#desiderium eddiessluttywaist

[eddiessluttywaist]

desiderium

an eddie munson series

AGELESS/BLANK/UNDER 18 BLOGS ARE NOT WELCOME TO INTERACT. PLEASE RESPECT MY RULES AND BOUNDARIES.

summary: eddie’s odd, forgotten childhood friend seeks him out when he needs her more than he realizes.

pairing: bsf!mechanic!bartender!eddie x eccentric!bsf!fem!reader

word count: 6,118 words

content/warnings: eventual smut so MDNI, angst, fluff, swearing, loneliness, family issues, feeling unwanted, mentions of bullying, low self esteem, anxiety, mentions of inappropriate and abusive relationships from reader’s past (nothing detailed), mentions of relationships with an inappropriate age gap (adult men dating reader when she was still a teenager—nothing detailed), brief mentions of imprisonment, crying. i think that’s it!

a/n: sorry to say not all updates will be this quick 🫠 this is only ready now because i had already written a good chunk of it when i wrote part one. creds to whoever owns and posted those ^ photos! they’re not mine, i just made the collage!

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5

*

“How’d it go?” Martha pulled herself up to get a better look at you, hands on the inner edge of the service desk.

She probably thought with how much time had passed, that things went well. That you spent time with Eddie while he worked, talking when he wasn’t too focused on something else. Maybe you went out to eat and caught up—surely that was why you were returning now when you had left to see him around late morning. It definitely wasn’t because you drove off after he snapped at you and didn’t even give you a chance to defend yourself. A prank? Why would it have been a prank?

It certainly hadn’t been so long because you couldn’t stand the idea of facing her with tears in your eyes and a waver to your voice. Surely, you hadn’t been crying and chastising yourself in your car in some random parking lot until you felt you could be seen in the outside world again. There was no way you were showing up now because when you were on your way to get more greasy food, your car sputtered to a halt because you’re an idiot who had the engine running the entire time you were in that parking lot.

She imagined your afternoon spent with Eddie—not a few strangers who helped you push your car to the nearest gas station (which was thankfully rather close, your only bout of luck thus far). You didn’t need to stop to cry a second time in one day (this time with the car off) just so you could get it out of your system before going into the market on your way back. And by that point it wasn’t even about Eddie. Okay, maybe a little bit, but mostly just because you were so overwhelmed by how everything was going wrong.

She was sure during all that time that you had successfully reunited with your long lost friend. But then as you trudged over, you pointed to your temple.

“Always better up here, right?” you murmured, voice tired and your eyes still somewhat raw.

“Oh, dear…,” she sighed, reaching to pat your hands that were now settled on the ledge where guests were greeted.

“I don’t… I don’t really want to talk about it…,” you admit, and she gives your hands a small squeeze. She can’t help but notice the scent of salt and grease—you definitely had a bag with cheeseburgers and fries waiting for you, probably settled on the floor beside your feet so you weren’t leaving oily stains on her countertop.

Maybe it was ridiculous to be so upset. Stupid emotions. Stupid, stupid emotions that you should be able to control by now. Maybe it was because you let yourself get caught up in your hopes more than you thought and now you were left not just disappointed, but humiliated too.

“Oh, I got you this,” you continue after what you hoped was a forgettable dab to the corner of your eye with the knuckle of your right thumb. You pull your purse to the side to grab a small brown paper bag—one that didn’t have stains collecting on the bottom. “They didn’t have tuna, but I know you said you like turkey better than ham so…”

“You don’t need to keep bringing me food,” she reassured you with a sweet smile, as if it didn’t make her day whenever you did. She wasn’t used to such a kind young girl being around—someone who thought to get her something to eat or listened to her stories with all the respect and attentiveness that makes a person feel like they matter.

“It’s rude to show up with food for myself and not for you,” you argued gently while offering her a weak, closed mouth smile.

“You still don’t have to, though… Why don’t you go lie down, hm?” Martha patted at your hands again before sinking back into her seat. “Rest up a little. I’m here if you need to talk.”

*

As you laid alone in your bed that night with your hair still partially damp after a shower—memories of your childhood flooded in. You hated feeling so utterly lonely and rejected. It only made you think of growing up which always made you feel worse. It reminded you of being all by yourself at ages where you really should’ve had your parents around, or at least a babysitter.

They hadn’t been ready to have a kid, not really. The couple had been all wrapped up in the romanticism and fantasy of starting a family, and didn’t listen when other parents shared stories to hint at the fact that it’s not that easy. You wondered if that’s when they started to hate you. When you cried all night when they wanted to sleep or go bar hopping with friends. When you’d spit up on them; or suddenly have a shift in your sleeping habits just when they thought they had a grasp on them; or when you constantly grew out of those clothes they swore they just bought. You were a waste of time and money. They looked forward to you growing up more than anything so they could leave you in the house and eventually kick you out of it.

Once you were old enough to make a sandwich or pour a bowl of cereal on your own, they abandoned you as much as possible. Sure, you could handle a peanut butter and jelly or a bowl of Cheerios—that didn’t mean you felt secure in the house all by yourself. At first you would leave all the lights on to give yourself some semblance of security, but then they yelled at you over an electric bill you didn’t understand. Then you’d have “accidents” just so they’d come home—whether that was slicing your finger while trying to cut your sandwich or because you fell or something else you thought of. You found comfort in them being around even if they were pissed at you for being the reason they had to come back early. Then they stopped coming home when you called them crying. Instead, they reassured you that you were old enough to clean your finger and put on a bandaid; or that the fall wasn’t that bad if you could get up and go to the phone in the kitchen. So that ended up being a lost cause.

The habit that stuck the longest was from that little magic 8 ball you got one birthday from an aunt you never saw. It actually listened to you and gave you the reassurance and guidance you needed. When you were scared of the dark, you’d whisper “Do monsters exist?” and it told you no. When you thought you heard someone in the house just because it was settling, you’d ask it if someone broke in and it helped ease your racing heart with the same reply. Besides Eddie, it was your only companion. That stupid hunk of plastic.

Hot tears that you assumed were all spent earlier today stream down from your eyes and into your hair as your train of thought turns to one memory in particular. That night you shook the child’s toy with all your might as you asked it if your parents loved you. This time the familiar phrase scratched into that floating blue triangle wasn’t so comforting.

It was a flash. A blurry replay from the back of your mind, but it still hit you hard. You wipe at your wet cheeks with the feverish haste of someone who was crying in front of a stranger. No one was in the room with you, but you still hated the way it felt. You should’ve never let any of those tears fall today—that’s what made them real. That’s what cemented how miserable you really were.

“Just look up at the sky and blink if you don’t want to.” Eddie had said as he sat next to you on the pavement.

He had been teaching you how to skate and you fell off of his board, leaving your knees and palms all scraped up and bloody. You wanted to cry, but you hated crying. It made you feel like a dumb kid. Mom and dad hate dumb, crybaby kids. You should be able to control your emotions better than this by now.

“If they don’t slip out then they’re not real. They never happened, I promise.” The boy lisped around the gap in his teeth. He had lost his last baby tooth earlier that week. He was all grown up, you guessed.

“But what about when I can’t keep them in?” You whimpered, unsure if you’d be able to blink them back the way he suggested. The boy toyed with a piece of gravel between his fingers and shrugged lazily.

“I dunno. Just wipe ‘em away, I guess. I don’t have any tissues, but you can use my sleeve if you wanna.”

He pulled his long sleeve down until it was over his hand and offered his covered fist to you.

You huffed out a broken laugh at the memory and pulled your own sleeve down to continue wiping at your face. God, you missed him. He was your first best friend, and honestly your last. You had never felt that close with anyone else, and sure it was dumb because you were only kids but it still meant a lot to you. He was who you went to when you didn’t want to stay in an empty house, and even though most parents would throw a fit over a girl and a boy having sleepovers—yours couldn’t care less. At least someone else was in charge of you, even if it was Eddie’s dad who they thought was shit for reasons you didn’t understand.

He was a kind of intimidating looking character and sometimes he insisted you two stay at the local park until he came to get you when he had some friends on their way over (which you realized the implications of later), but he was a nice dad. You were around so often that he’d call you “kiddo” and ruffle your hair the way he did with Eddie’s buzzed scalp—which was more grabbing the fuzzy top of his head and nudging him around playfully than really ruffling hair. He knew you didn’t like crust on your sandwiches. He knew you liked strawberry milk more than chocolate milk, which Eddie appreciated cause it meant more chocolate Yoo-hoo for him. His dad was relatively busy and a little intense, but you liked him and you liked staying over.

Even at 24, you missed blanket forts. You missed making up stories under all the blankets and sheets as you held flashlights under your faces. You missed “camping” in the backyard. You missed wrestling. You missed watching tv until the American flag was fluttering and the national anthem played until the screen faded to black. You missed the anticipation of trying to see who was faster at turning off the tv before the screen flipped to those streaks of color and let out that god awful noise. You took turns to see who could get the closest to right when it was about to switch but before that noise could sound. You had the best score before he left.

You smiled lightly now as you settled into the bed, face still warm from all your distress of the day. Despite Eddie being part of why you had been crying in the first place, you still turned to memories of him to calm yourself down. You thought about when you were sure he’d be your first kiss—a decision you had made unfortunately a few weeks before he left. This was the kind of childish memory that made you roll your eyes, but deep down it actually made life simpler and sweeter so you still cozied up to it whenever you remembered. Reminiscing about when those kinds of things were new and exciting—without the burden of knowing all the mess that eventually comes with endearment—soothed you.

At the time, you were steadily approaching adolescence and starting to pay attention to romance novels and tv programs. It made having a boy as your best friend suddenly feel different in your stupid little prepubescent brain. The same shit he always did started to make you go shy and blush, and he’d nudge you and call you a “fuckin’ dork”. He was still in his “girls are gross” phase whereas you were already forming crushes. You developed crushes just about every day by the time you were in fifth grade, but you liked your best friend the most.

It’s funny actually—or maybe just sad—but you still had a habit of constantly forming crushes. The thought of being desired by someone thrilled you, but that love for attention put you in shitty situations sometimes. No one even liked you until you were maturing in a way that felt so much sooner and so much faster than the other girls by grade 6. Maybe that should’ve been the tell that the sudden interest in you was hollow, but it made you feel special. You kinda liked knowing boys fixated on you even if they were mimicking lewd comments they overheard their older brothers say or wrote about you in the boy’s bathroom—no matter how much you hated yourself for secretly basking in all of the attention.

It wasn’t always dumb boys in middle school, though, even if it would’ve been nice for things to be that basic forever. Eventually it was guys who were too old for you when you were in your late teens. The types who’d say shit like “That’s what you gotta love about high school girls. You get older, and they stay the same age,” and made you feel like you were grown and capable—when it benefited them, of course.

The nights you regretted getting wrapped up in the excitement of an older man or someone you had never met before at a bar or someone who had a bad habit of punching holes into walls awfully close to where your head was against the plaster—you thought about Eddie. You wondered if he grew up to be as awful as all the other boys you knew. If he turned into a creep or if he was the same, sweet boy who—sure, would hold you down and pretend he was gonna spit on you—but had also been taught to hold the door open for you or gave you a flower on your birthday or held your hands when he taught you to skate, promising that he wouldn’t let you fall. Well, except for when you insisted you were ready to do it by yourself. Then he said “Okay, but if you fall on your ass then you don’t get to yell at me.” And you didn’t yell, but he gave you his sleeve if you needed to cry.

There were parents who disappointed. Extended family you rarely heard from. Friends that came and went. Boyfriends who broke your heart, but best friends were forever in your mind. Wasn’t that why you made those bracelets and spit into your palms before shaking on the decision that you were always going to be there for each other?

*

Eddie’s shift dragged along after that strange young woman showed up. He knew his reputation. He knew that he was the butt of most jokes. He knew he was the town freak even when he had finally graduated and was trying to be a responsible adult. There would always be a few who remained unrelenting in their efforts to make him miserable, or at least that’s how it felt. And it wasn’t like you were someone he recognized as guilty for his constant harassment, but it wouldn’t be the first time some local asshole’s cousin or friend came to visit and was put up to the task of making him feel liked just for it to be some cruel punchline. He was tired of the jokes and the pranks and the muttered comments as people watched his every move. He needed to stay one step ahead or he’d be dealing with it forever. Why else would you pull him away from the back just to talk to him? He didn’t even know you. The frustration burned at him through most of his shift, which he took out on all the exertion he had to put into fixing that crappy Ford Ranch Wagon. He prayed that he would finally sleep tonight, the thought of a hot shower and an old bed waiting for him steadily bringing his mood back up.

Eddie sighed happily when it was time to clock out, holding the door open for Linda on her way out so she could lock up for the two of them.

“Night, Lin,” he sighed with a small smile that spoke of apologies for his constant grouchiness, and parted from her to head to his van.

“Oh, wait!” she suddenly called out, making him raise his brows and twist on his heels. He watched her make her way over to him all while holding something out for him.

“This was left for you by that odd girl who came by.”

At the mention of you, he scowled a little—certain it was a continuation of some joke, until he felt the plastic beads strung together on some string.

“Uh… thanks.”

“She looked real upset. All teary-eyed. Did you break up with that poor girl?”

“What?” Eddie’s head snapped up to eye her incredulously. “I—No! I don’t even recognize her. I don’t think we’ve even met before.”

Lin eyed him suspiciously before letting out a small hum. Men, she thought, although Eddie had always been a good kid, in her opinion—no matter what others said.

“Really, I swear.”

“Okay, hon… well go get some rest, alright?”

He hoped the same for her, and walked back to his car once she was safe in her vehicle and driving off. Eddie clambered into his old van and carelessly punched the button that turned on the light above his head. The bracelet in his hand was small and crowded with an odd assortment of different shaped and colored beads except for seven of the nearly identical beads that were lined up in the center. At both ends there were knots in the thick string to keep the beads from slipping off and had tails left on either side so you could tie and untie the bracelet whenever. Not that you two ever did untie them. The only time you took yours off was when you went swimming at the community pool and were scared you were going to lose it—and that didn’t count. You both promised it didn’t count cause you were just avoiding disaster.

He held it up to get a better look and read the lettering on those seven beads.

C-R-I-T-T-E-R

Critter. Eddie’s brows furrowed together and confusion was only welcome for half a second—maybe even less—before a pang of familiarity punched him in the gut.

“You’re doing it wrong!”

“How can I be doing it wrong? Will you screw off?”

“Eddie, you have to make a pretty pattern of colors, not just random mish-mash. See?”

You held up the bracelet you were working on for him with a pattern of his favorite colors: red bead, blue bead, black bead, red bead… and so on. His was just whatever bead he grabbed that he thought looked cool since you had so many to choose from. There were bulky wooden ones; those tiny little rainbow ones your mom let you have when her long necklace full of them broke (she didn’t want to clean them up so she promised you could keep them if you did); sunburst ones; chunky square ones that had letters and numbers on them; tribeads that were half in and half out of that thin plastic Beadery bag in your collection; and those dumb pop beads that he couldn’t even put on the string but of course kept picking up by accident.

“Screw off,” He insisted a second time and you rolled your eyes before continuing with your craft.

For all the shit you gave him, you loved the bracelet. Once it was done and he gave it to you, it was officially the most beautiful piece of jewelry you owned. You had insisted you two trade the bracelets like you heard the other girls in your grade talk about. You had to make them for each other rather than make your own and you had to tie them around the other’s wrist while they closed their eyes and made a wish.

Some of the boys in school gave him shit for it, calling him names for wearing jewelry he got from the girl in the grade below them. He didn’t care though. After all, Eddie wasn’t one to change himself for the sake of fitting in and he loved his bracelet.

He laughed a bit in disbelief now as he looked down at the bracelet he made for you back in 1975. You remembered him? God, he hadn’t thought of you in forever. Not to be an ass, but because it got too painful.

Among all of the stress that night his dad was arrested, he had been so overwhelmed that he completely shutdown. He was quiet and his expression was numb as he answered questions and packed his things. He was apprehensive and apathetic when he was brought to his uncle he rarely saw, but he didn’t cry. And he never told anyone this, but he never cried until a random thought of not seeing his best friend anymore suddenly set him off while he was trying to sleep. That was what made him realize the reality of everything that occurred. He didn’t have his home anymore. He didn’t have his dad. He didn’t have anything other than a new guardian and a trailer with one bedroom that Wayne had to pull all of his stuff out of so Eddie could have it. And he didn’t have you.

He brought you up a few times, but eventually stopped when he realized how stressed Wayne got over the mention of a trip into Ohio. A trip that meant dipping into his funds—that were already starting to run spectacularly low now that he was responsible for an 11 year old—for the gas money and probably a fee at the state line. Likely a motel room too, if your parents didn’t let them stay at the house.

How did he not recognize you? The more he thought over your interaction, the more he recognized your eyes and the shape of your nose and the curve of your lips even if they were fuller now. Little things here and there that even as an adult made it easier to see the bits and pieces of how you used to look. Here he’s been sulking in all his misery and loneliness, and he had completely scared off the chance to have an old best friend back. And Linda said you had tears in your eyes?

Eddie groaned as he let his head sink forward and rest on the center of his steering wheel. He didn’t even care about the horn that permeated the still night around him as self deprecating thoughts swirled before finally letting up on the button. This groan wasn’t a useless cry to the sky over the state of his life like the others so far, but rather a display of anger at himself for being such a dick. And he couldn’t even fix it. He didn’t have your phone number. He didn’t know where you were staying, if you were even staying. Did you move here? Were you just driving through the state and thought to drop by? Maybe have lunch and catch up before leaving again?

Why did he always have to fuck everything up?

*

You spent a good portion of your weekend sulking until Martha dragged you out on Sunday. You had been eating all the food you brought with you alone in your room and only went outside when you craved your bad habit enough.

“This has to be a violation of a paying customer’s privacy…,” you groaned as you rolled over and shoved your face into your pillow to avoid the light coming in full force from the windows. Martha had unlocked your door and came in to throw the curtains open to pull you out of your post-humiliation funk.

“It’s a beautiful morning. We’re going on a walk to take it all in and I’m taking you to that diner I keep telling you about.”

“I could’ve been naked. What if you came charging in here and I was laying here naked? Neither of us would’ve recovered. And our friendship would be ruined.”

“Oh don’t be so childish,” Martha huffed, hands on her hips. For an older woman she sure could be spritely when she wanted to be—whipping around your room the way she had been and insisting on a journey into the outdoors.

“It’s too cold.”

“Not when we start moving. It’s not even Autumn yet.”

“Technically the first day of Fall has already passed,” you corrected, still face planting your pillow and raising your hand up as you made your point before dropping it back down.

“Well the cold hasn’t reached us yet. I think you’ll survive. Come on, dear, it’ll be good for you. Good for both of us. I’m always cooped up at that desk.”

You sigh, but stay in your bed with all your plans set on sulking until the end of time. Until you were a pile of dust she was vacuuming up so she could get the room ready for someone else. Maybe you were being a tad dramatic, but you still felt that way.

“You want me to wake you up the way Howard did with our daughter? When she wouldn’t get up for high school?”

Now groaning at the thought of that cup of ice cold water trick she told you about, you huff and you finally force yourself up.

Despite your initial refusal to get out of bed, you were glad that Martha made you. It really was a wonderful morning and the smell of fresh air and the sound of the occasional leaf crunching under your feet refreshed you. Even with how deeply you despised being lonely, you had a habit of isolating yourself when you were upset and it could be quite destructive at times when you didn’t have someone to pull you back out of it. She didn’t even force you to discuss Thursday, just kept up casual chit chat like always.

And even if that walk hadn’t been enough to begin lifting your spirits, the food at the diner certainly would’ve done the trick all on its own. It wasn’t the prettiest joint around, but the breakfast was phenomenal. You wondered if she picked up on the fact that food and eating with others was a part of your love language. Being introduced to such an amazing local restaurant that clearly meant a lot to her soothed your aches of rejection and mortification.

Both aspects of the morning Martha forced you to take part in actually helped to improve your mood. What happened still stung but it was less “end of the world” and a little more “bump in the road.” With the fresh air, breakfast food and Martha’s pep talks—you were thinking of your next couple of steps forward rather than all the doom and gloom. You’d attempt to quit all the fast food that only left you more sluggish, and start finding other things to pay attention to. You weren’t giving up on Eddie, but you had to focus on your other needs again. This meant getting out of bed. Eating something other than cheeseburgers and fries, promising Martha you’d get other food Monday.

Well, maybe not Monday. You may have caved again, but you swore the next day. So on that following Tuesday night, you were at the market to pick up some things for you and Martha. There was a small fridge and a cabinet in your room that you could keep things in, and you offered to pick up anything she needed while you were out.

Peanut butter for you, cans of soup for her—oh, actually soup sounded good. With your sudden craving, you grabbed a few more cans. Milk for both of you, as well as cereal. Microwave meals for you, sardines for her—

Oh gross, sardines?

—Could you even stay friends at this revelation? You supposed you could since she let you bother her even with your fast food she couldn’t stand. But this fact wasn’t going anywhere. You were going to give her your best, most dramatic yuck when you gave her her groceries and you would have to insist that she never eats them where you can smell them.

You moved on through the list, and pushed your cart that fought you every step of the way to the bread and baked goods aisle. Why did you always get the cart with the squeaky wheel? The one that stuck every now and then and dragged against the linoleum before finally returning to a squealing roll? Bad luck, you supposed.

Once you were in the aisle, you double checked what brand she requested before letting out a sigh. Of course they were the loaves that were neatly stacked on the top shelf. Notepad paper crushed between your hand and the shelf you were using for support, you stretched up onto your tiptoes as best as you could to grab for one. You could easily grab the pinched end of one and just tug, but you didn’t want to accidentally squish any of them or make any of the others go tumbling. You’re about to step on the bottom shelf when suddenly a hand much larger than yours littered with heavy rings was grabbing it either from you like a dick or for you like a gentleman.

“Still short, huh?” You heard the rough, tired voice say from beside you.

You settled back on your feet and glanced at the man holding out the loaf of bread for you. He was in those dirty coveralls again with the sleeves rolled up, clearly from when he had taken the time to clean his hands and forearms before leaving his shift. His hair was out of its ponytail now so you could see it in all of its chaotic glory. As you accepted his kindness for Martha’s sake, you did your best to tamper your reaction to him being here. Whether it was any excitement over him possibly trying to fix things; or if it was intrigue over how his hair got so long and the fact that he had tattoos now; or if it was irritation leftover from how he treated you last Thursday. Had you still been familiar with one another, and this had been a small spat between friends, you probably would’ve just punched his arm.

“What? Come to yell at me some more?” You mutter. Okay so trying to keep a neutral stance wasn’t going very well.

You hear him exhale a quick sigh at your words and the way you refused to look at him. You had one elbow leaning against your cart now while you put all your focus on toying with the piece of paper in your hands. Folding and unfolding, smoothing out creases, lining up the edges of the paper and fixing the previous fold so everything fits better.

“No,” he replied in a defeated tone, but you still weren’t looking at him. “‘N I’m sorry about that, okay? Just wasn’t expecting it, and it’s not like you’re 9 anymore.”

“So I’m guessing you recognize me now?”

“A little, yeah,” He tried to be playful, a small smile tugging on his features until you looked up at him with that sad expression and he was deflated again. “Joke. Bad joke, I- of course I recognize you, Critter.”

You failed in your attempt to not smile at the nickname you hadn’t heard in far too long, making Eddie straighten out his posture again at the sight of your lips curving up.

“You still don’t have a poker face. That right there?” He points at your smile, while his own pulled at his lips “That’s how I won all of your best candy bars on Halloween.”

“You never really kept them from me,” You countered, head tilting back to fully look up at him now and your smile a little more sure.

“Of course not. Cause I’m a sucker and you can get whatever you want with a pout,” He laughed and you grew bashful as your cheeks flushed, ducking your head back down to try and hide it.

“Here,” Eddie sighed after a beat, digging into his pocket and pulling out a bracelet to drop in your palm.

Figuring he was returning yours to you, you were confused when you didn’t see your usual mix of beads. Your brows stayed knit together until you recognized those red, blue and black beads and the nickname in the center. Your features softened as you held out your hand for him to drop it into.

L-O-O-G-I-E

“You kept it…?” you murmured as you stared at the plastic bracelet like it’s treasure, before looking up at him again while your fingers brushed over the beads.

“Obviously,” he replied bluntly, pointing at it.

“Completely tore my place apart to find it so I could prove it, too. Not that my place is the neatest to start with, but…,” he let out a light laugh, head tilting and lazy smile tugging at one side of his mouth. He still smiled the same.

You eyed him for a moment, then returned your focus to the old jewelry. You felt oddly reserved with him after his initial reaction to your appearance at his work, and all the time you spent apart. You never had to work up the courage to speak to him before, or think about what to say or how to say it.

“10.”

“…Hm?”

“I was 10 years old. You said I wasn’t exactly 9 anymore, but it was actually a few weeks out from my birthday when you had to leave.”

“I guess that’s true, huh?” Eddie sighed, crossing his arms over his chest.

Why were his arms so fit? And veiny? And why do you have to tilt your head back to see his face now? Ugh, you’re starting to feel like that young girl who read her first romance novel and was developing her first crushes.

“Yeah…,” you say simply, fearing you’ll make a fool of yourself if you try to say more.

“I’m sorry that all happened around your birthday.”

He was so sincere when he said it, but it made your eyes grow wide as you looked up at his face again.

“Oh god– no. No, no, no. Don’t apologize. That’s not how I meant that at all. You-- that wasn’t your fault. And it was worse for you than it was for me, for obvious reasons.”

“Yeah, with the convict dad and all. But it’s a real shame…,” he sighs with feigned disappointment. “Y’know… that you couldn’t kiss me on your birthday.”

That evil grin sunk his dimples into his cheeks and he sucked on his teeth while he clasped his hands behind his back. Your eyes might as well have been popping out of your skull at this point, your whole face heating up.

“I— you— how— oh, you dick!” you gasp at the revelation through all of your sputtering and punch his shoulder without even thinking, and certainly not noticing the elderly woman who huffed at your unladylike behavior before scuttling away. “You read my diary!”

“Yeah, well, you really should’ve gotten the kind that came with a lock.”

“So you don’t recognize me, but you remember a journal entry you shouldn’t have read? Great, that’s great, Eddie.”

You were turning around now, starting to push your cart towards the other end of the aisle. Roll. Squeak. Maybe it was time to head back to Ohio? Maybe you didn’t need such an obnoxious little shit back in your life. Drag. Roll. Squeak.

“I said I was sorry for not recognizing you,” he groaned and followed after you. “How much groveling am I gonna have to do?”

Oh, plenty. Plenty of groveling.

*

taglist: @mystars123 @h-ness1944 @ohmeg @milkymil-k

@eddiesprincess86

[trashmouth-richie]

the fic that the last ask is searching for is Desiderium by @eddiessluttywaist !!! it’s literally so cute !!

@whoreforreading !!

Thank you @briyourmotherdown 🖤

[eddiessluttywaist]

desiderium

an eddie munson series

AGELESS/BLANK/UNDER 18 BLOGS ARE NOT WELCOME TO INTERACT. PLEASE RESPECT MY RULES AND BOUNDARIES.

summary: eddie’s odd, forgotten childhood friend seeks him out when he needs her more than he realizes.

pairing: bsf!mechanic!bartender!eddie x eccentric!bsf!fem!reader

word count: 10,076 words

content/warnings: eventual smut so MDNI, fluff, swearing, depictions of low self esteem, anxiety, wet clothes (idk about you but that needs a warning in my book), wandering eyes oooo, boobs? (not detailed), mentions of porn, smol eddie :(. i think that’s it!

a/n: creds to whoever owns and posted those ^ photos! they’re not mine, i just made the collage!

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5

*

Sunday, October 6th, 1991. 2:02 AM.

You wound up returning to the motel late that night. Not late enough to truly spend as much time together as you wanted... but late enough that you knew you'd regret it as soon as your alarm went off. You spent most of that time in the garage talking or goofing off once there was nothing left of your meals but crumbs, grease stains, and leftover ketchup packets. Eddie was kind enough to drive you and even offered to drive you around until your car was fixed. You were unsure as the concern of becoming a burden rang through your head, but he insisted. So there you were.

You were certain it was because of the time of night, but that Autumn chill you had felt before seemed to have sunk into a wintry bite. The heat blasting in his van created a cozy sanctuary in dramatic contrast to the air outside, so much so that you never wanted to move from your spot. You were enveloped by the rushing warmth and the smell of toasty plastic and leather that came from it. Everything worked together to lull you in that passenger side seat, especially with the way Eddie surrounded you without him ever moving from his spot. Coffee and fresh tobacco lingered in the air. Spicy deodorant and shampoo and skin salted by sweat. Notes of the auto shop and the bar that dug deep into the fibers of his clothing.

"Thank you. You really didn't have to do this," you finally spoke the first words since you both stepped into his car. There was no awkward silence. Only comfort and dips in energy in a town where everyone else was already tucked into their beds.

"Well, I am the one that stole your car from you," he smoothed over your consternation with a roll of his head in your direction and a lazy smile. He looked tired. Your appreciation extended to a gentle brush of your fingertips against his forearm.

"And you didn’t have to do that either, but you did so thank you," you teased in return, a sleepy contentment reflecting in both your tone and your face. "You look exhausted, Loogie."

He sighed as his focus turned to the view through his windshield, his lips pushed forward by his exhale, and the small amount of extra skin folding underneath his tipped chin.

"That's because I am, my dear, dear Critter," he murmured honestly but benevolent enough to show the absence of irritation.

That relaxed smile came back with a vengeance as his focus returned to you, eyes hunting for any visible response to his words. He received the exact expression he was striving for, all signs pointing to that relapse of anxiety steadily unwinding from your body. There was no need for it. He helped you because he wanted to, and nothing in the world could turn you into a burden. Nothing. Your weary heart swelled with gratitude over his innate ability to take care of you so wholeheartedly without any consequences.

"'s nothing to do with you. And I'm happy to help out," he tacked on.

Sides of heads rested on plaid fabric secured to worn leather, tired stares tracking the details of the other's face. You found the freckles he had back in 1976 and lines that he didn't, comforted by the rumbling of the van's hearty engine. This all occurred within seconds, but those moments of refamiliarizing yourselves -- even in the absence of words -- were essential these days. They happened naturally and beautifully within the occasional pause, a recent habit that neither of you seemed consciously aware of.

His scent that was permanently imbedded into the interior of his car followed you as you leaned over. The potent silence seemed to amplify the sound of clothing shuffling and old leather creaking in your wake. Your arm wrapped around his neck, pulling him into a hug that was unbelievably awkward at this angle.

"You're the best," you whispered in a softened tone. The best. It reverberated through his skull then shook through the rest of his body like he was too close to pulsing speakers. Best, best, best.

"Thank you," you repeated now.

It was simple. Genuine concern about shitty brake pads. A casual willingness to drive you to work. Small things that probably didn't need to be ruminated on but meant everything to you.

"Yeah...," he returned in an equally gentle but surprised voice, eyes swimming with restrained emotion as his hand settled on your back. "Yeah, of course..."

It was simple. Genuine concern about his eating habits. An unshakeable gratitude for his very existence -- altering him from someone to leave, to someone worth finding. Small things that everyone else seemed to have but meant everything to him.

It was clear Eddie had something to say when you pulled away and parted from his van, but he was left speechless just like at The Hideout earlier that night. Only this time you didn’t get a halfhearted shrug before he found his voice again, you only got large Bambi eyes staring at you and then a muttered: “Uh… never — never mind.”

“O-kay…” you trailed off with a light laugh, hand resting on the edge of the door. You stared at him as if you’d find the answers written in the pigment of his irises or those freckles scattered over his nose. “Well… I’m gonna head inside. Thanks again for everything.”

You sent one last, tight-lipped smile in his direction before closing the door and spinning on your heels.

Eddie swallowed some much-needed moisture back into his throat, watching you head towards the motel entrance. Coward.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he huffed, finally leaning over to grasp the passenger side window crank. His seatbelt locked him in place, earning a few curses in a pitched voice before he finally unbuckled. He lunged himself to the passenger side and rolled the window down as quickly as he could.

“I’m happy too!” he called out.

With furrowed brows, you spun around as a curious smile toyed on your lips.

“What?” you laughed out, both voices echoing through the quiet parking lot.

“I’m…” he struggled, not to find the words but the confidence to say them without feeling like a complete and utter fool. His full lips parted, then closed, then parted again as his eyes sought you out. “I’m happy to have my best friend back too.”

“What?” your giggle danced through the late-night air again, taking a couple steps forward to hopefully catch his suddenly softer tone.

Idiot. His eyes rolled up towards the ceiling of his vehicle, placing most of his weight on one side while his free hand rubbed over his face in a brief lapse of frustration. His rough hand slapped back down to grasp the top of the sunken window.

“I’m happy to have my best friend back too!” he repeated, louder yet weaker somehow. Being forced to repeat himself had him wondering if it was a sign to take it back. To say something else. Anything but admit how touched he was by you coming back to him. Anything that didn’t feel so… vulnerable. The emotions in his eyes wavered, years of earned distrust spiraling the pit of his gut.

Then within an instant, Eddie was overly aware of how he had never considered how wonderful streetlights were. They were something to forget until you had to walk somewhere late at night. Or until they gave him the opportunity to see that ethereal smile that rounded the apples of your cheeks. You toyed with the strap of your purse.

“Good night, Loogie.”

*

Monday, October 7th, 1991. 9:36 AM.

“I’m scared,” Thach murmured to Lin as they observed Eddie from afar.

The young mechanic was leaning over the popped hood of a station wagon years beyond being on its last legs. The ancient vehicle creaked and groaned with nearly every touch, mirroring the state of Eddie's employer. The crotchety owner infamous for giving everyone but Thach a hard time had left the car behind with the promise of it being in his experienced -- albeit aching -- hands and his alone; but the cold front prematurely making its way through Indiana locked up the middle-aged man's joints enough that even holding a coffee mug was a hardship.

So there Eddie was, working on some trash heap he supposedly shouldn't have even been breathing near. The smell of its innards infiltrated the shop's usual fragrance of vulcanized rubber and chemicals with its own signature scent of stale cigarettes and wet dogs. And while he wasn't as impacted by the bite in the air as his boss, it was still a miserable feeling to be trapped in a cinderblock of a garage with a space heater that was more of a placebo than an actual chance for warmth. Ever incapable of dressing accurately for the weather, the cold had trespassed his coveralls and minimal clothes underneath to settle into his bones with a sort of foreshadowing that promised a future like Thacher's. Even the coffee in the break room that he depended on raising his body temperature was particularly bitter that Monday.

Everything was pointing towards a miserable rest of the day, and he was smiling. Nothing consistently toothy, it was more of a tug on his closed lips that showed itself intermittently as he became lost in his thoughts to distract from the stink, the cold, the putrid taste of bad coffee clinging to his taste buds. It wasn't a grin suggesting a drastic change of personality, but it was there. He never smiled like this — or really at all these past few years.

“I think he might even have a pep in his step,” Linda diagnosed as the two regarded him with astonishment.

“I can hear you guys, y’know,” Eddie muttered, his previously uncharacteristic expression suddenly being covered by all his hair as he studied the open hood. His hair elastic broke. He looked up now with a glare and flared nostrils.

“Ah, there he is,” Thacher breathed out in relief before him, and Lin retreated from the doorway to the front in a fit of titters.

Eddie mumbled under his breath, clomping over to his leather jacket and vest hung up on the coat rack. Hands hardly cleaned by his rag fished through his pockets before pulling out a black bandana. His smile returned at his sense of luck being refueled, swiping a thumb over the old piece of fabric before securing it around his head. He contained his curls again, save for a few rebelling bangs, and returned to the compactor candy reeking up the garage.

“Hey,” a man in similar dress greeted him as he walked through.

“Hey, Rick,” Eddie raised one hand in place of a wave before getting back to work. The dipstick entrenched in oil as he raised it from its designated reservoir earned a groan as his coworker walked over.

“Hey, are you — oh, shit,” Rick hissed in through his teeth when he caught a glimpse. “Again?”

“Again,” Eddie nodded, placing the long strip of metal back down and wiping his hands on his coveralls.

“Good luck,” the 30-something snorted and wandered away again before remembering his initial question. “Oh, are you working on the blue Bug?"

The blue Bug. The casual mention of a car in the shop never brought a glitter to his eyes the way that VW Beetle did. There was only one time he could remember anyone in the shop being star struck by a car that had been brought in. That was a couple years ago when some passerby had graced them with the presence of a glistening, ruby Plymouth Fury for the sake of replacing a flat tire. All other cars that came through were about earning a living then sending people on their way -- there was nothing special about them, simply a means to an end. But that Bug was special. It was special because it was yours.

"Uh, yeah," Eddie cleared his throat, keeping a casual tone to his voice. "Why?"

"Just wondering. Nice car. Looks like it's from the '70s," Rick shrugged, eyeing his odd behavior before moving on.

"Yeah, definitely," He nodded, glancing over at him and then back down as he sucked in his cheeks to keep from smiling. He didn't need Rick joining in on humiliating him.

Once his coworker disappeared into the break room, he finally raised his gaze. All of his tentative attention went to that classic car painted a shade of azure that had gone pastel at the hands of time.

When he walked in that morning, all he could think about was sitting in your usual place to start the engine with your overly decorated keys and put it through the usual tests. The chance to feign your presence and provide himself that specific comfort that he once forgot he had. A kind of comfort that soothed his loneliness. A kind of comfort he hadn't had in years.

And that car was sitting there taunting him with its existence as if it took on a personality like yours, conjuring up images of you sticking your tongue out at him. He wanted to leave the old wagon to rot in favor of rescuing your precious Sherry. He wanted to leave her in perfect condition. He wanted to do the best work he's ever done. He wanted his payment in the form of drinking in every ounce of appreciation in your soft features and the timbre of your voice. He wanted your arms circled around his middle with a Thank you, thank you, thank you pressed into the material of his shirt as he said it was no trouble at all -- really.

Wanted, wanted, wanted. And he'd have to wait.

*

Thursday, October 17th, 1991. 10:01 AM.

The unexpected reliance on Eddie and his beloved Chevy stretched out over the past couple of weeks. When you left for Indiana, you hoped with every ounce of your being, down to the very last cell, that he would accept your sudden return to his life. All you wanted was to spend all your time together like when you were kids, but now as those hopes came to life all you could do was sink into your nerves. It was too soon to be around him this often. Surely, you were ruining everything. With every ride or shared shift or phone call, you worried he was steadily becoming exhausted by your constant presence. And every time, he smoothed over your inflamed concerns with words of reassurance or the nasty things you feared he could say but never did. The only drop of frustration he showed was in the form of a playful groan and an I swear if you apologize one more time.

It was funny how quickly embarrassment and nerves were swept away once your interactions sweetened back up. How the meekness melted away to the childhood ties at the core of your bond. Between The Hideout, phone calls, and car rides, you and Eddie were in a good flow. The tension from years of distance was like some sort of tide rather than a brick wall in your way. It rolled in and surrounded you both as your faces grew blotchy and mouths fought to find something to say; or it sunk back, and you settled into that deep-rooted connection that no amount of time or physical space could take away. Lately, your metaphorical tide was imperceptible. The few times it threatened to creep back in, recounting a pleasant memory or a perfectly timed joke pushed it back again.

Everything that had taken over your mind since moving away all boiled down to the current moment. Everything concentrated into a single pull from your deck.

The commonly ostracized card laid on top of your motel bedding, drawing all the attention to its ominous imagery in comparison to the yellow gingham fabric. Death himself sat upon his white steed, raising his flag as he brought upon misfortune and loss to those at his feet. Only you didn't see the message as a warning of misfortune. It laid upright and conjured thoughts of your past melting away. Everything that broke you bit by bit finally lead you here and your life in Ohio was left in the dust to be swallowed whole. Things that weren't in your best interest were being killed off one by one, and at the sight of a card that struck fear in most -- you picked it up and held it close to your heart.

New beginnings. Plain, but beautiful, even in a place like Hawkins. You thought it over as you rejoined the card with the others and settled them all together in their assigned drawstring bag. The pad of your thumb smoothed over the velvet pouch, and as your touch created a path in the disturbed fibers of the material you saw a new path of your own. This was your personal interpretation. All you could do was hope it was true.

It certainly felt true.

Beyond all things Eddie, work was going well too. Ron and Sandy were unbelievably kind and patient, no matter how much Ron wanted to come off as an intolerable grouch. There were still some things you confused or had to ask about, but your previous experience saved you from making a mess of things. Ron's oldest, David, was quiet and didn't seem interested in befriending you, but he wasn't rude or unprofessional. It was clear early on that all he wanted was to get his work done and go home. He had no interest in workplace chitchat beyond the customers and his parents, so you respected it. You found surprising growth where you once needed everyone to like you and want to interact with you. You had Ron and Sandy. You had Eddie.

Now a few weeks into your new job, the only downside seemed to be all the time you missed sharing with Martha. The thought of leaving her lonely was intolerable for your sensitive heart so you were taking advantage of your open schedule today. Mood uplifted by wondrous Death and no work; you might as well have skipped to the small lobby.

"It's a beautiful day, my lovely Martha," you sighed as you leaned into the opposite side of the check-in area.

At the very beginning of the month, that numbing cold that crept in had sunk deep into the town earlier than expected. All signs pointed towards a particularly bitter winter in the near future until the temperatures started letting up recently. Now there was that autumnal chill to the air where you shivered without a sweater, but the sun shone brilliantly to heat up anyone in its path. It was the perfect weather for loungewear, freshly baked goods, and mugs of tea that warmed your palms and hovering face.

And you were quickly learning how much you loved this town for its dedication to the season that perfectly matched your own. The decorations slowly popping up everywhere. The themed foods at restaurants or deals at the market. All the local farmers with offers on pumpkin and apple picking. The advertised films available at the local video store. The signs fluttering throughout the center of town or stapled to poles that displayed seasonal parties or activities -- hayrides, jack-o-lantern contests, themed options for all ages at a local recreational center. Not to mention all the good things you heard about Halloween night, particularly from Martha. There was the occasional group of teenagers that wound up in trouble, but it was like the trick or treating you had back home. All the participation, all the goodness -- a beautiful moment in the community that made you proud to be in a small town.

"Someone's in a good mood," Martha noted, glancing away from her book to look over at you. "Why are you still in your pajamas?"

"Why aren't you in your pajamas?" you countered, making your way around to her side of the desk.

She eyed your Aerosmith baby tee and old pajama pants, unsure if she approved. Martha was a stubborn spokeswoman of starting your day right -- which included taking the time to get dressed in the morning. But then she saw the bunny slippers covering your feet and the only thing she could be bothered to do was laugh.

"What?"

"Those poor things," Martha cackled and put her mystery novel down to give her full attention to your choice in footwear. "They look miserable!"

"What?" you gasped, staring down at them now. The once plush fluff was now matted with age and the abuse of countless machine washing. The white of their fur had taken on more of a gray hue and the pink of their ears and noses were awfully dingy. The left one lost a beady eye ages ago. You could have replaced them by now, but you loved them. Abandoning them, just like abandoning Sherry, would be a tougher heartbreak to get over than your last boyfriend.

"They're perfect!"

"Whatever you say, dear."

*

3:33 PM.

Despite your jokes that you refused to spend time with Martha after she spoke so poorly of your beloved slippers, you still curled up beside her in your usual chair to watch her favorite documentary series together. The two of you enjoyed the usual quiet of the motel for hours with frequent breaks for food, curled up in office chairs as information about different animals out in the wild was told in calm, British accents.

"Oh wow... that thing is ugly," you muttered into your cup of hot cocoa as a random creature came up on the fuzzy screen. A posh tone went on to explain its secluded nature before the poor connection left his words choppy and the footage buzzing with snow.

"Now don't you feel bad?" Martha chided in the disguise of a question, smacking at the side of her television. "That poor thing is all lonely in the forest and you're here calling it ugly -- ugh, c'mon, ya piece of --"

She muttered under her breath, forcing herself out of her spot to mess with the rabbit ears in hopes of a better connection. You're a breath away from cracking a joke when the jarring tone of someone laying on their horn nearly made you jump out of your chair. With furrowed brows, you twist in your spot to glance out the window and see who was disturbing your time dedicated to watching Martha beat up her TV.

The only thing to smooth out your pinched expression was the very van you saw parked outside. Fresh drizzle freckled the pavement as you watched your old friend get out of his car and sprint towards the front door. You watched a few drops drip down and splotch the surface of the window before you turned around in anticipation of today's visitor.

"A-ha!" Martha clasped her hands together, sitting back down now that the image cleared up. While she celebrated, you welcomed the usually unpleasant sound of wet shoes squeaking on freshly mopped floors, sitting up more in your chair to give the man at the entrance your full attention.

"Sorry, I wanted to surprise you but then I was getting out and I accidentally caught the horn and..." Eddie breathed out, gesturing hands coming to a pause as he caught a glimpse of the screen. "Wow, that thing is really ugly."

"What are you doing here?"

You did your best to contain your joy, but even your intentions couldn't dampen your excitement over a surprise visit.

A miniscule bead of rain that had found purchase on his nose finally slid down and wet the shirt underneath his partially unzipped coveralls. He gave you a beautiful smile of his own before rubbing at his face with the back of his work jacket sleeve. After a solid lecture from Lin over him working in the freezing garage without it, Eddie had finally taken the coat out of that old Rubbermaid hamper he shoved his seasonal clothing into. Realistically, while he imagined most others had a sizeable assortment of different attire to keep them warm later in the year, his "seasonal" container only held his work jacket; hats he despised wearing because of how they charged his fluffy hair with that obnoxious static which made him zap his fingers on every metal surface he came in contact with (not fun for a mechanic); then the occasional mismatched glove he hoped to find the twin of by the following Winter (he never did).

Everything else he owned he pretty much wore no matter what the weather was like. Not that fashion was something he considered much anymore, now that he spent every day working. The effort he enjoyed as a peacocking teenager steadily died down with every second of adulthood that drained him. He still found joy in the same accessories he donned daily, even if they had to be taken off while he worked on someone's car, and you'd be hard-pressed to see him ever give up his vest and his leather jacket. He had more opportunities to express himself at the bar, but he supposed the opinions of him swirling around this town had steadily begun to succeed. Only in subtle, small changes, but enough to be depressing if you truly knew him from before.

"I don't have work today," you added onto your question.

"I didn't realize I was just a chauffeur," he feigned hurt with a hand over his chest.

"Oh, shut up," you scoffed out amidst your laughter.

And scene. At the sight of your eye roll -- which was arguably just as dramatic as his behavior -- you got a lopsided smile from him as he chuckled, leaning further into the barrier between the two of you.

He started to reply before catching how Martha was staring in his periphery. A smile caught in a sudden shift in feelings stuck in place, then faltered before disappearing. Overly aware of being watched by someone from Hawkins, his now bashful gaze worked its way down to the countertop. He felt the pains of carelessly rushing in there after all the times he specifically remained in the parking lot for this very reason. He tilted his head down, rubbing his knuckles on the counter.

"I was just uhm..." his attention drifted to your attire now, eyes trailing over the curve of your bra-less chest on pure accident as he read the symbol at the center. His face burned at the realization of how that must have looked -- and all for a crummy Aerosmith logo at that -- and he finally looked away to wind up with Martha at the center of his view. Great.

"Hi Mrs. Peters," he spoke like a young child awaiting some kind of reprimand, rapping his knuckles to appease his nervous energy. You flailed your arms and flopped back into your seat in playful exasperation over his attention span.

"Hello Eddie," she returned with a calm voice and a knowing smile. "How are you?"

Given his reputation, he never really knew how someone from this town would respond to his presence, so he was left stupefied by how polite Martha was. Even if she was silently cheeky about his flushed face. His bottom lip that he had been rubbing raw with the edge of his teeth finally released again in disbelief of something as simple as someone asking how he was.

"I'm -- I'm okay. How are you?"

"I'm well. Been spending time with your lovely friend over here," Martha hummed in response, motioning over to you.

"Oh good... that's good," he nodded.

"She's..." deep inhale "good..." he exhaled before bubbling with nervous laughter over his inability to speak, or at least not feel like a complete idiot when he did speak. He kicked his elbow up onto the counter and gnawed at his nails out of habit.

"You still haven't answered my question," you complained, leaning into Martha's side of the check-in window to reach forward and hold onto his canvas-clad arm. His eyes shot up to you in all their usual glory and fluttery eyelashes while he continued his nervous quirk. "What's up?"

"Oh, uh — right," he pulled his hand away from his lips to unhook something from his wallet chain. He held up the array of accessories on an exhausted metal ring, then placed it down onto the counter. "Sherry's all good if you want 'er."

You gasped as you collected your key chain and rushed around to where he was.

The work on your car had taken longer than expected, since he found more damage while inspecting your car, but he insisted on returning your car to you in the best condition possible.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," your excitement sunk into his shirt as you hugged him tight, pressing your face into his chest. "You're the best."

Martha couldn't help but smirk over the way the young man's expression and stature completely crumbled over your touch. The relief before the pure joy as he captured his opportunity to wrap you up in a hug before you could pull back. The squeeze as he settled his cheek on top of your head. It was clear that every moment of work he put into that car was with the hope that this would be the outcome, and you certainly didn’t let his efforts be in vain.

"It's no problem, really," he insisted, barely rocking the two of you side to side simply because he could. The basic need for movement without having to let you go.

"You're the best. The absolute best," you repeated the sentiment, satiating the man holding you who lived off of any moment of praise he could possibly get. The best.

You pulled back enough to look up at him. "What do I owe you?"

At that, Eddie pulled his lips down into a dismissive frown as he shook his head.

"Nothing."

"Fuck off," you huffed out a laugh, pulling back completely to shove him just for your attempt to end up a nudge to his shoulder as that crooked smile beamed down at you. "Really, how much?"

Eddie took a step back as a confused expression took over his face with an air of drama and excitement that made it clear he was messing with you.

"What?" he said, furrowing his brows and cupping his hand behind his ear as he pretended to lose his sense of hearing.

"Eddie— "

He started circling around you to head back to the door, pointing to one of his ears.

"'m sorry! I just — I'm having a really hard time hearing you!" he kept up his façade as best as he could before it fell apart, and let his cheeky grin shine through as he pushed the door open again with his back. "C'mon. Let's go get her."

"Ugh, you are such a -- Oh! Bye, Martha!" before you could finish your thought as you stalked after him, you turned to ensure the older woman didn't feel forgotten. Eddie snickered evilly, rocking back and forth on his heels and moving the front door with him.

"I'll be right back! I just have to get my car."

"Oh! Of course!" she pretended to be caught off guard by you roping her back into the conversation as if she had been thoroughly invested in her show. "You know where I'll be."

Eddie's quick farewell was the only time his quiet politeness returned, earning your attention again. Martha reciprocated his gesture as you turned to face him with a displeased look. His sweet behavior with her melted away as you walked closer to him, pointing your index finger at him with the promise of a lecture. The tip of his tongue darted out to a point over his curved lip and giggles poured out. He steadily backed out of the motel then booked it back to the van, partially to avoid the rain that was steadily increasing in intensity, partially to avoid your impending speech.

"Edward!" you gasped, chasing after him.

Martha leaned back in her chair to spy from the window, the scene of bubbly youth in her parking lot pulling a calm hum of amusement from her. Between the streams and blotches of water, she could make out how Eddie pretended to start driving away when you tried to get into the passenger side. Right as you reached the door, he jerked the car forward a few inches before stopping so you could actually get in.

"You're an ass!" she heard you announce, clambering into the passenger side. Eddie’s laugh echoed through the parking lot, followed by a slammed door and a speedy retreat.

*

So much for that perfect Fall weather.

The drizzle had formed a consistent thrum on the roof of the garage by that point, a soft hum just for you and Eddie, and Lin up at the front desk. You loved the rain. You really did. That didn't mean the former sprinkle of rain wasn't a poor warning for the way the skies opened and unleashed an amount of water that was approaching biblical proportions.

The sky was deep and ashen, making the fluorescent lights feel harsher and colder somehow whenever you caught glimpses of the occasional window. Goosebumps came and went, shuddering along the skin of your arms as you raised them up to grasp the familiar steering wheel.

"I have my Sherry back," you sighed happily, hands gliding over the surface.

The very moment you could, you had sat yourself right in the driver’s side while Eddie went over everything he fixed from the passenger side. His words were rambling as his hands gestured, his gaze constantly and nervously flicking over to you to capture your reaction. To thrive on your appreciation that he was lucky enough to be a part of. To take in every bit of excitement to have your car back in relatively perfect condition. Eddie lived off every single gluttonous and desperate bite of your joy, until his brightened mood began swirling down the drain at that shift in your face. It was small at first. A change to your previously elated eyes. A twitch to your lips indicating a need to frown instead of smile, even if you did your best to hold it off. He was scrambling for crumbs now.

"I have my car back," you repeated now, a glum tone tinting the words that had excited you only a few seconds ago.

"Isn't... isn't that a good thing?" Eddie wondered with a partial laugh indicating his poorly masked nerves. His hands rubbed over the rough texture of his coveralls.

The fact that you sounded so ungrateful just now was not lost on you and formed into a sort of panic in your eyes.

"Yes! Yes, Eddie, of course,” your hands parted from the wheel to seek out his left arm, shifting your body to face him. “Thank you for everything. Really.”

His doubt dug into the lines on his face and the bags under his eyes. He kept his gaze on your hands, lips dried out by his constant picking and drag of his tongue now parting and closing as he tried to find his next question. Then why don’t you seem happy?

“It’s just,” you sighed, both hands sliding to his now. He stopped rubbing that hand against his thigh, slowing down to welcome the touch of your gentle but chilly fingers. “Well… I have my car back.”

"Oh, well that clarifies things," he murmured now, trying for a break in tension with his sense of humor. You rolled your eyes as you snickered with him, but there’s a softness now just like that first night he drove you back to the motel. His murmur about how cold your hands were could hardly even be heard before he enveloped them in both of his to warm them. The reason why you wished Sherry needed more work done floated around the air before you even spoke the words.

"You won’t be driving me around anymore," you finally admit. He continued to put all his attention on warming your hands, although his efforts slow just a touch. He wet his parched lips with a quick swipe of his tongue. His silence for even a matter of seconds was suffocating, and your need to fill that quiet took over with one more comment.

"Which sucks cause I've really liked sleeping in the passenger seat."

He gifted you that uneven smile of his as he let out a light laugh. He hardly adjusted the downward tilt to his head, staring at you through his lashes. His eyes had been rendered a dull bister in the poor lighting, but they certainly hadn’t lost their ability to lock you in place.

"It's not like we wont see each other," he offered, taking his eyes away from you once more to return his attention to your hands that were a perfectly normal temperature by that point. "Well, unless you were using me for free services and rides to work."

That cheekiness returned, his crooked smiling providing a slight glimpse at his teeth as he finally rolled his head to the side to fully look at you.

"Oh totally, I moved here just hoping you'd be a mechanic," you giggled.

"Can't beat a plan like that," fluffy hair shifted with a light shake of his head, one of his legs gently bouncing as a question comes to mind. He unfortunately removed his hold on your hands that you had grown accustomed to encasing you in his body heat. He smoothed his sweaty hands over his legs again, just hoping you weren’t put off by the perspiration.

"Hey, uhm...” he chanced a look over in your direction before instantly cowering to stare at his steel toe boots. “Why did you move?"

"Oh, well I..."

The sound of knuckles suddenly rapping on your window made both of you jump, hearts racing over Lin’s sudden appearance when your heads snap over in her direction. She motions rolling down the window, speaking up the second you do so.

“The streets might be flooding soon. I’m gonna leave early, okay?”

"Alright, be careful," Eddie replied, his brow furrowing as he tried to get a good look at the storm through one of the garage windows. "You sure you don't want me to drive you home?"

Lin waved him off but smiled anyways over his thoughtfulness.

"Johnny's actually picking me up on his way from grabbing the kids from their clubs. I can always come back for my car. You two be safe, okay?"

You both wished her the same, and she took one last look at the two of you with the kind of smile that earned her a warning glance from Eddie. The noise of rain sloppily pounding into asphalt and wind groaning temporarily swelled before being muffled again once the door shut.

"Guess we should head out too," you sighed, watching him step out of the car. He separated from you to look out the window.

"Do you want me to drop you off? It looks like it's really bad out there," he murmured as his brow frowned with concern. His lower lip rolled inward for him to nibble at.

"I think I'm still capable of driving in the rain," you snorted lightheartedly as you toyed with the open car door now that you were standing up. His worry remained anyways, glancing at you before his attention went right back to the window. You sighed, only earning his focus on you again at the sound of you closing your door.

"Really, Eddie, it's fine. You just did all that work. I promise Sherry can handle a little rain on my way back," you did your best to reassure him as he returned to you with an impish charm to his gait. The second he was close enough, you reach up to zip his coveralls the rest of the way to his collarbones as if that little bit of added protection would shield him completely from the elements.

"Besides, I'm not even on the way. You'd be adding an unnecessary trip when you should just be heading home."

"So, you admit it's dangerous out there right now," he tilted his head to one side, hair draping with him as he eyes you. A playful simper tugged at his lips over his efforts to balance messing with you and looking out for you. There's a beat of silence before you decide to distract from the current topic, rather than engage in his insistence to drive you.

"How much?" you asked, holding up your wallet from your purse.

Eddie began his whole act again where he cups his hand over his ear as he struggles to hear you, and you groan out a laugh, grabbing his wrist to gently try and tug his hand away from his ear.

"I'm paying you whether you like it or not, Eds," you insisted amidst your bubbling mirth which he joined in on.

"How about a compromise?" he offered at the tail end of his most recent chuckle, with a focused glint to his eyes as he slowly let his work jacket slide off of his arms.

"I'm not doing anything porn-y for the car work," you joked immediately, and he considered it a miracle that he didn't choke on his own spit. He cackled through it with a subdued Jesus... as his cheeks burned, draping his coat over your shoulders.

"Nothing like that," he clarified, hearing his own pulse in his ears from the heat that had crept up his neck. "I would consider you letting me drive you back as payment."

"Nope," you responded defiantly, popping the "p", and cheesing up at him. He slowly deflated with an exhale, quietly entering a staring contest with you as he juts out his arm to rest his hand on the roof of your car.

"You'll be on the roads longer for no reason. I'm paying you."

If it weren't for the fact that you'd lose the unofficial contest between your gazes, you'd immediately start fishing out cash from your wallet. Whatever amount that seemed appropriate, and then you'd ask Lin how much more tomorrow.

"Well," he sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets as he glanced elsewhere. You won. "Then come over."

He brought his eyes back down to yours, grounding you enough in your spot that you didn't even flinch at the thunderclap outside. You searched for any signs that he was joking but find none. You glanced down at your hands, shaking your head and starting to mumble something about how you shouldn't.

"Last chance to use me as a personal driver," he teased in a whisper, leaning into your personal bubble as he grinned at you. "And I want you to come over. It'll..."

He sighed out again, one hand abandoning a pocket to gesture as he looked off to nowhere in particular, and you looked up at him again.

"It'll be like when we were kids. You come over, we probably eat garbage and watch tv. If the power goes out, you'll have fun watching me burn my thumb a million times while I try to light candles."

At that, you couldn't help but giggle. He held up his hand to your eye line where you could see that pink side of his thumb that he apparently still burned constantly. You'd figured he would've gotten better at handling a lighter, especially as a smoker, but apparently not.

"I dunno..."

"Are you really gonna deny me of my requested form of payment?" he whispered in faux shock, that hand now resting over his heart just like earlier. "As the mechanic, I have the right to withhold the vehicle if I don’t receive payment for my labor."

"I said I'm not doing anything porn-y, and that was right out of some porno and you know it," you reached out to grasp onto that hand over his chest as you both laugh, leaning into his personal space with an affinity for closeness akin to his.

"My, my... Been watching a lot of mechanic smut, Critter?"

That shit-eating grin gleaming down at you felt so natural coming from him, where it might have looked menacing on someone else. You nudged his chest with his own hand that you're still holding onto before separating from him again, giggles rising up in both of your chests.

"You're insufferable."

"And you love it!" he announced, giving the roof of your car a slap to celebrate his success before turning around to close up for the night.

*

Let it be known that you were grateful for Eddie loaning you his work jacket, but it didn't really save you from the rain as much as you had hoped it would. It was the kind of downpour that soaked through your clothing within a matter of seconds, leaving both of you with your hair drenched and flat against your heads as you shivered inside your saturated attire.

The cold sunk into every fiber of your being, leaving you shaking like a leaf inside his trailer as droplets clung to your lashes and dragged along your nose and lips. You blinked a few times in hopes of ridding yourself of the water in your view, licking your lips to stop the racing globules in their tracks.

"Here... here," Eddie breathed out, rushing over to you with a towel.

"Thank you," you got out through chattering teeth, slipping off his jacket so you could trade, and he could toss it into the drier. You shoved your face into the material he offered you, taking a moment to let its proximity warm your face before starting to rub at your hair.

"Do you want to take a quick shower? I could put your clothes in the drier too," he offered, and you notice his gaze move downward for a split second before shooting up to your eyes again. Usually, you'd insist he go first. It's his house, you don't want to be rude, really, it's fine you can go after him, blah, blah, blah. But you were frozen to your core. The storm had soaked your clothes to the point that they were clinging to you in the most uncomfortable way, and you could practically hear the heavy slap they'd make dropping to the bathroom floor. The sneakers you quickly slipped on earlier had filled with water, squishing with your every step and leaving that moist feeling in your socks that gave you unpleasant memories of some infection you had gotten as a kid after going to the local pool. You felt itchy already.

"Could I?"

"Of course. Yeah," Eddie nodded, long hair spraying some water around at the enthusiastic shake of his head. He held out a hand to guide you to his bathroom, settling it on your back as you passed by. He quickly showed you how to work the shower, including how hot water came from the cold faucet and vice versa.

"Just call for me when you're in the shower and I'll come grab your clothes,"

You thanked him as quickly as he rushed away and closed the door behind him so you wouldn't have to wait.

*

"Okay!" you shouted from inside the bathroom, and Eddie entered to collect the soggy pile of clothes left on the floor.

"I'll come back and leave something for you to wear until these 're dry," he held up the dripping mess in his hand even though you couldn't see his gesture.

"Thank you, Eddie," you murmured, voice steadily losing that previous shiver as steam filled the tiny room. "You're being so nice, I guess I'll have to leave some hot water for you, huh?"

Eddie snorted, flicking the shower curtain just to make you gasp.

"Never mind!" you called after him, amusement you wished you were better at disguising joining in with his cackling on his way out of the bathroom.

Along with his jacket, Eddie added your clothing to the machine snug beside that table for two he never used anymore. He could've tossed them into the tub without a second thought, but for some reason he added your garments in one by one. Wet pj pants that had been a gray plaid before the rain turned them into a sloppy black mess, a momentary glimpse of panties clung to the inside. Wet baby tee with that crummy little Aerosmith logo that surprisingly didn't melt away by this point. He’d have to give you something far better, even if it wasn’t as pleasantly form fitting. No bra, although he didn't need to do your laundry to know that -- especially after you were out in the rain. He tried not to linger on that fact like some adolescent boy who had never seen breasts before, but some small part of him that you brought out, the part of him that was stuck in a perpetual state of your childhood memories felt perverted and awkward. He felt like he saw something he wasn't supposed to, like a teen about to be chastised for sneaking past that red curtain at the video store.

You're a grown man, Jesus Christ.

He shook his head of his childish concerns and moved on to get you some pajamas from his bedroom.

*

You kept the shower brief even if you wanted to stay in the onslaught of hot water until it really did start to grow cold.

Since your visit was unexpected and your need for a shower even more so, you stepped out onto the bathmat smelling like Eddie. Some off brand body wash filled with aromatic spices and something floral you couldn't put your finger on, along with the matching shampoo and conditioner. You could see Eddie going through the toiletry aisle and just slapping that 3-pack deal into his cart with a simple Yeah, you'll do.

Padding over to the sink counter after drying off, something possessed you to bring the ends of your hair up to your nose and inhale his fragrance. It comforted you, yet made your heart skip a beat as you indulged in it. You're letting out a soothed sigh over the scent when his fist banged on the door.

"I'm naked!" you shrieked out of instinct.

"Good for you," he countered, and you rolled your eyes as you picked up the shirt he left for you. Dio. "My nuts are frozen."

"Good for you," you repeated back with a smirk, his groan sounding from outside the door. You slip on his shirt, the pair of blue boxers he left for you and pajama pants similar to the ones you had already been wearing earlier.

You didn't realize just how close he was waiting by the door until you swung it open and he was right there, the breeze created by the motion brushing both of your hair back.

"I left some popcorn on the counter if you want to make some while I'm in here," Eddie offered, hand settling on your side as you step out of the way. It's probably just to keep you where you are as he moves past you. It's subtle. Enough that you could've never caught it, but you did and with a blushing smile.

You stood there for a moment, toying with your hands as you actively reminded yourself of the importance of best friends staying best friends. You heard him trip over his coveralls, a wet squeak on the floor combining with a pitched Shit and his hand smacking on the wall as he caught himself. That should've pulled you out of it. That should've made it easier to roll your eyes and remember he's just your weird friend. But it didn’t. It made it harder.

"You alright in there?" you called out in a poor attempt to hide your amusement.

"Uh -- shit -- yeah! I'm fine!"

You snorted and walked down the hall with a warmth spreading from the center of your chest that made you feel like a complete and utter fool. You needed something to force you away from developing feelings for him. Something, but you couldn't think of what. He needed a detrimental, irredeemable flaw of some kind, but you couldn't think of any. He was sweet, funny, and caring. He was the kind of guy to give you his jacket, to really listen when you talk, to fix your car for you. He loved your happiness so much even when it was begrudging on part of his stupid jokes that he leaned into it. When he emphasized his words, he stepped closer. When your laugh made him laugh, he leaned further in. It was as if some part of him hoped that being closer would make it last longer. By brushing up against you, the memory of your reactions he adored so much would sink into his skin and he'd never have to lose how he felt in that moment.

He was Loogie, that obnoxious kid in the grade above you who would copy what you said right back to you until it made you furious, yet let you slept in his bed when nightmares woke you up in a mix of cold sweat and tears. He was Eddie, that grown man that lived in Indiana who was infuriatingly pretty and took care of anyone he felt lucky enough to still have in his life.

And he was your friend. Your best friend. And for once, you needed to fight those feelings like a punch to your gut and keep it that way.

You had gone into autopilot as you wandered through your thoughts, the only thing to pull you out of your own head being the smell of burning popcorn.

"Fuck," you hissed out, quickly pulling the bulging aluminum pan away from the stovetop. After scrambling through his drawers for his cutlery, you finally grab a fork to poke and prod at the container to check the damage.

"Remind me to never put you on popcorn duty again," Eddie chuckled as he walked in, still ruffling his hair with one towel, the other one draped loosely around his hips. Your gaze briefly traveled down before shooting up to his face again. "Had to come out here and make sure you weren't burning my trailer down."

With one hand, he tugged at the hot foil over and over to peel it back. The action was broken up by frequent jerks backwards as he hissed through his teeth over the heat.

"It's almost like your body is trying to tell you something, caveman," you joked, waving the fork around in front of him.

"That's quitter talk," he explained, a bit of his teeth flashing at you again as a partial smile formed. He inspected the popcorn and shrugged.

"Eh, should be fine. Probably just a bit burnt at the bottom,"

"Thank you, I never would've found that out on my own," you gasped, once again holding up that fork as he walks away again.

He turned to glance at you one more time as he approached the corner before the hall. He made a few caveman-like grunts, and you couldn't help but drop your head back with hearty laughter.

*

Falling seamlessly into old habits, you were both staying up past your bedtime. Every now and then, at the occasional yawn you’d remind him he had work in the morning and he’d shrug it off. You’d nod off here and there, and he’d remind you that you had a shift in the evening. I can sleep in late, you can’t you’d argue.

You binged popcorn as he threw out jokes about how if pretzels aren’t dinner, then why is popcorn? That typically earned him a kernel flung at his head, which he’d open his mouth for to try and catch because for whatever reason he liked crunching on them. He never caught one, though, and one even got him right in the eye. He was as theatrical as ever about it as you apologized incessantly and tried to get a good look at it. You shot me, you shot me he’d cough out until he was cackling when you smacked at his chest.

At some point, you considered figuring out a real dinner, but Eddie and you were so full of snacks that a meal on top of that would have only been a one-way ticket to puking on his rug. Again.

So there you were. Full of a myriad of snacks in place of an actual dinner and sprawled out on his couch as you zoned out to whatever was on the TV. He apologized for the constant drafts that sent shivers down your spine whenever they made their way through the mobile home. You couldn’t be bothered to care about breezes working through the cracks and crevices of his home; the two of you huddled together under a bunch of blankets as you laid against his arm, until he eventually raised it up to settle on the back of the couch and you rested on his chest instead.

You stared thoughtlessly at the commercial currently going on about McDonald’s new burger option. 91% fat free? Yuck. You sighed over the lack of stimulation, seeking out a conversation instead.

“I wish it was colder,” you murmured suddenly, and his disbelieving guffaw shook your head where it was resting.

“What? It’s true,” you insisted as you moved from resting against him to get a better look at him. “If it was any colder, we’d have snow,”

Eddie tilted his head to the side as he stared at you, taking in the way you beamed even in your fatigued state. Movement from the television flashed against your features in the dark, dancing along your skin as your eyes filled with excitement over snow that wasn’t even here yet. He bent his arm at the elbow to squish his cheek against his fist, looking at you in a way that just-a-friend should never look at another just-friend. His lashes fluttered and he let out a soft breath through his nose, thoughts of your lips drawn back in that pretty smile swirling around in his sleepy brain like those flurries you loved so dearly until he finally broke free by clearing his throat and glancing away. He faked a yawn until it turned into a real one, pushing himself on the couch cushions to sit up more.

“You really want blizzards before Halloween?”

“Well, no… I guess not,” you hummed out, glancing down at his bouncing leg that was nudging you. “Just can’t wait for that first snowfall.”

“You say that until the plows come through and all the snow is turned into filthy piles and you’re eating shit after slipping on ice,” he pointed out, dragging his grinning teeth over his lower lip at the glare you gave him.

“You’re so gloomy.”

“So is Winter, but you like it,” he pointed his finger at you now as he makes his argument. He snatched it back with a lazy huff of a snicker when you pretend to go and bite it like you used to.

“Yeah, you’re alright,” you murmured, leaning in. You’re centimeters away from his face, kicking up his heart rate as his eyes dart over your facial features. “I guess I’ll keep you.”

At that, you pulled away from him completely to get up off the couch and he’s left stumbling over what to say as he recollected himself. Eddie lets out a halfhearted laugh, craning his neck to watch you get a glass of water.

“That’s plagiarism, y’know. I could sue,” he threatened, but his smile showed just how hollow it was.

Your giggle weaved through his trailer, and it made it a home worth living in for the first time in years, even if he was sure the increase in value left him horribly unworthy of having it. He observed the way you moved in his small kitchen, in his old clothes that sat loosely on your form. And at that gnawing feeling in his gut – he forced his tired, sad, unworthy eyes away.

*

taglist: @mystars123 @h-ness1944 @ohmeg @milkymil-k @eddiesprincess86 @stopbeingcurious @corrodedcoffincumslut @sidthedollface2 @spoonflix @madaboutjoe @fckyeahlames @corrcdedcoffin @damon-loves-pie @bebe07011 @eponaartemisa @aysheashea @rustboxstarr

[eddiessluttywaist]

desiderium

an eddie munson series

AGELESS/BLANK/UNDER 18 BLOGS ARE NOT WELCOME TO INTERACT. PLEASE RESPECT MY RULES AND BOUNDARIES.

summary: eddie’s odd, forgotten childhood friend seeks him out when he needs her more than he realizes.

pairing: bsf!mechanic!bartender!eddie x eccentric!bsf!fem!reader

word count: 7,488 words

content/warnings: eventual smut so MDNI, fluff, swearing, blood (accidental cut), mentions of bullying, low self esteem, anxiety, mentions of embarrassment and shame, mentions of a history of bad relationships, smoking, car trouble (sorry if any of the car stuff isn’t accurate lmao). i think that’s it!

a/n: sorry for taking so long to update! i've been very busy. i hope you enjoy the new chapter! creds to whoever owns and posted those ^ photos! they’re not mine, i just made the collage!

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5

*

“You what?” The man on the other line cackled in Eddie’s ear. “Ro- Robin! No, you gotta come here! Eddie called some chick a ‘good girl’. He totally scared her off, it’s hilarious.”

“Thank you, Harrington, you’re really helping me in my time of need,” Eddie seethed as he laid in bed. He heard some shuffling and then a familiar feminine voice sounded from the telephone.

“‘Good girl’? What is she? A dog?”

Eddie ran his hands over his face, jostling his bangs away from his forehead before suddenly jerking them away in gestures they couldn’t even see as he let out a bitter laugh.

“Why did I even call you two? I’m regretting so many choices today.”

“So, she didn’t like it?” Steve asked as Robin complained about him crowding the phone.

“Go use the one in the living room— no— stop-”

“This is my room. You go use the living room phone.”

“Ugh, you’re breathing on me, dingus!”

Eddie rolled his eyes over the typical bickering, choosing to focus on the question that actually had to do with their conversation.

“Uh — well — she got all freaked out and everything was awkward. When she was leaving, I was going to open the door for her and she thought I was going to hug her— I-I, ugh, it was horrible. So uhh… yeah, I’d say no. She didn’t like it… at… all.”

“You have zero game, man,” Steve chided after a beat of silence that had forced Eddie to sit with his shame.

“And neither do you.” Robin argued, finally waving him out of his own room. “Don’t listen to him, Eddie, he’s an idiot.”

“Thanks, Robin…,” he muttered even if it didn’t make him feel much better.

“You’re an idiot too, just so we’re clear,” she added, and he nodded despite the fact that — once again — she couldn’t even see him. “I can’t believe you called her a good girl.”

“Okay, how many times are we going to repeat it before I blow my brains out?” Eddie deflated with a distressed laugh, clasping his hands together. He heard another line pick up.

“What’d I miss?”

“Eddie wants to die.”

“I do not blame you, man. You know it’s never too late to come here in Indianapolis. Maybe even change your identity,” Steve suggested as he leaned up against the wall by his other phone, which he had nestled between his ear and his shoulder just like Eddie did.

“Yeah, cause I could afford living in the city,” he snickered mostly to himself before sighing as he ran his hands over his face again.

“Who is she anyway?” Robin wondered.

“She’s his weird, secret friend he’s kept from us,” Steve replied in a mutter.

“No, I- she’s not a secret and she’s not weird,” Eddie huffs. “She’s just… she hasn’t been around in a while. She’s a friend from before I moved in with Wayne.”

“Oh… oh,” Robin’s interest piqued again. “So, she’s like… a best-best friend?”

“He totally wants to nail her,” Steve tacked on, and Eddie found himself groaning as he sunk further into his bed, wishing it would swallow him whole.

“I don’t wan — will you quit it? Yes, we were very close.”

“And she just happened to show up out of nowhere. I’m telling you, Ed, she wants you. You should go for it. You haven’t been laid since Chrissy…,” Steve muttered that last comment, and Robin squeezed her eyes shut as she facepalmed.

“Or she could just need a friend…?” Robin countered, her voice weakly lilting upwards as she corrected him. She just hoped the Chrissy comment wouldn’t be enough to make Eddie draw back into himself.

“She knew you when you were kids. I’m sure you were just as weird as a little child Eddie, so I doubt she was all that fazed by you calling her uh… the thing you called her.”

“Maybe…,” Eddie muttered, picking at his nails and biting at them.

He was tired. That tea really did help, even if his exhaustion was put on hold by an absurd amount of embarrassment and anxiety. He could feel himself settling again, his eyelids getting heavier.

“I should go.”

Robin squeezed her eyes shut again and mentally chastised Steve for bringing up Chrissy so carelessly.

“Call us again. Okay, weirdo? To update us?” Robin urged, feeling a surge of protective instinct.

He was never around anymore, never called; and there was always this anxiety in the back of her mind that he wasn’t letting them know if things were getting too hard for him. Neither Steve nor she could figure out when they could check in on him because he never bothered to share his schedule with them. And when they did call it was incredibly rare for him to pick up. She couldn’t blame him for wanting to shut everyone out, but it only made her worry about what was going on with him.

“I don’t wanna bother you guys. I know you’re busy with city life,” Eddie teased with a playful theatricality to his tone, but his voice was soft with that creeping exhaustion.

“Nah, you know you can call whenever,” Steve replied, taking a break from his incessant joking to let some of his sincerity come through. “Plus, I gotta hear more about this secret girl.”

“Not a secret,” Eddie corrected, his eyes closing to soothe his urge to drift off, one brow raising lazily with his words.

“Just call, okay? Or we’ll keep bugging you until you update us,” Robin urged, a sing-song tone coming to her voice.

“Fine,” Eddie snickered, and this time he was actually able to get a goodbye in and sloppily slam his phone back down before knocking out.

There was only crackling now on the line between the two roommates.

“I worry about him,” Robin spoke up suddenly, just loud enough for Steve to catch her concerned voice.

“I know,” Steve sighed, placing the phone back onto the wall. “I do too.”

*

You had no intentions of ignoring Eddie after that night in his trailer, not explicitly anyways. You were still thinking about him constantly, but any pleasant thoughts were immediately invaded by embarrassment. It felt like you were experiencing it all over again and the accompanying swirl to your gut was overwhelming.

The reality of the next couple of Eddie-less days was that you were too engrossed in the aftereffects of that awkward exchange to reach out first, not to mention most of your attention going to your first job here in Hawkins. Despite your nerves, you did surprisingly well on Thursday and Friday night. Enough to get a small smile to bristle Ron’s bearded face and a mutter about maybe needing to get a new name tag ready. You were unbelievably cheery over the praise and acceptance, but you still had one more test to pass: weekend shifts. Those were their busiest, especially Saturday nights. If you make it from 4 o’clock to midnight with no major screw ups then you had the job. He promised.

So yes, you were actively avoiding being the first one to call, but to be fair you were also trying to attend to other aspects of your new life in Hawkins. Your focus was being diverted to getting this job, and spending time with Martha. You were distracted by moments of promising renewal in anticipation of the growing presence of Autumn — despite the crushing embarrassment of the other night.

That didn’t mean you weren’t thinking of him, though. If you weren’t shaking off the recent memory of Wednesday night, then you were indulging in the recent memory of Wednesday night. Him having you over; you making him tea; feeling close to him again as you exchanged stories — laughing together and smiling so hard the muscles in your cheeks hurt a little. The kind of pure smile you only got when you were with Eddie.

You thought about him as you styled your hair in a manner that helped to boost your confidence but wouldn’t get in your way during your shift. You couldn’t believe he had his own place, no matter how “shitty” he said it was. You couldn’t believe he was a tattooed mechanic and had hair. That was the real kicker for you. He didn’t have it shaved so close that he felt like a peach when you patted at the top of his head just to get on his nerves.

He had those long spirals that you wanted to reach across his small kitchen counter and swirl around your finger. Those curls inspired a habit of tilting his head to let his big brown eyes hide under his messy bangs; or sometimes he toyed with his curls to pull a chunk of it in front of his face. It was fascinating to see the way his features and behaviors have adapted to adulthood. Back home he was harassed daily for his “feminine” features, so the fluttery lashes and full lips were nothing new. But now he had grown into his generous mouth and his doe eyes, and so much of his youthful softness had made way for sharp definition — particularly in his jawline and cheekbones. He’s actually grown into the kind of person that intimidated you even if he was just Eddie. He made your palms sweat and had you thinking over every little thing you said. Y’know, things like Loo-ddie. You tried to reassure yourself that you only had nerves because you wanted to have him as a best friend again so badly, but some self-aware part of you knew the signs of an impending crush. Why couldn’t you have some self-control? Why did you have to gush over just about every man who showed you an ounce of kindness?

You wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but you even had brief heart eyes for Ron after seeing how sweet he was with Sandy. It made you yearn for what they had, and you recognized it was more about wanting such a wholesome relationship of your own than wanting someone twice your age, but you still felt ashamed about it. What’s wrong with you? You needed to let bosses stay bosses, and you needed to let best friends stay best friends. You needed Eddie to be a friend, you needed to keep those boundaries in place so you couldn’t ruin everything like always. He’s special, and you can’t just throw yourself at him and offer to give him whatever he wants just so you could feel like his everything — even if it’s only for a few minutes.

You glance at your hands now and fight the urge to chip away at your freshly painted nails to appease your low spirits. You sit with these thoughts for a moment, swallowing moisture back into your throat that felt too tight; then you forced yourself away from the cramped motel bathroom to finish getting ready for your shift. You couldn’t let yourself slip up and distract yourself with your own misery — it was Saturday, and this was your final step towards success. A measly success of a server job at a small-town bar, but you had to put a positive spin on it.

You couldn’t focus on self-loathing, and you couldn’t focus on Eddie.

*

“A new girl?” Eddie groaned as he rolled his sleeves up to the bends of his elbows. “The last time we had a new person I had to watch him every fucking second cause he had no clue what he was doing — shit, he even stole from you, didn’t he?”

“Yes,” Ron muttered bitterly, never happy about the reminder that someone had been sneaking cash out from under his nose. “She’s pretty good though. Real sweet and does her job.”

“I dunno… do we really need the help?”

“Kevin is back at school. We really need the help,” Ron chuckled, but felt a pang of sadness right to his chest knowing his youngest was back at college — or even in college in the first place — all the same. “Don’t be so sour. She’s a good kid.”

Eddie grumbled irritably but didn’t pester him any further. It was no use anyways. If Ron set his mind on something, then he wasn’t letting up. Sure, it made sense considering it’s his business, but he’s also stubborn as a bull and that quality had a history of surpassing logic sometimes.

About a quarter to four, Eddie was in the back when the bell rang.

“Well look at you, all nice and early again. You suckin’ up?” he heard Ron asking playfully, and Eddie rolled his eyes.

Great. A suck-up.

Just what he needed. Some goody two-shoes setting a new standard that he wouldn’t meet. He was lucky if he was on time in the first place with how much he slept in on the weekends, but Ron was always cutting him slack. Jus’ a small-town bar he’d say whenever Eddie scrambled into the building with an apology already slipping out at an incoherent pace.

He couldn’t hear the new girl’s reply, assuming it had been a nonverbal one rather than one so delicate and quiet that even Ron barely heard it before the novice made her way to the back.

“Hi, I don’t think we’ve worked together yet and I just… wanted… to… Loogie…?”

At the sound of your voice, Eddie was already turning around from where he was opening the recent delivery. His perception of the moment seemed to have been placed in slow motion and suddenly he was heating up with flashbacks of Wednesday night. Called her a good girl, no joke, called her a good girl his mind droned on repeat just to torture him.

“Wha — hey,” he laughed casually and thankfully avoided choking on his own spit. He swallowed thickly and his brow furrowed as his voice came out painfully hoarse. “You’re the new girl?”

“Guess so. If I do well tonight,” you murmured with a small smile, toying with your hands.

You had painted your fingernails a rich burgundy, and his eyes zeroed in on the small strokes of color before looking up at you again.

“I’m sure you’ll be okay, Ron seems really impressed with you…” Eddie offered with a light laugh after clearing his throat, suddenly feeling sheepish around you again.

“Don’t go tellin’ her that! I don’t want her thinking she doesn’t have to work hard tonight!” Ron shouted from the front, pulling a snicker out of you.

You swiftly place your purse on a hook before continuing the conversation. Even if it wasn’t the end of the world if Ron heard your conversation, you took a few steps closer to Eddie and lowered your voice a touch.

“So… did the tea help at all…?” you ask, risking a mention of Wednesday night. You lifted one sneakered foot up onto your toes and shifted nervously before settling it back down as you waited on his reply.

Eddie’s lips pushed out in thought as he brought his attention back to the delivery of nuts and pretzels (really, he was looking for an excuse to not have to look at you as he thought of that night).

“Oh, uh, yeah. Thanks — really helped,” he offered a partial smile as his eyes flitted over to you before turning down again just a fast.

You press your lips together in a weak smile of your own and nod but fall silent. Instead of giving into your urge to pick at your polish, you run the pads of your fingers over the smooth surface of your nails instead.

“‘m sorry for that hug,” you finally blurt out with an uneasy laugh. “I just- I really thought that was why you were reaching over, and I didn’t want to be rude so-”

Eddie’s eyes widened and finally removed himself from his suddenly oh-so-interesting task.

“No no no, you don’t have to apologize,” he promised as he stretched back to his full height. “I should’ve been offering anyw- ah, shit.”

Eddie hissed as he glanced down at his hand. While replying with a fervent need to reassure you, he had thoughtlessly grabbed at the wrong end of the box cutter and sliced the pad of his thumb.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” you rush over to him, instinctively cradling his hand with your own.

“Just a surface cut. Really.” Eddie chuckled. He really needed to go run it under cool water and bandage it, but he wasn’t ready to separate from you.

“What’s going on back there?” Ron questioned from the bar.

“Eddie cut his finger!” you replied as Eddie insisted “Nothing!” simultaneously.

Ron grumbled on his way to his back room that he had turned into a part kitchen, part break room, part delivery storage room. Surely there was some kind of code being broken there, but who cared? Clearly no one around Hawkins.

He eyed the way you two were situated but didn’t think much of it since you were probably just having a natural reaction to someone getting hurt.

“I swear…” he grumbled under his breath on his way over.

“You need to pay attention before you really hurt yourself one of these days,” Ron muttered, and grabbed Eddie’s wrist far harsher than when you reached out for him. “Aren’t you a mechanic? Don’t you know to watch where your hands are, kid?”

You cringed when he wiped at the spot with a rough napkin that sounded like it might as well have been sandpaper against the cut, then grunted.

“It’s fine. Just a bleeder,” he states with all the confidence of a certified physician and ruggedness of an old trucker before tugging up his jeans further into his partial beer gut and walking back out. “You know where the first aid kit is!”

“More than anyone,” Eddie added with a half grin to compliment his self-deprecation as he tilted his head, breathing out a soft laugh.

“Still accident prone, huh?” you ask with a slight scrunch to your nose and a lift to the corners of your lips, watching him head farther back in the multi-faceted room to the employee bathroom.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” He tilted back out of the room to offer you a cheeky grin, his hair jostling with the motion and then again when he flicked his head to get it out of his face.

“Oh, I dunno… Coulda learned your lesson after face planting into gravel,” you offer with an innocent tone, taking a moment to clock in before sauntering over.

“Well considering that happened several times, you should know better than to assume I’d ever learn,” he whispered playfully, grinning over at you.

“Guess so,” you snort, leaning into the doorframe.

“Had to rough this face up, y’know? Really dedicate myself to becoming a man,” Eddie used a deeper, rougher tone of voice and puffed his chest out as he held a paper towel to his thumb.

“It’s a shame it didn’t work,” you pouted before laughing at the hurt look he donned.

“You wound me, truly,” he moved his good hand to his chest.

“Not as often as you do, apparently,”

“Touché, touché,” he sighed, unclasping the first aid kit and flipping it open. “You’re still a lil shit, y’know that?”

“Can’t help it. Haven’t had anyone to banter with in years,” your head settled against the wood of the doorframe and his own tilted to the side as he regarded you. That smirk of his toyed on his lips as he considered your words.

He’s about to reply — surely with some cheeky remark about you needing him — but Ron was calling before he got the chance.

*

“Make sure you’re wearing gloves today,” Ron muttered to Eddie without lifting his attention from whatever he was writing down.

“You never wear gloves,” Eddie countered with a childish huff. “Only rich-ass bars in the city give a shit about that crap.”

“Yeah, well I ain’t a health hazard,” he snickered, finally raising his gaze to point his pencil at Eddie’s bandaged finger. “Gloves. Now.”

Eddie rolled his eyes but pulled gloves from the box under the countertop anyways. You’re on the other side of the bar, sitting on a stool and a smile pulling at your lips. Elbows on the countertop and chin balancing on your fists, you watch him intently with little giggles sneaking out.

“Don’t encourage him,” Ron pleads gruffly at the sound of you laughing over Eddie making a big show of pulling out the gloves and slipping them onto his hands.

Once he let each glove snap into place at his wrists, Eddie outstretched his arms and displayed his new accessory.

“Eh? Nice, right? Definitely won’t make everything I touch taste like latex,” Eddie nudged his boss who gave him a less than pleased look, but you were sure he was muffling his own amusement.

“Wanna learn how to bartend?” Ron asks you now. “I think there’ll be an opening soon.”

At that, Eddie leans back with a belly laugh, his dimples sinking into his cheeks.

*

You had unfortunately started your shift with the assumption that they had been messing with you when Ron and Sandy warned you about Saturday nights. When you arrived just before 4 o’clock there was nearly no one there besides the occasional regular; then twenty minutes past 5 o’clock came along and you were blasted back to Sunday mornings at the diner. The place was packed full of people all chummy with one another, which was charming until they were several drinks in and decided they knew you just as well.

Not all of them, but enough of them were flirting with you at every opportunity; and you were forced to use your customer service manners to deal with them. So many fake smiles were starting to make your cheeks ache.

Returning to the back with an empty tray, you rub at the muscles in one cheek with your free hand. You almost forgot how much service work meant forcing a pleasant attitude and dealing with aching feet. God, that was killing you more than anything. When you were leaving the motel, your trusty sneakers were like walking on clouds. Now, you were certain you had been stomping around on needles.

The music didn’t exactly help with your shift either while trying to hear requests and reply, especially since you weren’t one to use a loud tone. Ron insisted on live music whenever he could get it and you understood the appeal, but the band playing tonight apparently didn’t know how to have a respectable volume set for performing indoors.

You could handle it and you knew you’d form a routine with the locals that rushed in on the weekends and you’d learn how to cope with deafening musicians — you just needed to adjust to your new job.

What you couldn’t handle, as you were quickly learning, was seeing Eddie bartend. It was such a simple act, and yet it left you slack jawed while trying to stay focused on dishing out the drinks he prepared to the right people.

Something about the gloved hands and the rolled-up sleeves as he moved around the bar with such ease left you in the shadow of a crush looming overhead again. His chain bracelet and that familiar beaded bracelet were stacked on one wrist; he even had a few faded tattoos you caught glimpses of in the dim lighting. Not to mention the moving musculature in his strong forearms as he poured and served and wiped with a sort of sloppy expertise. You noticed there wasn’t a lot of mixing around here just like back home. Just a whole lot of small-town people looking for simple alcohol. The older ones seemed partial to a basic glass of whiskey or beer; and the younger ones all hopped up on the fact that they could finally drink legally were requesting shots.

Eddie had tied his hair back in a low bun with the occasional curl rebelling and framing his face that seemed to only be smiling or thinly veiling irritation whenever a mean drunk bitched about him not pouring enough. Either way it truly was something to behold.

As much as his looks should’ve been a passing thought, considering your place as an old friend, they insisted on lingering. You were still adjusting to knowing him this way and the odd disposition between knowing him like no one else and not knowing him at all continued to present a disorienting mix of feelings. The possibility of such complications never occurred to you when you became dead set on coming here, and you hated that you didn’t see it coming or brace yourself for it. Now you were stumbling through moving here for a childhood best friend and winding up finding a man in his place.

Then, of course, your thoughts circled back to your history with men. Don’t go there, don’t go there.

You let out a small sigh and checked the clock. 11:11. So close. So, so close. Before you knew it, it would be time to leave. Glancing at your notepad, you go over what that guy in the sweat stained sports tee asked for his cheap nachos. Extra jalapeños. He insisted on extra jalapeños and went into way too much detail of how “he’d be paying for it in the morning, but they’re just so damn good.”

“Having fun?” Eddie asked after his plodding jog to the back.

“Oh, you bet. An absolute blast,” you laughed, pouring the molten cheese over the thin tortilla chips. “Whatcha doing here?”

“Break,” Eddie answered simply as he flopped down in a chair in the small corner of the space dedicated to the employees. “Ron and Sandy got the bar for now.”

“Ahh,” you hum, spooning the jalapeños on top of the mountain of ingredients.

“Y’know, you’re pretty good at the whole bartending thing. It’s actually kinda cool,” you admitted, glancing over your shoulder to smile over at him.

“I just pour alcohol for the local drunks, but thanks,” Eddie laughed diffidently over the compliment, sliding his metal lunch box closer to get to his baggie of pretzels.

“Is that your dinner?” You ask now, fighting to keep the conversation alive. You’d take talking about pretzels over a lull in conversation.

“Oh uh--” he glanced down at the bag. “I might make something when I get home if I have enough energy.”

“You better. Or I’ll be forced to come over again. Pretzels aren’t dinner.”

“Oh, I see,” Eddie grinned. “Then you can come over and I can make a fool of myself again.”

“It’s okay, I’ll do it too. It’ll balance everything out,” you offered, placing the hot plate on your tray.

“Oh, well there we go. Long as we’re both fools, then it should be okay,” he agreed with feigned seriousness to your proposal then let his smile curl up his lips again.

“Of course,” you matched his endearing expression. “We’re always fools.”

“Always fools…” he tested aloud while leaning back to teeter the metal foldout chair back and forth.

“I concur, Critter.”

*

“They’re awfully chummy, hm?” Sandy whispered to Ron as she watched you two interact while cleaning up for the night.

“Yeah. I hate it,” Ron grumbled out, scrubbing at a stain. “He better not scare her off. She’s a good waitress.”

“Don’t be like that,” Sandy sighed, nudging her hip into his. “I think it’s sweet. And he’s a good kid, I don’t see him hurting her — let alone enough to cost us an employee.”

“So, we’re definitely keeping her ‘round?”

“Yes, we settled on that this morning — would you quit avoiding the topic?” She urged and Ron groaned as he stretched his back.

“It’s alright, I guess. Jus’ don’t want any drama around here. Too old for it.”

*

“So, I didn’t scare you off?” Eddie asked as you cleaned off tables together.

“Scare me off?” you repeated, glancing over at him. “Why’d you say that?”

Eddie eyed you through his lashes then looked back down at the same spot he’s wiped down probably six times now.

“Well, you brought up coming over again,” he let out a soft chuckle. “So, I’m guessing I wasn’t that much of an idiot on Wednesday?”

“Oh psh — please,” you laughed it off, standing up straighter after swiping the rag over the tabletop one more time. “If anything, I was being stupid.”

“Oh, I wasn’t saying you weren’t being stupid,” Eddie joked with that obnoxiously gorgeous grin, finally separating from that same table he kept cleaning. He sauntered over to you, his amusement and proximity warming you as he looked down at you. “Just that I was also stupid.”

“I’d say you were especially stupid, but I was trying to be nice,” you shot back in a dulcet tone, grinning up at him.

“Be nice?” Eddie repeated with a huff of disbelief, grinning when that earned him a jab to his side. “Gone soft on me, Critter? Not the same girl that’ll throw a remote at my head?”

“I only did that if you were particularly annoying while I was trying to watch TV,” you laughed, nudging his chest to just barely make him stumble back. Not that it discouraged that man who only smiled brighter.

“Well then, I guess I have an excuse for being such an idiot all the time. You really knocked something loose all those times you hit me with that remote.”

“Sure, it was me that knocked something loose,” you teased in a giggle, making your way over to the last couple of tables. Your laughter only builds up at the face he gives you — both playfully hurt and encouraged to get you back.

Within seconds you noticed the way he started to twist up his rag, and you were squealing and rushing away from him. Eddie chased after you and whipped at you with the towel whenever he got the chance, occasionally jamming his hip into a table or a chair with a breathy “Oof.” Amongst your squeaks of empty fear, you were still cackling and tried to get him back with your own towel.

“Children!” Ron suddenly announced, and you two slowed down to a stop — still breathless and giggly. “I’m old and would like to go to sleep. Maybe finish cleaning before flirting?”

Sandy gave him a look that could kill for that, then followed Eddie’s example and whipped at his behind with a rag.

Both of your faces flushed at the accusation, but thankfully weren’t forced to sit with the embarrassment of being called out by Ron. Instead, all your attention went to cackling over Ron’s tired reaction to his wife snapping a towel at his ass.

He looked genuinely angry for a moment, and then he was clearing his throat and wiping the bar cleaner off his hands and twisting up his own towel.

“Nope — no — Ron,” Sandy started with a warning tone, but she was already laughing, slowly backing away.

“Gotta play fair,” Ron pointed out and whipped at her thigh. That was enough to send Sandy squealing and Ron chased after her to the back room while the two of you leaned into your laughter.

You’d do anything for a love like that.

*

“Still not a fan of pretzels for dinner?” Eddie chanced a glance over at you with a lazy, half grin as he toyed with his keys and walked you over to your car.

“Definitely not a fan of pretzels for dinner,” you answered, laughing under your breath and nudging his hip with your own.

“It’s a shame cause y’know,” Eddie yawned dramatically as he stretched out his arms and then flopped into the side of your car. “I’m real tired. If someone doesn’t follow through with their offer, that’s for sure all I’ll be having.”

You tilted your head, feeling that post-customer service ache to your cheeks as you fought the urge to smile at this absolute idiot leaning against your car. His elbow was propped up on the roof, his fist supporting his head and squishing his cheek.

“I don’t know if I have the energy to cook right now,” you sighed, doing your best to match his drama. “But you know what?”

“What, Critter?” He hummed, shoving himself away from the car to move a few stray hairs from your face and in that moment, you might as well have melted into the cracked and sun-bleached pavement. “I’m invested. Do go on.”

“I can buy us fast food,” you whispered to provide a surreptitious air to burgers and fries. Screw it. You’ve been good about eating real food. Maybe it was time to associate these meals with something positive for once. Whatever excused your addiction to excessive oil and salt.

“Ah, much better than pretzels,” he laughed, shoving one of his hands into his jacket pocket. “I’d be honored.”

“Just like old times,��� him being closer to you to move some hair out of your face encouraged you to toy with one of the pins on his coat. A soft breeze swirled through the parking lot, and you were both reminded of how stuffy and smoke-filled work had been as you breathed the fresh air in. You caught the scent of a distant bonfire, but it was nothing like the cloud of tobacco back in The Hideout. The chill of the air combined with the musk of a faraway fire spoke of Fall, sweetening your already pleasant mood.

“Remember that time we got large pizzas for both of us on movie night?”

“Yeah,” Eddie let out a soft laugh. “You threw up on the carpet.”

“Yeah, and you got in trouble for using your dad’s credit card,” you add a small giggle of your own, just for your heart to sink at the shift in his expression. You shuffled in your spot.

“Sorry… I probably shouldn’t… I shouldn’t keep bringing him up,” you muttered, dropping your hand away from his W.A.S.P. pin.

“No — no, no it’s okay really,” Eddie was quick to reassure you, but your mood was still steadily spoiling and dragging the pit of your stomach down with it at even a glimpse of him being bothered by you. Upset, angry, annoyed, fed up — whatever it was. You were certainly paying the cost of your penchant for nostalgia, and even the aroma of an early October night couldn’t save you.

“I like talking about when we were kids,” he added in a hushed tone that eased your spiral a touch. You glanced up at him through your lashes. “Really. I do. Makes me feel… ah, I don’t know.”

He admitted that last comment with a huff. It was filtered through amusement over his inability to speak before he rolled his lower lip inward in thought. Both of his hands were shoved in his pockets now and he swayed in his spot while kicking a piece of gravel forward. He finally released his lower lip again which was left with a slight sheen to it now, and he settled on a shrug of defeat. He couldn’t think of what he wanted to say.

You stared at him, this impromptu moment of softness burning through you in a way you weren’t expecting. Just as he couldn’t understand exactly why he enjoyed discussing his childhood as long as it was with you — you couldn’t understand the sudden pang of nausea that came from hanging onto his words and just to drop down over a noncommittal shrug. Your anxiety barreled into you in a sudden flash, leaving you somewhere in between the pain and the comfort of clinging to the past with him.

“Makes me feel cared about, I guess. Especially since we haven’t been friends in a while,” he finally concluded. “You don’t have to remember any of that stuff, but you do… it’s nice.”

“We’re always friends,” you insisted with a small smile, doing your best to not let everything fall apart over that once brief change of expression especially since things were looking up again.

“Yeahhh, you’re alright…,” Eddie murmured. “I guess I’ll keep you.”

“Oh, how generous of you,” you snort, attempting to move him to the side so you can get to your car, just for him to reach out a hand to settle on your upper arm. He gently urged you to turn around as he pushed himself off your car again.

“C’mon, I’ll drive. I don’t trust that thing,” Eddie insisted as he kept a careful hold on your elbow while guiding you towards his van.

“What?” you question, looking back at your lonely car. “I’ve had her forever, she’s perfectly safe… I can’t just leave her here.”

“Your brake pads are shit.”

“What?” you ask again with a slight pout and furrowed brows.

“When you visited me the other day,” he started with a light laugh to buffer his confession. “Your car sounded like it was screaming when you were parking.”

You reached his van that had aged gracefully over the years with a mechanic at its beck and call. Eddie unlocked the passenger side door and held it open for you, but you couldn’t stop looking at your car.

“She’s just tired s’all,” you frown, feeling guilty over abandoning an inanimate object no matter how silly it felt.

“She’s just gonna kill you if you don’t replace your brake pads s’all,” Eddie leaned into you with his mocking whisper. Your sad glance up at him is enough to make his playful expression falter. His heavy and dramatic exhale already pulls a smile back onto your face, knowing he was caving in some way or another.

“I’ll bring ‘er to Thach’s and replace them for you,”

“Thank you, Loogie,” you swooned, and he rolled his eyes over your excessively cooing tone.

You were lucky to have favoritism on your side.

*

“Give it to me straight, doc. Will she make it?”

Eddie glanced over at you with a faux glare.

“How many times are you going to ask me that?”

“I dunno, how many times are you going to squint at me instead of answering?”

“You know I’m doing this for free right? After hours? After already working my second job all night?”

“Ooo, you sound like such an adult,” you squeeze your shoulders up to your ears with a grin, a brown bag stocked with artery-clogging goodness on your lap. He shook his head at you, looking away again to hide his poorly masked amusement. He could say all he wanted about doing this for free, but you could still give him a hard time. He was getting paid whether he wanted it or not. Even if he didn't accept it from you personally, you'd at least leave cash at the front desk and ask the nice receptionist to give it to him.

“Alright, c’mere,” he waved you over eventually. You perked up, moving out of the hard plastic chair in the garage where you left the fast food in your place. “And can you bring that display over? On the table?”

Nodding, you snatched it on your way over to Eddie and kneel beside him.

“Okay so,” he started off with a sigh. Not a great sign.

“Best case scenario, your brake pads look like this,” a greasy index finger points to one of the pads on display before moving to the one next to it. “This is how they’d look with a more moderate amount of wear to them – not great and you'll want to replace them, and then this is how they look when you need to get them replaced ASAP.”

“And this is your brain on drugs,” you chimed in with the theme, before shrinking under the look he gave you.

“Sorry,” you murmured, even though he broke and smiled over your bad joke.

You returned to observing the gradual decline in buffers on the display and shrug a bit.

“Okay, so what about Sherry?”

Eddie groaned as he leaned back to grab the discarded piece of metal and held it up to show you. It looked like a flat, grimy cracker in comparison to the examples on the display.

“They’re practically just the backing plates at this point, I don’t know how you’re not dead,” the piece clinked against the cement floor when he dropped it back down. “How long have they been squealing?”

Eddie’s brow furrowed and he became visibly pained by the way you had to think about it. It wasn’t coming from a patronizing, “how can you be so dumb” kind of place, but rather it stemmed from the anxiety of knowing you were driving around like this.

“I dunno… I noticed a while ago, so I just played my music louder,” you shrugged, and Eddie snorted amidst his distress. He sat up more to lean his back on Sherry. “But then I had to start stomping on the brakes way before I usually would to stop in time.”

“Yeah, that’s generally not a great sign,” he snickered as you started to.

“I’m so sorry, Sherry…” you frowned despite your previous giggling, raising a hand to caress one of her doors. Eddie lifted himself up off the ground with a grunt, heading over to a sink to wash his hands. You crane your neck to follow him, dropping your hand down from your car and start playing with the creeper, rolling it back and forth.

“So, she’ll get some new brake pads and she’ll be as good as new?”

“Well, I don’t want to just replace those, I’ll check out the whole braking system,” Eddie turned to face you completely, wiping the remaining water and suds off his hands. He grabbed the bag you left on the seat and made his way back to you.

“How’d you learn all this stuff?” you asked, thanking him as he handed you your burger before taking a monstrous bite out of his own.

“Uh, my uncle taught me,” he said around his food, sucking a bit of ketchup off the side of his thumb. You noticed the sad glance down to the floor, so you backed off. You didn’t need another moment like earlier when you brought up his dad again.

“I just can’t get over the fact that you’re a grown up…” you murmured to yourself, looking down at your meal. Eddie eyed you as he kept chomping away at his food. The horrid sound that you’ve always despised motivated you to look up at him again, and laughter bloomed from your chest at the sight of the mess around his mouth. His chewing slowed as he blinked his big eyes at you. Gulp.

“What? What’s so funny?”

“You still eat like an obnoxious kid,” you teased, kicking a foot out to nudge him and pull multiple napkins out of the bag for him.

He simply shrugged in response with a cheeky grin, accepting the napkins that he unceremoniously smeared over his lips.

“Hey, you’re the one who wanted to be here,” he raised his hands up in defense now, chuckling to himself.

“Yeah, I am…” you murmured, leaning your head back against Sherry as a fond smile formed on your lips while you watched him start to dig through the bag for any stray fries to add to his container. He shoved most of them right into his mouth before glancing at you again.

“What?”

“Nothing… just happy to have my best friend back,” you murmured, and he silently melted at the sincerity. God, did he feel lucky for once.

You take a beat before outstretching your arm to present him with your downturned hand with just your pinky out. Eddie recognized the old gesture and wiped his hand on his pants, despite the napkins at his disposal, before reaching his own hand out. Interlocking pinkies was of course typical of some childish pact which the two of you did plenty of times as kids, but sometimes you sought this out simply for a moment of comfort. It made you feel held and even as kids, Eddie had the emotional maturity to understand how lonely you felt because of your family. So, when you needed someone to hold your pinky, he was there. The only difference was now his pinky was closer to the width of your thumb and nearly swallowed your pinky whole when he wrapped it around yours. Just another adjustment to Eddie being an adult, which left an unlaughed snicker in your chest at the realization, but it comforted you all the same.

And this night in a dingy old garage after a long shift was easily the best night you’d had in years.

*

taglist: @mystars123 @h-ness1944 @ohmeg @milkymil-k @eddiesprincess86 @stopbeingcurious @corrodedcoffincumslut @sidthedollface2 @spoonflix @madaboutjoe @fckyeahlames @corrcdedcoffin @damon-loves-pie @bebe07011 @eponaartemisa @aysheashea

[eddiessluttywaist]

BABES! BABY BABY BABY!!!

Diserdium (I feel like I misspelled that) YOU KNOW I LOVE IT!!

I had an idea, since the reader is kinda eccentric and hippy, SHE HAS TO DO SMALL BRAIDS WITH BEADS IN EDDIES HAIR!! Or like one, with a bunch of crystals for luck and prosperity. And he’s like wtf u doing with that burning stick, and she just goes, because, loogie, we need to cleanse this motor oil smelling birds nest before I let any of my precious crystals mere you.

Omg | need it to survive, like just imagine him coming into the auto shop, Lin and Thatcher just being petty queens and making those lil is she your giiiirlfriend comments, OH MY GOD!

i’m so glad you’re loving the series! (sorry i haven’t updated in forever)

this sounds so cute! i definitely want more moments where she’s just doing her thing and eddie’s like ??? but ofc he’ll go along with it because he’s a fool <3

this is literally eddie:

[eddiessluttywaist]

a part of me wants to include eddie playing on his acoustic and singing for reader in desiderium cause… ugh… but… does anyone else kinda get the ick from the thought of someone singing to you? it can come off so awkward idk 🫠 thoughts?

like maybe if it’s just them lounging in his bed and he’s already messing with his guitar? not a “sit down I have something I want to show you” kind of thing? (also just to clarify it would be down the line cause they’re not there yet skmsksl)

[eddiessluttywaist]

i wanna use creep by radiohead in desiderium so bad but it was released in 1993 and the story is set in 1991 🫠

[eddiessluttywaist]

i’m very tempted to rework desiderium a little bit before i start any new chapters hmm

[eddiessluttywaist]

i’m on such a roll with writing for desiderium i fear for when my brain power drops again dhdkdndkslz

[eddiessluttywaist]

GIGGLING OVER PINKRELISH LIKING MY DESIDERIUM SERIES SO FAR. I WISH MY WRITING WAS AS GOOD AS HERS SO THIS IS SUCH AN HONOR

[eddiessluttywaist]

desiderium is everything!!! Omg wow! If you have a tag list for it pls can I be added because 😍

ahhh thank you!! 💖✨ you’ve been added to the taglist, and part 2 is up!!