"Hey, Red."

She wishes she were exaggerating when she says that her boy was a daydream. But he was - plain and simple.

Willow had seen Eddie in a multitude of looks: his casual everyday, his signature Friday attire for Hellfire, his looks that have become slowly more bundled up for the cooler months, his edgier attire for his shows at the Hideout. But she has never seen the look in front of her - Formal Eddie.

He hadn't been joking when he said he wanted them to dress up nicely that morning. Beneath his normal leather jacket, he's wearing a black button down she doesn't think she's ever seen in his possession, even hidden in the back of his closet. It's a little faded, a little wrinkled, and a little tight, leading her to believe it might be a little older than Eddie would ever admit to her. He's left the top two buttons open, and she can see his signature pick still resting against his collarbones, the swirling ink of his chest tattoos barely peeking out from behind the fabric. The shirt is tucked, messily so, into a nicer pair of slacks that Willow is sure aren't Eddie's - they look too baggy on him, and they're just short enough that she can see a glimpse of his ankles. She's willing to bet money that he had borrowed them from Wayne.

What really takes the poor girl back is his hair. They've discussed it before, the scenarios in which he would pull it back and out of the way. She's seen it thrown into messy ponytails and buns that barely held their shape a few times now, but it's clear that tonight was not one of the nights he had carelessly thrown the curls up; his hair was pulled into a more deliberate, a slightly tighter, low ponytail, and it almost looked as if he might have tried to comb it. A few flyaways still frame his face, and his bangs are still a mess to behold, but there's so much effort visible to her that she nearly breaks down.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," His teasing voice makes her eyes snap up to meet his, and she gasps when he produces a bouquet of flowers from behind his back, "These are for you."

Red roses with a plethora of baby's breath stuffed sporadically, wrapped up in clear cellophane.

"Eddie-" she starts, her words failing her as she doesn't move to take them at first, "I- Oh my God. Thank you. "

"I told you, sweetheart," he nudges the bouquet further in her direction, a shy smile on his lips, "I'm determined to do this right."

And right he has managed. More than right, really. He's completely taken her by surprise.

No one has ever bought her flowers before. Not even family. As a matter of fact, the last time she can remember anyone around her receiving flowers was from her childhood, a blurry image of her father surprising her mother with daisies making its way into her brain. But that was a rare occurrence, a habit that died even quicker than the dances in the kitchen on Sunday mornings. Really, Willow will be surprised if they even have a vase for these flowers.

She finally reaches out for the flowers and the cellophane crinkles against her palm as she holds them, looking down at them in awe, eyes glittering, "You know, you didn't have to actually get me flowers," she tries to be snarky, but her voice fails her, wavering with each syllable, "You could have just taken me to Denny's and made me split a milkshake with you, and I'd probably consider it the greatest first date ever."

"You wound me with your low standards," he dramatically reenacts stabbing at his chest, and she looks up in time to catch his face twisted in faux pain. She missed that. Terribly.

"Not low standards," she clarifies, "Just... I want you to know I don't need extravagance. All I need is you."

She turns and walks towards the kitchen before he can catch any of the tears building in her eyes, motioning for him to follow her into the living room. He does exactly that, toes nearly nipping at her heels as he shuts the door behind them.

"I know you don't need those things," he says from behind her as she crouches and begins to open a cabinet in search of a vase, "But you deserve them."

Her hand has just wrapped around the neck of a glass cylinder she's found miraculously when she has to pause, taking a deep breath. The romance of it all was nearly too much.

I really don't deserve him , she thinks softly to herself before she turns slowly, looking up at him before rising back to her full height.

"Thank you," she whispers, aware she'd already said it but needing him to hear those words again, "They're beautiful."

"You're beautiful."

She has to roll her eyes so he doesn't see the wildfire across her cheeks, "My God, you're cheesy."

She has no idea how to react to him like this, the filter of pretend now pulled away and leaving him to shower her with all the affection he's held in his chest for months now.

He has his hands clasped behind his back, rocking on his heels with a vibrant grin at her words. She carefully lays the flowers down on the counter, about to turn and fill the vase with water, when she hears him let out a low gasp of his own.

"What?" she questions, worried something might be wrong. He's stopped his shy demeanor, entire body slack as his eyes have begun to take in her outfit for the first time since he greeted her.

"That fucking skirt ," he nearly groans, throwing his head back dramatically, "Jesus, I thought you were just pulling my chain about still having it."

"Oh," she looks down at the fabric, smirking as she pinches the hem between her fingers and pulls a face of fake ignorance, "This little thing? What about it?"

"Fuck off," he deadpans. His head tilts back towards her, and he raises a threatening finger, "I'm being a gentleman tonight. Fuck right off."

In her defense, while the skirt was the riskiest part of her outfit, it wasn't that 'seductive' by her standards. She had on black tights beneath it as she knew the night would be cold, although she wasn't sure how well they would work considering how see-through they were once she pulled them on. She'd bundled up on her top half, a thick black sweater with a shirt underneath that was out of sight.

"I don't think a gentleman would speak to his date like that," she teases before finally turning and filling the vase. She wasn't too worried about cutting the stems yet, figuring she could do that once she got home. She takes her time peeling away the cellophane, and nearly laughs at the way the bouquet just barely fits into the vase. Not only is it too tall, but almost too thick.

"You're right," he sighs dramatically, walking up behind her and placing a hand on either side of the counter in front of her, caging her in from behind but not touching her, "I'll be a perfect gentleman, starting now ."

She spins around in his hovering embrace to face him, "Starting now?"

They're close enough that all it would take is him leaning down slighter closer, or her pressing up on her toes just barely, and they could kiss. The thought nearly chokes her, strangling her brain until she nearly does exactly that. She shifts her weight forward ever so slightly.

He stops her.

Right as her nose bumps his, her breath fanning over his mouth, he brings a gentle hand to her hip and pulls her back, "Yes. Starting now. Meaning no kisses. Not yet, at least."

She glowers up at him, "Seriously?"

"Seriously," he confirms as he raises his eyebrows at her, as if daring her to continue the argument.

"I'm willing to bet cold hard cash that you break before the night is over," she takes his daring glance in stride. Her attitude almost has him breaking already.

"How much?" he jokingly reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his wallet, waving it in her face, "Twenty? Fifty?"

" Twenty dollars ?" she scrunches up her nose, "Jesus, I didn't know I'd snagged myself a millionaire."

"Not a millionaire by any means, sweetheart. Just been saving up for this night for a while now," he scoffs, and she knows he wants them to brush past him admitting that he'd been saving up for them to have a proper date night, but she can't .

She's never had someone care this much. She's never had a boy beg to take her out to dinner, to insist on taking her out to fancy restaurants and to show her off. She's never had someone tell her she deserves to be spoiled in this way.

She's never had someone buy her flowers. And Eddie bought her flowers. He already had her heart, but that alone would have had her handing it over hopelessly.

They're still impossibly close, noses inches from each other, when he sighs, "We should get going. Before it gets too late."

She nods, and he's the one to put distance between them, taking a couple of blind steps back while she still lingers against the counter.

She almost feels bad now, but she does have one last secret weapon in her arsenal. After Eddie being so kind, keeping so firmly to his word of being a gentleman, it almost feels cruel to do what she's about to do.

That doesn't stop her.

"Okay, give me a second, I need to go grab my purse," she smiles innocently, and leans up to give him a peck on the cheek. It's not the secret weapon, but it works just as well, leaving him a stuttering mess in her kitchen as she departs down her hallway and into her room.

She wasn't lying to him - she did need to grab her purse. But she also grabs the tube of lipstick she had sat out on her desk before she heads over the long mirror mounted on the back of her door and begins to apply the finishing touch to her makeup.

The red lipstick she'd worn to the football game. The red lipstick that, as he had so lovingly put it, almost made him cream his pants .

Once the rouge is applied as neatly as she can manage, she decides to slip the lipstick into her bag in case she needs to reapply. Really, her hope is that the night will end with Eddie wearing more lipstick than she is. Gentleman or not.

"Alright," she announces herself as she bounds back into the living room. Eddie's back is turned on her as he's glancing over the shelves her mother has covered in sparse picture frames and abundant knick-knacks, "I'm ready."

"Awesome, let's get this show on th-" he breaks off his sentence as he turns slowly to face her, hand already held out in her direction. The boyish grin on his face melts away, and she fears his eyes might pop out of his head.

"You okay?" she questions with a small smile, reaching out and grabbing his hand before it can fall limply at his side, "We've got to get going, right? Before it gets too late."

"I hate you," he lies, chest heaving as he looks down at her. She watches the way his eyes are glued to her lips, "I hate you so much."

She starts to bite her lip, but his thumb comes up quickly to her chin and yanks the lip down by the skin beneath it, making her lips part effortlessly as she innocently stares up at him.

"Still going to be a gentleman?" she manages to murmur.

His hand doesn't let go of his chin, "Two can play at this game, you know that, right?"

"Then let the games begin, Munson."

She wonders if he can tell that her chest is fluttering as much as his might be once he drops his touch from her face, as he's dragging her out the door and down the driveway to his van. Once they get to the passenger side, he lets go of her hand and she's reaching out, opening the door for herself before suddenly one of his hands comes up and slam it back shut.

"Eddie! What was that for?" she turns to scold him, but he's looking down at her and shaking his head already.

"I'm being a gentleman . That means opening the door for you, dumb ass," he tuts at her, motioning for her to take a few steps out of the way before he dramatically reopens the passenger door for her and offers a hand as she stares at him dumbfoundedly.

She doesn't think she's ever heard someone call another person dumb ass with so much affection.

She takes his offered hand, curling her fingers around his warm palm as she steps up into the van. He stands outside the van, clearly waiting as she places her purse by her feet.

She gives him a strange look, "What?"

"Seatbelt."

"Are you sure you don't want to buckle me in?" she teases, but she's already reaching for it herself and buckling herself in.

He only huffs in response before he closes the door for her.

Once he's seated in the driver's seat beside her, keys in the ignition and preparing to back out, she leans over to place a hand on his bicep.

He nearly jumps out of his skin, similarly to that morning, before glancing at her, "Is everything okay?"

She struggles to keep her composure, feeling his muscles tense beneath her touch painfully, before she finally leans over and brushes his earlobe with her lips before whispering an echo of his own words, "Seatbelt."

She doesn't miss the shiver that runs down his spine.

He doesn't protest as he quickly yanks himself around and buckles in, finally looking at her with wild eyes expectantly once he's done what she asked of him, "Better?"

"Much," she finally removes her hand from his arm, leaning back in her own seat with a confident airiness.

She stares straight ahead with a smirk, but she can still see him shaking his head out of the corner of her eyes as he mutters to himself as if it's a reminder, " Gentleman . You're being a gentleman."

Oh , she's going to have fun tonight with her perfect gentleman .

---

"Enzo's?"

Willow can't help but gasp when he puts the van into park. She knew that the list of 'fancy' restaurants in Hawkins was short, but she hadn't expected Enzo's .

"Do you not like them?" Eddie looks at her, clearly worried.

"No! No, it's not that!" she shouts far too enthusiastically, "I mean, sorry, I... I've never been here before, actually."

She figures it would be obvious - she's never gotten flowers, she's never had anyone before Eddie ask to kiss her, and she's certainly never had a boy (or otherwise) take her to dinner at Enzo's.

"Never?" Eddie questions, a slow grin spreading, "Not even with, I don't know, your mom? Or maybe Harrington?"

Willow can't help but snort at the mention of Steve, "No, Steve Harrington never brought me to Enzo's. We were just friends , Eddie."

"And he was in love with you!" he's quick to point out, "Technically still is. Shit, if I was your friend for any longer I still would have figured out an excuse to bring you here."

"And I would have kicked your ass for spending so much money on me," she counters, leaning back in her seat and still looking up at the fancy entrance to the restaurant, "Actually, I still might. I told you I don't need-"

"Nope. Don't finish that sentence. I already told you, you deserve it," he doesn't leave any room for quip remarks or more arguing from her, climbing out of the van. She unbuckles and nearly reaches for her door, but the glare sent her way through the windshield by Eddie as he jogs around to her side has her leaving it alone.

In her quick second of alone time, she just smiles. She lets herself absorb it all - she's on a real, proper date with Eddie. And even if she's giving him a hard time about being a gentleman and going so extravagant for her, it's nice . It's nice to be cared for, it's nice to have a guy so determined to impress her when she's already putty in his hands.

She feels wanted. And, God, is it nice to feel wanted.

"M'lady," he dramatically bows as he opens her door, extending a hand for her just as he had when she got into the van. He seems composed, but she can feel the slight shaking in his wrist as she holds onto him to jump down.

He's nervous. Just as nervous as she is, if not more.

"Ever the gentleman," she remarks, and only sounds like she's half teasing him. She's already trying to come up with a hundred different ways to make this all up to him, trying to concoct her own grand gesture in her mind as he guides her up to the entrance. He lets go of her long enough to open this door for her as well, and she can barely sputter out a 'thank you' as she walks in.

She's about to turn and say something to him, but she realizes he's still holding the door open as an elderly couple walks in. He's nodding, shy grin and the image of politeness as both of the older people thank him. It's the first time she's seen an adult in Hawkins that doesn't properly know Eddie treat him with basic kindness.

"He's a keeper," the old woman remarks when she notices Willow waiting for Eddie, "A gentleman is a rare find these days."

The man, who she assumes is the woman's husband, comes up behind her and wraps a gentle arm around her, "That's right. We're rare finds, rarer than gold."

He winks in Willow's direction and she nervously smiles, mostly out of politeness. She hadn't realized Eddie was back at her side until he's settling his arm around her shoulders, mirroring the older couple as he leans down and presses a chaste kiss to her temple.

"Not as rare as such a beautiful, kind woman," he says as she settles into his side. She can feel her knees ready to buckle, wrapped up in his scent of cologne and the fleeting feeling of his lips ghosting against her skin. It burns where he kissed her, a beautiful warmth that travels to her cheeks. She wants to imprint the feeling to memory as she glances up at him, her smile no longer nervous but genuine .

"And he's a smooth talker!" the lady exclaims, nodding to Willow, "A dangerous combination. Still a keeper, like I said, though."

"He is," she sighs, still looking up at him in wonder before glancing at the couple, "A keeper, that is. Jury's still out on dangerous."

He pinches her arm playfully from where his hand rests on her opposite shoulder. She laughs under her breath, wrapping one of her free arms around his waist.

"You two can go before us," Eddie insists, and he doesn't have to repeat himself. The older gentleman steps forward after tipping his head in thanks to Eddie, and his wife follows. Once they're out of earshot, Eddie is leaning down to whisper to Willow, "Did you hear that? I'm a gentleman . A rare find."

"That's just because they haven't heard the mouth you have on you," she teases back, leaning in impossibly close, "Or the things it can do."

He stiffens, immediately catching on to her reference to their movie night all those moons ago. She hadn't forgotten, and clearly, he hadn't either, "Still playing at that game, Red?"

"Yes, very much so. I plan to win that bet, Munson," she pointedly squeezes his waist before she smiles sweetly, pouting her lips for emphasis.

"We didn't even bet any money on it."

"Don't care. My pride's on the line."

"Yeah, well, now mine is too. And I don't take kindly to losing."

"Then play the game," she flutters her lashes, "Make me break first."

He scoffs under his breath just as the hostess calls out for the next guest, being them. She loosens his grip on him as he walks up, keeping her tucked slightly beneath his arm even once she's no longer pressed into his side.

"Hello, how can we help you tonight?" the young girl asks kindly.