littered with streamers and balloons. She looks at Eddie.
"Can you talk to me?" she asks, so quietly he almost can't hear.
He scoots his chair against hers, his body providing a bit of privacy, and drapes his arm around her shoulders to speak close to her ear. "Like, about the latest episode of Xena, or?"
She slides down in her seat, pulling the tablecloth over her lap. She sneaks a hand under, and her eyes flutter closed. "Tell me what you would think about me when you were alone. You didn't have any notes."
"You want to hear my dirty high schooler thoughts?"
Chrissy reaches up and squeezes his hand dangling off her shoulder and says, "I wanna hear all your thoughts." This woman makes it so damn hard to not melt into a sticky, sappy puddle on the linoleum.
"I mean, I would literally just think of your pretty face and cum all over myself."
"Oh," she replies breathlessly, the tablecloth above her forearm moving rather conspicuously. "Did you imagine it was all over my face?"
And honestly – a decent chunk of the time, no. She's just too lovely and Eddie’s just too crazy about her for him to have time to get very creative before his dick runneth over.
But – "Only 'cause it's what my girl deserves."
She swallows a moan, low in her throat. "More, please."
"So polite," Eddie ribs, and he swears the tablecloth moves faster. "Hmm. You remember the first time I got you off?"
Her face scrunches up, almost embarrassed. "Uh-huh."
"The amount of cum I spilled because of that moment is honestly insane."
Chrissy gasps softly and he can't tell if it's in surprise or pleasure. Both, maybe. "Yeah?"
"Thought about it all the time, princess. How you couldn't stop staring at me while my fingers were inside you, like you couldn't believe it. The way you sounded when you covered my hand…" She lets out a small whine, her head tilting back. "And how I licked it all up and you went red as a rose. And God, once I got a taste, I was so fucking obsessed. I'm sure you noticed."
A smile carves at her face. "I did."
"Never been so hydrated before you," he teases, and she briefly turns her head to hide her face in his neck.
"Shut up," Chrissy mumbles. "Keep going," she contradicts.
And he would, if not for spotting Byers approaching out of the corner of his eye. He feels her body stiffening against him when she notices, too.
"Hey." Jonathan looks over his shoulder briefly. "You got a lighter on you? Think I lost mine." Eddie raises his brow at him, and he sighs exasperatedly. "I know, I know, I'm in the middle of quitting, it's just –"
"Emphasis on the middle part?" Eddie asks as he retrieves the BIC from his blazer pocket and hands it over.
"Yeah, and being back here doesn't help." Jonathan glances at Chrissy and gives her a smile, which quickly falters. "You okay? You're looking pretty flushed."
She nods urgently. "Yes, yeah, no! I'm just – feeling warm. Think I've had too much to drink."
He smiles understandingly. "Man, I've been there. Can't sling 'em back like we used to, right?"
"Right." She looks down and laughs shyly as Eddie rubs her shoulder.
"Well, thanks for the loan," Jonathan says, giving a small salute as he leaves.
"No problem," Eddie replies, lowering his voice as he turns back to speak into Chrissy's ear. "Did you stop fingering that little pussy?"
She lets out a short breath. "Yes."
"And why was that?"
"Because," she says indignantly, turning slightly to face him, "'cause he was right there."
Eddie knows she would die of mortification if any of the people in their lives ever knew the kind of shit they get up to when no one's looking. But as far as he's gathered, that's kind of why it thrills her so much to do it.
"Pity, I'd have let you cum if you did it in front of him."
The softest little whimper escapes her and she shifts in her seat in a way that he knows means her thighs are squeezed together, as though it's dangerous to have them open right now.
"You'd have to be loud, though, you know how I feel about you being quiet." Chrissy's panting against his cheek, hot and desperate. "Of course, then the class of '86 would finally find out what a good little slut you are."
"Eddie…"
He pulls away and looks around the room before turning back to her. "It really is sad that all these people love you, but they don't actually know you." He nods his head towards Jason, who is standing across the room and has been refusing to acknowledge their presence. "Seems unfair to them."
"They don't know you either."
He chuckles. "So why are we here, again?"
Her nostrils flare as she takes a moment, thinking it over. "To be ourselves somewhere we couldn't back then," she concludes.
"I'm pretty sure we've been ourselves on school property before, Chrissy."
She smirks up at him, batting her eyelashes. "But have we been ourselves to our full potential?"
"It is so, so cute when you try to bullshit me."
Her smile widens, proud. "I'm just practicing my husband's native language."
And there it is: another table in Hawkins High that Eddie wants to bend her over.
After she demolishes a niche game of trivia about life at Hawkins High in the '80s (though Eddie did help with one question about fucking O'Donnell, of all people), and he twirls her around to a reprehensible number of pop songs, and they take cheesy recreations of their prom photos – Chrissy is officially wiped. She leans on him as they have awkwardly polite conversation with some of her old friends, shifting on her feet and stifling yawns.
During a lull in the chatter, he cranes his neck down to where her head rests on his arm. "You wanna get outta here?"
She nods, straightening up to embark on her farewell tour – a mercifully quick affair as they make their way to the gymnasium doors.
Once they're in the hallway, Chrissy spins, grabbing the collar of his blazer and pulling him into a kiss. Unexpected, but not unwelcome. She crowds into him, this tiny little thing imposing on his space to back him against the wall, and before he knows it, her thigh is hitched up in one hand, his other on her ass and dangerously close to slipping under her dress.
She pulls away after a small, impish bite to the tip of his tongue. "Thanks for coming with me tonight."
Eddie shrugs. "I'm like a dog with separation anxiety, can't have my owner leaving me alone for too long."
She grins disbelievingly. "So I own you?"
"Oh, hundred percent. Body and soul. It's really out of hand, you know."
She lowers her leg and pops up to peck his nose. "I love you," she says while she walks away – not towards the exit, but in the direction of their old classroom.
He stays in place as he watches her. "Thought you were tired?"
Chrissy simply looks back at him and crooks her finger, beckoning – as though he wouldn't follow her to the ends of the earth. So, of course, Eddie pushes off the wall and jogs after her.
He distantly wonders if this actually is how dogs feel: this desperate devotion and all-consuming love that seems like it must ooze out of his pores even when he tries to be cool about it. It's just that he's never met anyone else so worthy of it.
She turns back to him in front of the still-unlocked door to homeroom. "I really am tired, for the record."
"Uh-huh."
"I am!" she says, even as she turns the handle behind her and pushes the door open with her back, switching the light on.
"Uh-huh," Eddie repeats, grabbing her waist and backing her up into the room as he kisses her temple. "You just want to take a nap in here, right?"
He kicks the door closed behind him, and the second it thuds against the frame Chrissy is on him, mouthing desperately at his jaw and pulling ineffectively at his clothes as he steers her to Mr. Rose's desk. He grabs her ass and lifts her on top, and if he wasn't already going to sit in the teacher's chair, her pushing down on his shoulders makes it a done deal. He hears the clacking of her heels being kicked off onto the floor, and he licks the side of her knee as she places her feet on the armrests.
He tugs her dress up, and gets his first real view of her this evening.
"Fuck, baby." Her clit is swollen red, her entire cunt puffy and dripping. She's beautiful.
Her hands are already in his hair, trying to get him down. "Eddie, c'mon, please, I've been good…"
"I know, I got you," he murmurs. Chrissy smiles gratefully as he lowers his head, her hands tightening their hold the closer his face gets.
Her body jerks as he begins laving at her slit, licking up her tangy juices as he hears her whine quietly above him. "Thank you, thank you," she whispers. "I love you so much, Eddie, need this so bad."
He breaks away with a smacking pop! and looks up at her contorted face. "Let me hear how pretty you sound."
"Okay," Chrissy says dreamily, not seeming to realize how hushed she still is.
"Louder," he insists, before flicking his tongue at her clit.
"Okay!" she laughs, a sweet, high-pitched melody. A moan quickly follows, tentative yet dutiful in volume.
He hums his approval into her skin, lapping her up until one of her legs leaves its armrest to anchor itself over his shoulder. Eddie blindly pushes it away, lifting just enough to speak. "Stay still."
He hears a grumpy little whine in response, too precious to not cherish her for. But she keeps her legs as still as she can, and he doesn't demerit her yet for grinding her slick pussy against his face as the fist in his hair tightens. He breathes her in, overwhelmed with Chrissy, Chrissy, Chrissy. Intoxicating as always.
He tries to follow her movements to latch onto her clit, but she's too wild – such a treat when she's feral like this. He clamps his hands over her hips and holds them down. "I said don't fucking move," and of course her knees tilt inwards, quivering with untapped energy. He sighs, like the enthusiasm is really inconveniencing him, and presses her down with his entire arms draped over her upper legs. She wiggles still, but he finally gets to suck on her the way he wants.
She ramps up at this, fully not giving a shit if anyone hears. "Oh God, fuck, yeah, right there," Chrissy moans, her legs fighting to close around his head as he presses them apart. He can feel goosebumps on the back of her trembling thighs, and he pauses to lick at them. "No," she cries, "don't stop, please don't stop."
And the thing is – he wasn't going to.
But Eddie backs off and slides his finger into her warm cunt, feels her clenching down, hips lifting to try to get herself fucked, and he just… doesn't move.
She looks down at him, cute as hell when she's peeved. "What are you doing?"
He licks his lips and curls his finger as he withdraws it, eliciting a small gasp. "I was just thinking how you always get what you want."
Her jaw drops. "Huh?"
"I mean, I spoil you, don't I?"
She gives him a bewildered smile. "You do…"
"Tonight has me wondering if I spoil you a bit too much, is all."
Chrissy looks like she's torn between arguing and bursting into laughter. She knows damn well there's no such thing as too much in his mind.
He trails his wet finger along her inner thigh as he continues, pretending not to revel in how she squirms. "It doesn't seem very fair to me that you just expect me to go along with all your weird fantasies. Kinda self-absorbed, you know?"
Her chest is rising and falling as though he's still eating her pussy, and she looks like she wants to take a bite out of him. "I can't help it."
"I dunno, I think if you were spoiled less it might force you to consider the needs of others."
Eddie can see it on her face, that she knows what he's saying, and that she's gonna ask him anyway. "What – what do you need?"
"I need you to trust me. Do you?"
"More than anything."
("I don't really think you could do anything to me that I wouldn't want," she'd confessed into the darkness of their bedroom, a week before the wedding.
"There's definitely stuff I could do," he countered, just for the sake of it.
"No," Chrissy replied confidently. "If you want to do something to me then you'll know I'll like it. You wouldn't want it otherwise."
He let the words sit with him for a few seconds. She wasn't wrong, but – "Awfully trusting of you."
Her hand found his and squeezed. "I mean, you eat my olives."
Eddie laughed, squinting in her direction to try to see her face. "What?"
"You pick olives off my plate at restaurants and you eat them even though you don't like them either, just 'cause you know I feel bad about wasting food," she said, almost a whisper. "Like, unwaveringly, like it's the most obvious thing in the world to do. It sounds so stupid to say out loud, but no one's ever cared about me like that before. I just… of course I trust you, Eddie. You eat my olives.")
He presses a tender kiss to her knee. "You're not gonna cum tonight."
She eyes him warily. "Like, at the reunion?"
"Like, this calendar day."
Chrissy looks over at the clock above the door that reads 10:21. "Oh, okay, that's not so bad."
"I didn't say you'd be getting off when the clock strikes midnight, Cinderella."
She slumps back, her ears sinking to her shoulders. "Then when?" she pouts.
"Haven't decided yet."
"When will you decide?"
Eddie shrugs, leaning back in the chair. He wipes his face on his sleeve and puts on the meanest smirk he can muster. "Haven't decided that, either."