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@eddiemunchson
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singledad!mechanic!eddie x fem!reader
â¶What happens when Eddie tries to hide the less-than-fun side of being a single parent from you, and you discover Miss Mouse can't always save the day?â¶
NSFW â angst with a happy ending, reader wears eddie's hoodie, comfort, kissing, 18+ overall for smut, drug/alcohol mention/use
chapter: 11/19 [wc: 14.2k]
âł part 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 / 09 / 10 / 11
AO3
Chapter 11: In the Beginning...
ââThenââ
In the beginningâŠ
It was January 31st, 1988, and Wayne had come in to check on him again. And maybe he had a reason to when Eddie continued to stare at the pockmarked ceiling, dressed in the same clothes as three days prior, laying on the same bedsheets last washed by well-meaning, pre-aged, liver-spotted, wrinkled hands gnarled from factory work after being tanned on a big rigâs steering wheel for decades.
No music played from the stereo record player; The Doors still sat with the album art turned, stopped mid-spin. The paperback on the nightstand remained unfinished, its dog-eared page trapped as a placeholder from New Yearâs Eve. Dust and cigarette ash clung to the room as if saving it in a time capsule of the morning he was arrested, and any movement would disturb the illusion.
âEddie?â Wayne called out to him with his Free name; one that shouldnât hold a stigma, because Eddie was a free man, wasnât he? He was innocent. Even if they hadnât caught the other guy yet. âYou okay if I go?â
Tracing the bumpy lines of the most recent tattoo on his stomach, he answered, âYeah, Iâm fine,â and his uncle breathed as he usually did when he was wringing his mouth with indecision.
Wayne twisted the doorknob, uncertain. âIf youâre sure.. And, uh, Iâll stop by the hardware store and pick up somethinâ for the spray paint on the trailer if the cookinâ oil trick doesnât work, donât you worry about it.â
Whatever rude thing someone wrote this time, Eddie hadnât gone outside in days to know.
After a long silence, Wayne cleared his throat and gave a gruff, âIâll see ya after work,â and left, as foretold by his rackety truck fading further into the night, and the deadness of winter taking over. A staleness of midnight inactivity in the crisp air invading the guitars and amps and magazines Eddie never touched anymore; the ceramic of his bedside lamp, the model car next to his lighter, the binders stacked on his desk with a pencil he hadnât sharpened since it broke six weeks ago. He didn't get much relief from his routine of ignoring, shutting down, isolating, and desperately trying to get tears to form when he had none left to give, so he wept agape and dry, spiraling downward.
The phone rang.
He wasnât going to answerâhe hadnât since December unless under obligationâbut in case it was Wayne, he did.
âHello?â The other end of the line was equally hesitant to answer his unrecognizable voice, gone hoarse from disuse. âHello?â he repeated.
âEddie?â A beat. âI guess Iâll get this over with. Look, uh, do you remember selling to a girl at Bradâs party a couple months back? Not the Halloween one,â they said, definitely a young womanâs voice, but with each word spoken she lost her fluttery nervous edge and replaced it with a direct tone, leaving no time for him to dawdle.
He hurled his mind into searching his memories before the ones made in the weeks prior, only grazing past the details which haunted him, and registering the question he was asked. âUh, yeah, yeah I think so. Ah, Sarah? Something generic like that. Sold to her a couple times before. Why?â
Her severe silence loaded the chamber. His forthcoming nature pulled the trigger, never learning when to shut his mouth and keep information to himself. There was no telling who he was speaking to, or what happened to the girl he sold to, or why he was the subject of interest. His stomach clenched in knots at the whiff of gunpowder. He was too relaxed at the prospect of a normal conversation. He said too much. It was happening again. The police sirens would wail any minute now. Whatever happened to Sarahâor whoeverâwas bad, and he incriminated himself. Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.
But it was her next words that fired the shot. Rang in his ears. And he knew then, as the cold sweat took over his body and bile stung his throat quicker than his heart leapt black spots to his vision, life as he knew it was over.
âIâm pregnant, and itâs yours.â
ââââ
In the beginningâŠ
It was March 7th, 1988, and Eddie walked out.
It was better than listening to Wayne blame himself for not doing enough, or being involved enough, or whateverthefuck he was saying about failing Eddie, because soon those judgments would turn into nags about how Eddieâs irresponsibility got himself into this mess, and those arguments would become shouting matches about his lack of preparedness for raising a baby, and Eddie would end the fight with his fist through the hallway closet door, where his piece of shit fatherâs jacket swung on the hanger and fell to the floor.
Following the Munson name.
ââââ
In the beginningâŠ
It was April 29th, 1988, and Eddie left his motel room to drive forty-five minutes outside of Hawkins to sit across from a woman in a dimly lit restaurant with her hand laid atop her round belly, and his cold chicken alfredo. The cheese in his oval shaped dish had coagulated, but he wasnât hungry anyway.
The entire time his mouth ran sentences, he kept his gaze focused on a crumb dirtying the white tablecloth as the candle flickered shadows through their untouched water glasses. Yet, his tone remained animated and optimistic, though a bit hollow. ââSo, uh, with the money from workinâ at the gas station, and what I have saved from that graveyard shift I picked up at the laundromat, I can afford the crib no problem. Maybe you could, ah, come with me to pick it out! I donât really know what Iâm supposed to be looking for, but whatever you want, you got it. AndâAnd Iâll start stocking up on diapers, and stuff. Yâknow, different sizes. Some clothes. Could even get a nice baby blanket, or somethinâ. I guess cribs have those teeny mattresses, so weâll need sheets for that, too. Um, one of those, yâknow, things that hangs over it and spins, puts them to sleep.â His lips hinted at his first smile in weeks at his dumb explanation for a mobile. âAnd with your job, you have health insurance, donât you? Thatâll.. Thatâll really help us out,â he emphasized by bugging his eyes, and nodding. âThereâs a position open at an auto shop in town that Iâm gonna apply for, but I donât think insurance will kick in until I work there for a certain number of days. Sucks, but itâs decent money. Better than what I make now, anyway. Um..â Thinking, he sorted through his plan for the future in his head, making sure he didnât forget anything importantâ
Thatâs when he made the mistake of looking up, and a different type of heartache wrung his chest.
Indifference powdered her shimmery beige eyelids, darkening to smoky apathy at the outer corners with a touch of heavy mascara weighing her eyes half-closed. She appeared boredâhe wished she appeared boredâbut in the eternity he glanced at her, she resembled a loaded chamber moments from cutting him off.
Continuing, he said, âI can also handle the small stuff like bottles, and bibs, and pacifiers. Depending on how much the crib is, I can probably swing the carseat too, just gotta sell my other guitar, andââ
âEddie,â she stated. He winced.
There was no trace of his smile left on his lips; trembling and licking at the sore metallic-tasting spot he bit out of habit. The first sign of rejection welled behind his eyes. A sense of shame clogged his throat, but he tried, âAre people still bothering you about me?â he asked, so meek and defeated.
Her words were a merciless killing, âDoes it matter?â He shrugged, running the side of his hand along the tableâs edge, concentrating on the crumb. âAnd donât bother buying anything.â
âWhy not?â he faltered. âIâm not gonna be some deadbeat who doesnât provide, okay? Iâm good on my word.â
âYou know why.â
The cruelty, the truth he denied, struck him.
âYou donât want to try?â His voice went watery, and the candles swam in his vision. âWeâre having a baby together, and you donât want to try and work something out between us?â There was a reason he avoided addressing where the crib would go, or what the arrangement was after coming home from the hospital. In the first few calls they had, she seemed interested when he rattled off the list of cheap apartments he found around Hawkins scribbled into his notebook, and when he lightened the bleak mood with a joke, she laughed, sort of.
Though, he was always the one to call her, and her answers were refined to short words such as yeah, or no. And she did pick up the phone less often, but she was busy with University or her career or there was a family thing that had come up or she was just headed out the door, so he stuck with planning their future by himself, aware of the ugly reality twisting his stomach with dread.
Maybe he was being naive, but he thought sheâd come around by now. See how responsible he was being, and maybe.. maybe..
âIâm not interested,â she dismissed him in monotonously stern frankness.
âI thought you said you liked me,â he reminded her, on the verge of something pathetic, âat the party.â
The corner of her jaw twitched from an emotion she ground between her teeth.
That was the final straw.
She swung her gaze around the restaurant, releasing a hard sigh of frustration, and shaking her head. Dropping her hand to the bottom of her belly, she leaned forward, and eviscerated any hope he had for them being together. âIâm not interested,â she hissed under the susurration of nearby tables, âin raising a baby with someone whose reputation is for giving girls discounts when they flirt with him.â
Eddie shrunk into himself, not expecting the hit below the belt.
âYouâre just the loser dealer that all the guys send their girls to because they know youâre too lonely to turn them down. I wish I stuck with flirting, because let me tell you, having a couple of smarties to get me through last semester wasnât fucking worth it.â She motioned at her stomach, he assumed. âI almost missed my finals because I couldnât stop puking.â
Fat drops wobbled his vision. Anxious sweat from holding his breath prickled his hot face. His knuckles hurt from clacking them against one another, punching bone-on-bone in his lap to distract himself from letting the venom win. Biting impressions of his teeth into tongue from the weight of his one chance at normalcy slipping through his fingers.
The ache of deep-seated rejection stung worse, built worse, escalated worse with every heartbeat echoing in his head: not even someone whoâs having your kid wants to be with you.
Chairs skid across the tiles behind him, and a family stood to leave. Eddie faced the stained glass window as they passed, pretending to admire the intricate details while warm tears spilled over the dam, and onto his cheeks in steady drops like rain. Drip, drop, drip, drop..
Embarrassment, failure, freak..
Even before he was wrongfully arrested, his reputation was trash.
Pathetic loser not good enough for his dad, his uncle. Canât pass fucking high school, or get a girl to stick around for more than a few weeks; just long enough to feel the safety of attachment, learn their likes and dislikes, what their favorite flowers were, and then theyâd leave too..
âDoesnât matter,â she exhaled. One, twoâshe took two calming breaths through her nose while his was running, and he was trying to not sniffle through the grossness of crying.
Composed and diplomatic, she sat up, smoothed the buttons of her burgundy maternity blouse stretched across her swollen middle, and informed him âIâm giving her up for adoption.â
Eddie froze.
Her.
Tiny tines of salad forks ceased clinking on plates. Silly dull knives unworthy of much else sank into whipped butter, and stopped. Pretty laughter faded, leaving red lipstick kisses staining the rims of wine glasses.
Her.
He froze. A strange cliche to explain how his body reacted. How his heart pounded, and tears splashed onto his clenched fists. How his brain latched onto one word, one word only, and the blood drained from his cheeks to pool liquid rage in his empty belly. How his temper surged like a wave, and crashed, again and again on the shore of fate. How he was thinking sharper, seeing clearer, smelling the raw flame of the candle being snuffed out from his sudden movement.
The tableware rattled when he planted his elbow next to his forgotten dinner, and pointed a stern finger at her stomach. âThatâs my daughter, and you will notââ
âCâmon, Edââ
âNo,â he cut her off. He didnât give a damn if another tear rolled from his wide eyes when he said it, he put conviction behind his voice even when it cracked, âThatâs my daughter, and you are not giving her up for adoption.â
âBe serious,â she spat back. âYou donât have the means to take care of a baby. Iâm doing this as a favor for the both of us. Mostly for you.â
Eddie sucked his bottom lip inward and chewed the flesh. Shivers of indignation trembled his body, and his nostrils flared from the absolute power he invoked to rein his voice from the snap, bite, snarl his upper lip suggested. âI donât care what you think is best,â he maintained through the viscous tar coating his refusal in the abhorrence she deserved. âThat baby.. Sheâs mine.â He nodded until the motion was ingrained, and her expression changed. Pointing to himself, now. âSheâs mine, and I want her.â
There wasnât much thought put behind his decision. It was done. It was innate. It was automatic, and her soft warningââYou donât know what youâre getting yourself into,ââwas as heeded as the candleâs flame.
He paid for the date. It cost five hours of his minimum wage. That was all his money. He was hungry when he got back to his shitty motel; opening the door to darkness, and a suitcase of dirty clothes heâd need to sort before going to work at the gas station at the edge of town where his boss cut his hours last week because it was making customers uncomfortable to see a criminal serve them at the till, and a new sound replaced the ding of the cash register: loser, loser, loser..
Already, he couldnât afford diapers.
Already, he failed.
Already, he was worthless.
Already, he was alone.
Not even the woman he was having a baby with wanted to be with him.
ââNowââ
Eddie hung up the phone, and you watched his shoulders rise and fall for long moments, listening to the rain pattern shift above. The storm spilled its sorrows on the tin roof, uncaring if the structure could handle the stress of another trial when it was weak and susceptible. It poured, and poured. Ruthless. Vicious and brutal as nature could be, targeting the vulnerable and strong alike.
His back broadened with a breath, and finally, he dropped his hand from the yellowed plastic, staring at the dial pad as his arm went limp at his side. Absorbed by his thoughts as the old night rolled into another low growl of thunder, and whatever was on his mind reflected heavily in his vacant appearance.
âEd?â You waited for him with a kind lift to your brows, but as soon as his glance landed, your chest tightened.
The emotion in Eddieâs eyes was heavily guarded, communicating little as to what caused the tenseness in his jaw when he averted his gaze to the floor, walking fast and purposefully away from you standing half-dressed in his kitchen, and stopping at the front door with his head down. Going through the motions of buttoning his pants, and buckling his belt, rigid and rough, snapping the leather against itself.
âIs Adrie okay?â you asked, voice coming out painfully shallow, like when you were using it to diffuse a customer service issue with the breeze of happiness and a plastered smile.
Leaned over, he shoved his feet into his boots, and began lacing. âSheâs fine.â
Blunt, and closed off. Not like your Eddie from an hour ago. And you didnât know how to navigate asking him what was wrong, and easing him into opening up to you, coaxing him back to that place of union and understanding.
Left feeling confused, you gleaned that this wasnât the time to bother him about it, and mumbled, âOkay,â and assumed the rest. You dragged the whispery ends of the blanket across the floor, and picked your sweater off the carpet, having that particular sense of embarrassment as if youâd missed a cue, and shouldâve read the room sooner, and been clothed and leaving without him asking.
You dressed in silence, doing up the buttons on the cardigan he so skillfully slipped you out of. Treading over linoleum to wash the evening off your hands and mouth. Making yourself small to fit next to him in the entryway, and putting on your shoes in a state of quiet obedience, missing the warmth of his hands and the comfort of his lovesick grin. Wilting under the coldness of his attitude, and wanting nothing more than to reach out, and soothe that bit of regret knotted between his eyebrows.
He regarded the exposed skin of your upper chest, and handed you his black hoodie from where it hung next to his canvas work jacket. âHere.â
Here wasnât much of a break in the distance he resurrected between you, but you pulled the heavy scent of cigarettes and cologne over your head, and he almost found himself braving eye contact to tell you, âIâm dropping you off first.â
âWhat? No,â you blurted, âIâm going with you to pick her up. Sheâs just scared of thunderstorms, right? No big deal, you can drop me off after.â Which seemed like the right thing to say; that you were fine with Adrie crying, but when he set his gaze on you, a small image of yourself swam in his endless pupils, and your stomach clenched at the animal warning in his unbreakable stare.
Eddie shook his head an imperceptible amount, only enough to loosen the curtain of curls tucked beneath his jacketâs collar, and shift the lampâs glare at the edge of his bitter coffee eyes. It was a threat to back off. Leave well enough alone. Stop encroaching on the parts of his life he hid, and keep the illusion intact.
âI wanna go,â you assured gently.
However, your support fell short when challenged against the aggressive shine swallowing you whole. He looked at you. Really looked at you with the same intensity as when his hands were on your hips and you rocked yourself in his lap, chests flush together with a lazy prayer of your name on his tongue; when nothing mattered more than honoring each other with lips and teeth, tasting sweat on necks and sucking bruises until moans were spilled from heads thrown back. But instead of unraveling you in shocks of pleasure, the ignorance of your child-free lifestyle softened the harsh lines of his face, and slowly, slowly, the shine dulled. The fight left him.
He saved his apology until his back was turned, and the squeaky doorknob gave under his heavy palmâturning it with too much forceâand he cracked open the world beyond the two of you, dousing the lingering tenderness of your affection on his skin with frigid mist. âSorry tonight ended this way.â The door banged open on the rusted iron handrail, caught on a gust.
The trailer park was bright with daylight. Flash, after flash.
Eddieâs silhouette eclipsed the doorway, outlined in lightning. He stood impossibly tallerâlike the animal threat still lurked within his structure, and caution stayed within your subconscious, altering how you perceived his lanky frame into something more imposing. His shoulders carried many burdens, bulked from five years of hard labor, possessing strengths you couldnât imagine. He stepped to the side, insisting the door stay open with the spread of five fingers only, and his body no longer shielded you. You were exposed to the cold splash of rain on your shins. His palm was firm at your lower back, and you peered up at the hard set of his jaw feathering the muscle at the corner, sweeping the bone in a mature edge of stubble. Strands of his frizzy hair whipped in the wind. Droplets speckled his nose like freckles. His gaze, anchored on his car through the downpour, brewed with resentment.
His deep timber resonated in your chest beneath the safety of his hoodie, âCar doorâs open, Iâll lock up behind you.â
And you were pushed.
Beaten down to a hunch, you took careful strides in your heeled shoes down the concrete steps and into the soft mud, covering your head as best you could from the cloudâs assault, and flinching at the closeness of the strikes darting around the boundary of treetops surrounding the trailer park. You tried the handle, and the car welcomed you into its dry insides. Guilt followed your tracks of caked on mud, leaves, and dead weeds on his nice red interior, but when you shivered to the bone, you didnât care as much. Curled in on yourself, you spied Eddieâs vague shape through the waterfall blurring the windshield, and listened to his heavy boots trudge up to the door, and soon, the car sank with his weight too.
The engine roared to life. Heat wouldnât come from the tiny AC units for some time, but the promise of such gave you hope. Eddie, beside you, drenched beyond measure, did not match your enthusiasm. Shadowed streams snaked across his pinched expression, swimming down his heavy brow, and splitting his raw lips. His bangs stuck to his forehead, and his cheeks trembled from his clacking teeth.
Soft music played from the radio station.
Riders on the Storm.
Two booms of thunder ended your small attempt at a smile from the timing.
Leftover adrenaline pulsed in your veins, fumbling your grip on the seatbelt. Wet earth and unease stroked your skin like skeletal hands, muddying your tights, and soaking his hoodie, weighing it down to your crushed sweater beneath. You wanted to speak; to poke, to prod, to press him to talk to you. The questions were there. On your tongue. At the ready; inviting him to tell you why his mood soured over a situation out of his control, other than the obvious weather.
But Eddieâs face was carved with irritation, baring his teeth as he attempted to buff circles into the icy fog on the windshield, only for it to cloud over in an instant. âCâmon..â
The wipers couldnât keep up with the powerful current, and the tires struggled to find traction. âFuckingâdamnit,â he said, interrupted by him slapping the steering wheel, cascading water off his work jacket, and onto every surface around him.
You twisted your hands in your lap at his mild slip in temper.
Now was not the time to bother him.
In a lurch, your shoulder bumped the door, and your head rocked side to side from the car backing over the swell of mud behind the tires. With another frustrated stomp on the gas, it evened out on paved road, and though the visibility was low, you were off towards the nicer side of Hawkins.
For once, he drove responsibly. Street signs could be read before he passed them. Fallen limbs in the road could be avoided, not ran over. His rings tinked off the glass when he rubbed at the thin fog, and the music was dialed to a somber ambiance behind the deep sighs through his nose. Dark stretches of treetops bent to the windâs will. Short buildings sat so dim beyond the faint streetlights, they might as well have been deserted. Each red light was a necessary break for him to shove his fingers in the air vents to thaw them.
He never spoke. Never looked at you. He kept himself busy with tasks, and when those tasks were over and his hands were defrosted and the windshield was mostly clear, he regressed within himself. Unnervingly quiet. Turning onto streets with heavier regrets sagging his features the longer he crawled in front of white picket fence houses, and stopped.
The two story home was lit beautifully by the ornate sconces placed on either side of the doorway. Their lawn was manicured, and the sidewalk was free of weeds. No cars were at the mercy of the storm, they were parked inside the two-door garages. There was activity behind the embossed curtains hung in the living room of the residence. Presumably, the biggest shape was the father who called over the phone.
Someone who wore a business suit to the preschoolâs Thanksgiving play lived here.
Eddie stalled. He remained seated forward, hands gripped at 10 and 2, squeezing the steering wheel as rain echoed in the belly of the car, battering the roof inches above your damp hair. There was a pause in his movements, his breathing. An awareness in his silence at the questions you didnât ask. Tension in his pursed lips, rubbing them together as he surveyed the street.
He opened his mouth. Then, he thought better of it, and got out.
Your earnest call of his name was swallowed by the sea cleansing his body of your night together.
Leaping up the bullnose brick stairs, Eddie raised his hand, but before he could knock, the artisanal stained glass shimmered with movement. The immaculate door opened to a winced face. The manâs glasses were askew on his aged eyes, and his peppered hair hung over his eyebrows, no longer gelled back. He exchanged a few tight words with Eddie as Adrie was handed over, and Eddie, of course, shuffled into a meek posture, dipping his head, apologizing profusely. Almost bowing to this man dressed in matching pajamas and a robe. In horror, you watched the door close during one such apology. You could tell it happened in the middle of him speaking, because you had to sit through the agony of Eddie animatedly explaining something only for him to look up, straighten at the realization, and stand there for a few more seconds until the sconces dimmed off.
Worse, still, he cowered in the nook as cruel rain belted his back, doing his best to bundle Adrie in her tattered quilt and securing her on his hip, keeping all of her dry except her little legs wrapped around his middle. She buried her face in his neck, and he hesitated on the balls of his feet, judging the distance between the house and the car. His large palm covered the blanket over her head. All he had was his jacket.
Lightning revealed his weary frown.
At the clap of thunder, he sprinted.
Back in New York, at the going away party your friends threw in your and Robinâs honor, they warned you about moving to the Tornado Alley, and what to look for if one were to appearâgreen skies and allâbut most importantly, they told you an incoming tornado sounded like a train. Being city dwellers, they wouldnât actually know, but Robin confirmed it. And now you could too, because the piercing wail coming towards you could only belong to a natural disaster, not a four-year-old girl.
Murky water flooded to Eddieâs ankles from where it rushed against the sidewalk, sloshing in with his boot stomped to the floorboard for balance as he ducked inside amidst the fuss. He got Adrie into her carseat as quickly as possible. In the chaos, her overnight backpack fell somewhere in the dark, her quilt was chucked aside, and he cursed when the buckle bit into his thumb. She had a fistful of his hair, tangling it, making it harder to see what he was doing. He may have even threatened her full name to let go. It was hard to hear on account of the shrieking.
âDaddy!â The vowels were elongated, broken by hiccups. He shut the door, and in the small space with no escape, her big emotions rang louder. âDaddy!â Again, the y was screamed with the full power of her lungs, which would be impressive for their tiny size if it wasnât for the pounding in your skull. She hollered louder when he sat heavily behind the wheel, âDaddy!â He didnât shush her fourth tantrum spilt on his name; he accepted it, knowing it was futile.
It took all your strength to blink. Sat half-turned in your seat, frozen, gaze unfocused, marveling at your brainâs ability to function. You shifted your attention to Eddieâs face, a surprising few inches from yours.
The heat of his concentration scorched shame to your cheeks.
Avoidant no longer, your reaction to Adrieâs meltdown was the sole subject of his interest. Zeroed in on, dissected, and picked apart by just his eyes alone. Didnât matter which eye you shied from, you were pinned in both, your discomfort blatant for him to witness. Your clamped mouth, your apologetic withdrawal, your fidgety fingers on your skirt; all of it. All of it was captured in his periphery because he didnât dare break sight as he turned the key in the ignition, and started a raucous engine you couldnât remember being turned off.
Humbled by the girl assaulting your senses, your questions were answered.
This was why he didnât want you to come. This was why he slighted you with a pointed look from the recesses of his annoyance when you trivialized his daughterâs behavior as âNo big deal.â This was why he kept you separate from his parental sphere where everything wasnât made of sunshine and rainbows. Thisâcoming to terms with your inexperience staining each uncontrollable contortion of your unprepared expressionâwas why he never let anyone near his heart.
Adrie could no longer form his name through her open-mouthed cries, resorting to plain, wet screams which trilled past your eardrums, resulting in a throbbing headache.
At that, he grasped the gear shift, put his boot to the gas, and cut fat lines through the river overflowing the pampered neighborhood streets.
Eddieâs anger was a presence. His embarrassment, too. Just like at the auto shop when problems stacked and stacked into an unbearable weight on top of his sleepless nights and long mornings, he turned inward to delay his outburst. To feel everything so fully in his fists wringing the leather covered steering wheel until it creaked, and teeth gritted until they begged no more. Just that one second to release his frustration, and then it was suppressed from sight. But you felt it. His ire rested below your braced muscles, beneath your clammy palms and in your shallow breath. It invaded the tidy home you kept behind your ribs, taking up residence in your hammering heart.
The humiliation of having the date end when it did paid its dues in his bad mood. Disappointment radiated off his narrowed eyes, and slack frown. âAdrie,â he warned in a low tone.
She bawled louder, shriller than the crack of lightning.
The immense pressure to adapt was upon you. There was no sense in parsing what he expected you to do in this situation, it was clear he was soured by your ineptitude the moment you let it show on your face, but.. Only two short weeks ago, he relied on you to divert Adrieâs meltdown before DND night. And sure, she had already stopped crying by the time you got there, but you could come to his rescue again, couldnât you?
You twisted around in your seat, proud of yourself for thinking of a solution, and showed him you could handle a modicum of parenthood. âAdrie, look!â you tamped down your childrenâs television host voice to a delightful, excited cheer, âIâm here. Miss Mouse isâ!â Shocked with your hand reaching towards her, shooting pain traveled up your arm from her swift kick to your wrist. You recoiled, rubbing at your forearm without blame. It wasnât her fault. She wasnât even looking at you. Her fit was directed at the window she couldnât peel her attention from, dropping tear after tear from her swollen eyes at the thunder shaking the car. âAdrie?â you tried softer, but she beat her hands on the carseat harder. Wailed until you were defeated to a wince. Yelled until you accepted a unique heartbreak you werenât prepared for.
Miss Mouse couldnât always save the day.
Acute twists of rejection wrung your chest. Eddie wasnât the type to say I told you so, he wasnât mean like that, but when you sat forward and your gazes moved past one another, never quite meeting, you knew what he was thinking.
Little else stung worse than his obvious cynicism at how this date was concluding.
Exacerbating the issue, Adrie escalated to screeching her distress. Every open sob of hers pulled your focus, invaded your brainspace, overpowered any thought before it began, and set your teeth on edge from the high-pitched squeals you swore vibrated in your bones. Her behavior seeped into your nerves, winding them up, scratching them with the very tip of a brittle nail, inciting a riot. The need to flee crawled under your skin. Breathing was uncomfortable. Your ankle hurt. There was to break in between the blinding pulses of your headache. The car was too hot, too cold, too swerving from the high winds buffeting it sideways. Your tights were too tight. His hoodie too stifling. Itchy yarn from your sweater chafed your damp neck. Alarms of panic battled inside. Louder, louder, louderâAdrie cried louder. Eddieâs lips tugged down at the corners, chin wrinkled, tensing his face from a sadder response. Your lashes fluttered from the chokehold his frown had on you. Fingernails bit your palms. You tried to bide your time, to resist snapping. Dug down deep for something, something you could do, something.. innate. Some answer within you to fix it all. To get her to stop. To get him to relax. Something, something, somethingâinstinctual.
âPull over!â you barked; Eddie had every right to whip his head around at your sudden demand, but in your panicked state you only cared about the road ahead. âJu-Justâjustââ You scanned the dark parking lot outside the hardware store, and stabbed your finger on the cold window, pointing past it. âThe gas station! Under the roof-thing.â
When it wasnât clear he heard you, you turned towards him at the same time he leaned forward to catch your eye. Justifiable skepticism burdened his brow, tightening the edges of his crowâs feet. His lips hung parted with a confirmation hesitating between them; however, it was silenced after you maintained your need, and the fight against the wind won.
Soppy pebbles scraped wet asphalt, muddied in the bump and grind from Eddie turning too sharply into the sloped driveway, banging into a pothole, and rattling the innards of his already rocky cargo. He careened towards the closed convenience store with its row of dim fluorescent lights inside. Pulling up alongside the gas pumps, he slammed the breaks. A second later, he slapped the windshield wipers OFF, violently shushing their grating squeak.
His patience strained thinner. Working through the sensory overload festering like infected wounds on blistered skin, he rumbled a shallow apology past his aching teeth. Quickly, it devolved into a barrage of doubt. âLook, Iâm sorry sheâWait, whereâre youâ?â The instant fear of rejection shot past his octave. âWait! Please donâtââ
Cruelly, he thought; heartlessly, he knew; the sun-faded black cotton draped about your shoulders was the last image his adrenaline latched onto, playing it over, and over, door slam and all. He wasnât parked for more than a clock tick, and you hurled yourself out into the storm, leaving him behind. His first assumption was gentle. Kind whispers stroked the angst in his chest, telling him you needed a break from the noise, that was all. Then the hatred of abandonment gutted his center.
âGiving up already?â he asked aloud in a conclusion only meant to hurt himself when no one was there to answer.
As if sensing his hopelessness, Adrie sniffled into the worst of her hyperventilated cries. Broken disjointed things. Sinking him deeper, deeper into his seat, crossing his arms over his caved chest, shuddering at the hot sting wobbling his vision at his own inadequacy.
Never good enough for anyone to stay.
Tremors of repressed memories wakened the churn of nausea making him sick.
âBaby, baby, itâs okay,â soothed a voice behind him, trickling in with the splash of faraway drops. âItâs okay, sweet baby, Iâm here. Iâve got you. Iâm here.â
Eddie jerked his chin up and stretched his neck to see into the rearview mirror. The wall of water teetering on his lash line made everything blur, so he tugged down the slick skin beneath his eyes to suck back the tears, and almost allowed them to spill at the scene behind him anyway.
In the reflection, you crawled across the backseat and unbuckled Adrieâs carseat, learning how to maneuver the straps from watching him. She reached for you, your hair, your clothes; small fists belying their strength. You didnât care. You calmed her struggles with pretty words. âItâs okay, yeah, you can hold on to me, baby. Letâs get you wrapped up nice and warm. There we go.â Shhh. âLet me see your face, so I can clean you up.â Shhh.
âMâM-Mizz Mouâse,â Adrie got out between body-wracked sobs.
âMhm, Iâm here.â Shhh. âMiss Mouse is here.â
âOh.
âBaby..â So modest was his whisper when so resolute was his yearn.
He leapt into motion, flushed with adrenaline.
The ripple effect of your actions caused tidal waves to swell and crash over him; body hitched in the place where his past convinced him he lost it all, only to collapse into a stuttered exhale of acceptance, understanding there was someone out there who cared about him to this degree; throat constricting with gratitude he could only express by stumbling out into the foggy cold, throwing open the door, and sliding into the backseat with you.
His fingers grazed the baby hairs at your nape on their way to the side of your head, using his wide palm which took up too much room to cradle you steady with a gentleness unknown to his tough skin. He trusted you to forgive him for how hard he knocked his forehead to your temple, and smashed his nose to the soft of your cheek. He need not worry. Beautifully, you adjusted to the bulky arm behind your neck, leaned into the crook of his body he hollowed out for you, and filled the familiar place at his side. You worked diligently to clear his daughterâs face while he passed a strong hand over her back and dropped it to shape his grip at the end of your thigh, curving his fingers in and slotting them to the underside, behind your knee.
âSâokay, Adrie,â you cooed, wiping at the sticky grossness clinging to her nose. âIâve got you,â you continued the mantra, albeit with a lapse in motherly tenderness as a result of trying not to gag too hard.
Outside the car, the gas stationâs tall canopy provided enough coverage to stop the rain from pounding the roof. Harsh winds howled past, encouraging the woeful sobs dropped onto your breasts, but the lightning stayed within the clouds, and the thunder faded in the distance. âLook at me,â you guided, sweeping the hoodieâs cuff over her puffy cheeks glowing splotchy red from the neon beer signs in the postered up convenience store windows. âWeâve got you. Nothing bad can happen when weâre here.â
Eddie lips pulled thin against your skin, breath stuttering damp and thick on your neck like a smothered cry.
âNothing bad can happen when weâre here, okay?â Repeating the union of you and him, you went on, âWeâve got you. Youâre safe with us. Nothing bad can happen when weâre here. Right, sweet bean?â You tucked the quilt around her feet, and held her close. âWe wonât let anything bad happen to you, ever.â
With her hands latched into the folds of fabric around your neckâcotton, yarn, and canvasâher big coughs were cushioned by your arms snuggling her to your front while Eddieâs chest was at her back, embracing her between your two bodies converging to protect her in a toasty nest. Warm air hummed from the vents, shooing off the stale chill clinging to the backseat, now disturbed by activity and plucky guitar strings playing over the radio.
Across the Universe.
Undertaking the complexities of the man rubbing his forehead into your hair with the same sort of neediness as his little girl wringing your clothes, you assumed the responsibility of consoling them both. âNothings gonna change my world,â you mumbled the lyrics into the patchwork quilt covering Adrieâs curls. âNothings gonna change my world,â you sang to Eddie, face tipped up and eyes falling closed, seeking out his nose to trace the tip of yours along the soft bumps in a devoted offering after the turbulent events causing you both inner strife.
His fingertips became an imposing force spread across the scope of your cheek, turning you toward him, capturing you in a deeper kiss than you were ready for. It was demanding, hard with desperation, misaligned and urgent. Born out of necessity in the moment. He kissed you in front of his daughter, where she could see if she picked her face up from your chest, and a dart of surprise lit your heart at the recklessness. You kept a level hand atop her head in case heâd come to regret the decision, but he didnât seem to notice, or care. He sighed into a second helping, and at the sound of the wet smack, she stirred.
Adrienne hooked her fingers into your collar and sniffled hard, soothing herself from further cries by hugging you tight, huddling into your comfort, oblivious to what was happening around her.
Easily, you fell into the third kiss. Became what he needed, mouths mashing together at the odd angle, your lower lip plush between his. Dizzying amounts of reverence manifested in his spontaneity. He packed a lifetimeâs worth of bottled up feelings into the affection he was privileged to. Giving, and taking. But his impulses were still a puzzle. When heâd drank his fill, he squeezed your leg, broke apart from your lips in a silent slick slide, and drew a deserved breath.
âSorry, no oneâs ever just.. done that for me before.â He shrugged his hand off your thigh at the poor summary of the millions of things on his mind, and left it at that.
Spurred by the praise, you seized the opportunity for communication. âRemember how before we played DND that night, I told you to call me first next time you needed help?â you reminded him, and something vulnerable, maybe even pleadful, entered your tone. âI want to be someone you can rely on, Eddie.â
An unfortunate amount of complicated emotions passed in his eyes. There wasnât much to garner from them, nor his soft grunt when he dropped his nose to the column of your neck, above Adrieâs head, and regressed into his quiet self. Reserved. Hard to decipher. He did speak up once to warn you she would fall asleep with how you were holding herâsame as he did most nights on the couch while Late Night with David Letterman airedâand you embellished your promise to him with a kiss to the stringy curls frizzing at his scalp, âThatâs okay.â
And it was okay, truly, when the storm raged heaves of rain against the car, spraying the windows with shocks of water. You dabbed Adrieâs cheeks. Wiped her nose. Rocked her in the same tempo as the backs of Eddieâs fingers stroking your cheekbone, flexed bicep behind your neck. Thunder occurred. Lightning happened. But with your quick thinking, lulling gestures, and genuine effort to speak past the fondness clogging your throat, you calmed her. Calmed her so well, in fact, her hands went limp and her body relaxed, fatigue claiming her victim to the numbered sheep hopping over fences in her dreams. After her tantrums, she was taxed out. Drained.
Stuck in the cramped middle between Eddie and the carseat, you rearranged your legs before they went tingly numb from her weight on your lap, and shifted the pressure off your heels. It was sweet having her fall asleep on you. Her slow breaths filled your arms as a reward for your efforts to hush her. The quilt smelled of their home, cozying itself in your lungs and sweeping you in a sense of longing for the humidity in his kitchen after making soup.
Though, as much as you thrived on the temporary role you played as parentâtaking over for Eddie and dwelling on the fact Adrie slept propped on your chest like the many times she napped on his stained coverallsâyou could do without the additional pain of him leaning on you too.
You groaned at the sharp twinge in your spine from slouching sideways, and conveniently, your movement roused his consciousness. He launched into a sleepy inhale. Robust, filling his lungs to the brim, too loud, too silly and sweet. He primed you for a solid press of the bridge of his nose to your jaw by thumbing you towards him, after which he pulled away, separating himself from you fully.
Eddie rolled his shoulders, stretching out from the uncomfortable position, and faced the window. He commented in a sincere tone, âYouâre good with kids.â
âI know how to entertain kids,â you corrected him. âI donât know how to do any of the hard shit you do.â
The streetlights painted strokes of dotted orange on his complexion cast in shadow. He played with the tips of his fingers, squishing each one in a line as he ruminated, staring elsewhere, perspiration blurring the outerworld, sealing yourselves in this crowded car together. âYou do a good job,â he reassured, petering out in a hoarse whisper.
Ceaseless nerves gnawed at his absent-minded ring spinning. Not a big production like when he wrung his hands or bit his nails, but enough to show he was getting anxious. Youâd expected his leg to be bouncing by now, but it was laying softly against yours. Something big was on his mind.
You bumped your knee into his. âTalk to me.â
Talk to me. Yes, you asked the world of him. You knew it, too. Encouraging his gaze to flick to Adrie bundled in your arms, and back to the window. His eyes werenât wide with fear, just larger than normal at the subtle confrontation. It was time he opened up to you. There wasnât a concrete ultimatum if he didnât, but there was a mutual understanding that if this were to continue, he needed to trust you to be there for him. No more reluctance.
He extended his hand towards your knee, patting twice before claiming it in the great breadth of his palm, stroking his thumb over the thin pantyhose; bridging the gap from his earlier behavior, but not yet apologizing for the soreness he caused.
Sorting his thoughts, his throat bobbed twice on the swallow.
And of all the questions he could ask, of all things he could say, of all the topics he could choose, he picked, âDid you ever want kids?â
Heat swam to your cheeks, blood rushed to your ears. Buds of true belonging bloomed at the question, adorning stems of untended longing first planted during the Christmas party at work, ever growing. Your heart pumped faster at the inherent past and implied future of the subject. His curiosity was a mild prod, perhaps not meant to encourage these leaps in logic considering he announced it in the same buckled cadence of someone who was asking about the weatherâand yet, the hold it had on you was impossible to deny. A blend of you, Adrie, and him, just like now, but in different contextsâdifferent meanings other than sitting in the back of his carâsomething domestic, like being piled together on the couch watching Disney movies; thatâs what was pushed to the forefront of your mind.
But, despite those instantaneous fantasies, this was a place for honesty, and the significance of your pause between his question and yours was an entity of its own, stiff like his posture.
âAre you ready for this conversation?â you checked. He fostered an anxious glance and nod. âHaving kids is not something I ever saw for myself, no.â The consequence of your answer marked his immediate dropped eye contact, but ever patient with him, you continued strongly, âWith how I dated and moved around, I didnât think it was for me, that sort of lifestyle. Itâs just not something I put a lot of thought into except when my friends were having kids, and really, they kinda turned me off of the idea. Pregnancy sounds.. daunting. Orâyou knowâreally fucking scary. Theyâd always talk about how awful it is, all the complications you could have, the risks, the near death experience in one case,â you broke off in a squirm. âAnd then you donât even get the relief once the baby comes. Like, seriously, taking care of a newborn sounds straight up terrifying.â
Eddie cracked. His hiss of laughter was a welcomed reprieve, especially when it sank to his chest, gripping his shoulders in a hearty shake. âY-Yeah,â he got out, face crinkled in all the ways you adored, âit is straight up terrifying.â
You giggled in the softest way, careful to not disturb Adrieâs shallow breaths, and careful to not swoon too head-over-heels over the image of him rocking a baby. âIt seems easier when theyâre older, though,â you said, broaching the real crux of the conversation with your chin dipped to the top of her head. âLike itâs not as bad when they can actually communicate why theyâre crying, or tell you whatâs bothering them.â
âNot necessarily easier, just different,â he clarified. âItâs less about making sure this little tiny thing that can choke on its own snot survives the night, and more about the emotionally draining problems like her telling you about her day at preschool, explaining a situation where a group of kids kept giving her tasks to do that sent her away, and sheâs smiling so big when sheâs telling you, thinking it was a game, but deep down youâre just waiting for the heartbreak years down the line when she realizes they gave her errands to run because they were excluding her, and the reason they were laughing every time she came back was because they took joy in being mean to her.â
Wilt tinted your faint, âOh..â
âYeah.â
âIâm sorry.â
âDonât be.â He upped the pressure he used to pat and rub your knee. âSâpart of life.â
Consumed by his side profile, you studied the scope of his impassive expression set on the premature lines edging his face. The urge to find the right thing to say amidst the convoluted churn of anger on his behalf, and sadness on Adrieâs, itched something fierce beneath your skin. Ultimately, no words of inspiration came.
Eddie took an anticipatory breath.
The radio garbled advertisements for the stationâs sponsors.
âStill wouldnât trade it for those first months when she was a newborn, though.â Pursing his mouth thin, he rolled his lips inward with a hardened brow, releasing and scrunching tension around his nose as he shook his head slowly, addressing the memories of those days with a shine of pain to his eyes, and a loud smack of his tongue. âThe moment I found out Adrieâs mom was pregnant, I wanted to do the right thingâyâknow?â He took his hand off your leg to demonstrate the narrow path he followed. âKept my head down, stayed focused, didnât bother anybody, got a real job, and kept my mouth shut. Lotta places didnât wanna hire me, obviously, but I applied anywhere I could, and when I got the job, Iâd go get another one on a different shift, and another one on a graveyard shift. Sold whatever I hadâguitars, ând shitâbought what I could with the money. I wanted to be a good man. Be a provider. Be worth something.â Scrubbing his shaky fingers over the stubble on his chin, he aimed to calm himself, but when bringing up the Hell he went through during those times, there was little to stop his pitch from wavering. âStill wasnât good enough.â
A verdict aimed at him flippantly, yet the impact on his self-esteem was immeasurable.
Gathering himself, he licked the inside of his cheek, and explained, âIn the beginning, when Adrie was born, I tried to make it on my own. Locked in this little motel room with a crying baby. Couldnât go to work. Didnât have anyone to call to watch her for me, yâknow, didnât.. didnât have anyone to rely on after walking out on my uncle, and isolating myself from my friends. The people at the bullshit resource center said I wasnât eligible for benefits because they were for single moms, not dads. And child support was taking too long to kick in. Not like it mattered when it couldnât pay for a single canister of Similac. I didnât have fucking anything. Or know anything.â
His shame was only beginning to unravel.
âThere were these free classes at a clinic for expecting parents, but I..â He dropped his knuckles to his thigh and fed them along the coarse cotton, using the friction to burn away the guilt. âI-I didnât go. I didnât want to go alone. Be the only guy there, by myself. Have all these people w-who might know who I am fucking.. fucking staring at me.â With how he was looking down at his lap, rocking slightly with his movement, he stood no chance against the wall of tears damming at his lashes. âI didnât want to go because of my sense of pride, and my baby suffered because of it.â
âEddie, thatâs not trueââ you stepped in.
Three effective beats of his fist on his leg, and you were left to witness his face crumple from the utter contempt he had for himself.
âIt is true,â his volume fluctuated in jumps. âShe wouldnât eat. She wouldnât fucking eat and keep it down.â Droplets splashed his jeans in unyielding splats. Drip, drop, drip, drop.. They slipped and spread in splotches of salty remorse he couldnât wipe away quick enough. âNothing worked. Couldnât get her to latch onto a bottle, and, andâI didnât know, I didnât know I wasnât supposed to microwave the formula, but she wouldnât take it room temp, so if it was too hot sheâd just scream at me until it wasnât, and IâI justâI was having these breakdowns, I donât know. I blacked out, and next thing I knew, I was at Harringtonâs, and Nancy was taking care of her for me.â The emphasis alluded to much, though the fact their son was only a year older, and Nancy would still be producing milk said it all.Â
Frantic breaths which wouldnât catch were pulled past grimaced lips parted on the unrefined sob his confession emerged on. âI never wanted to be with Adrieâs mom, but proving what she said was right, th-that I was a fucking loser who didnât know what he was doing, it-it-it.â In a desperate flourish, he pointed at his temple, It lives in here, and another tear clung to the tip of his nose, smeared by the back of his wrist.
Stunned useless by the suffocating urge to help him, you blanked. Sat still while your favorite mechanic reduced himself to the wrong opinion of others; the same person who showed his gentle nature by picking worms out of the garage after a heavy rain so they didnât dry out. Remaining frozen while silent pain wracked your friendâs held breath, heaved and shuddered out as a cough into the same palm he used to catch your ankle when he challenged you to a race on the creepers, and he had to cheat to win before you beat him to the service door. Saying, âBaby, no,â to the man who snuck a smirk over his daughterâs head when he caught you doting over her as she sat on his hip, and the smell of Christmas potluck embedded itself into the memory of Eddieâs eyes hinting at a deeper glint than the tease on his grin.
âI am a fucking failure,â he seeped out his regret. âC-Couldnât give her what she needed. I still canât. Still canât give her what she wants, ever. T-T-Tellinâ her I canât get her something when she asks for itâand the disappointment. Just a piece of shit who disappoints her. Never good enoughââ There was another high-pitched stutter, but it was muffled behind his trembling hands covering his face, and smothered by your intervention.
âEddie, Eddie, Eddie,â you shot out, hand and voice working together to untangle the trauma his knotted fingers attempted to hide. âListen to me.â No please, but no lack of kindness, either. âYou are not a disappointment. Not then, not now, not ever. Do you hear me? Youâre not any of those things.â You tugged at the canvas jacket around his stiff arms tucked tight to his body, and rocked him away from his huddle against the door.
In the aftermath of your scramble to comfort him, Adrienne startled awake. Her soft hmm? became a grunty whine when the sensation of slipping backwards disoriented her. âDaddy?â One of her fists found your hoodie for balance, but her groggy curiosity dealt a heartbreaking blow.
She traced the wet trail on his cheek, encountered a tear in its path, and broke the dropletâs surface tension on her finger, wondering aloud, âWhyâs Daddy crying?â
Thinking quickly, you used your muscles earned through unloading car parts from delivery trucks, and scooped her from your lap onto his, diverting the nuance of grown-up-problems by fumbling out, âDaddies cry sometimes, too. Have you told him you love him today? Can you tell him? Itâll make him feel better. Please, Miss Adrie?â Whether or not it was the perfect phrasing wasnât important. What mattered was the unsuspecting gratitude laden at the base of his frown.
âI love you, Daddy,â Adrie said, latching her arms around his neck. âI love you.â
âYouâre a good man,â you added, and rolled onto your hip, fitting your body to his side. You nosed through his long, frazzly curls, and spoke earnestly, but softly into his ear, âYouâre a good man, Eddie. Look at how well you take care of her. Look at how well fed, clothed, and happy she is. You make her so happy.. You make me happy, too. Youâre the best dad Iâve ever met. No one else compares.â
He dragged a sniffle from his last sob into an unintelligible mumble.
âIâm here.â Shh. âIâm here.â You included Adrie in your hug as you brought your hand up to the other side of his flustered hot face, blending your fingers through the hair stuck to the sweat and stubble on his jaw. âWeâre here for you. Weâve got you. Nothing bad can happen when weâre here.â Sweet with conviction, âItâs okay, handsome, Iâve got you.â
Overwhelmed by the small I love you, Daddy, on one side, followed by Youâre a good man, on the other, his inhale shivered, and he cuddled Adrie to him for a watery, âI love you, too.â Croaky and real, and mouth agape on an ugly cry he let you witness until his needy reach cupped the back of your head, and smushed you to his wet cheek, scratching the same sentiment into your nape, just like you were rubbing it into his scalp, exchanging the affection without words.
Us and Them funneled through the car, mellowing the heightened emotions with its dreamy saxophone opener.
âIâm so glad to have met you,â you prized in tender sweeps of whispers and thumbs. âI actually look forward to coming into work because of you, even when you hide my pen cup, and tickle me when I go to reach for it on top of the Coke machine. Which is unfair, by the way.â
âYeah?â he asked for dear reassurance, and distraction.
Humming against the intimate corner of his jaw, you nudged the prickly scruff, and melted into his uncoordinated pets over your ear. âI see your sacrifices, and trust me, Eddie, youâre doing a great job at raising your daughter. Stuff like buying her toys, or cookies, or whatever doesnât matter. The love you show her is better than any of that. Sheâs so lucky to have you.â
Another tear dropped to the tattered quilt. Another, another dropped. He squeezed his eyes shut and more fell. Hindered breaths let go in stuttered huffs shook his chest, swayed his damp hair. You circled your thumb over the rivers on his sensitive skin, and found a dry section of your sleeve to clean the price he paid for being a good father without the proper support he needed. Soothing him with fond shushes and feather touches. Forming a ball of comfort around him: cramped in the tiny car, a cast of solid fog on the windows for privacy, Adrieâs blanket draped about your jumbled legs, and her lanky arms wrapped around his neck where precious words were stoked from the embers of a fire which he built. âI wanna color with you to-mah-rrow,â she pronounced. âYou can have the dinosaur book, because I want the kitty cats. Deal?â Deal, he nodded.
Your bottom lip introduced a blessing at his sideburn, âYou deserve to see yourself how we see you.â
Recovering from the unbearable throb his stuffed sinuses drove to his headache, he triedââThank you, baby,ââthough the letters were mashed together, and further pulped by the thickness in his throat. Loud, however, was his hug. Crushing you both to him with honed strength; flexed forearms demonstrating the power lying dormant in the track of muscle he snaked around your waist. Groans were earned from his expertise. Bones protested the gesture, begging to be released. It took several seconds of your heartbeat pumping visibly at the edge of your vision, but he let go. Afterall, there was no praise to be had by flattened lungs.
âThat hurt,â Adrie complained.
âOw,â you agreed.
âSorry,â he said in non-apology.
At a change in tone, you fawned, âBut that was a nice hug.â
Adrie rated it, âAn 8 out of 10.â
Crowded together, the bond was unmatched. His arms were spread like a greedy dragon hoarding its wealth. Chest open, collecting his most remarkable treasures to the roaring furnace locked within the confines of his body, ready to share the warmth to those who could appreciate its value. Clasped in your hand was Adrieâs ankle, gaining squirmy kicks for each smile and giggle traded under Eddieâs chin. Dressed in his well-loved hoodie, the crook of his elbow fit to your figure, and the backs of his fingers strummed your bicep in a trained motion. None of it was perfect, no. The hoodie could smell less like cigarettes, his forearm stuffed behind you meant you couldnât recline comfortably, and when he patted your hip, he awakened the dull throb of the bruising grip he left during earlier events.
Those werenât bad things, though. They were as real as human flaws. Accepted as such, too.
âAre you feeling better?â
Sporting a grin favoring one cheek more than the other, Eddieâs eyes were framed by clumped together lashes after being stripped to his barest self and given the grace he needed. âYeah,â he answered Adrie in fondness, âIâm feeling better now.â Not forever. He wasnât cured. But with time, he guided his gaze to the velcro shoe you were wiggling back and forth onto her heel, and climbed his soft study up to the plump concentration on your bottom lip after you released it from between your teeth.
Perceiving his attention, you clocked him with a sneaky grin. âWeâre a sardine family.â Brightening at the bewildered noise he made, you tapped Adrieâs knee, and imparted your wisdom as if he should know it too. âYeah, you know, you, me, and Adrie. Jammed packed back here like a tin of sardines. All squished together.â
They blinked at you. You blinked back.
âAnd I thought I was supposed to be the one with bad jokes,â Eddie offered after some thought. You cut him a look. âBut I like the image,â he amended.
âI like sardines,â Adrie chimed. She didnât know what sardines were, but you appreciated her enthusiasm.
The conversation waned from there. Drowsiness from the old night seeped into your collective huddle, slouching you all towards one another. Heavy limbs went boneless. Tender brushes of thumbs came to an end. The sound of deep breaths were heard between the local ads for Indianaâs finest antique mall and an uptick in the rain smacking the paved street. Near the edge of sleep, you convinced yourself to get Adrie up and into her carseat. Eddie sat back and watched you go through the steps of buckling her in, listening to her plea for Fluff in her backpack, tucking the quilt around her just right, and hitting your head on the roof in pursuit of making her happy. Taking care of his kid. You collapsed beside him, far closer than would be proper for coworkers, and basked in his approval, noting the pride in his charged gaze. The emotional rollercoaster of the evening took its toll on his swollen faceânevertheless, romance novels could learn a thing or two from the way his stare rendered you weak.
âShould get you home before the storm gets worse,â he warned in an attractive thrum of sternness. He might call you lilâ lady next. Or remind you he promised your father heâd have you back on time.
Floating in the fizzy pool of your crush's attention, you nodded your dizzy head, and observed without need, âYeah, should get home before it gets worse.â
He laughed. You swam in his laugh, in the instinctual desire based in his mood after watching someone nurture his young. A silly thing to rock you into a sultry sweat considering the outcome of your second date. Luckily, when you stepped out of the car, the frigid mist stole your focus, hosing you down and keeping you from reading too much into the odd chemical imbalance that must be happening in your brain.
The night was really fucking long.
Driving with the radio on low, Eddie drifted his ringed fingers over your forearm whenever they werenât being used on the stick shift. A small gesture letting you know he was thinking about you when there wasnât anything to talk about, not that it was needed. The calm was nice. The storm behaved en route to the Buckleyâs, avoiding the occasional tree limb blocking a lane. He removed his touch from your person, and with a glance, you were assured it wasnât the last.
âYou didnât have to walk me to my door,â you gasped, posing with your arms stuck out, useless against mother nature sagging your soaked clothes.
A puddle formed on the wood planks where he wrung his hair. âAnd make you do this run all by yourself? Câmon, sweet stuff. Iâm a gentleman.â
Shivering on the covered porch, your shoes were partially to blame for the slipping incident(s) in the muddy driveway. The lack of the house lights on was another, slowing down your sprint into a crawl. A yellow cast from a lamp in the back room lit the hallway, but other than its soft glow, that was it. Clearly, no one expected you to come home.
âIs it okay if, uh,â you began, âIs it okay if we kiss in front of Adrie?â Oh, how your awkward pointing from yourself to the car came to a charming halt, fingers caught in the stiff fabric of his jacket, under his spell.
Plush pink lips warmed by vented heat promised your worries away.
âI think sheâs asleep anyway.â His voice was playful, tugging syllables in the way his lopsided grin ought. âBut,â he softened, âyeah, we can kiss in front of her.â
The permission washed over you. Weeks and months in the making. Brewing tension under the surface in your daily interactionsâand now? You kissed him. Just for fun, just to show off. You kissed him again. Gentle, pretty brushes. Tame, refined, and for the sake of exploring the lack of boundary before saying goodbye.
Working man arms defined your waist.
Fingers calloused from gripping pens grazed his steady throat.
He swallowed, and spoke endearments with his busy mouth, âCould kiss you all day, baby.â Your lips kicked into a smile which he devoured, kiss after kiss. Neat little things. Virtues, maybe.
âCouldâve kissed me since the day we met,â you answered, feeling the squeeze around your back when his belly pressed you into his embrace. Though, his dismissive snort caused you to frown. âIâm serious. Coulda had me back then. Or at least you couldâve kissed me when we were slow dancing in the garage, or standing under the mistletoe at the Christmas party. Like, seriously, way to make me feel rejected.â
His wide passionate eyes shared common ground with his genuine smirk at your feigned agony. âExcuse you, but I am not having our first kiss be at work.â
âThen why not at DND when everyone left?â
âBecause, sweetheart,â his cadence loved those two words most of all, âI knew I only had a few minutes with you. And I needed a helluva lot more than a few minutes with you.â
âOr, what about whenââ
Crazy how you strove to be silenced by his mouth. Craved it like no other, provoking him into eager unions, fulfilling the itch and providing the scratch with your bottom lip between his, just how he liked.
You shifted. Your inner thighs rubbed through your ripped tights. The untimely circumstances bringing you to Robinâs door lived on the surface of your chilly skin; ushering you to reality, and he as well.
âIâm sorry for how all this turned out.â Eddieâs sincere apology pitched his voice to something sorrowful, something deeper, and maybe you underestimated how much the night ending when it did upset him as a man.
âThereâs nothing to be sorry about.â
He shuffled his stance, scraping his boots in dissatisfaction. âBaby, you didnât even get anything,â and you knew what he meant. And it annoyed you heâd even brought it up.
Combing your fingers up from his nape through his hair, you drove him into you, chasing the molten ooze pooling at your center in effort to shut him up. Wet, hard, nipping kisses at his plump lips until they were raw like his tear-stained cheeks. You forwent air. Mouths melding as one, then apart as two, then one, then a set of awake eyes boring into his drunk ones. âOur date was perfect. We needed this.â The trust, the experience, the uncomfortable glimpse into his life and how you handled it. His breakdown, his shame, his face when he finally let go and ugly cried in front of you. âI donât regret how our night turned out.â
Nodding into a nudge of his nose stroking the side of yours, he was honest with himself, âI donât regret it, either.â
âWell, you might regret it in the next half-hour if this storm keeps up, and youâre stranded with Adrie in the car because a tree fell across the road.â
âShit.â Indeed, the weather was turning again. If luck were on his side, he could deal with the high winds and sheets of rain until he got home, but, more likely, he drained his luck over the course of the date, and lightning was about to start again.
Eyeing the sky with hesitance, he asked, âCan I call you tomorrow? Orâtoday?â
âIâd be upset if you didnât.â Acting as an endorsement to get going before things worsened, thick forest branches creaked in the distance, popping like warnings. You followed it with snappier affections doled between your palms fitted to his jaw. âPlease be safe, Eddie.â
âI will, I will. Kay?â Urgency swept him from kiss to kissâneedy, and intense, treating them as the last. âI adore you, baby. Tell me you adore me.â
Mushy under his tender affirmations, your body went pliant and he accepted your weighty lean on his chest, making it harder than it already was for him to leave his sweetheart behind. ââdore you too, handsome,â you moaned into his mouth, sending him off on a proper goodbye.
âJesus Christ, woman.â
Ever the lovestruck fool, he stayed rooted on the porch watching your figure move from shadow to light within the home, eyes glued to sways and curves as you met the hallway and bent to peep inside Robinâs room. It was the single lamp being turned off which broke his greedy gaze, and ended his fun. Oh well. His Monday morning was booked with penciled in meetings for his admiration and your assets.
Eddie spun on his heel and stopped stalling. He didnât bother throwing his arms over his head, he accepted his fate, and ran. Sloshing through puddles, slipping in mud. He wrenched open the door, and fell inside the car. The heater made him sticky warm in the gross way, so he turned it down, and got comfortable behind the wheel, adjusting, adjusting.
Pulling oxygen into his outkissed lungs, he heaved a solid breath, and sank into his seat, unable to comprehend the recent events carving out a new path for him to consider where there wasnât one before.
ââThenââ
In the beginningâŠ
Summer died to autumn, and it was time to move on from Steve's. Eddie tried to make it on his own in the motel room over the three day weekend break from work, but his wallet was empty, his baby was dressed in another family's blue sailboat onesie, and come Tuesday morning at 7AM, he needed someone to watch Adrie who wasn't an overworked Nancy Harrington.
Infant in hand, pride left behind in his boyhood, Eddie knocked on his uncle's door, and in Wayne's usual manner, he answered by clearing his throat when neither words nor greetings failed to repair the strained relationship.
âCan I live with you?â
Taking in the marks of fatigue under his nephew's averted eyes, Wayne said, âOf course, son,â and welcomed him inside with a swung gesture.
The walk to the single bedroom humbled what spirit Eddie had remaining. Or, crushed what was left of it. He passed by the kitchen table which still had his chair cocked out, noticed the patched-up hole in the closet door, and flicked on the lightswitch, grazing the curled edge of a poster he hung over a decade ago. His stomach sank at the familiarity.
Blazed by the ornate lamp hung in the corner, standing out like a behemoth beside his white desk, was the crib he was never able to afford.
Adrie grunted awake in her carseat. Looking down at her would spill his tears, so he cranked his head back to stare at the ceiling, steeling himself after spotting the new bedsheets stretched across his mattress, and he knewâhe knewâif he turned around, the pullout bed in the living room would still be set up.
His uncle never took his room back.
Defeated by the routine pang of worthlessness, impressed to have any self-esteem left to be stolen from him at the point, Eddie sank to his childhood mattress with his three-month-old daughter at his feet, undressed himself from his boots, and made a clear spot for them both on the bed, away from blankets or pillows. He laid on his side, legs crossed and knees bent with an arm beneath his head. Same position he assumed on the motelâs carpeted floor yesterday when Adrie experienced a milestone: rolling over. Not from her back to her stomach, she wasnât coordinated enough for that yet, but with enough powerful kicks and wiggling, his paranoia coaxed his other arm around her.
He molded himself to be her protector. Chest sunken on a shallow breath, forearm spooned to her side closest to the edge, and gaze trained on her chubby cheek. Her babbly noise of happiness brought him a sense of reward, and though the newborn smell had faded in the weeks where motor oil stung his nostrils, he put his nose to the top of her head for a whiff of a sweet scent that wasnât there, and felt the peace it brought him anyway.
Wayne shuffled into the room with a sizable stack of chunky hardcover books between his hands. âI, uh, checked these out from the library. Been doinâ some readinâ while you were gone.â He set them down on the bedside table, and pointed at a few of them. âLearned a lot from the one on the bottom, but they were all, ah, educational, I sâpose.. Some lean more religious than others,â he grumbled. âBut, uhm..â
The expectant pause in his uncleâs speech drew Eddieâs awareness.
âCan I hold her?â Wayne asked.
âYeah.â He almost had the strength to clear the rasp from his throat. âYou can hold her.â
Putting his new knowledge to good use, Wayne first worked his palm under Adrieâs head before scooping her into his folded arms. Eddie took his shame in small doses, glancing at his uncle meeting his grandchild for the first time, and looking away when he cooed over her. Three months and his only family member had yet to meet his baby. Three months spent avoiding this trailer, and depriving his uncle from making these memories.
Self-loathing boiled under Eddieâs skin, and still, there was a fleeting desire to brag about Adrieâs neck strength, and how it wasnât so necessary to be wary of her head falling back.
But he stayed quiet. He pushed his overgrown bangs out of his eyes, and read the bookâs titles, wondering what sparked enough interest for Wayne to stuff receipts between the pages, or mark them with paper clips if they were particularly interesting.
Speaking in his gruff smokerâs voice with an edge of seldom heard unease, Wayne introduced a conversation, âI read in that yellow book there that babies shouldnât sleep in the same bed as the parent. Dangerous, with how tired you are, ând all. Should I put her in the crib?â
As gingerly and delicately as one could be when discussing the reality of a child suffocating to a parent who was well aware of the risks, Eddie regarded him with an annoyed expression, and Wayne shut his mouth in apology.
âIâve gotta do her night routine again, so Iâll be up for a bit.â
âYep.â A solid statement, and conclusion, to the conversation.
Bending down, Wayne positioned Adrie in the hollow Eddie created for her, and mentioned there were leftovers in the fridge on his way out. He shut the door behind him. It didnât take long for tiny fists and tinier fingers to find a lock of his hair, and pull it into a drooly mouth. Didnât take long, either, for his exhaustion to kick in and for the emotions to crash through his walls.
Tears slipped sideways along his features. Cresting over the bridge of his nose, colliding with his other eye, and joining the wetness at his hairline, dotting the bedsheet. He pressed his face to his baby who was too innocent for this world. âDaddy loves you,â he whispered, tasting the word for the first time. Daddy. It didnât feel right when Steve stepped in as a father figure, but he could acknowledge it now. He was a dad. A momentous occasion followed by, âIâm so sorry youâre mine.â An apology uttered on a wet hiccupâborderline unintelligibleâbut after coming back to this trailer, and enduring his memories trapped between its thin walls, he promised, words slurring to a constricted squeak in his throat, âDaddyâs gonna get us a nice house, okay? Your own room. Your own bed. Daddyâs gonna do it. Just give me some time, okay? Iâll do it, I swear. Daddy loves you so much. So fucking much.â The promises bred dread even then, living in the pit of his stomach as future disappointments, knowing he would fail.
Perhaps sensing his distress, his little girl used the last of her energy to kick his arm in a fair warning before her face scrunched, and the wet coughs preluding her wail for food began.
He dried his face on the bedsheet. In this moment, it was hard to continue crying when he had another human relying on him. It was time to move on. Time to bury the pain, and move on. Time to neglect himself, and move on. Time to give up, and move on. Kiss her chubby cheeks so fucking much he feared heâd never be able to stop, and move on.
ââNowââ
Now, he checked the rearview mirror and Adrie was looking back at him, possessing a curious pinch between her brows at his reflection.
âYou were kissing Miss Mouse,â she accused and questioned.
âI was,â he confirmed.
âWhat does that mean?â
âIt means, ah,â he filled the pause with another ah while he searched, âIt means weâll be seeing more of each other. Sheâll be coming around more, and stuff. Hanging out with us.â
Ever ponderous, ever candid, ever blunt, she asked, âDoes that mean sheâs myââ
Crazy Little Thing Called Love blasted their eardrums.
Eddieâs fingers slipped over the volume dial by accidentâtotally by accidentâas he reached for the stick shift, turning the music on high and drowning out the last word of her sentence.
âMom.
No way in hell was he ready for that conversation after the emotionally grueling night heâd had.
âWhoops,â he pretended, âSorry, couldnât hear youâbut, uh! Hey, do you wanna start our bedtime story early? Should I go with the princess one, or the Sesame Street gang running their own bakery? Hmm.." He drew out his hum until he was in the clear of the Buckley's mailbox, swearing he wasn't the reason it was laying flat in a ditch. "How about we pick up where the princess one left off? So! The firbolgs have declared alliances with Toadstool Kingdom, and.." Throwing it into first gear, Eddie raced home as quickly, but responsibly, as possible, talking non-stop. His parched throat begged for a drink by the time he pulled into the trailer parkâa scratchy pain made worse by his nervous chatter in the elusive quiet of his parked car.
He wrapped Adrie in her quilt as best he could while securing her on his hip and booked it through the rain, unlocking the front door and ducking inside right as an unlucky flash of lightning came.
And when natureâs nightlight died, he blinked and blinked at the spots in his vision.
It was unfathomably dark in his living room.
Stumbling over a small shoe in his way, he patted the wall for the lightswitch, and flipped it. And flipped it again. And harassed it some more. Sighing heavily in defeat, he grabbed the giant flashlight on the kitchen counter, and lit the way. "Looks like we're camping tonight." (Their codeword for when the power was knocked out.)
"Okie dokie," she said, ignorant to the cruel world of no pancakes for Sunday breakfast when the electric stovetop was out of commission.
In the meantime, he got them both ready for bed with the added pain of doing it by a single wobbly light source, ready to pass out the second his body sank to the mattress and his head hit the flat pillowâ
But of course, Adrie rocked his shoulder incessantly, goading him into giving her attention at her whim, sanity be damned. "Mm?" he grunted, coating the noise in mild annoyance.
"Daddy?" she checked.
The wait for her question grew excruciatingly long.
He almost wasted an eye roll. "Yes, my child?"
"I wish Miss Mouse was here."
Surprised more so by his yawn than the request itselfâand then surprised again when his heartbeat remained calm when confronted with the reality of Adrie noticing too muchâhe struggled to stay awake in his best interest, perhaps giving an inappropriate answer, and unwittingly feeding into her inner wishes, "I do too." He was fading, and quick. The hard rain had returned, droning white noise on the roof, soothing his eyelids closed over the dry sting they drew. Rolling, fighting the stiff sheets tucked around them both, he threw an arm over her before the doom-roll of thunder came. Sweet dreams greeted him in a pair of tiny arms folded to his chest. Brain shutting down. Night, night. Asleep.
"I wish she was my mom."
"Goodnight, Adrie," he stressed.
let's go, don't wait - the set list
modern!eddieâs been single since 2020 and aside from getting his dick wet after weekend shows at the bars, he hasnât been going out of his way for love until his friends make him. eddie enters the world of online dating, not having a great time. that is, until he meets you. the soundtrack - ongoing/frequently updated. part one part two (coming soon) part three (coming soon)
đđĄđ "đČđđŹ" đ©đšđ„đąđđČ.
singledad!mechanic!eddie x fem!reader
â¶What was meant to be a quiet evening of DND gets out of hand before it even begins, and when the guys leave a bottle of whiskey behind, all those passes you and Eddie made at each other grow to a new level.â¶
NSFW â slow burn, fluff, drunken yearning, drunken flirting, dirty jokes, sexual tension, failed phone sex, light angst, drug/alcohol mention/use, 18+ overall for eventual smut
obi-wan voice: this isn't the first kiss chapter you're looking for (it's in the next one)
chapter: 9/? [wc: 23.8k]
âł part 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 / 09
AO3
Chapter 9: Dungeons & Dragons & Unicorns, oh my!
Occupying the narrow space available in Mr. Mooreâs cramped office, Carl exchanged a look with Kevin over the edge of his coffee mug as he tipped it back, and coasted the bitter liquid across his tongue, swallowing with trouble. He winced at the potency. Kevin gave him an apologetic grimace.
âYou made this too strong,â Carl whispered.
Kevin took a sip as well, and clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth, admonishing his mistake of putting too many grounds in the machine. âShe just makes it better.â
David hunched forward in his plush leather chair. Around him, filing cabinets were open, sticky notes reminders hung crooked on the drawers, and his desk was stacked with customerâs invoices.
Three days youâd been gone and the world had devolved into chaos.
âYeah, gotcha,â David said into the phone crooked between his shoulder and ear, jotting down an unrelated note on the corner of an envelope. âYou feel better soon, ya hear?â He threw an excessive eye roll onto the end of his sentence when the voice on the other end kept rattling off. âI told ya to stop worryinâ about it. Now, get some rest. Yeah. Bye.â
He hung up, and addressed his audience waiting on bated breath, âEdâs callinâ in sick again.â
âThird day in a row,â Carl commented.
Kevin gestured at the state of the office with his mug. âThird day for her too.â David muttered an acknowledgement, missing his Office Administrator who had taken up the responsibility of organizing all the documents into their rightful place.
âThree days, huh? And both with the flu?â Kevin restated in a leading tone.
âBoth with the flu,â David confirmed.
âNot suspicious at all,â Carl added.
In unison, the three men put their mugs to their lips, sipped the coffee, winced, and made noises of disgust.
But after all that, Kevin beamed at his friends. âGood for them,â he said. âEd deserves someone like her.â
In unison, they agreed, and sipped, and made a pact to dump out their mugs in the sink.
ââââ
You arrived to work with an unglamorous wad of tissue balled in your fist, and a raw nose. Lingering sniffles ailed you, as did the body lethargy, but you were no longer contagious. It sucked to exist in this head-cold sphere, but it was nice to leave the house after days spent in-and-out of a Nyquil daze.
And yes, you were eager to see Eddie again, despite the twist of dread in your stomach.
Itâd been days since you left his place on a good note, but would the remnants of his tears be this weird unstated suspense in between breaths of conversation? Would there be an underlying presence of you know all the intimate details of my life in the otherwise cheerful morning greeting? Would things go back to normal as if nothing happened?
Regardless, the morning greeting would have to wait. There were a million things to do around the auto shop since youâd been absent; first of which was going into Mr. Mooreâs office, and fighting the disarray to find his updated schedule detailing his upcoming meetings, lunches, and days heâd be out of town. You grabbed a marker and went to work on the calendar in the garage, transcribing the schedule for the guys to see so they could stop asking you if Mr. Moore was in his office or not (especially when his door was right there and they could check for themselves).
Crossing out the first week of January, you began to write down one of the meetings when the back door was thrown open, and an ominous death knell tolled in a jangle of chains and heavy boots, making a veritable effort to stomp as loudly as possible on their way to you.
The eagerness disappeared. Only tumultuous dread now.
Your delicate smile was replaced by a canvas of annoyance. âWhy are you so loud?â you winced. And winced again when you heard your stuffed-up voice.
You didnât have to look away from the note you were jotting down to see his impish grin. He practically forced you to see it when he folded his arms, and imposed his shoulder on the wall, making the calendar page slip under your marker in a long red streak.
He ducked his head to catch your eye. âWhatâs wrong, sweetheart? Iâm walking as I always do; not a hop, skip, or bounce extra.â Eddieâs tight lips parted in your periphery, showing a gleam of teeth. Raising his voice a tick, he drove the dread deeper, âMy girl isnât flinching at every sound because she has a headache, right?â
Having no sense of self restraint, nor manners, Eddie invaded more of your personal space. His chest swelled with a held breath while his tongue prepared a taunt and his eyes squinched half-closed. âIt couldnât be because youâre sick, right? Not Miss Queen of the City whoâs been coughed on by every germ out there, making her tougher than the common cold, hmm? Couldnât be because of that?â
Capping the marker, you let your side-eye graduate to a full fledged incredulous stare at his much-too-giddy expression. âItâs allergies,â you said, crumpling the tissue into your pocket.
âAllergies, huh? Which ones?â
âThe ones Iâm allergic to.â
âInteresting, interesting,â he humored you, âvery interesting since, yâknow, the most common allergies people have around here are to grass and weed pollen, and those suckers are dead and buried under a layer of snow. Wonât be growing for quite some months, so..â
You glared at his need to follow up that observation with his lips pursed into a mocking kiss of arrogance, provoking you to fold while simultaneously flaunting the sharp cut of his cheekbones.
âFine,â you admitted in a low tone. âI got sick.â Noting the heavy bags under his red-rimmed eyes, you quirked an eyebrow, and asked, âHave you been working overtime without me?â
He brightened. âOh, no. Adrie got me sick too. This is my first day back.â
âHave I ever told you how so,â you paused for emphasis, and prodded the pen cap into his sternum, âso very irritating you are?â He cupped his hand over your wrist, and cradled your fist to his chest. Drawing you in, in, in. Cold seeping through your sleeve from his red fingers, never kicking his habit of smoking before coming inside, regardless of the weather. âJust the worst,â you admonished, finding it difficult to resist the magnetism of his laughter quaking under your palm, urging yourself to favor the adorable scrunch above his nose, and guide your thoughts away from his unzipped leather jacket.
But the draw was too strong. You swayed closer until your forearm was pressed to the dragon tattoo hidden beneath his coveralls, and your tennis shoe grazed past the tip of his metal-toed boot
He recalled, âThatâs weird. I remember you saying I was your favorite.â
âI said you were my favorite date. As far as people go, youâre in my top three. Robin, Adrie, you,â you listed on the fingers trapped against his inhale.
He lifted his chin, regarding you down the slope of his magnificent nose. âYou rank Adrie above me?â
âWell, think about it this way; you rank above all the other people Iâve met. And Iâve met a lot of people, you know.â
âThat isnât instilling a lot of confidence, babe.â
Sweetheart. Babe. My girl. His hand on your hand. His cold fingers cupping your palm, searing you despite their lack of heat; so different from how you came to know them, as hesitant pauses on his tools when you greeted him and he frowned as if to ask why you were speaking to him.
Was this it? Was this the new normal?
You hoped so.
Cheeks warmed by the multitude of pet names, you put an edge of dissatisfaction on your question to cover how his affections affected you, âIs that my job? To make you feel good about yourself?â Hotter, hotter. His intensity was burning you.
You wiggled the marker in your grasp until you could tap it at the second unfastened button on his coveralls. âI think you just keep me around so you have someone to call you handsome.â
âNo way,â he said. He tilted his head to the side, resting it on the wall. His tangly mess of hair followed the movement, laying against his throat. âBut.. Just for clarification, I am handsome, right?â
âOf course youâre handsome.â
âAw, you flatter me, gorgeous,â he said in mock bashfulness, turning his face away while you stared at him in utter exasperation. âLove to hear it from my favorite.â
Gorgeous. Love. Favorite.
You didnât question his favorite what. Person, place, or thing? Who knows. Words escaped you when the honey in his eyes twinkled with something tender, and his dopey smile softened at the edges, and his heart pounded a story against your touch, and his grin faded more, and his lips regained their pretty pink plumpness, and his voice reached deeperâto the place where your hand felt the creation of vibrationsâand his tongue put a new spin on a sentiment as old as time.
âI missed you,â he said, features going lax as he dropped the overly flirtatious act. He let go of your fist to reach out and pinch your upper arm without an ounce of strength in his sweet teasing.
It took you an extra beat to withdraw your hand from his person.
You scoffed, âUh-huh. I can tell by how youâre trying to butter me up, and annoy me to death at the same time.â
âDonât tell me Iâve become the sunshine in our relationship now,â he snorted. And before he gave your stomach time to flutter at the word choice: relationship, he was stabbing his finger at the rumpled calendar.
He looked where he pointed, and dropped it down another Saturday. âI meant to ask you this before you left the other day, but weâre at a good spot in our DND campaign for a new person to join if you wanted to come. Sessions are a bitch to schedule now that weâre all adults and have lives, jobs, and responsibilities, and whatever, and I havenât, uh, hosted one at my place in a whileâ âyearsâ âso itâs kinda an extra special event, and would be cool if you wanted to come by.â
You wrung your mouth at the invitation.
âCâmon, I promise itâll be fun.â
âI know itâs easy to assume Iâm a giant loser like you, but even being a theater kid, Iâve never played DND,â you told him. âI donât wanna ruin your game, or impose on your friends enjoying their night. Or, like, clash if we donât get along, or somethinâ.â
He cast his gaze wildly around the room. Extra dramatic. âYou wonât ruin our game, and my friends will love youâtheyâre the rest of my band, and some kids who were in my club in high school. Youâll fit right in. And besides.. I want you to meet them.â
Delightful goosebumps tingled at your scalp. Meeting his friends was quite the step in your relationship. And no, mutual friends via Bobbie did not count.
You filled your lungs, and expelled your sigh at the calendar, reading over your penmanship while you thought it over.
âAnd maybe I didnât phrase my question correctly. Let me try again.â He cleared his throat. âWill you play DND with us?â
Will you?
A âyesâ or ânoâ question.
âAh, taking that route,â you said. And just to mess with him, you tapped the marker on the tip of his nose. âSureâyesâIâll join you in your roleplaying game, but if they donât like me, I told you so.â
âWhy wouldnât they like you?â
âI dunno, it took you weeks to speak to me.â
âYeah, but Iâm me.â Eddie shoved himself off the wall and began walking behind you, brushing his hand across your lower back, and bending to your ear to whisper a coy gloat, âAnd I play hard to get.â
All smiles, smiles, smiles. He took two bouncy steps backwards, opened the glass door in a wide swing and spun on his way inside, whipping his hair in a blur of brunette.
Bewildered by his dorky charm, you watched him through the windows, sighing out the air in your lungs to make room for the blossoming throbs of adoration when he caught his hip on the corner of your desk and tried walking off the pain in case you were watching, only for him to keel over right before he reached the hallway.
You shook your head and resumed where you were in Mr. Mooreâs schedule. âYou are absolutely not hard to get.â
Looking up, you found the day you were supposed to mark with an important phone meeting, and instead..
January 16th
DND
You drew stars around it, experiencing the childhood rush of endorphins that came from doodling hearts around your crushâs name in your yearbook, and giggling with your friends over it, betting you could get their number so you could call them over the summer, acutely aware none of you would ever dare.
ââââ
Stress squeezed Eddieâs throat. Each cry, each sob, each sniffle set him on edge. His headache pounded, his chest clutched onto the calming breaths he was supposed to prioritize, his heart raced sweat to his skin. Everything was falling apart around him.
âYeahâYeah, no, itâs okay. Yeah.â He hung up the phone, chord swaying against the grimy wall, and he pressed his fists above his eyes, turning in a slow circle.
Whistling, screeching, wailing. The boiling kettle on the stovetop pierced the sound of Adrieâs hiccupy bawling. Growing louder, and louder. Rising above the blood pulsing in his ears, the twitch in his strained muscles. The anger under the surface, bubbling. A vice on his chest. Clenching his jaw. Gripping harder. Growing bigger, and bigger, and bigger, his emotions grew bigger until the frustration slipped.
Eddie snapped the stove knob to the off position, and jiggled the broken shitty plastic back on the dial. He moved the kettle to the back burnerâsucking his bottom lip in and biting down hard, seeking the relief of pain to keep himself from slamming the kettle into the next dimension. And after swallowing the thickened saliva in his mouth, he walked away from what wouldâve been his late, late oatmeal breakfast.
The trailer rattled less and less.
His heavy footsteps exhausted to his socks sliding across the vinyl.
âAdrie,â he begged her name again, and again as he knelt to her chair at the green table. He passed his hand over her hair, petting it away from the sticky streaks of tears on her red cheeks, and he cradled her head to his neck. The flash of anger was gone. It shouldâve never seen the light of day, but he was human. He was a single person, and he tamed it the best he could. He was fragile, about to break at the next sob in his ear, but he tried. âDaddyâs gonna fix it, okay? Iâll make it better. Iâll make it better. Let Daddy make it better.â
He was stuck in the loop again. Where everything was so much, and he was so weak. Gathering her as if she were still small and could fit into the crook of his arm. âLet Daddy fix it,â he begged again, rocking her as he did all those years ago; for her, and for him, not having the capacity to do more than cry along with her.
Peeling himself away from her neediness, he worked his hoodie from her fists, and dialed his last resort.
It rang.
And rang.
Hopelessness burdened the expanse of shoulders, dropping them at the fourth trill. âCâmon, câmon, câmon, pick up.â The only thing helping calm him was his hand pressed over his eyes. One less stimulus.
Another ring. He was about to give up whenâ
âHello?â
âHey, man! Uh, uhm, whatâre you up to?â
The casualness was lost when Steveâs pause elongated to a nasally noise of understanding when Adrieâs whine cut through the static, and Eddieâs cheek smashed to the receiver as he moved into the hallway, curling his frame to the phone like it were a lifeline.
Steveâs tone feathered to the same one he used five years ago when Eddie called frequently, âIs everything okay over there? Nancy and I were packing up the car to head out of town with the kids, but I have a minute. Whatâs up?â
âYeah, yeah, everythingâs okay, uhâhey, you have Robinâs number, right? For her parentâs place?â
His mood lightened, âYeah, I think Nance does in her pocketbook. Nance!â He called out for her. Then, he spoke into the receiver, as gently as possible, with grace for him to deny if he wanted, âYouâre not trying to call Robin, are you?â
âNo.. No, Iâm not.â
There was a stint of silence where neither of them broke the wordless understanding woven into their connection; phone, chord, wires, friendship.
At last, Nancyâs footsteps came in clicks on their hardwood flooring, and Steve expressed a soft, âIâm happy for you, man.â
Eddie didnât correct him that it was about his game night. He simply let his friendâs praise fill the void. Itâd been a long time since someone was proud of him.
ââââ
The modest house near the empty plot of land was unassuming. Not much money was invested into the foundation, nor the many repairs, but oddly, it was the furniture and fine dinnerware passed through generations that would have anyone second guessing why a home with a cracked window from two summers ago had a china cabinet. And really, any gust during a storm could shatter the glass pane covered by a delicately orange curtain, but it hadnât happened yet, and therefore, there was no need to fix it.
In the living room, the TV was too loud. In the kitchen, you closed the fridge with your foot and took the tea kettle off the stove, balancing the makings of a sandwich in your arms.
Eddie said to come over half an hour before everyone else so he could help you create your character sheet, and with it being 4PM, you had three hours before you were supposed to head out, and were spending the afternoon with Robinâs parents while she went to Vickieâs before her late night shift.
You placed two slices of bread on a plate when the phone rang.
From the other room, Robinâs dad answered, and his dry vocal chords carried an air of confusion, âSomeoneâs calling for you!â
âIf theyâre asking for bail, Iâm not here,â you replied in a monotone voice, getting a butter knife out of the drawer.
There was a shuffle as he sat forward in his chair and inquired, wholeheartedly, âAre you asking for bail?â He waited for a reply while you continued to unscrew the cap to the peanut butter. âHe says heâs not!â
âMm.â Unconvinced this wasnât one of your friends calling from a police station, you finished pouring the two cups of tea you were intending to make, put sugar into one, and carried them into the living room.
âHe sounds like a nice young man,â he assured, adjusting the nasal cannulas higher on his upper lip before taking the cup from you.
Narrowing your eyes with wisdom beyond your years, you informed him, âThey always do,â and placed the other tea on the end table between the recliner and couch for Robinâs mom to take whenever she wasnât piecing together the answer for Wheel of Fortune and whispering it into the TV remote clutched to her face.
You took the phone from him and held it to your ear. âYellow?â
There was a horribly sad sound on the other end.
âHey! Hi! I, uhm, hey, itâs Eddie, Iâm sorry for calling you, if thatâs weird, but IâmâIâm going through a lot hereâ, he ended in a humorless laugh. âI-I-AdrieâSo, lookâAdrie, itâs okay, Iâm fixing itâAdrie was on a playdate, and I donât know, I think she got into a fight with her friend or something, and broke the toy they were playing with because she didnât want to share, so she had to come home early, and now sheâs upset because the playdateâs over, and the other girlâs toy broke, andâI already said thatâbut Steve and Nancy are going out of town, and I canât find a babysitter last minute that will take her to their place, and Wayneâs out playing poker with his friends, and God, Iââ He shifted, and you could tell by the fading whimpers that he moved down the hallway, and by the clack on the phone, it was his fingernails dragging along it as he scrubbed his hand over his face, desperate for someone else to come up with a solution. âIâm sorry, I donât know what Iâm asking of you, but thereâs going to be a bunch of guys drinking tonight, and I donât want Adrie to be around that shitââ
âEddie?â You didnât mean to cut him off, but his panic was overwhelming you, and it was easier to concentrate on the one idea your brain latched onto without his input.
â..This is my only night I get to hang out with everyone,â he admitted in a whisper so shy you struggled to hear it. âIâm worried about her distracting me.â
You stared at the linen closet in the hallway to Robinâs bedroom. âIâve got an idea, okay? Just hold on. Iâll be there in thirty.. maybe forty minutes. That okay?â
More movement sounded from the other end. You thought it was him hanging up without saying goodbye, but then you heard the sweetest thing.
âMiss Mouse is coming over,â he reassured Adrie, and the relief in his voice affected you in the worst way. Making you go all mushy when little Adrieâs hiccupy confirmation came from the depths of her face pressed to the base of his neck.
âMâouse?â
âMhmm.â
His hum filled your chest. Her noise of appreciation erupted goosebumps along your forearms. You were wantedârequestedâand the square beads digging into your wrist had never felt closer to his, across town.
You addressed Eddie, âIâve got a plan. Okay? Iâll be over soon.â
âThank you,â he spoke into the receiver as you hung up.
The phone suspended on the hook in a weighty click. It bounced as you let it go, coil slipping from the table and falling to the floor. You asked your audience of two, âIs it okay if I leave early?â
âOf course you can, dear,â Robinâs dad answered, hoarse from the constant flow of oxygen drying out his throat.
âAnd can I borrow some of Bobbieâs old bedsheets?â
Her mom made a confused face, but agreed, âWhatever you want, sweet bean.â
âAnd thus, you had the catalyst for the second time you arrived on Edward Munsonâs doorstep with your arms loaded with goodiesâ
He threw open the door with a dozen apologies stacked behind his teeth. âHey. Iâm sorry for calling you like that, sheââ
The she in question came barreling out from behind him.
You dropped your knees to accept Adrienne. Discarding your overstuffed tote bag to hug her wholly; taking her into your arms, and consoling her with all the right words you prepared on your way over. âHey, I heard you were having a rough day,â you said while tucking her into you tight. âYou donât have to be sad anymore. Iâm here.â
Her cheeks had long since dried, but the whiny pitch to her voice teetered on the cusp of a sniffly cry Eddie had only eliminated minutes ago, after his speech about sharing. She mumbled against your puffer jacket, âYou came to play wiâh me?â
âI sure did. And you know what? I brought you a surprise.â You flicked your gaze to Eddie to gauge his reaction, and your breath hitched at the beauty of his relief. Standing tall in the doorway over you and his daughter, taking a moment of peace with his eyes closed, mouth in a gentle line, and relaxation easing the near-permanent creases between his brows. The pleasure of a small break from parental duties affected him so physically, you could behold him for hours. Or tell him to go have a cigarette.
However, impatient as any four-year-old, Adrie wriggled in your arms for your attention, and asked what you brought.
Opening the tote, you took out patterned bedsheet after bedsheet. Stars, flowers, cowboysâas many as you could fit, and held them up. âDo you know what weâre gonna make with these?â
âA fort?â she asked, hopeful and bouncing with energy.
âA fort!â you repeated. âWeâre gonna build a blanket fort! And I brought movies for you toââ
She grabbed the sheets and took off for her bedroom.
âOkie dokie.â You pushed yourself up from the concrete steps, and fanned out the rented VHSes like a deck of cards to show Eddie instead. âSorry it took me so long, I stopped by Family Video on my way here. Has she seen these?â
He read the white clamshell packaging, and the dimple on his left cheek developed. âShe has,â and before you could react, he pressed on with a reassurance, âbut donât underestimate how many times a kid can watch the same movie and never grow bored of it.â
âGood to know!â
Like that; intuitive, second nature; Eddie knew when he gave you news that could be disappointing, he chased it with a thoughtful remark, validating your considerate gesture.
You slipped them back into the bag, and shouldered it. âI was thinking we could move the TV and VCR in her room, and build a fort around it with a pile of blankets on the floor for her to sleep on like sheâs camping. Super cozy. Maybe some string lights if you have some from Christmas?â
âThat..â The subtle arch in his eyebrows climbed higher as his eyes drifted closed in true appreciation. âThat sounds like a perfect plan.â And his face went apologetic again. âAnd yeah, thank you for coming early. I was trying to send Adrie on a playdate so sheâd come home tired and want to sleep while weâre playing, but, yeah, that went to shit, and then I tried calling her usual babysitters, but they couldnât watch her at their places, and my uncleâs gone until the morning, and Steve and Nancy areââ
Interrupting him, you stepped into the doorway, and he moved to accommodate you. âNext time,â you said, cupping his upper arm, âjust call me first.â
You squeezed and trailed your fingers down his sleeve as you let the moment mature in traces of your fingertips brushing over the thick poly-cotton of his sun-bleached black hoodie missing its drawstring. He prized the moment by memorizing the angel the universe blessed him with; and you were rooted by his gaze, driven to wonder about the ardency which he watched the minute press of your lips when you swallowed, and the coincidence of his own lips twitching into a jumpy smile.
âLet me show you Adrieâs room.â
His home was much the same as when you left it. There was a pillow and blanket tossed on the corner of the couch, a Little Mermaid plate and fork dripping in the dish rack, an assortment of clean clothes piled into a laundry basket on top of the washing machine. Though, Adrieâs toys were put away and the bathroom sink was scrubbed clean of childrenâs bubble gum flavored toothpaste.
Eddie pushed open the door at the end of the hall, and for the first time, with the tail end of daylight piercing the burgundy curtained window, you saw beyond a few feet to the bed.
You wished you could say the precious girl in the middle of the room caught your eye, but realistically, your attention was drawn to the walls. Specifically, the amount of pink and white Barbie advertisements cut from magazines and special edition My Little Pony fold out posters lining every square inch of available space.
But the girly stuff ended at the height of the dresser beside you.
The bedroom was divided in half, horizontally. Above the mirror decorated in stickers and photos tucked into the frame, the ponies and rainbows ended there, obliterated by a sharp line of black. A RATT flag, Corroded Coffin banner, and printed images of paladins fought the encroaching Carebears and sweet things. Every heavy metal poster in existence overlapped the final push to the ceiling. You took it all in with an air of baffled amusement.
You waved a finger at the top half. âShe uh.. a big Judas Priest fan?â
Eddie was already cutting his eyes to you with a sly smile, Adamâs apple bouncing with a mute giggle. âThis used to be my room.â
âI figured as much.â
Mixed amongst the posters were guitars hung where only he could reach them, and there was an amp shoved beneath a white desk where his daughter was currently setting up her stuffed animals, picking up one to show you, then second guessing and putting it down.
Eddie vied for you before she could. âWanna see somethinâ?â he asked, walking around the queen sized bed to the closet. Accurately, you guessed he was going to show you a clue to his past, and stepped over the dragging corner of the blue and white comforter, shimmying past him to stand next to the small bookshelf, excitedly watching him reach into the dark abyss. From the top shelf he pulled a lump of jean fabric, and unfolded it, handing it to you. âI used to wear this every day in my youth.â
You pinched the article of clothing between the very tips of your fingers, and turned your head to cough. âJesus, dude. How much did you used to smoke?â
âWay more than I do now,â he laughed.
After some heavy side-eyeing about his habits, you took a closer look at the garment. The blue plaid lined jean jacket had ratty edges everywhere it could have ratty edges; helped by its sleeves being ripped off, of course. A collection of pins and patches mirrored the ones on his (used to be) bedroom wallsâbefore a princess ruled his kingdom, and fought back the dragons.
âYou used to wear this everyday?â you voiced aloud, finding the sentimental value in touching something so dear to him, for him to hang onto it for all these years.
âShould I wear it tonight?â Taking it from you, he flipped up the hood of his sweatshirt, and slipped his arms through the vest, turning around to show you the Dio patch on the back, pointing to it with his thumbs.
You golf clapped. âVery cool. Very tough.â
âYeah?â
âYeah.â
Eddie faced you and tidied the stray waves of his hair flowing out from under the hood, raking his fingers through his bangs until they were perfectly messy, and again, it was one of those strange exchanges where your too honest gazes met, and he diverted his humble smile to the floor, shy and bashful, but not in pretend like before.
You were in his home, in his daughterâs bedroom, doing him a favor, which was feeling less and less like a favor, and more like a convenient excuse you both seized as an opportunity to hang out.
âMiss Mouse!â Adrie gunned for your hand, and embarked on her greatest effort to break you away from her father, tugging you towards her collection of plushes you still needed to be introduced to.
You gasped at the honor, and asked, âDo you want to tell me about them while I braid your hair?â
She lit up at the suggestion. Eddie wasnât the best at weaving plaits, and she wasnât the most patient, so having an unbiased party step in to determine whether it was a âhimâ problem or a âherâ problem sounded grand.
And as you sank onto the edge of the mattress with her sitting criss-cross between your legs, it was obvious within the first few twists of the French braid sitting flat against her head, and curved perfectly over her ear, that it was most definitely a âhimâ problem.
Behind you, there was a great sigh at your victory.
Adrie held up a brown teddy with one glass bead eye slightly larger than the other after surgery was performed on him to replace the one he lost, and said, âThis is Mr. Bear.â
âNice to meet you, Mr. Bear,â you said, using your best Childrenâs Television Program presenter voice to entertain her. You threw a smile over your shoulder at the silliness, and Eddie was already looking at you, warm brown eyes shining with the same fondness as yours.
âAnd heâs married to Mrs. Froggy.â
âWow, a bear and a frog.â You nodded, impressed. âI guess true love knows no bounds.â
Feeling like the third wheel to you and Adrie, Eddie moved into action. âIâm gonna go out to the shed and start bringing in extra chairs, and the Christmas lights you asked for. And, uh, hereâs her hair stuff.â He handed you a basket filled to the brim with every style of ponytail holder a drug store could carry. âYou two have fun.â
Naturally, as he stepped away to leave, you curled your fingers at him in a childish wave, while Adrie used Mrs. Frogâs hand to do the same, adding on a sing-songy âBye!â to hers.
And what a delight it was to witness the beginnings of the red flush creeping up his neck as he took a final glance at you both smiling up at him, and he pinched the hood over his mouth to shield his crooked simpering from further inspection.
~~~
The gloaming sky dozed in a blanket of pink and purple clouds knitted together with ribbons of orange.
Eddie leaned in the doorway to the porch, resting his shoulders on the frame as he crossed his ankles. The backs of his hands stung from overwashing them during the dry season, but his palms were soothed by the piping hot bowl he cupped to his chest. His muscles ached from unrest, but he grew warmer with each bite of the cinnamon sugar toast he dipped into the peanut butter oatmeal. Maybe he wouldnât have taken the time to wipe down the folding chairs from the shed, but when you asked if there were any spiders on them in that timid wobble of yours, he had no other choice. And heâd do it again, even if his body protested the entire ordeal.
Squinting into the beauty of the setting sun, he sighed. Adrienne squealed. You cheered her on.
The pain in his hands subsided, the clawing hunger in his stomach settled, and the soreness in his lower back relented. All his worries fell away when his girl was happy.
For Eddie, standing by as the outsider to the scene of you and his daughter bonding over the neon green bottle of sloshy bubbles, he was aware of the catch in your voice when you asked about the unicorn and learned of his name, Fluff. You released a tender âawâ from the back of your throat, and oh, it fulfilled him in ways he couldnât possibly articulate. A simple noise, and it felt like a hug from an old friend. A pinky promise. A rare complacency in his life. Ataraxia.
He sensed it more, and more. When you sprinted back and forth on the porch, blowing bubbles for her to pop before they landed on the ground; giggling, laughing. Giggling, laughing. And he was smiling, smiling. It was sweet, so sweet; this new loop he found himself in. Gone was the stress. You took care of it. You heard him say Adrie needed to be tired out before bed time, and here you were, standing at the edge of the creaky floorboards, blowing a slew of bubbles for her to chase in the deadened grass.
She complained, âI canâtâreach!â She jumped, and jumped, but the bubble caught the gust from her fingertips, and continued floating away.
âUse Fluff!â
Elated at the ingenuity, she snatched Fluff from where he posed at your feet, and she launched herself off the deck for the last bubble, popping it with the very tip of his white horn. âYay!â
âRad!â
He watched until your forms were bathed in dusky blue, and the cold swallowed your heaving breaths.
Licking clean the last spoonful of his late, late breakfast, he reminded you both, âYou girls better get started on this fort before it gets too late. Still gotta set up for the game too.â After whispering a curse under your breath, you ushered Adrie inside, and he asked her, âCan you take this to the sink?â Remarkably, she took his bowl without complaint, but stood stock still until he forced out a pointed, âThank you,â in a tone implying she should scram.
She snickered at getting a rise out of him, and jogged away.
He reached into his pocket for the object weighing down the front of his hoodie, and produced a tangerine. Juice squished from the top of the fruit where he stabbed his thumb into the rind, and the scent of fresh citrus filled the air. âThe chairs are certified spider-free. Got them inspected by a professional and everything.â
Your glare was mellowed by sweetness. âMy hero.â
âDaddy.â Adrie was back, and with one simple demand of her hand held out flat, he peeled faster, and dislodged two segments for her. She popped them in her mouth, and ran to her room.
Interesting..
Testing him, you held your hand out flat as well, and with a bored stare, he placed two segments in your palm too.
âDonât worry, I wonât call you Daddy unless you want me to,â you said, tossing them in the air, and catching them in your mouth. And as the fruit popped between your teeth, and the cold juice gushed like ice over your tongue, your brain caught up to what you just implied, and you froze mid-chew.
Eddieâs expression morphed from slack-jawed surprise, to intrigue, to his lips clamped tight, body shaking with silent laughter. âWhat?â he squeaked out.
âUhhâI meanâHow about we forget I said that?â you offered, wagging your finger from him to you.
No way.
No way in hell was he about to let you live that one down.
He loved your blunder. Reveled in it, even. It was sweet, sweet revenge. Payback.
Eddie took you off guard by snatching your wrist. He drew you into him as he pushed off the doorframe, bringing you in real close, eliminating the gap between your bodies. His cheeks may have darkened, but it was his greatest pleasure to imbue all his wickedness into repeating the same word you used months ago when he was driving you to Adrieâs school play and he made a similar joke about your bike and riding a man to work.
His nose scrunched with wolfish satisfaction. âNever.â
âDonât be mean,â you whined. Putting up a weak fight, you attempted to twist your hand from his grasp toâhopefullyâbolt away, and bury yourself in a pile of bedsheets for the rest of eternity; just somewhere you could hide, and desperately avoid thinking about the delicious zing traveling to the worst places.
But he wouldnât let go.
There was clear disdain in the way his posture stiffened the split-second anyone other than his daughter called him Daddy, but you couldnât deny how good it felt to introduce the context of calling him such a name, whether it would happen when you were under him, gasping it into his mouth; or in different position, with your knees on either side of his narrow hips, bouncing out the syllables..
His breathing deepened. You squirmed.
Caught in each otherâs trap. Impossible to look away, the sweltering fantasy sat heavy in your mutual gaze, wide pupils boring into wide pupils. Heartbeats pounding beneath the surface of uncharted waters. An intimacy to his study of your body language, especially when you tilted your head to the side, and the lingering wryness in his eyes turned curious.
Illuminated by the glow of the bathroom light above the medicine cabinet, the face framing layers of Eddieâs haircut brushed his cheeks from beneath the hard shadows of his hood, and the fog from your exhales mixed in the inky darkness.
Alas, the standoff came to an abrupt end when Adrie called your name.
âI should help her with the fort,â you whispered in a release of tension.
One finger at a time, he opened his harmless grip. âIâm gonna bring your bike up here in case the weather turns,â he said, voice the same as always when he had you this near; quiet, tame, cutting in and out in the vowels.
âWhat a gentleman.â
Definitely a gentleman when he bit into the tangerine as if it were an apple to distract you from his hand tugging down his hoodie to hide the hard outline stretching towards the thigh of his light wash blue jeans.
You sneered at the fleshy strings of fruit pulp gathering over his lower lip. âAnd by gentleman, I mean utter weirdo.â
~~~
By winterâs solid nightfall, most of the fort had been completed. Eddie visited the room to drop off the TV (after it had been cleaned of staticy dust clinging to the glass), and placed it and the VCR on top of a Coca-Cola crate at the foot-end of the blanket nest you created. At one point he grabbed his acoustic guitar from the wall, and brought more clothes pins.
You pinned the last corner of the sheet canopy above Adrie while she pulled her tea party table inside the fort, and set up her toys in the itty bitty pink chairs. She volunteered to string the twinkly lights herself, giving you an excuse to go to the kitchen where you could make the highest quality finger sandwiches as dinner for her and her cotton-stuffed guests. And by total coincidence, Eddie was beside you, hunched over the counter with a DND book opened to a page of illustrations with a blank character sheet to his right.
âHam, mayo, cheese, and the thinnest layer of mustard,â he told you.
You organized the ingredients to Adrieâs sandwich and confirmed, âA hint of mustard. Got it.â Taking two slices of sandwich bread, you placed them on her Beauty and the Beat plate, and dipped a butter knife into the mayo jar, slathering a generous amount on one side. One the other, you merely suggested mustard had been in the presence of it with a single swipe.
He angled the book to you. âWhich race and class do you want to play as?â
Looking over the pictures, there were more to choose from than you initially assumed, but there was a clear winner towering above the rest. âThat one. The big green guy.â Apparently he was called a half-orc, and he was stacked with muscle on top of muscle. âI wanna be huge and brawny like him, crushinâ my enemies with my giant biceps. Like, everyoneâs scared of me, but I save kittens on the weekends. Fighter type, or whateverâs the term. Melee? I wanna beat people up with my bare fists.â
Eddie glanced you up and down. âOvercompensating for something?â
Deflating, your puffer jacket swished fabric-on-fabric as you dropped your arms. You pouted, but the tug at his heartstrings went ignored as he rolled a large dice, and picked up the pencil.
So be it. It was your turn to sum him up in one glance. How his shaggy outdated haircut gathered on his shoulders, curtaining his face as he underlined words on the character sheet, not even paying you attention. How his jean vest paraded his music tastes under years of dust and a decade of smoke baked into it; offensive and meant to ward off others, unless they belonged. How he decorated his skin in macabre imagery, and wore his white tennis shoes with just enough dirt to show he didnât care. How every denim item he owned came with holes. How his keys dangled from a keyring attached to his belt loop, so everyone was forced to listen to him expressing his apathy towards the world with each stomp, and rattle of chains swinging against his leg. How he bent over the counter with his hip cocked out, making his pants crease to his inner thighs, highlighting a particular package beneath a handcuff belt buckle. How he was decked out in his usual skull themed rings. Prickly, jaded, drives too fast, and has never heard of an âinside voiceâ once he deemed you worthy of his boisterous ramblings. Loud, obnoxious, excessively weird when he was himself around you.
You asked, âAre you overcompensating for something?â
âI donât need to.â
Cool, smooth, nonchalant.
I donât need to.
Warmth flooded your abdomen. Heat reached your cheeks. Blood rushed, descended to the place your thighs clenched, where your jeanâs stiff metal zipper went tightâand if you stood a certain wayâthe seam grazed over.
Rolling the dice again, his expression remained impassive as he filled in more blank spots, asking you in a monotone voice, âWhatâs your orcâs name?â
âGary,â you answered in a bout of exasperation, annoyed heâs acting like he didnât just say that.
There was no way you were about to be the one squirming again. After his teasing earlier, he deserved a dose of his own medicine.
Feeling undue bravery, you set the butter knife down, and rested your elbow on the counter, angling your body towards him with your hands linked over your stomach, wearing an adorably smug pinch of confusion between your brows. You were the example of casual when you asked, âDo orcs fight with a dagger? Maybe six and a half.. seven inches in length? Curved to the right? Real girthy handle?â
Eddieâs face lurched into wide-eyed awe at your bombshell of an innuendo. He turned his head slowly, frizzy curls sticking to his just-licked lips, fluttering in front of his gawking smile as he exhaled a stunned huff. His big brown eyes were alert with the thrill of the subject, and he stared, waiting for you to fold. You didnât blink, acting classes coming in handy as his eyebrows climbed higher and higher, and you remained stoic, free of emotion.
A choked outâ âI..â âcame from his mouth, but he didnât finish. He hooked his finger around a lock of hair, and twisted it, yanking more over the lower half of his face as he shrank into the comfort of his hoodie, leaving just his eyes visible.
At last, he answered, voice wavering high and tight, âA little over seven, I think.â
You lifted your chin, and rolled your lips inward, steeling yourself from voicing anything other than an impressed hum.
However..
Having a knack for bad decisions, you drew in a breath to speakâbut Adrie came to your rescue before you humiliated yourself by saying something abhorrent like, âmy, my, thatâs quite a size,â or âI heard that orcâs been single a while; whatâs his skill level with that weapon?â or worse, âneed a second opinion on that length?â
âAre you almost done?âAdrie asked.
She sought the answer by snaking her hands under your jacket and clinging onto the back of your hips, making you jolt at her cold fingers creeping over your skin, and you stumbled after she trusted you to support her weight while she jumped onto her tippy toes.
You lost your balance, and your hero from further harm was Eddie.
Well, less of a hero, and more like he stood with his arms pinned to his sides, and took the brunt of your fall.
He released a painful wheeze from being wedged into the corner where the sharp edges of the countertop dug into his bones.
âSorry,â you think you whispered, but maybe it never left your lungs.
You watched the subtle tic under his eyes when he said, âSâokay,â and the âsâ whistled sharply between his teeth.
It was amazingâincredibleâto discover he had freckles sprinkled across the top of his cheekbones, standing out against the telltale shade of embarrassment. Youâd never been this close to notice them before; near enough your nose tickled from the end of his hair. Never had the opportunity to catch yourself on his bicep, and feel the extraordinary body heat radiating off him, dialed on high from the last few minutes. And now you had to continue living as if you didnât know his dick size.
Adrie brought you back to reality. âCan you cut off the top crust? Itâs shaped like a butt, and I donât like it.â
Letting go of Eddie, you reached for her, patting her shoulder for her back up and release you from this awkward prison. âY-Yeah, of course. No top crust. Got it, little lady.â
She giggled and kept talking as you put an ample gap between you and her dad. Thank God she giggled and kept talking as you and Eddie regained some semblance of composure.
âCan you cut it in long squares?â
âRectangles,â Eddie corrected gently.
âReck-tangles,â she pronounced.
âPerfect.â He grabbed his pencil and dice, and picked up where he left off on your character sheet. And you were more than happy to play along, peeling the Kraft Single from its plastic film and placing it on top of two slices of ham before cutting it into long squares.
~~~
With her sandwich made, you and Adrie sat at the tiny pink table under the fort. Your neck ached from the constant hunched position, and your legs were falling asleep, but youâd deal with the pain if it meant having tea with the princess.
She tipped air from an empty tea pot into the tea cups, and Mr. Bear thanked her for his imaginary portion.
Throughout the play-dinner, Eddie was in and out of the room. There were noises from the closet, sounding like he was picking up shoeboxes filled with rattling items. The canopy drooped when he opened the top drawer on the dresser where it was tied. Musical notes from a wind instrument trilled from the living room.
After another bite of her sandwichâOh, no, Princess Adrienne, Iâm much too full, you may have mineâa neâerdowell crashed your exclusive party.
âHey, this is pretty,â Eddie said, poking his head inside; his grin lengthening into a frightful shadow from the Christmas lights stuck in his hair. He looked around at the hard work his little girl put into the fort, linking the bedsheets from his old desk, across the back of a chair, and held aloft by the dresser. The TV occupied the space one of his amps used to, and the nest of blankets covered what used to be a network of cords, albums, and magazines. But that was years ago. Now, his gaze settled on the adult woman feigning a long sip on her toddler-sized tea cup, and a hand smashed against his faceâ
Adrie shoved him out of the fort, and whipped closed the entryway bedsheet. âNo boys allowed!â
âBut.. I need to borrow Miss Mouse,â he begged in a pitiful quaver.
She cut her eyes to you, and rolled them into the next eternity (a move youâd become an expert in yourself.) You bargained with her in a haughty shrug, and after a moment of consideration, she drew back the curtain. âFine.â
Making an unglamorous exit by crawling on your hands and knees, you accepted Eddieâs warm palm to help you stand. âWhatâcha need help with?â
âThe folding table is behind the couch, and itâs annoying to pull out by myself with all the mugs in the way,â he explained on his way to the living room. âOh, can you move that stuff off it? Yeah, just toss it in a corner.â
He used his shin to push the coffee table against the wall while you picked up the pillow and stack of blankets off the corner of the couch. But after collecting them to your chest, and the thinning pillow released a puff of air from its wilted self, you were struck with an array of scents. Hair products, cigarette smoke, vanilla, sour sweat; notes of exhaust, motor oil, and fumes.
It smelled bad in the good way.
The mix stung your nostrils, twinged at your eyes. But it was a comfort you hugged tighter. Familiarity you inhaled deeper. Home in your lungs.
You took his pillow, and Adrieâs kaleidoscope quilt with the tattered facing, and went to place them on the fold-out bed in the corner, assuming it was his; but as you neared, you scrutinized the collection of items on the oak nightstand beside it. A brand of cigarettes he didnât smoke, a BIC lighter he didnât use, a comb, and a clunky silver watch. And as you thought about it more, you saw the fold-out bed already had a set of sheets and a pillow balanced on top of it.
âEddie, where do you sleep?â
There was much care put into your question, but the uneasy way it probed into his private life was evident in his change in demeanor.
He was slow to stand up from adjusting a side table out of the way, never quite unslouching the weight from his shoulders when he pushed his hood back to run a hand over his hair. The cuckoo clock on the wall ticked by as you watched him scratch his fingernails in tight circles on his scalp, roughing up his hair, never quite focusing his gaze on anything.
âWell,â he mumbled, gesturing at the lumpy couch cushions. âHere.â
Despite figuring as much, he never stated it bluntly, and to know another hardship of his reality squeezed your heart with sympathy.
He mustâve read the emotion on your face as pity, because his tone reflected an edge of annoyance; a deep-seated stress sneaking out when he spoke to those who didnât get it. âMost of my paycheck goes to Adrieâs daycare. That shits expensive, and as much as I donât want her growing up right in front of me, things will get better when she finally starts real school. I wonât be paying for that anymore, and I can start saving up, and maybe, yâknow, start making some changes around here.â He spoke with his hands in a sad sort of shrug, waving at the trailer, though his gaze was cast down, and away from you. âBut this is how it is, okay? I canât do anything to fix it.â There was a haunting sort of pessimism that came from living in poverty. As much as he made statements about changing his life when he had more money, there was still the pile of bills in the kitchen, the numerous things in need of fixing around the house, Wayneâs truck on its last leg, and the fear of a random doctor visit wiping out his bank account. All of that resided in his tone.
You gripped his pillow harder, not sure what to say other than a hushed, âSorry, I didnât mean to bring it up.â
At that, he shook himself out of ruminating on his situation, and saw you were awkwardly twisting the pillowcase around your fingers, staring at the floor. He realized he messed up.
Every bit of him went soft for you. âWait, wait, wait,â he soothed, striding three steps to you and cupping his palms around your upper arms. âI didnât mean to say it like that. Not to you. Not when youâve been the sweetestâseriously, the sweetest, and most generous person to me and Adrie. ItâIt, yeah, it hits a sore spot, talking about shit like having to sleep on the couch, but I didnât mean to speak to you that way.â He finished with a final, sweet, but quick, and enunciated assurance, âIâm sorry.â
Overwhelmed by the whiplash in his change of attitude, followed by his sincere apology, you stammered, âOh, uh, itâs okay. I understand why you reacted the way you did. Itâs cool.â
At an impasse, you looked up at him. He stroked his thumbs over the cool outer layer of your jacket. Swish, swish, swish.
More, deeper. Swish, swish, swish.
You understood.
This was our first fight as whatever-we-are, and Iâm showing you I can apologize instead of brushing it off and forgetting about it like I used to.
It was the mildest spat, yet it was a milestone for him.
âSeriously, weâre good,â you said, crushing the pillow to your chest.
Shifting the subject, he lightened the mood. âAlso, did I mention how much I appreciate you coming over early, and playing with Adrie? The whole fort thing, going out of your way to get her movies, ând making her run around like a maniac? Genius.â
âYeah, yeah, put it on that âthank youâ tab you owe me,â you teased him, pulling away to set his bedding on top of his uncleâs.
âSoon!â he promised. He tapped at the side of his head. âGot some ideas brewing in here.â
âNot sure if I should be excited, or scared.â
Ah, his two-front-teeth-showing grin. Your favorite.
He laughed, and with your help, the couch was scooted away from the wall enough for the wood laminate fold-out table to be wiggled out from behind it at an angle which avoided knocking the mugs hanging from the shelf above it. You draped a tablecloth over it in a flourish. Eddie pressed the wrinkles out of the grid pattern, and began placing miniature standees from the shoeboxes onto the squares; parts of a village, cobblestone fences, and characters to fill out the town. When he didnât need you anymore, you went to check on Adrie, and the moment you crawled inside the fort and she showed you the pajamas Eddie picked out for her earlier, there was a series of car honks outside.
Showtime.
âYou ready, Miss Adrie?â
âMhm!â
Tires crunched rocks in the makeshift driveway. Engines died. Noises, greetings, Eddieâs happiness grew louder, and louder. A group sounded off. Several sets of shoes scraped the cement steps, and in the amalgamation of voices was one above the rest, âHey, looking good, man. Havenât seen you since you almost killed my elven ranger before Christmas.â
You crawled backwards out of the fort, and caught Adrieâs hand before she ran out of the room.
From the living room, Eddie sucked his teeth, and dismissed his friend. âYou had it coming all night with the way you were walking around not checking for traps.â
âIt was one time! And besidesââ The argument stopped. His blue eyes went wide with shock, outstretched arms drooping as he focused on something behind Eddie. He lowered the two six packs he was carrying. âA girl!â
Being led by an excited almost-five-year-old, you bolted around the kitchen counter, and raised your eyebrows at the blunt acknowledgement of your existence. You looked at Eddie, whose entire being depleted with a sigh.
With his head hung, he swept his arm towards you. âThis is my friend from work. Sheâs playing with us tonight.â And under his breath, he muttered to the young man wearing a ballcap over his springy curls, âBe cool.â
He shoved a six pack at Eddieâs chest, and pursued you with his hand held out. âIâm Dustin! Eddieâs friend from high school, and previous Hellfire member,â he said, displaying a mouthful of adult braces.
âDustin, itâs nice to meet you!â
Repeating peopleâs names back to them was a helpful memorization tool, but as your gaze shifted, the nerves of making a good first impression on Eddieâs friends sat heavy in your stomach.
The other guys on the stairs came up behind Dustin. In a rush, you were introducing yourself to the beginnings of a crowd stomping through the living room. Exchanging names and smiles and handshakes, you gripped Adrieâs tiny hand for support and said, âIâm the receptionist at the auto shop, thatâs how I know Eddie.â
The one who approached you lastâGareth, drummer for Corroded Coffinâsnapped his fingers, and exclaimed, âOh! Youâre the receptionist.â
âAlright, alright,â Eddie interjected, body and voice between you two. âBeer goes in the kitchen, and Iâll order pizza in a minute.â
He passed off the six pack to someone else.
Gareth reached into his leather jacket with a wicked, lopsided grin. âI brought something a little stronger than beer.â Though most of your vision was taken up by the back of Eddieâs shoulder, you caught a flash of amber liquid in a clear bottle, and a black label.
Kneeling beside you, Jeffâguitarist for Corroded Coffinâtilted his head down so Adrie could touch the wooden beads at the end of his short braids, and said to Eddie, âYou know, since weâre havinâ it at your place again, why not make it memorable? Or not memorable,â he joked. âMaybe a sip for every roll under 13.â
Eddie gave him the Dad stare. âYouâre gonna be shitfacedâAdrie, you didnât hear thatâby the time this is over, and Iâm not organizing rides for all of you.â
âIâm driving tonight.â Lloydâbassist for Corroded Coffinâjangled his car keys.
âAnd so am I,â a girlâs voice came from beyond the entryway everyone was crowding. âNow can we come inside before we freeze to death, or do you really think you can take on another basilisk without my help?â
A round of laughter gave way to the next group entering.
SWISH, SWISH, SWISH.
The girl at the helm of the windbreaker brigade went to the kitchen to drop off the case of beer straining her arms. (It seemed that was the payment of choice to the host.)
Sensing you were lost to the sea of faces, Eddie laid a comforting hand between your shoulder blades, and drifted it downwards to the small of your back. âThatâs Erica, Max, and Lucas,â he told you in your ear.
Max held on tight to Lucasâ arm, taking smaller steps into the mixture of orange and blue-white lamps flooding the room tight with bodies, and shapes she was unfamiliar with.
âAw, donât you two look cute,â Gareth goaded them in an overly saccharine way.
Max groaned, âI told him it was lame.â
Whereas she shrank into her black and neon pink jacket, Lucas scoffed, and fueled her disgusted tongue click. âMatching windbreakers should be the least of your worries. Youâre playing Dungeons and Dragons. You canât get any lamer than that.â To finish, he popped the collar of his in a suave swish, and guided her into the kitchen.
She made a gagging sound, and Erica made one too.
ââââ
While waiting for the last guest to arrive, the front door remained open. The glow from inside etched the peeling paint on the stairâs ornate handrail in gold. Warm laughter rolled out like fog into the dry frigid night, where neighbors could hear it. See it. Feel the vibrations of Eddie Munsonâs friendship, support, weirdness being celebrated. Witness the joy others could not steal from him. They could observe the vehicles parked out front, listen to the rapture of claps when Adrie performed a song and dance, and taste the bitterness in their mouths when Eddie âThe Freakâ Munson continuously found his gaze drifting to the girl beside him, who beamed at him openly.
ââââ
Fashionably late, a loud car turned into the trailer park; the obnoxious kind, where the motor rumbled like a death rattle, but in a cool way, because it was made to sound like that on purpose.
Eddie looked over his shoulder, and raised his hand at Mike. âHey, man,â he whispered, keeping their conversation separate while everyone else was exchanging stories.
âDid you wanna check out the engine?â Mike bounced his eyebrows, swinging the keys to his bright yellow muscle car. âI installed it a few weeks ago.â
It was a tempting offer. He wasnât opposed to car talk, nor freezing his hands off to fawn over the modifications Mike made to his beloved 1979 Mustang while in the big city for school, and, of course, Eddie was going to give him his usual spiel about working for David when he came back to Hawkins. However, he didnât want to abandon the newest member to their party.
âIn a min,â Eddie said to Mike, motioning with his head to come inside.
Assuming heâd just tossed his girl to the wolves, Eddie zoned into the conversation again, and rubbed his hand along your back. His palm passed over the warm spot on your jacket where he was comforting you before, and he glanced around the circle of his friendsâtightly knit, and grinning at you.
He assumed wrong.
You werenât shy, or intimidated to be the new person in a group of people whoâd known each other for decades, failing to be heard over their easy banter and inside jokes. No. They were hanging onto your every word.
The group had gone hushed, captivated by your life. You had a knack for turning the mundane into marvelous enthrallments of relatable spectacular. Every sentence was more entertaining than the last. The punch lines landed, and kept coming. You worked them like a crowdâand when someone else shared a similar anecdote, you were asking questions, getting them to open up, and take the stage. This was you. You were in your element. You didnât need Eddie.
âOh! That reminds me of this one lady when I was waitressing in Philly..â
âIn New York we had these huge pigeons that would..â
âBack home, there was this place on the corner where..â
Eddie took his hand away. The insulated warmth dissipated from his palm as he let it hang at his side. Your rolodex of stories separated you from him.
âDude, you wanna talk about bad dates? This one time..â
âAnd then there was this guy who..â
ââWorst kiss ever.â
Details were sparedâmaybe because both he and Adrie were thereâbut the story beats were like stabs to his stomach. Clenched, sinking hot with envy. It wasnât like him. Not really. He didnât think so, anyway. But maybe he was wrong.
Jealousy prickled under his skin at every mention of âhomeâ and âdate.â He didnât appreciate the heat to his cheeks, nor the loneliness of his hand reaching out for Adrie, only for her to notice him with a sleepy blink while she clung to your hips, and it was your fingers rubbing her little shoulder.
Of course he knew the subject of your stories, of course he knew youâd been on hundreds of dates, of course he knew you lived a larger life than him, but heâd never had to listen to the yearn in your voice when you spoke about the things you missed. The city, the people, being on stage. Performing, collecting stories, having dinners at sit-down restaurants. These were eccentricities integral to your design, and Eddie Munson had no place among them.
âHey, Wheeler?â The lump in Eddieâs throat grew. Even Mike was transfixed on listening to you, forgetting about the keys in his hand. Leaning closer, he tapped on his friendâs teal raincoat to get his attention. âMike? You wanted to show me yourâ?â
âRight!â Mike whipped his head around, sending his shaggy haircut bouncing in freshly styled waves. âYeah, so I started with..â he trailed off, walking down the stairs, and out to the yard.
Before Eddie followed, he surveyed the group; Gareth was snickering his way through a story, while the rest of you went nauseous at his description of getting eighteen stitches, and replicating the sound of the needle popping through his skin.
âBabe?â he whispered under the groupâs grossed out gasps, speaking the endearment for you only. Taking control, in a way, of his shame by reminding himself he could call you by a sweet nickname, and youâd answer.
You divided your attention, tipping your ear to him, and tearing your gaze from Garethâs bizarre reenactment of how he fractured his tibia, and settling your eyes on Eddieâs Cupidâs bow when he made a request, âIâm gonna talk shop with Mike. Can you take over here? Get people settled, and Adrie in bed?â
âOf course, handsome.â
For couples, this is where he would duck to give you a kiss on the forehead, or bring you to his side for a hug and be on his way, and perhaps you gleaned those tentative actions when he hesitated on the lean-in, and sat in the subsequent awkwardness of playing it off as a friendly pat on your back when he realized, yeah, heâd never hugged you before.
You diffused the tension by laughing at him. Great.
As he rolled his eyes, you stopped him from leaving, and stepped away from the group.
âWhere should we put our jackets?â you asked, pinching the zipper of yours.
Eddie paused in the middle of his gangly stride, and glanced at the two available hooks beside his leather jacket. It hadnât started snowing or sleeting yet, so everyoneâs coats would be dry. âCouch is fine.â
You said, âCool,â and plunged your hand. In the blink of an eye, you had unzipped your jacket, and thrown your arms back, wiggling it down your shoulders and tugging it off by the cuffs. Underneath your jacket was a tight white tank top and unbuttoned flannel. A nice, fitted, ribbed shirt. Lower cut than anything you had worn at the auto shop, and clinging to your chest as you arched your back and shimmied out of your outer layer.
His gaze stalled.
You didnât comment on it. He didnât say anything, either, when his focus snapped to your face, and he read your sly smirk. Adrie, however, grew restless.
âIâm sleepy,â she whined.
âOkay, sweet bean,â you said, besotted by how little her hand was in yours. âCâmon, we can pick out the first movie to play in the fort, too.â
Eddie, thankful to have a distraction, and even more thankful you didnât call out his obvious ogling, sank to his knees to give his little girl a goodnight hug and kiss. Part of him missed not being able to sit on the couch with her falling asleep on his chest, but the twelve peppered kisses to her cheek would have to suffice. He trusted you to take over the last few steps of Adrieâs night routine without his supervision, and sat back on his calvesâafter doting over her one last time by straightening out the long sleeves on her pajamas, and twirling the end of her braid around his finger.
âNight,â he kissed against her forehead.
âNight, Daddy,â she kissed back.
Kneeling on the carpet for a moment longer, he ran his tongue along the sharp edge of his teeth at watching you walk away with her. He was hidden amongst the throng of legs, and deep conversation. Invisible for now.
Drop, by drop, his chest filled with tender emotions. A coffee pot of feelings he swore to suppress poured into his heart; brimming the edge, overflowing, bringing heat to those neglected hopes, longings, and desires. Minutes ago you spoke of home, and he was aware he was not owed the promise of you changing the location of home to within biking distance, but he could hope, because every second you spent with him and his daughter was another coin in the wishing well, sploshing the coffee over.
Soon, the overflow would trickle to his lungs. It would fill them up. It would reach his throat. It would coat his tongue, wet his mouth, and before he knew it, those confessions would be spilling into words for you to cup to your mouth and drink until you were as full as he was.
Or, he could suppress them tonight with alcohol. Just enough to dull the urge, but still act as Dungeon Master.
Or, the whiskey could loosen his tongue, and risky sentiments could flood over, one steady drop at a time.
Either way, he was drowning.
~~~
Diving into the true purpose of the evening, the party split between the kitchen and the table in the living room. Jeff went out to Lloydâs truck, and brought in a long black case. Snapping the latches open, he took out an electric keyboard, and began setting it up in his lap while Gareth rapped his drumsticks on his thighs in a slow rhythm. In the bedroom, you fluffed up the blankets for Adrie to lay on, tucked the comforter to her chin, and brushed her bangs off her forehead while the blue flash of the Disney castle logo played across her heavy eyelids. Idling around the variety of beers on the kitchen counter, Max gripped one of the silver and red cans, and spun it around its plastic ring holder, straining to discern the label.
You came up behind her to let her know, âThat oneâs Bud Light.â
âEw,â she frowned, âwho would bring that?â She opted for the can of Pabst instead.
âSome people have no tastes.â
On cue, Dustin wove his way through Lucasâ and Ericaâs argument over which Mortal Kombat character was the best, adding a quick, âLiu Kang, obviously,â and snapped a silver can from the ring pack. He looked from you to Max. âWhat?â
Shifting from the secret giggles rising in your chests, she shrugged. âNothing!â
He squinted at her, not buying it. Cracking the tab, he took a sip, and then you became the subject of interest. âSo,â he started, âhow long have you and Eddie been friends?â
Perplexion drew Maxâs eyebrows together.
Aware of where this was going, you got your own beer, and carried an airy, casual tone while popping the cap, âOh, just a few months, since I moved here with my roommateâRobin, if you know her.â His expression answered for you, arching in an âah!â of understanding.
Max, though, was stuck on another detail. âWait, you and Eddie arenât dating? I thoughtâI figured since heâs never invited anyone here before, and his daughter was, like, holding onto you?â
âYeah, Adrieâs pretty fond of me, I think,â you answered, hiding your own secret behind the glass bottle to your lips. âAnd Eddieâs cool, too, I guess.â
âWell, I donât know about him being cool, per seââ she was cut off.
Blurs of black and teal tumbled in rivers of frosted breath, and clattering teeth. Mike shivered life into his limbs on his way to the sink to run his hands under hot water. Eddieâs cheeks and nose were tinted frosty red as he wiped the dirt from his numb fingers onto his hoodie, and pulled his wallet from the junk drawer to check it for cash.
His brown eyes zeroed on you first, Dustinâs wiry mug second, and Maxâs tilted lips third.
As he picked up the phone to dial for pizza delivery with his grease-scraped knuckle, he warned in a playful inflection, âYou better not be telling her embarrassing stories about me.â
âOh, no!â Max promised him. âI didnât even tell her about how I used to live across from you, and caught youâon numerous occasionsâsweeping the porch while blasting ABBA, and screaming the lyrics at the top of your lungs. While drunk.â She didnât need to see him from across the kitchen to feel the heat of his glare, and duel it with another cool shrug, defeating him with ease when the pizza place picked up, and he had to stumble over his order.
Once the hurdle of dinner was out of the way, the drinks of choice sweated under the cozy temperature of ten bodies packed like sardines at the table, and with Eddie at the helm of it all, the game commenced.
He set forth a toast. Affection swelled in his even gaze sweeping over his friends who had come to join him in his home, acknowledging the growth behind his ordinary request. He couldnât speak it without a nervous tremble, no, but they understood. They understood. With pride, his eyelashes twinkled at the outer corners where mirth gathered, and his broad grin creased a slew of Crowâs feet into cascading to his smile lines with his dimple nestled between them. His silent gratitude thanked the room, and when he reached Jeff at his right hand side, Eddie flicked his eyes to the opposite end of the table, and brought the whiskey to his lips.
The room refracted beautifully in the carved edges of the smokey gray tumbler. It was silly, almost, how the squat glass vanished behind his large palm and thick fingers. Sillier, even, when you noticed these things and your heart pumped a little faster.
Sat at the far end across from him, you raised your beer, and sipped.
âNow, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, children of all ages,â he spoke in increasing speed and passion, descending into a lower octave as he stood and loomed over his dividers of books, binders, and folders acting as a shield to his Dungeon Master antics, âI present to you, the port town of Irrilis!â
He bowed, and swept his arms over the miniature display.
Sitting back, he guided everyone into the scene. Between describing the smell of the briny sea, the itch of stale sweat mixed with dried blood on their bodies, and the creak of wooden planks under their feet, he expertly wove lore into details of the town, comparing the afternoon sun on the backs of their necks to the stares they were getting. The townsfolk were not expecting newcomers this evening, apparently; and to finish the introduction, he cupped his hands to his mouth and bellowed the caw of seagulls perched atop a gnarled bulletin board. When it became clear the fishermen were not interested in speaking to Lloydâs tiefling, he asked if there was a guard nearby instead. Instantly, Eddie became one. He donned a constant salute, and rigid posture with a nasty curl on his lip, speaking in stunted sentences with a broadened chest.
Watching him perform was mesmerizing.
Your vision narrowed as if you were going lightheaded, highlighting Eddie at the center with sharpened colors. His broad movements coaxed you in, his ability to switch both his pitch and accent raced in your ears, his creature cadence hummed nostalgia along the back of your mind like an old memory of observing another actor on stage mastering their craft. Time forgot to start. He stole a glance in your direction and you were washed in humility. He was gauging your reaction to his geekiness, and whatever he saw, whatever was written in your expression, rewarded his vulnerability. Confidence set his face aglow; power in the way he beheld you. And you praised him by sitting forward, affixing him with all your adoration, considering yourself fortunate to be in his presence.
After all, youâd been enchanted by Eddie Munson since the first day he stomped past your desk with a fierce scowl aimed at the ground, and now? Now he couldnât keep his eyes off of you.
~~~
As with most DND adventures, the fun began at a tavern.
The group had spent too much time with Eddie as their DM, they knew the bulletin board was a red herring, so they explored the city until they found the seediest bar tucked into the end of an alleyway.
You were reading over the details Eddie wrote for you on your character sheet when you were snatched to the present by an array of sounds.
Eddie strummed down on his acoustic guitar, and silenced the vibration with his palm. He then plucked a slow, seeking, progression, circling back until Jeff harmonized on his keyboard, and they nodded their heads in sync while Gareth found the tavernâs beat with the ends of his drumsticks on the edge of the table. Lloyd angled his chair to put his guitar in his lap, and chased the melody quietly under Eddieâs, at a slower tempo.
To be captivated by someone, wholly immersed in their quirks and nature, is to cherish them, and as you played audience to your friendâs natural charisma and ability to impress you in new ways after months of knowing him, your chest panged with the ache to cherish him completely.
You were one beer deep on an empty stomach, and you were already intoxicated by him.
Their song continued as he laid out the exposition of the tavern, and as a party, everyone sat at the bar, or snuck around invisible to glean information. And thatâs where you came inâ
Jeff changed his tune to have a mysterious dissonance.
Ericaâs rogue sidled in beside you at a table, and smoothly asked you a variety of questions: how long youâd been in town, if you knew of the disappearances, or had any encounters with the rumor of the undead lurking outside the kingdom.
You⊠You looked at your orcâs low intelligence on the paper, and seeing as how you were an improv artist, you roleplayed.
Inhaling a mighty breath, you filled out your not-so-intimidating frame with imaginary muscle, and shot out your hand. âIâm Gary!â you exclaimed, rough and tough.
The guitars stopped on a screech.
Pause.
Eddie covered his mouth. His eyebrows peaked sentimentally. And once his shoulders shook, and his snort squeaked out like a dying sprinkler, everyone laughed. In your periphery, they each reacted differentlyâall having their unique outbursts at your blunt introduction. Erica, too, giggled as she shook your hand. They were laughing with you. Definitely with you when Jeff chose a sillier ditty to play, and the guys matched him, upbeat and excited for you to wholeheartedly participate in their game.
Soon, your orc joined their party, and a series of clues earned from armwrestling other bar patrons led you down several paths to take, and after finding a lost tome near an underground jail cell (thanks to Dustinâs constant perception checks), your group was led outside, past Irrilisâ stone walls, and to their dying crops.
Mike scooped a collection of dice into his hand after, somehow, engaging in combat with a scarecrow, and began shaking them.
There was a bang at the door.
Mike jumped, uncupping his palms mid-shake, and the dice went flying. He caught threeâsnatched them right out of the airâand before they ricocheted off his fingers to add to the clatter on the table, he began to juggle them. One, two, three, four perfect rotations, and he set them down.
Eddie hadnât yet stood up from his chair when his gaze wandered to yours, and he cut you a cheeky, significant grin. You shot him an exaggerated sneer in return. Stupid juggling.
He managed to not trip over the scattered mix of boots and tennis shoes mingling around the entrance, and balanced the exchange of cash for a stack of white cardboard boxes his eyes and handsome nose peeked over on his way to sliding them onto the kitchen counter.
âOrders up, boys.â
As grease soaked into paper plates, and another round of drinks were poured by Garethâs heavy hand, you were all ushered into the next leg of the game.
Jeff played low notes as background mood music for your party when you came upon your next encounter: ghouls. They were low level, easy to defeat even if there were many, but it was an opportunity for Erica to teach you the different dice. Max leaned over, and helped you keep track of your abilities, and if you could execute them from where you stood on the grid.
When it was Maxâs turn to roll for attack and damage in the rotation, she did so in a shallow wooden tray between her and Lucas. The dice tumbled around, pinged the sides, and came to a stop where Lucas could read the numbers, and do the math.
Least to say, she decimated her target.
Ericaâs rogue on the other hand rolled a number Eddie was ambivalent towards.
âConvince me you can sneak up on him,â he proposed, squinting over his steepled fingers, and leaning back in his chair. They seemed to butt heads a lot, if her eye roll was anything to go off of.
She stood up from the table, and snapped her fingers at Mike to act as her overly large zombie. âCâmon.â
He groaned, âNot again,â but did as he was told, standing not unlike a limp noodle with a flat stare into the distance as she listed off her characterâs skills for Eddie, and hooked her arm around Mikeâs throat, bending him backwards over her pencil (pretend knife) to his back. She even shuffled him to where Eddie could acknowledge the poison on the tip of her blade would enter his kidney. He argued the undead did not have functioning kidneys, but conceded her efforts.
It was your turn next, but as you were mulling over the ghouls on the grid in front of your figurine, the rest of the table went silent.
The bedroom door creaked open, and soft footsteps padded out onto the kitchen vinyl. Eddie jerked his head up from behind the dividers. Gareth scooted his chair in, assuming Adrie was going to squeeze by on her way to her dad, but there was no need..
She wedged herself between you and Max, and splayed her arms across your lap. With her cheek to your thigh, she sighed, pitifully, âThe movie stopped, and my head hurts.â
âOh, no,â you consoled her in your silly Childrenâs Television Program presenter voice. âIs it the braids? They can be so un-com-for-table to sleep in.â Perhaps you instilled too much confidence in the pizza to soak up the alcohol, because you were now two beers and a few sips of whiskey deep into the âoverly affectionateâ stage of your tipsiness. You collected the sleepy girl to your lap, and enveloped her in a bone crushing hug, rocking yourselves back and forth, fawning each other in a happy hum, unaware of the bewildered stares boring into you as you pressed a kiss above her ear.
The men around the table exchanged confused looks with each other, then threw suspicious glances at Eddie, who appeared struck by Cupid. The girls, much more intuitive and observant, smiled at the sweet scene.
She sat sideways across your legs, and kept a hand crooked into your flannelâs collar while you slipped the yellow bauble ponytail from one of her braids, and loosened the plaits. âDo you wanna roll for me?â you asked her, working through the tangles.
Thrilled to participate in her dadâs game, she woke up just enough to say, âYeah!â
Max felt for your dice, and handed her the largest.
Instead of Adrie letting go of you to cup her hands around it and shake, she pelted it at the table, and after narrowly missing the LEGO skeleton standees, it came to a stop.
âEight,â Lloyd said with a hint of regret.
You asked Eddie, âIs that enough to hit?â
âIt, uhââ The tableâs full attention turned towards the Dungeon Master. He dropped his gaze to his notebook, and traced his finger over the dog-eared page. The pressure of their anticipation manifested in his bouncing knee, masking the tremble that would be present in his words regardless when he answered, âY-Yeah, yeah. That, uh, that hits.â
The party squirmed with awareness; pressed lips ready to burst.
Oblivious, you put the smaller dice in Adrieâs hand, and added up the numbers when she tossed them. âEleven!â With your turn done, you unraveled the rest of her other braid, and combed your fingers through her hair, circling them on her scalp to give her some relief. Speaking to her, you said, âWanna count to eleven while we pick another movie?â She started counting automatically.
There was another whisper in her ear, and she hopped off your lap with her arms raised. You cooed a small, âThought so,â and picked her up, settling her on your hip. Knowing it was Jeffâs turn, and you wouldnât be needed for a while, you pushed the bedroom door open with your foot, and closed it behind you the same way.
And the very second it clicked shut, the table erupted.
âJesus, dude, youâre gonna impregnate your coworker if you keep staring at her like that.â
âEw,â and âGross,â came from Max and Erica respectively.
Eddie jolted from his trance, mentally erasing the sway of your ass from his mind. His cheeks seared vicious red at Garethâs comment.
With more tact, Dustin lilted, âSo, just a friend from work, huh?â His blue eyes sparkles with mischief, matching the upturn at the corner of his lips, foretelling no good from this interaction, either.
âA friend,â Jeff added, âthat he has the biggest crush on.â
Gareth rolled his bottom lip inward, and cocked his head. âMore like sheâs his babysitter with benefits.â
Loathing the obvious sheen of sweat rushing to his face, Eddie warned him with a pointed finger. âDonât call her that.â He swung to Dustin next. âAnd she is my friend, and my coworker,â he stated evenly, putting emphasis on the last word.
Being the voice of reason in these situations, but not entirely on his side, Lloyd told the younger members, âAround the time they started working together, he started coming to band practice not entirely in a bad mood. A few weeks ago, he was even smiling. Apparently they had this little Christmas party, and there was mistletoeââ
âShut it!â
âYou kissed her?â Lucas gasped.
Gareth was the one to knock the gossipy housewife wind from his sails. âNo,â he scoffed with a laugh. âHe was too much of a pussy.â
Several of the guys snickered, and one said, âSo no benefits, then.â
Reining in his volume, Eddie warned them again in a low tone, âIâm well within my right to not want to make things weird between us if it doesnât work out. I have to see her every day, regardless.â It was one of his oldest excuses in the book, and to be honest with himself, he dismissed it a long time ago. He no longer feared making things awkward, or tampering with your friendship.. but he wasnât about to explain his real insecurities to so many people at once.
No one needed to know the true reason behind why he hadnât asked you out yet.
No one had to know why he walked away when you spoke of âdatingâ and âhome.â
It was to protect himself, so no one had to look at him with pity when he explained he wasnât a good enough reason for you to stay in Hawkins past the end of summer. Instead, he defaulted, âWeâre just friends.â
Erica was gentle in her approach. âIf weâre all just friends here, then why donât we get matching bracelets made by your daughter?â On instinct, he tugged his sleeve over his wrist to conceal D-A-D-D-Y. âI saw hers when she was messing with Adrienneâs hair.â She saw M-O-U-S-E. âAnd if youâre just friends, why doesnât Adrie ever want to be held by us? Or hugged by us? I honestly thought she didnât like to be coddled by anyone besides you, but then that just happened..â
The questions sank in Eddieâs stomach. It cooled the frustration from his furrowed brow, and eased the tension from around his eyes. He didnât have a satisfactory answer for the group, but he could share something close enough to the truth, it might better help them understand his hang ups. But first, he downed the rest of his double on the rocks.
Wincing after his swallow, he set down the glass, and ran the heel of palm along the edge of the table. âIâm taking things slow,â he said, âand you all know why. Okay?â Shrugging a bit, he lifted his eyebrows and spoke again to his binders, focusing on his campaign notes rather than his friends. âI only told her everything, yâknow, about what happened to me a few weeks ago, so Iâm still giving it some time. And, obviously, yeah itâs a big deal having a kid, and her getting attached to someone else.â
âAw, heâs in love,â someone said.
Exuding patience by closing his eyes, he continued, âRight, so, if you wanna tell her some less embarrassing stories about me, maybe even make me look good in front of her.. Iâd really appreciate it.â He ended with a beckoning clap, as if he were striking a deal with the blisters in his life.
âOr,â Mike asserted, âI can roll to hit this ghoul, and if it succeeds, you have to ask her out tonight.â Before Eddie could respond, Mike puffed a lucky breath into his cupped hands, and bounced the dice across the grid. âThirteen!â
âAw, sorry, man. Doesnât hit.â
Vitriol bit into his snark, âOh, really? Thirteen doesnât hit, but eight does? Give me a break.â The more his face pinched into a sour expression at Eddieâs stubborn favoritism, the more wickedness laced itself in the Dungeon Masterâs smug grin.
Gareth was contributing another goading remark about breaking strict rules if they benefited Eddieâs chances for getting good pussy, but the squeal of the door knob turning interrupted him.
It was noticeably quieter when you sat down at the table, beaming at the mixed signals of people avoiding your gaze, and meeting it with the type of excessive smile you gave a stranger after you were just talking about them behind their back. âSo, whose turn is it?â Jeff raised his hand sheepishly. âOh, you guys didnât have to wait forâfor me!â You hardly got through the sentence before you were giggling into your drink.
Fear not, Gareth broke the underlying tension. âHey, did Eddie ever tell you he used to walk out on stage with a rose in his mouth, untilâ âhe motioned at the corner of his lips with a grimaceâ âhe cut himself on the thorns one too many times. Ow!â
Gareth clutched at his foot, and the men shot off rapid fire communication through sharp hand gestures, and widened eyes.
Jeff played the Jaws theme.
âIs that true?â you whispered to Lucas.
Lloyd shouted, âCan we get back to the game?â
Still red in the face, Eddie turned to him with his arms extended graciously. âYes! Thank you! Letâs get back to the game.â
Adjusting his chair under himself, Eddie the Dungeon Master sat with the distinct grace of someone who went unopposed. Wispy curls of his hair caught the wind, drifting in frazzled layers wherever they pleased. The buttons and pins on his jean vest glittered, and tinked together. His lungs expanded with a long, held breath, stretching the black hoodie over his chest. When no one challenged his unceasing eye contact, he continued, âThe ghouls were nigh..â
ââââ
The night matured.
Dustin and Lloyd championed your party to an underground cave where the source of the undead were conjured. Eddie heralded your arrival by opening the box beneath his chair, screwing together something behind his barrier of DND lore, and bringing it to his mouth.
You shouldnât be surprised by him, yet again, but the fact he played flute was just as adorable as his playful grin straining his plush lips to the metal, and his round doe-eyes flitting to yours, and away.
The notes he played grew increasingly haunting, turning intense during the battle with the necromancer who started this all. Then, as the foe turned to dust, Eddie trilled higher, and higher notes. Sillier, and sillier as Dustin looted the robes he left behind.
Everything about Eddieâs expression was impish when the group asked if the scroll found in the pocket was written in common tongue.
âWhy, as a matter of fact it is,â he said, much too cheerful, and trilled an incensing measure.
He was being a menace, and the group began to sag with dread.
Dustinâs words were laced with suspicion and regret. âWhat does it say?â
âLetâs see! It says..â Eddie held up a prop coil of tea-stained parchment, and cleared his throat to don a brittle old man's voice, âI was a lonely necromancer who missed my wife, children, friends, and family. I was merely resurrecting them to have companionship, and you attacked me for nought. I hope you are happy with yourselves, and can sleep at night.â He abandoned the paper to incite violence in his quick succession of notes on the flute. âThe dying crops are not my fault. The soil simply has too many minerals from the estuary near Irrilis, and the quarry to the north.â Peering at the blank sheet fallen to his notebook, he faked confusion, âAnd it says down here, in teeny-tiny writing, âYou should have checked the bulletin board.ââ
Dustin dropped his head into his hands. âYou son of a bitch.â
The rest of the quests went smoother, you supposed. After returning to Irrilis and checking the bulletin board, the partyâs findings led to the library, which led to a murder, which led to a mystery, which led to finding an object which had the group gasping in surprise. Apparently, the Crimson Orderâs emblem on the second dead personâs body, and bite marks on the neck had a long history within the group. The next big campaign was vampire related. You celebrated along with them, cheersing the end of your whiskey, and chasing it with some much needed water.
~~~
Raw twilight bloomed behind heavy set clouds pulling flutters of white against the black.
The night winded down with more fetch quests sending the party deeper into the woods, and to the edge of the mountains. It would take several more sessions to cover the terrain beyond, or something like that. Something, something tales of a labyrinth or some sort before the vampire castle. Your memory was a little fuzzy. Going with the flow of music, whether it was the mellow strums of Lloydâs guitar, the muffled notes of Jeffâs keyboard, Garethâs battle march, or the dark piece Eddie played when he introduced an object of interest; your focus muddled with the jokes, the lore, the alcohol. The whiskey burned less, and the oaky honey thrived. You surrendered to the passage of timeâinterrupted, briefly, when the man sat opposite you answered every one of the boyâs questions with a riddle, and his rascally cackle at their irritation stole another piece of your heart. Falling deeper, and deeper. And deeper for him.
~~~
The early witching hours feasted on the weary adults who were no longer able to pull all-nighters. The game was over for now, and the group packed their things away.
Max asked you, âDid you have fun?â
âYes!â you blurted. âI didnât really know what I was getting into, but the atmosphere was so cool. Eddie really knows how to put on a show, huh? And hey, finding fragments of a dragonâs egg shell in a game called Dungeons and Dragons was pretty neat.â
Her laugh brought music to her affirmation, âYeah, heâs a pretty good DM, and weâve been hunting the dragons for two years now. Do you think youâll play with us next month?â
âTotally!â
âNice.â
Lucas dragged his hand down her arm, and placed the black and neon pink windbreaker in her awaiting palm. She zipped it over her cozy college sweatshirt. They were at the back of the congestion, shuffling around the living room, straying behind the chaos of stumbling adults doubling over to laugh at their clumsiness and inability to find their shoeâs match.
While waiting, you watched several of the guys clasp Eddieâs shoulder as they passed, and placed money in his hand. Oh. Shit. Your gaze snapped to the scattered stack of pizza boxes in the kitchen, and shame licked your cheeks. It never occurred to you to pay for your share.
Quickly, you found your puffer jacket under Mikeâs raincoat, and wrangled some cash from the pockets. Your stride went wobbly between the table, chairs, couch, shoes, and bumbling grownups in the cramped trailer, but you squeezed your way to him. He was beginning his goodbyes smushed against the breakfast bar, not quite able to reach the front door just yet.
âHere,â you said, shoving a crumpled $20 at his arm.
Pausing his conversation with Jeff, he twisted to see you over the curve of his shoulder, and absorbed your apologetic face before noticing the money. His lips ticced at the corners. His nostrils flared with a soft snort. Amusement crinkled at the corner of his eyes. âNot from you,â he said. âWhy donât you go check on Adrie for me?â
âOh.â A confused, maybe disappointed âoh.â âIf youâre sure.â
Fighting an internal battle, you stuffed the $20 in your jeans, and held true to your frown. You were about to argue, but your brain registered what heâd asked you to do. âAdrie!â you whispered excitedly, and made finger guns towards the bedroom.
You scurried (yes, scurried) off, and left Eddie to fend for himself.
Jeff was twisting his hand around his chin in mock rumination. âShe doesnât have to pay, hmm?â
âNot my place to comment,â Gareth said, about to make a comment, âbut maybe you should think about cashing in those benefits.â He paused, drunkenness slowing him into a contemplative stare. âOr at least fuââ
âAnyway!â Erica saved the situation by pushing past all of them to wrench the door open. âWell.. that sucks.â
Icy flakes floated in pendulum swings to the ground, where they stuck.
Eddie stood on his tip-toes to study the severeness over his friendâs heads. The weather appeared to be in its mild beginnings, not yet falling in a considerable sheet from the sky, but still, he was a dad, and he was prone to worrying. The party hardly finished lacing up their shoes, and he was making them promise theyâd call him as soon as they got home. Theyâd barely walked down the steps, and he was there at the bottom, holding his arm out. âSeriously, call me as soon as you get home,â he warned each household.
And it was only once the last carâs tail lights trailed red streaks over the main road, he went inside.
The trailer wept with emptiness. Remnants of being fulfilled remainedâthe trash, the lingering body heat, and stuffy airâbut it sighed with loneliness. The trailer was pent up. In need of decompressing after the hours of putting on a show, and in a constant state of overthinking, entertaining his friends while fighting the itch deep in his chest that said âI wish none of these people were here except for you.â
The trailer longed for you, searching the couch, the card table, the kitchen where the bottle of whiskey was left behind. The trailer sought you in the corners of its belly, its lungs, its head, leaving the heart for last.
Eddie pushed open the bedroom door, and you were not in his daughter's bed. He lurched further into the room. Needy for the heart. And he found it. He found his home..
A pair of adult legs stuck out from the entrance to the blanket fort.
Judging by the angle of your feet and your knee tucked into the other, you were laying on your side. The powder pink bedsheet gathered in folds around your lower thighs. Strings of Christmas lights pressed against the shelter, and the TV flicked bright colors as it played a movie on a low volume.
Daring, his fingertips encountered the coarse weave of your jeans on his way to lift the bedsheet keeping your sleeping form separated from his greedy gaze. Stealing moments where he could be learning your face, placed a precious snore away from his daughterâs, sharing the pillow with her curls and unicorn hugged to her chin. Inhaling silently, and exhaling in a quick breath, not yet catching the sound in your throat akin to a mumbly whine at the dream playing under your twitching eyelids.
The sheet draped the back of his neck.
Risking, he traced the rugged outer seam of your jeans. Starting at your printed socks, and traveling up your calf, over the rigid mountain peaks of stiff fabric creased around your knee, and discovering the squish of your leg under his prodding. His eyes were trained on your face. He slipped his palm over your upper thigh. A gentle warmth of his presence. Next, he cupped the curve of your knee, fitting it into his hand, and he continued his stroke downwards, tightening his fingers to your shin, and stopping to squeeze your ankle. You didnât stir.
He shifted closer, widening his stand and ducking under the canopy to reach your face.
Leaning over you, he anchored his balance to your hip, relaxing his hold on the arch of bone shaped like a strung bow, and dragged his other knuckles along your cheek. Three fingers worth. Three opportunities for him to press his skin to your hairline, and brush them along the flat plane before the adorable round apples he knew to be relaxed under the surface while you dozed.
You were soft. So unexpectedly soft.
Courageous, smooth peach fuzz welcomed a fourth knuckle. A simple sweep of the back of his hand to your face. Feeling you. All of you. Insatiable.
His breathing grew heavier at the hunger.
Stomach clenching from the craving of more.
Heart, starved.
It was animalistic, but you werenât afraid. No, you werenât afraid when you twitched and slapped at your cheek, expecting a fly to be tickling you in your sleep, but as you awoke, you prodded at the confusing obstruction, and glided your fingers along the underside of his. Plump ridges punctuated by hard calluses with scratchy outlines. You recognized them by touch alone, and fought through the pain of your bloodshot eyes to peer up at the man looming above you, and yawned.
âNo boys allowed,â you whispered through the groggy haze.
Oh, he nearly let his tipsy tongue admit too much to your dopey grin.
Eddie could tell he was smiling hard enough his vision suffered from his encroaching cheeks. His eyes were inundated by his happiness, nearly closed to slits from how hard he beamed when he slid from gaze from you, to his daughter who enacted the âNo Boysâ rule, and to you again. âCâmon, sweetheart,â he said, withdrawing.
He helped you stand. With difficulty. The whiskey hurled you into a premature REM cycle, and without consideration, he roused you from its depths. In your drowsy state, you clung to him for stability, depending on his chest to support you. Not that he was complaining. He was reliable, compensating for your swaying by grasping your upper arms, and teasing you with a, âWhoa there, silly.â
Stood outside the closed bedroom, there was not a chance for gaps to stop your lower inhibitions. Alone, you were together. In the same hallway where there was a thrifted painting of a lake scene hung beside the bathroom, a shelf with a set of wooden ducks amongst the ceramic knick knacks, a doorway where he ate his oatmeal while watching you and Adrie play. Those points of interest were all there; you were familiar with them, even if you struggled to open your eyes.
You fawned over him, snickering at nothing until your features tensed into confusion, not understanding the bits of ice clinging to the fibers of his hoodie, scraping at them with your fingernail. You collapsed into him more, leaning your forearms on his steady frame, rising and falling, accepting the lullaby of his pleased hum. The very outline of your torso discovered his, giving him a taste of your warmth; comforting you both with the actuality of such a thing. You skimmed your fingers up to his hair, picking at the sloshy liquid burdening the ends of his curls. âWhyâre you wet?â you mumbled.
âItâs snowing,â he repeated from earlier, when the rush of standing whooshed in your ears, rendering him an otherworldly voice from beyond. âItâs not bad, but like hell Iâm about to let you bike home in it. If you wanna give me some time to eat and have a cup of coffee, I can sober up and drive you, sweet girl,â he finished like hot honey.
You circled your palms over his pecs with the lack of awareness a blissfully buzzed person would for the lone reason of wanting to experience the texture of his hoodie burn your skin from the friction. âBut wouldnât you have to wake Adrie up to bring her with us?â
âI would, but sheâll be fine. Sheâll probably fall asleep in the car.â
âNo, no, no,â you shushed him, losing your merry smile for the first time in hours. âRobinâs working very, very, very late tonight. Sheâll probably be off her shift soon. She can pick me up. And my bike can fit in her trunk, unlike your tiny car.â Many of your words mushed together from your drowsy, drowsy, drowsy imploring.
âAre you sure?â
âYeah! Iâll call her, and hey, we can clean up while sheâs on her way.â When his expression was less than enthused at the suggestion, you waggled your eyebrows, and bit your bottom lip, enticing him. âWe can make it fun,â you tried. âYou know, weâll play music, drink some more, eat whatever pizzaâs left.â You walked your fingers up his shoulders, and he smoothed his hands around your wrists, flattening your palms to his clavicle.
Eddie lowered his head until he managed to peer at you through his lashes, asking a condescending, but lighthearted question, âThatâs what you wanna do? Help me clean?â
You reaffirmed, âItâll be fun.â
âFine by me, sweetheart. Go call Buckley.â
The plans were put on pause while you called the back office of the grocery store, but after a short conversation, and many twirls of the cord around your finger, your voice lightened with relief, âThank you so, so much. I love you.â
You hung up, and spun around to tell Eddie the fabulous news.
The two glass tumblers on the kitchen counter were assuming. Filled with ice cubes from the blue plastic tray in the sink, and situated in front of the opened whiskey. There was a decent amount leftâa fourth of the entire bottle, probablyâand he didnât need to hear you repeat Robinâs message about her getting off work soon to unscrew the cap and begin pouring.
No distinct emotion crossed his face when divided an even shot into each of the smokey gray glasses, and paused the bottle above yours to ask, âSo, what kind of drunk are you?â
The ice cracked and popped as it melted.
âGiggly, touchy,â you supposed.
He tipped the bottle and added another healthy shot to yours. You raised your eyebrows at his boldness, and scoffed out the same question, âWhat kind of drunk are you?â
âHm.â He propped his hand on the counter, and cocked his hip out, staring out into the living room. You studied his side profile from where you stayed by the telephone, most notably how his light wash jeans gathered around the bulk of his zipper again; hoodie tucked behind the handcuff belt buckle. The weathered silver metal glinted an edge of orange from the lamp beside the microwave, shifting as he rocked his weight to his other foot. âStupid, I think,â he said finally. âI make stupid decisions, ând shit.â
âAre you trying to make stupid decisions tonight?â
His features kicked up, and instead of giving you a verbal answer, he brought the bottle up and dropped his head back.
âEddie!â you gawked.
Your mouth hung open in awe, stunned into silently watching the bubbles race to the top of the amber liquid chugging ever closer to the neck of the bottle being strangled in his white-knuckled grip. His eyes were screwed shut, body tensed and struggling to finish it off, lips pursed in a kiss around the opening. Each gulp sent his Adamâs apple jumping.
He threw his head forward. The bottle slammed on the counter, final sips of liquid sloshing in waves along the bottom. He caught the dribble falling from his chin with his sleeve, and wiped the back of his hand over his mouth. All of him shuddered. Teeth bared as he grimaced through the burn, eyebrows furrowed in mild regret.
After the last jerk of shoulders battling the aftershocks of disgust, you mimicked his parental exasperation, âWhat in the world are you doing?â
Making a stupid decision.
A tight line of water flooded his eyes. He ran his fingers over his shy smile, turning to look at you with a particular brand of sheepishness usually reserved for teenagers who were trying to impress their friends. âI only had two drinks the entire night. Iâm just catching up to you.â
âYouâre an idiot.â
He agreed.
âBobbieâs still gonna be a while,â you said on your way to grabbing your drink, now wondering if you were going to be the more sober one in half an hour. âShall we get to cleaning?â
He lifted his tumbler by picking it up by the rim and clinked it to yours, but refrained from taking a sip when you did. Thankfully. âWayneâs got some jazz records in the crate next to the record player, where the TV is.. Well, where the TV was. On that cabinet beside his bed.. If youâd just.. Look over there.. Okay, why are you staring at me?â
Memorizing the freckle of the side of his nose to your heartâs content, you shrugged. âYou blush a lot.â
âDo not,â he denied in a mutter. He felt his cheek, poking and prodding and smashing at the skin being tugged down by his pouty frown. âItâs just the alcohol.â
âAh.â
You sipped, swallowed, and snickered on your way to the record player cabinet, weaving through the staggered chairs untucked from the table. You laughed again. Just the alcohol, he said. Yet, heâd been flushed red all night. Or, at least, since he bragged about his seven inches.
~~~
The soundtrack for cleaning was a 25th Anniversary edition of a labelâs best live performances over the years.
Various artists scored the yucky business of folding and stacking the chairs against a spare wall, trying not to envision a spider popping out at any moment from where it may be laying in wait under the seats. A fun upbeat tambourine number played when Eddie knocked over Wayneâs beard trimmer in the bathroom. Wondrous vocals warbled against your game of wadding up the used napkins and tossing them at the trashcan, while Eddie flung the paper plates like frisbees until both of you tired, and threw them away as normal. Brass horns vibrated under your hands and knees as you crawled around on the floor, finding all the crushed beer cans. Lazy drum beats coaxed both of your languid movements into the sort of drunken erraticism that came from being buzzed, gesturing without much consideration for sharp corners, or breakable things. He packed away his miniatures while you wiped down the counters, and he washed the dishes while you attempted to sweep up crumbs from the grid table cloth and fold it into a neat-ish square.
The record stopped.
A break ensued. You drank the rest of your whiskey, and Eddie searched every pizza box, divvying out the last slices for you to share over wordless respite, heads drooping, chewing slowly.
After washing the greasy cornmeal from his hands, and wiping the flour from around his mouth, he suggested, âWhy donât you put on the yellow record? Third from the end, on the left.â
You found the one he spoke ofâgolden yellowâand put the needle to it.
Together, you hauled out the dense vintage couch the few inches it required; done in dozens of centimeters, yanking on the ugly upholstery until your fingernails ached, and arms gave up. Eddie was rushing you, annoyingly so. Hurrying on in anguish, the table was flipped on its side, and its legs folded in. It was stuffed against the wall after some difficulty (the mugs remained intact), and after shoving the hulking piece of furniture to close the gap, you fell to the lumpy cushions with an exhausted groan.
You went boneless. Arms and legs landing wherever. Head lulling to the side. Eyes closed. Relaxed. Drifting off to the place where you were in the blanket fort at an alarming rate..
The song switched.
âMay I have this dance?â
You opened your eyes.
Eddieâs hand came into focus. He was bent at the waist, extending an invitation. Reciprocating. Making true on his promise for the dance he owed you. It seemed so long ago; back when you knew him as a single dad who was private about his personal life. Now you knew. You knew his home, his past, his trauma, his notebook, his friends, his band, his daughterâs favorite stuffed toy named Fluff. You knew his pizza order (cheese with black olives), his favorite color (deep, sultry red), his laundry detergent (Cheer Free for extra sensitive skin). You knew his body temperature ran like a furnace, you knew the knot of pink scar tissue on the meat of his thumb, you knew the shimmery flecks of butterscotch in his eyes when he went teary. In the span of a few days, you knew him better than you did weeks ago, before Christmas.
You took his hand. He helped you stand, and in a brave exhale, he held you in timeless elegance.
It wasnât like the dance before, where you minded the respectable distance two coworkers should. No. He still clasped your right hand in his left, sure, but from there the similarities to waltzing in the garage differed. Reservation did not stop at the top of his neck, or his bicepâyou switched your friendly clasp from those safe areas, to introducing your torsos, and pinning his arm under yours in effort to reach the middle of his back. He enveloped your waist, coaxing your hips together with woozy enthusiasm. Close, close, close. Handcuff belt buckle catching on your jeanâs zipper at each pass until you began to sway in aching unison to Frank Sinatraâs Somethinâ Stupid.
You empathized with the heady flush pinkening the bulbous tip of his nose, and gazed into his eyes. Or tried. His eyelids fell in sluggish blinks, and his envious lashes refused to part. The sway was a shuffle. Your head was swimming. Failing to focus on one particular thing before your vision went cross, and the room spun, despite standing almost still.
It didnât take long for either of you to surrender.
Rocking side to sideâno turning, no pivotingâyou accepted the innate desire to rest your head on his chest, and even from a distance, his pulse beat against your ear. Hard pumps of lifeblood under your cheek laid flat on the faded black hoodie. If you looked the other way, youâd see the jean vest reeking of cigarette smoke thrown on the couch where he discarded it before asking you to dance, but you chose to admire your joined hands. Preferring to learn the dry skin where a scrape was healing on his thumb knuckleâhow small your thumb was in comparison to the single stretch of bone until the next joint, and his blunt nail. Maybe he was admiring such a thing too, because he stretched his fingers and curled them snugger to yours, and he set his chin atop your head, learning another new intimacy.
You melted under the burden of his weight.
He exposed the issue of your hair catching on the stubble of his five oâclock shadow.
You craned your head against the grain, and he nuzzled his chin harder.
Two people discovering their deprived yearns.
The sweetness of being crooked into the hollow of his body. The possession of snagging a full grip of his hoodie between your fingers, and becoming the reason he filled his lungs. Existing around him. And he existed in you, in all the unexplored corners, and you dusted the cobwebs from his. Fulfilling the dark places. Giving them light, and acceptance. Sharing the slice of night before it turned day. Swaying, rocking, swimming together in an inebriated dance under a tin roof, under the sprinkling snow, under the opaque clouds, under the crescent moon, under the twinkling stars. Under the universes, and hypothetical alternate dimensions and timelines, and as attractive as they seemed, you wouldnât choose a different one. This is the one. This is the exact dimension, the exact timeline you wanted.
No longer wishing to lead, Eddie closed your fingers into a soft fist, and placed your hand over his heart, cupping his palm over it and stressing the thousands of unspoken words in his squeeze.
Basking in the minutes stretching to hours, the music looped into a perfect eternity.
It was getting late, almost time to leave, you guessed.
You withdrew your head. Eddie lifted his. The spot his chin once resided on your scalp ran abnormally cold from the loss, and there mustâve been an imprint of wrinkled fabric on your cheek, because thatâs where his eyes landed first on their journey to meet your resilient gaze.
The beginnings of his lopsided grin emerged.
He spoke, and it was a single word. âYeah.â
You didnât know why he said it, or what he meant, but in this moment, in his arms, with your hand nestled between his and his heart, you agreed, âYeah.â This was special. Whatever this was, this was special.
A huff of laughter broke through your smile, and his. Giggly silliness.
You were embraced from the top of your thighs, through to the slight proposal of your hips, and ending at the acute strength of your arms pressing each other closer.
Eddie raised your hand from his heart to his face. His thumb ensured your fingers stayed curled in, barring you from investing in a full, unadulterated touch. Wisps of his hair traced your skin. His exhale snaked down your flannel sleeve. Your inner wrist stopped at the slick junction of his lips, where he had swiped his tongue over out of nervous habit.
Oddly, he tapped your hand a few times to his cheek.
It made you curious. You copied him, bringing his hand to your face. Hooked your thumb under his sleeve to expose his wrist, and tapped it to your cheek. Ah, you understood.
Such delicate, unscarred skin brushed against the ridges of your lips, each tap like a kiss along the edge of your lovesick simper. Closer to a kiss than anything youâd experienced with him before. Still so tender, and so pure.
âYeah?â A raw tremble was present in your question; gone shy from the profoundness of the single word, and fearing you were attributing the wrong meaning behind something so little, yet so large in your relationship.
But he saw the doubt, and he reassured you, âYeah.â By the wetness glossing over his eyes, he reassured you your assumptions werenât wrong. He whispered it again, softer, to where the one syllable croaked out, âYeah.â
This was special.
The alcohol sat like candor on your tongue. âWanna know a secret?â you teased as you let go of his wrist, and guided your hands up to his nape, linking your fingers over the bulky hood prohibiting you from playing with the sensitive hairs on the back of his neck. He slung his arm around your waist, over top of the other, encompassing you in a true hug.
He squinted at you. âHow drunk are you? Donât go tellinâ me somethinâ youâll regret in the morning.â
âItâs nothing like that, I swear.â There was a flirty whine to your pitch, and even flirtier breathiness to your voice. Encouraging him to maintain the sway, leading him side to side, foot to foot, taking advantage of flow to put an arch in your back, and rise onto the balls of your feet, undetected. Your heart skipped at the proximity. âYou know how I said my top three favorite people were Robin, Adrie, and then you?â you reminded him. âThatâs actually backwards.. I said it backwards. Itâs actually you, Adrie, and then Robin. But donât tell her that.â
His mouth hung open to respond, but his gaze was off, discerning something behind you in the distance. When he centered on you again, there was a new kindness to the wrinkles framing his handsome face. âAre you okay with sharing my number one spot?â
âI would be honored.â
âGood,â he emphasized, âIâd be heartbroken if you didnât want to be my favorite.â
âI always want to be your favorite,â you preened.
The innocence slipped from his expression. Heâd never heard you sound quite so needy, or eager to be something of his, and the effects were sudden and poorly timed.
Outside, rocks skidded on the cracked pavement. A car turning in from the main road sunk into a pothole, and bounced out. The music spinning on the record player crescendoed. The fluorescent bulbs in the lamps hummed with electricity. Scents of acidic tomato sauce and oregano were inescapable. Tiny pellets of hail pinged on the tin roof. You both looked up, listening to it pass after a drifty-cloud moment.
Eddie concentrated on keeping your chests together. His forearms dug into your waist as he found the best way to lock his grip. He dipped his head lower when you had no choice but to lean up, and into him. âIf I give you my number, will you call me when you get home, so I know you made it safe?â
Every consonant and vowel vibrated in your skull, thrumming velvety richness through the daze.
âI already have your number,â you said amongst the warmth building, and building behind your rib cage.
He faltered, confused. âYou have my number?â
âMhm, an even bigger birdie told me.â
Both bewildered by the callback, and having a tendency to fall head over heels for anything and everything you did, regardless if it was an unsatisfying answer or not, Eddie snorted, and scrunched his face, observing you with all the judgment you earned. âThatâs either really creepy, or really endearing.â
You dropped your gaze to his crooked smile, and the car approaching the blue and white trailer faded away.
His lips were gorgeous. Overly full, and a wonderful shade of fleshy red with a tint of pink. They were bitten. Chewed on when his nerves got the best of him. Behind them, the edges of his teeth showed. Above them, you put your energy into obsessing over his overly large nose, as you had in many instances, but never at this distance, able to see every pore, every freckle, every splotch, and realizing this could become a normal occurrence, being this close.
His eyes were overly large as well, and they followed each micro-tic of yours.
âGood thing you find me endearing, then,â you provoked.
He loved that response.
âI do,â he chased. âI do,â he gave in. The willpower to resist his urges crumbled at the admission. He pressed his forehead to yours, and conceded until his mouth ached with happiness, âI find you so endearing.â
The alcohol dulled the intimate gesture. The top layers of your skin were numb. You had to work harder to feed the starvation; grinding your forehead against his, digging deeper to feel the itch of his bangs stuck to the glisten of boozy sweat. Sliding your nose alongside his, smashing the tips to each otherâs cheeks. Sharing the same breaths, panting feathery sighs into each otherâs mouths. Then, another carnal bump of noses, clumsy and misaligned, and a hard rut bone on bone until your bodies tingled with satisfaction. Satiated. Full.
Eddie turned his groan into a ragged, âI fucking adore you.â
âI adore you, too,â you promised, on the verge of crying and not knowing why.
He pulled away, dragging the tip of his nose up the side of yours, and tracing it down, allowing them to stay connected for a moment longer. A cooldown while your stomach flipped, and your pulse raced. I adore you.
The whole thing was strange to do with your coworker, especially with your hands remaining latched where they were, and there was no grinding elsewhere; it was just sheer lust for touch. Mutual, too.
His overly large pupils bored into yours. Neither of you had appropriate commentary on what transpired, probably for the better.
A car engine rumbled outside.
âYeah, Iâm pretty toasted, I think,â you said.
He pinched his eyebrows in, and pursed his lips. âThink I am, too.â
Either way, it was a good excuse for you almost moaning his name, and him choosing to hinge his phrase on adore, as if the endearment couldnât be swapped out, and suddenly, the entire sentiment would have changed. It would be a confession.
There was a knock on the door, and Robinâs voice came muffled, but the urgency of being stuck out in the cold was conveyed.
Both of you hastened separating yourselves, and fumbled around each other.
Always, Eddie was a gentleman and helped you put on your jacket after you argued he was way more plastered than you were, despite you being the one doubled over with your hands on your knees, wobbling, disoriented after reaching down for it. He made sure you were dressed before going outside. Zipped you all the way to your chin, even when you complained it looked dorky. He lined your shoes up for you, and waited for you with his eyes closed, drifting off to a dream while standing up.
He handed you off to Robin, and loaded her trunk with your bike. For whatever reason, you didnât climb inside the car yet. You waited in the snow for him. Collecting glittery flakes on your eyelashes, inhaling the fresh, crisp air. Probably quelling the nausea, same as he was, taking gulps of oxygen while he blinked, and blinked, searching the swirling images for something his brain could comprehend to get it to stop.
You waited for him, never saying anything. In heavy steps, he came to you, and wedged his fingers under the door handle, popping open the latch with an expression of wryness, as if you expected him to open every door for you.
Which, he would, for the record.
Stopping you before you sat, he grabbed at your jacket and bent himself to you, no longer afraid to press the cold tip of his nose to the shell of your ear, and drag his lips over the peach fuzz as he spoke directly to you. âCall me,â he stressed against your shiver.
âI will.â
At that, he shut your door and Robin began backing out of his driveway, stunting his wave goodbye from the headlights blinding him. He moved to the stairs, then to the top of the landing to watch the car drive around the soft bend around the trailers, and out onto the highway, leaving him behind.
He entered the trailer, and it was full.
It felt full, anyway. In his stomach, his chest, behind his eyelids, in the dusty corners, in the mortal hollows, manifesting a tightness in his throat, and a contradictory heaviness to his weightlessness, floating on clouds after spending an entire day with his crush and ending it with I adore you.
Eddie brushed his hair back, neatening the tangles wetted by ice. He combed his bangs off his forehead, and drove his fingers against his scalp, leaving his hands on top of his head, stripping himself of the extra stimulation to hone in on the persistent throb between his brows where you staked your claim.
You had made your home there, and he couldnât wait for your return.
âJesus Christ.â
With his woolgathering out of the way, he went to where Adrie was half-asleep in the doorway to her bedroom, and he crouched onto his knees. âWere you watching us dance?â
Wrapped in a blanket and sitting slumped over, she nodded against the wood frame, and sucked in the drool threatening to spill over her bottom lip. Only having the energy to open her eyes a smidge, she still found it within herself to have gripes with him. âYou didnât let me say bye.â
âIâm sorry,â he pouted in a silly deep voice.
Stooping further, he worked his arm under her legs, and collected the sleepy bundle that was his daughter to his chest. He shuffled along on his knees over to the fort, and man, did he understand why you fell asleep so easily in the blanket nest. Just the accidental touches when he set Adrie down called to him, as did the bleating sheep hopping over fences in his head. It was enticing.. but the phone was ringing, and the first check in of the night as calling.
He knew it wasnât you, but his heart leapt all the same.
âSorry the phone might ring a lot,â he said. âDo you want another movie on? Iâll put another move on so it doesnât wake you, okay?â
She scrunched her nose in a bad way, not like he did when he was laughing. Probably from the alcohol on his breath, and his waning coherency.
He stowed away his kisses for now. âSorry you didnât get to say goodbye, but I promise you, I promise you, okay? Miss Mouse will be back soon.â That was the heaviness in his chest. The decision. âIâll invite her over, and we can all play together, okay?â
âOkay, Daddy,â she mumbled, loosening her grasp on his hair.
She was out, and he paced the kitchen while he chatted to stay awake.
ââââ
Eddie sat at the small green table with his head resting back against the peeling wallpaper. A single light above the wrap-around counter skimmed the belly of the trailer. It traced the bubbles slipping down the bottle in front of him, and glanced the top of his pillow on the couch, submitting to the darkness past his plaid blanket waiting for him. The phone cord draped over his shoulder, down to his chest. The last call was half an hour ago. Maybe? He knew his last swig of whiskey was seconds ago. Everyone had checked in, and his ability to show an ounce of self-control was forfeited to the sheep. In his final blink, his body went lax, and he passed out.
Though, he could always count on the clangy ring to cut through their bleats.
Jolting awake, he searched above him for the phone, knocking it off the hook before it disturbed Adrie.
He was disoriented.
âHello?â
Quiet as a mouse, a voice came, âHey.â
He sat up. Alertness spread through him in waves, rippling from the decision sitting hot on his tongue, and stirring deeper, lower. Your greeting was filtered by the tiny microphone caged in yellowed plastic, but the dozy, sweltering rasp was there. âHey, sweetheart,â he answered in kind, and inhaled deeply before the blood loss in his brain rendered him lightheaded.
One word in and he was wiping his palm on his jeans, and keeping it there, on his thigh.
âSorry it took me so long,â you apologized in a whisper. âI wanted to wait until everyone went to sleep. Iâm in the living room. In the dark.â You giggled as if it were a joke he should be in on.
He peeked behind him to make sure the bedroom door was shut, and wrenched the phone against his lips to stifle his own laughter. âYeah? Iâm sitting in the dark, too.â
You hummed.
He didnât know if you were making a pass at him by mentioning you were alone as he was, so he chose something innocuous to comment on, bouncing the ball in your court. âYou sound tired, baby. You should go to bed.â
âBut my bedâs cold,â you whined.
Bingo.
Risks were worth taking as long as you participated.
In a matter of quick exchanges, he had his palm between his thighs, running his fingernails down the coarse fabric of his jeans and cupping the heft. âMy bedâs cold too,â he matched your pitch, exploring his thumb upwards.
âIf you were here, mine wouldnât have to be..â
âBut you live in someone elseâs parentâs attic,â he teased.
âAnd your bedâs a couch,â you shot back.
He checked the closed door behind him one more time, and yielded, âYouâre right.â You liked being right. He liked it when you were right. Your grin tinted all your pretty words when you were right. Well, they would, if you were speaking. âBabe?â
âSorry, that was quick,â you said, struggling through a yawn after nodding off. âIâm laying on the recliner, and itâs really comfy.â
âThen go to sleep,â he implored in a chastising snicker.
You grunted.
Except, it didnât sound like the other grunts and groans heâd heard you make over the months. This one was sweeter, higher, similar to the airy catch in your throat when your bottom lip dragged on his stubble. A moan of his name, he hoped. He twitched against the warmth of his palm. Growing rapidly under the first strokes of his thumb encouraging his descent, half-hard just at the thought.
How much whiskey he had was of no concern when it came to you. Clearly.
He couldnât stop his appetite from lowering his voice, âWhatcha doinâ, sweet girl?â
You turned it back on him, âWhat are you doing?â And when he was busy rearranging how he sat to give his jeans some slack to wrap his thick fingers around himself, you mused with an evident smirk, âTouching your orc dagger?â
Goddamnit. âIf you ever bring that up again, I swear..â
âYou must be, with how youâre avoiding the question.â You muffled your giggleâprobably with your shirt collar, if he had to guess. Teasing him more, you slurred, âSâokay. I saw how hard you were staring at my shirt earlier. Just thought youâd like to know Iâm not wearing it anymore. Not wearing a bra either.â
Youâre right. He did like knowing that. So much, in fact, he smoothed his fingers in a long tug along his length, stroking twice over the sensitive head, and repeating.
âNot wearing anything?â he asked, sounding a bit more husky than he intended.
âJust the flannel. Gotta be a little dressed.. in case someone comes in.â You shifted in the middle of your sentence, and at first Eddie pictured you turning onto your back. Imagining your tits shifting against the flannel, and their subtle bounce as you got comfortable. How hard your nipples pressed to the fabric, and what they must feel like being licked and sucked into his mouth, and all the beautiful noises youâd make for him. Unfortunately..
âTouchinâ yourself for me, sweetheart?â Nothing.. âSweetheart?â Oh.. âYou fall asleep again?â
An actual grunt, maybe a hiccup, or a snore created static on the other end of the line. âIâm sorry,â you sincerely apologized.
Poor sweet thing. âTell you what,â he reasoned. âWhy donât you go to bed, and think about how nice itâd be for me to be there with you; how warm I am. And Iâll take a shower, and do the same.â
You asked, âYou mean youâre gonna think about me while in the shower?â
He squeezed himself. âYes,â he answered truthfully. There was no fucking way either of youâd remember this by Monday morning. It was kinda thrilling; obeying the allure, and teasing each other without consequence.
âNice.â
âMhmm.â
Eddie closed his eyes in the following silence. The fantasy drifted to something tender. Sharing a bed. Waking up next to you. The alcohol made it difficult to remember why you called, and fathom why he was holding a conversation. His own hand went slack around the part his heart pumped blood to. The urge passed. The desire to brush his teeth replaced the lust. He was drunk, and he was losing the battle to remain conscious.
His body slouched ever forward.
âEddie?â
âHmm?â
âI canât stay awake.â
âNeither can I..â Not that it mattered, but before the conversation ended and he summoned the strength to collapse on the couch instead of the green table for the sole reason of never wanting his daughter to discover him passed out in the kitchen from drinking too much, he heeded the heaviness in his chest. The decision. And he told you, âBy the way, I thought of what to do for that âthank youâ I owe you. Itâs time I pay you back for everything youâve done for me.â
Processing his words at a slower rate, a few moments ticked by before the intrigue ate at you. âAnd whatâs that, handsome?â
He smiled. âItâs a surprise.â
You snorted. âItâll be a surprise if either of us remember anything after I failed nine rolls in a row, and you chugged.. Fuck, however much whiskey youâve had. I donât even wanna know.â
In a night of stupid decisions, he committed to one more; the joke was too good to not tumble past his loose lips, âNot enough to stop my orc dagger from growing seven inches.â
âJesus fucking Christ, that was awful. Iâm never calling you again. Goodbye.â
The speed at which you hung up sent him doubled over, clutching his aching stomach. He tried to keep quiet, really. He held onto his dignity just long enough to take three attempts to hang up the phone, and then it hit him with reckless abandon. He slapped his hand over his gaping mouth, and shook until the breathless gasps came out in squeaks, ugly laughing at his own stupid joke. He rocked back and forth, almost hitting his forehead on the table, and only caught his breath when tears brimmed his lashes, and he remembered his forehead was sacred, and he should stop. If he hit it, itâd be like an earthquake to your home. Except, that imagery also made him giggle, and he was at it again. Biting his tongue to subdue his outbursts while he stretched out on the couch cushions which rubbed his skin raw everytime he changed position. Finally, he was at peace. He tried to forget about the impending hangover he was going to have to explain to Wayne, and instead, he thought about you, and let his daydream take him to a fantasy where he could wake up next to you. And if he went through with his decision, maybe it could become a reality.
No. Not if. He would. He would go through with it. Probably. If you asked about it, he would, definitely. If you didnât, heâd.. heâd still do it. He couldnât keep living like this.
However, for both your sakes, he hoped neither of you remembered this night come Monday morning.
let's go, don't wait (e.m. x f!reader)
inspired by this prompt by @edsforehead - it's not exactly the same but i did my best! summary: modern!eddie's been single since 2020 and aside from getting his dick wet after weekend shows at the hideout, he hasn't been going out of his way for love until his friends make him. cw: 18+ for adult themes. alcohol use, swearing, some sexual themes. some discussions of bad parents. eddie had some sad parts of his childhood. all around this is a fluff piece so nothing too bad. (11k) eddie is 32, reader is 30. so older!reader i guess, idk. i already started writing the part two which is almost entirely smut.
Jingle. Click. Creak.âMmmm.â Eddie knows that groan anywhere, the deep primal urging of a one Gareth Emerson and the giggles of his girlfriend, Tatianna Edwards. They stumble into the apartment, lips attached, hands grabbing and fisting each otherâs layers from the cold.Â
âHi guys,â he calls out, his tone was as bored and annoyed as he hoped it would be. His eyes donât leave the TV, transfixed on the screen while he watches another YouTube compilation of the best guitar solos of all time. He disagrees with most of them, but itâs enough to drone on in the background while he scrolls through his Twitter feed. Heâs never even posted. Not once. Not even a picture on his profile.Â
âHi Ed,â Tati chirps, clicking the side table lights on. He can smell her Chloe perfume when she comes to give him a hug hello. Her arms wrap around him from behind the couch, cheeks touching, a few of her butterfly twists falling forward over his shoulder.Â
âDid you stay in tonight?â she asks, pressing a glossy smooch to his cheek. âSure did,â he huffs, arms crossing over hers in a semblance of an embrace. Her gold bracelets are cool against his skin, her gold rings match his silver ones. He thought when Tati entered the picture that he and Gareth wouldâve started to drift apart. Instead, Tati became Eddieâs new best friend â Gare really took âdate the girl version of Eddieâ to heart. They were two peas in a pod. âYou shouldâve come out, there were a lot of single girls there â youâre a good dancer, you coulda snagged one,â she sounds like a mother trying to set him up. Eddie tilts his head up and looks at her from below, her deep skin shimmering with the glitter fallout from her eye makeup. She always looks pretty with ease, even with her makeup smudged â like she meant to do that.Â
âOh, Iâm sure,â he smiles tightly, but the look falls to something soft when Tati lets go and her almond shaped manicured nails rake gently over his scalp through his conditioned curls. âYou canât just keep picking up girls from shows, dude,â Gareth chides playfully, coming around the couch to sit next to him, âTheyâre starting to get waaaay too young for you at the bars.â
âYeah, perv,â Tatianna teases, ruffling his hair before curling up on the recliner closer to the TV.
âCan we please not talk about this again,â Eddie sighs, sinking further into the cushions. He presses on his eyes with the heels of his hands, âYou do this every time you guys come back from a date.â
âWe gotta get you on Hinge, or something,â Gareth says.
âTinder at the very least,â Tatianna follows.
âOkay, Iâm going to bed,â Eddie grunts when he gets up, a little dizzy at the speed before he finds his footing, âDonât be too loud tonight.â
âJust trying to help!â Tati calls out, âYou deserve to be too loud at night, too!â
Eddie sucks his teeth before he turns the corner to the hallway, disappearing for the night while his friends fell more in love.Â
It feels like theyâre disassembling a bomb. Eddie sulks in a seat at the kitchen table while Robin, Steve, Nancy, and Gareth chatter behind him. Jeff and his wife sit across from him with just as much excitement as the group opposite them. Eddie frowns, bangs too long over his eyes, hands sweating onto the back of his banged up stickered phone case.
âI think you should put the picture of the guitar last, it doesnât have your face in it. Iâd swipe past you,â Robin points at the screen in front of him while he tries to make sense of his Hinge profile.Â
âWell youâre a whole lesbian Rob, so youâd swipe past me anyway,â Eddieâs clipped words make the group laugh instead of making them back off. His shoulders sink immediately. This was mortifying.
âSheâs right though,â Steve pipes up, âTheyâll think youâre some weirdo who's obsessed with his guitar if you â well, actually then maybe itâs fineâŠâÂ
âWhy donât youââ Jeff starts.
âYouâre married and youâve been with Alycia since 2014. Your opinions are void,â Eddie interrupts with a sigh.Â
Jeff lets out a laugh from his broad smile, âLook, Iâm just saying. Why donât you focus on your answers to the questions rather than the pictures? Girls love stuff like that. Youâre smart, youâre a good writer.âÂ
âBabe, theyâre not gonna care about his answers if the first picture they see is of an out of focus guitar taken on an iPhone 4S,â Alycia cocks her head at Jeff, âLike, at least be honest with him.âÂ
âI know youâre squinting in that picture from Jeffâs wedding but maybe you can put that one first,â Nancy points to the screen and then scrolls down a little. It lands on a photo of Jeff and Eddie, both sweating from the night's activities. His dress shirt is unbuttoned half way down his chest, silver chains and tattoos on full display, tie tied around Jeffâs forehead like a makeshift Rambo.Â
âYeah, you look really good in it,â Robin agrees.Â
âWait, wait, wait!â Tati shuffles into the kitchen, âI got in touch with the photographer from the show two weeks ago at Wraith Bar and heâs sending me some pictures.âÂ
âYou can use the six pictures youâre tagged in from the last three years,â Tatianna scolds, âYou look like a bum in them.âÂ
The group frowns and tosses glances at each other, itâs true. The more recent pictures they had of Eddie were far and few between. He was either blinking or off to the side, blurry or ducking out of frame. Every picture where he looks like himself was either from a show or had Chrissy in it, and he deleted all of those three years ago.
âStop, you look so fine in these,â Tatianna squeals, âThe girls are gonna love you.â Everyone but Eddie huddles around Tatianna to scroll through the pictures. Some of him mid shred with sweat pouring down his chest. Some of him screaming into the mic, hair wild and wet around his face. There was one, that he begrudgingly really liked, where his head leaned back into the light with a winning Munson smile. It was when he heard the opening drums to cover âThe Immigrant Songâ as a gag â but not really a gag âcause he loves that song. It gets everyone at the bar pretty excited â even if they only know the song from School of Rock.Â
Eventually, Eddie isnât even holding his phone, itâs being passed between Tati, Steve, and Robin while he dictates his answers to stupid questions. By the time his profile is finished, his head is hidden in his mass of curls, resting his forehead on his forearms at the table.Â
âAre we done now?â he asks into the space between his face and the woodgrain. Despite the winter air flowing through the kitchen window, heâs overheated with embarrassment. There are suddenly too many people around, too much talking, too much giggling at his expense. He tilts his head back up and takes a full breath through his nose and out through his mouth â âOh shit! You matched with someone!â âHow? I didnât even look at anyone yet,â Eddieâs brows furrow while his head slowly comes to center. âDonât worry about it, dingus,â Robin chides, âJust talk to her.â Eddie takes the phone and looks at her profile. Rachel, 27, Vet tech. Sheâs pretty, soft eyes, great smile. He swallows thickly before he goes to his âMatchesâ and types three letters that felt like they took ten years to write: Hey.
The chats start fast and die faster, some flirty banter here and there before heâs too nervous or quickly bored. His heart squeezes every time he gets a notification, a buzz in his pocket, a reminder of a message. Some girls donât want a relationship and thatâs fine, thatâs just not what heâs looking for. Some girls ask the big questions first and he canât answer right away. Some girls just arenât his type and he isnât theirs either.Â
The first date he goes on ends with her excusing herself to the bathroom before they even get to order dinner. She doesnât come back â heâs not even sure what he did. It started off fine, she was pretty with blonde hair and blue eyes. Fun and easy conversation, a voice that sounded like powder puffs and sugar scented perfume. If he blurred his vision a little, she couldâve been Chris. But she wasnât Chris.Â
Maybe thatâs why she left. Maybe she got the vibe that he was preoccupied with her looking like his ex.Â
Maybe it was because he said, âYou remind me so much of my ex-wife,â before they got to order dinner.Â
His second date wasnât much better. He was proud of himself for not going for another Chrissy look alike, but it was clear that this new girl was on a hunt for a husband.Â
âSo are you planning on getting the tattoos removed?â she had asked, pursing her red lips. He was surprised at how well her lipstick stayed on after eating a pasta dish. Whenever he wears makeup for a show, it smudges before the lights come up.Â
âUh, no why?â he asked.
âJust yâknow, thinking ahead â family photos and whatever,â she shrugged. His mouth had never run so dry in his life. The chicken alfredo turned in his stomach.Â
The third ended up being a quickie in the bar bathroom only for her to leave right after and unmatch him without as much as a âThanks for a good night!â He at least wanted to be a gentleman about it.Â
The fourth fizzled out and neither of them felt the connection.Â
The fifth felt weird because they had talked so much on the app that they didnât have anything left to talk about when they went out for drinks.Â
A month had gone by and all he had to show for it was five bad dates and dozens of unanswered chats. Eddie was found sitting in his bed in the dark, only the light on his phone keeping him illuminated while he thumbs through Instagram. Another app that he has for no reason, he never posts, he never shares anything. He just scrolls.
He wonders if Chrissyâs on Hinge. Eddieâs stomach lurches at the thought of coming across her profile. All blonde and blue eyes, all sweet and spunky, all the right answers to her curated questions. Photos of her in the Maldives, in her friendâs weddings, of her in Chicago after she moved. His heart hammers, sweat collects on his bare chest, heating up the chain lying flat against it until it sticks. He quickly swipes out of Instagram to his home screen, a photo of Robin and Steve flipping him off from the stage after a Corroded Show during load out. He holds his thumb on the app until all the apps shake, thumb hovering over the âxâ on the corner to delete the Hinge for good.Â
Whatâs another three years of being single?Â
âEd?â he hears Tati on the other side of the door, her soft knock following her voice, âI got Indian and Iâm not gonna eat it all. Gare doesnât want it, you want it?âÂ
âYeah, sure,â he hums. She opens the door and sighs at the darkness. He squints as the light pools in from the hallway and sees her lean her shoulder against the door frame.
âAre you in here sulking?â she asks, one brow raising.
âYeah, Tat, Iâm in here sulking,â he groans, laying flat on his mattress, âI like to sulk. Let me sulk.âÂ
âDonât sulk,â she puts on a pout and flicks his light on, leaving the containers of rice and chicken saag. He groans when the light stings his eyes, tossing a forearm over his face.Â
âWhatâs wrong?â she asks, her voice falling into kindergarten teacher territory. She never realized her profession would come so handy living with two grown men, âWhyâre you being such a baby in here?âÂ
âI think Iâm gonna delete the app,â he murmurs, still hiding under the protection of his tattooed arm. The pressure feels good on his face, releasing the tension starting to brew behind his eyes. He hadnât eaten since his lunch period at work, the hunger was starting to catch up to him.Â
âDonât delete it,â she shakes her head, crawling onto the end of his bed. She takes her twists out of her jumbo claw clip and readjusts to pull them all back away from her face. Tati eases his phone out of his hand and slides her glasses on, flinging his dead arm off his face to use his Face ID. He whines, face scrunching is disapproval.
âI told you to stop doing that,â Eddie complains, sitting up against his pillows before crawling out of bed to get the food waiting on his dresser, âDo you have any naan orâŠ?âÂ
âDo I look like a food bank, Munson? Damn,â she tilts her head and he raises his brows in a silent âWell, do you?â
She sighs deeply, âYes, I have extra naan but you can only have it if you donât delete the app and eat with us in the living room.âÂ
âThose are two totally different asks, Tati,â Eddie huffs.Â
âI donât make the rules,â she shrugs before starting to laugh, âActually, I totally do.âÂ
The phone buzzes in her hand and Tatiannaâs grin only widens when she sees the notification, âYou have a new like.âÂ
âWhatever,â he shrugs, face laced with disappointment and frustration, âItâs gonna be another dud. Why bother if thereâs no point? Like, this canât actually be how people meet each other ââÂ
Tatianna opens her mouth to protest but Eddie interrupts his own thought before she can speak, âYou and Gareth are the anomaly.âÂ
âWhat if the sixth timeâs a charm? She looks really cute,â She smiles, teeth bright against her smile, cheekbones glistening where her moisturized skin hits the light.Â
He rolls his neck and sighs while Tatianna continues to encourage him, âJust try. You owe yourself that. Chrissy wouldnâtâ.â
âFuck Chrissy, Tat,â Eddieâs voice raises slightly, suddenly defensive. His chest burns at the sound of her name, heat rising up through his neck to his face, âI donât really give a fuck what Chrissy would and wouldnât want. âCause if it wasnât for her, I wouldnât have to be on these stupid fucking apps.âÂ
âWhew, tell me how you really feel Ed,â she says while she stands up off the bed to walk towards him.
âLook, I get youâre still mad about how things went down with Chris. I know youâre still hurting, but youâre denying yourself a chance to start over â just shoot this girl a message. She seems cool,â Tati speaks so gently to him that he soothes instantly. She offers his phone, still open on the new profile â heâs hesitant at first but he takes it from her to look at the screen.Â
There you are. You are cute. Your profile is simple: your name, age thirty, your opening tagline âidk iâm just out here i guessâ. He lets a puff of air out of his nose at the sentiment â âSame,â he thinks.Â
âFine,â he says finally, âIâll look through her stuff and Iâll message her. Are you happy?âÂ
âThrilled,â she smiles, âSo thrilled that Iâll even let you have the extra samosa.âÂ
He follows her out of the room with his phone and food in hand, looking at her fondly when she passes him a tinfoil covered piece of naan in the kitchen, âYouâre my best fucking friend, dude.âÂ
âI thought I was your best friend?â Gareth pouts from the kitchen table, D&D notes littered in front of him.Â
Eddie scrunches his nose, tilting his head while he considers, âYouâre alright I guess.âÂ
When the food is done and heâs gotten a proper look at your profile he decides to bite the bullet â fingers shaking while he matches back with you. He doesnât start with âheyâ this time because Robin and Steve said that was boring, so he tries something new:Â
wild that youâre just âout hereâ, me too.Â
âŠ
âŠ
âŠ
lol, twin behavior. howâs your night?
Eddieâs heart hammers at the response. Heâs surprised at the reaction, he hadnât had that with any of his other chats, normally expecting them to die off after the first âHey, how are you?â pleasantry. But maybe this could be different, maybe this could be fun.Â
scored some indian food from one of my roommates so itâs one of my better nights.Â
ooh, iâm so jealous. i have buyers remorse from some baked ziti i ordered. shouldâve just made it.
what did you get?
chicken saag, still jealous?
iâm more of a saag paneer girl but consider me over here seething.
Eddie grins into the phone, cheeks hot while he thinks about what to say back. He skims over your profile again, eyes stilling at a photo of you laughing on what looks like a cruise deck. The sun hits you like a golden streak across your eyes. The caption reads âthe last time i felt a single shred of genuine happinessâ, he huffs an airy giggle before going back to the chat.Â
youâre funny, did you know that?
um ya, iâm the funniest person i know, actually. đ„°
that's crazy cause iâm the funniest person i know. and since now i know you, itâs looking like we gotta battle for who the funniest is.
Jesus fucking Christ Munson, why canât you just be normal? Why can you just say âlolâ and call it a night? He frets. His leg bounces while he waits for your reply, food rolling in his stomach. The cool metal of his rings is welcomed on his warm cheeks while he leans against his hand on the arm of the couch. The few minutes he waits for the buzz of his phone feel like eternities. But there you are to save him from his embarrassment:
lmao okay. where did you wanna battle?
thereâs a bar in the city that i think could host. you around tomornight?
tommorow night* sorry, fuck, i was trying so hard to be smooth with it.
TOMORROW***** FUCK. LET ME LOG OFF FOR ETERNITY REAL QUICK.
yiiiiikes! embarrassing. but this proves you actually might be funnier than me. iâm not a sore loser so iâll go on a date with you if thatâs what youâre asking.
do you drink? it doesnât have to be a bar.
i do! where did you have in mind?
thereâs a spot called little spoon saloon in the city if youâre familiar. sorta cozy.
oh yeah sounds great for a battle đ
but yeah i know it, thatâs not too far from my place. maybe weâve seen each other before and never known it. two ships passing in the night~*
does seven work for you? i know itâs a monday, so we can do earlier if you gotta be up early or something.
sevens fine :)
okay :)
:)
:)
see ya tomorrow! Eddie bites his lower lip, breathing steadily through his nose while he sends over his number. Anything to get out of looking at the app for at least another day, anything to spare him from potentially running into Chrissyâs profile despite her being in a different state. It was getting close to the holidays, she could be around at any moment.Â
Before he can spiral, his phone buzzes again â this time a text from an unknown number. His grin widens, too caught up in the excitement bubbling in his chest to feel Tatiannaâs stare from the recliner. hi, it's me. jsyk if you don't reach out by like, two tomorrow -- i'm considering it a cancellation and i do have a 50% cancellation fee. sorry!Â
50%? stop selling yourself so short, kid. but donât worry, i wonât cancel. no? youâre not scared to battle? iâm never scared of a battle. :) (A lie.) see you tomorrow.Â
âWhatâs got you smiling like that?â Tatianna smiles, cheeks tight from being unable to hide her excitement. âAre you talking to a girrrrrl?â Gareth teases. Eddie letâs out a âtssssâ while he stands up and stretches, quirking a brow at his best friend. âIs it a girl? You takinâ her out?â he asks again. âYeah G, itâs your mom,â he shrugs, âNight yâall.â âEd,â Tati whines, âCome on.â Pink floats across his cheeks, itching his nose to hide his goofy smile behind his hand. âYeah, itâs a girl. And yeah, Iâm taking her on a date tomorrow,â he groans. Tatianna squeals, shimmying with giddiness while the recliner rocks with her. Eddieâs too caught up in hiding his face, âUgh, sheâs cuuuute, Tati, what am I supposed to do?âÂ
âShow her what sheâs been missing,â Tati shrugs, âEveryone needs an Eddie.âÂ
Last night, Eddie fell asleep caught in a memory that became a dream. Heâs eight years old at the YMCA, Wayne sitting in the stands watching him â this is maybe two weeks after his dad dropped him off before he got sent to prison. Wayne wanted to make sure his schedule stayed the same as it could, so Saturday swim lessons it was â today was diving off the block. Eddie had been dreading this lesson for a month, knowing that level 2.5 meant you had to at least try. In level two, they had you stand on the block just to get used to it. He could barely breathe for the ten seconds it was up there, tears stinging his eyes while his teacher encouraged him to come closer to the edge. Three of his classmates had already asked if they were allowed to jump off. It looked fun but it was just so high up. What if it hurts? What if he landed the wrong way? He was up soon, standing behind the block with the rest of the kids, shivering from being out of the water. He could dive off the edge of the pool just fine â in fact, his teacher said he was a great diver, especially for an eight year old. So it should be no problem to dive off the block, he just had to do the same thing he always does. Just higher.Â
Gareth, before Gareth was his best friend, climbs up the block and puts his feet at the edge of the white plastic and metal. His teacher, Miss Tiffany, tells him to put his arms up and bend his knees and to dive at the whistle. The whistle blows and Gareth leaps â but he doesnât dive smoothly into the water.Â
âBELLY FLOP!â Jason Carver yells from the edge of the pool where all the kids who already dove sat. They start teasing him relentlessly, Miss Tiffany helping him out of the water to inspect his red belly. Tears well up in Garethâs eyes, his mom leaning over the bannister from the seating area. âAre you okay, baby?â she asks. Gareth burns red with embarrassment, only encouraging the cackling kids to get crueler.Â
Miss Tiffany puffs her whistle three times, âIf you tease again, youâre not allowed to go to free swim. Do you understand me?âÂ
The group quiets, slowly kicking their feet in the water. âAlright Eddie, youâre up next!âÂ
He gulps, climbing up on the block slowly before standing to full height with his eyes closed. He takes a deep breath through his nose and out through his mouth, like his Uncle Wayne taught him to do when he was feeling nervous. When Eddieâs eyes opened, a chill ran through his chest â for some reason the block seemed higher than ever.Â
âReady Freddie?â Miss Tiffany asked, treading water in her red bathing suit. She grinned up at him, knowing that the phrase always made him giggle â but not today.Â
âArms up, knees bent,â she continues. Ed looks down at the water and the room spins, he can hear Jason and the class giggling. Hear the splashes from the kicks of their feet.Â
The whistle blows. He doesnât move. The whistle blows, again. He puts his arms down. âYou okay, Eddie? You can do it! Youâre a great diver!â she cheers.Â
Eddie chews on his lower lip, thinking about the smack of the water when it hit Garethâs stomach. The laughter. The teasing. The potential of the pain. The whistle blows again. Eddie climbs down off the block, sniffling when he makes it back to the pool deck, âI donât want to Miss Tiffany.â Â
âCâmon Ed, I know you can do it! Do you want me to save you for last?â she asks, her smile still bright and encouraging. Eddie sniffles again, eyes burning with tears while Jason and his friends start to tease him, too. âSwimming sucks,â he bites, stomping towards the boys room, grabbing his ratty towel off one of the benches on the way in. Heâs only in the locker room for a few minutes before he hears the door open and Wayneâs apologetic voice talking to Miss Tiffany from the deck floor.
âHeâs just goinâ through a lot right now,â Wayne says, his gruff voice rattling off the metal of the room.Â
âEddie?â Tiffanyâs voice calls.Â
âCome out here, son,â Wayne calls, âYâknow, if your decent.â Â
Eddie sniffles back his tears again, shuffling over to the door while Miss Tiffany waits with his Uncle.
âDo you maybe wanna stay a little late today and we can practice diving off the block when class is over?â she offers, âI know it can be scary to do it in front of your classmates, but I want you to pass to level three!âÂ
âNo thanks Miss Tiffany,â he mumbles to the tiles on the floor.Â
âThatâs okay Eddie, maybe we can try again next week. Howâs that sound? I know you can do it,â she says softly.Â
âOkay,â he murmurs before turning on his heel and moping back into the locker room. Wayne was waiting by the check in desk when Eddie emerged after changing, his ratty towel slung off his shoulder.Â
âYou okay?â Wayne asked.
âYeah, can we just go home?âÂ
âSure kid, was gonna stop and get us some lunch if you wanted,â Wayneâs eyes crinkle with his smile, âWanna go to McDonalds?âÂ
Eddie returns the smile half heartedly, âYeah.â
They walk to Wayneâs pick-up hand in hand, despite some parents thinking heâs âtoo oldâ to be doing that. He needed the support, and his uncle was never one to make him feel like he didnât have it.Â
âSo dâyou wanna try again next week? Your starting form was great, buddy,â Wayne asks while Eddie puts his seatbelt on. Eddie considers it. Getting to the edge of the block and making Jason Carver eat his own words. Making him look like a loser for a change.Â
But the words ring in his ear âBELLY FLOP!â The relentless teasing if he didnât do it this week and then messed up next week. Heâd be a baby and a joke.Â
âI donât wanna do swimming anymore, Uncle Wayne,â he huffs.
âYou sure?â his uncle frowns, putting the car into gear, âYouâre really good, Ed. Yâcould be on the swim team.âÂ
âI donât wanna come back. I quit,â he repeats. He crosses his arms while they pull out of the parking lot, watching the rest of the kids pool out of the doors with smiles on.
Eddie wakes up to his alarm blaring, back in his 32 year old body. He swears that the air of his bedroom smells like chlorine.
Eddie made sure to text you at 1:59 PM like an asshole.Â
still on for tonight? :)
so close to having to pay my cancellation fee.Â
but yes, still on for tonight :)Â
sorry, workâs been wild today. wouldâve texted you sooner!
youâre off the hookâŠ
for now. đĄ
He likes your little attitude, he decides. That little hint of sass in your messages keeps him on his toes and itâs not lost on him that this is probably how you flirt. He wonders, selfishly, how easy you are to fluster. You both exchange a few back and forths before heâs finishing up work for the day and heading to Wheelerâs for a campaign chat.Â
The texts completely drop off while he gets ready to see you. He takes an extra long time in the shower, using the tiniest squeeze of Tatiâs curl cream when he comes out because it makes his hair look good. He scrubs his face raw before shaving, following up with the skin care routine he kept up with, even though Chrissy curated it for him.Â
Once dressed, he stepped quietly out to the living room to grab his jacket in the closet and pull out his boots.Â
âYou used my curl cream, I see,â Tatianna crosses her arms. He blushes.Â
âDonât be mad, I just wanna look good,â he puts on a faux pout, eyes rounding while he slides the leather over arms.
âYou look really good,â she smiles, âItâs gonna be great.âÂ
Eddie shoves his socked feet in his Docs, worn in from years of wear, and looks up at her, âIâm kind of excited.âÂ
âYou should be! I donât know, I just have a really good feeling about this one,â she smirks, âText me at some point, let me know how it goes.âÂ
âItâs a better indicator if he doesnât text you, Tati,â Gareth says, coming up behind her, âYou look sharp, dude.âÂ
âSharp?â Eddie rolls his eyes, âWhatâre you? Eighty?âÂ
Tatianna clicks on her phone to look at the time, âCan you get the fuck outta here? Youâre gonna be late!âÂ
âIâm going, Iâm going!â he laughs, arms up while he grabs his keys from the hook by the door, âWish me luck, bye!âÂ
Eddie felt sick. Suddenly feeling like he was standing at the edge of the pool in â98.
When he got his keys in the ignition of his Honda Civic, a text came through immediately. He swallowed tightly, in some way expecting it to be you. In some way, expecting you to be canceling on him.Â
Instead, it was Tatianna in the big group chat:Â
here, we made a playlist for you
Eddie clicks on the Spotify link and laughs. First Date - Blink 182
First Date - Blink 182
First Date - Blink 182
First Date - Blink 182
First Date - Blink 182
First Date - Blink 182
First Date - Blink 182
First Date - Blink 182
First Date - Blink 182
First Date - Blink 182
First Date - Blink 182 First Date - Blink 182 First Date - Blink 182
And so on. The music automatically connects, the opening guitar ripping through his speakers. Eddie quickly types up a response on his phone before pulling out into the street.Â
very creative, edwards.
someone in this house has to be. âIn the car, I just can't wait, to pick you up on our very first date. Is it cool if I hold your hand? Is it wrong if I think it's lame to dance?âHe rolls his eyes as Mark and Tom serenade him in the car, laughing at the lyrics. Itâd been a while since heâd listened to this album, let alone this song. While he wonât admit it to Gareth or his girlfriend, it was exactly what he needed before he got to the bar.Â
âDo you like my stupid hair? Would you guess that I didn't know what to wear? I'm just scared of what you think, you make me nervous so I really can't eat.ââLetâs go, donât wait, this nightâs almost over,â he sings along, fingers tapping on his steering wheel while he waits at a red light. Heâs on the fourth replay of the song by the time he pulls up. The ignition cuts off the lyrics before the chorus, he takes a big breath before opening the door. Just a couple minutes past seven, but he told you he was running a little late, so you wouldnât be mad. His phone buzzes to Robin, Steve, and Jeff reacting to the playlist Tati sent. Alicia, Jeff, and Nancy sent him sweet good luck messages. Robin and Steve sent them a picture from a bar they were at, flipping him off. âBreak a leg, dingus,â came in her follow up voice memo. Eddie considers making this new picture his phone background.Â
He swallows hard when he gets to the door, his bottom lip getting pulled between his teeth in apprehension. He nods to himself, âYou got this, Munson.â Another deep breath, heâs still ten, heâs still afraid to dive off the diving block. What if it hurts? What if he belly flops?Â
âWhat if you donât? What if you dive this time?â He thinks to himself. He opens the door to the bar, his ten year old self puts one foot on the diving block. The chatter of a few conversations at once is disorienting, so is the low light of the bar in comparison to the neon outside. The man at the entrance asks for his ID and he awkwardly fumbles for his wallet as if itâs not obvious heâs been old enough to drink for eleven years. âHere, man,â he says, somehow nervous heâll get caught with a fake like heâs nineteen again. The securityâs light flashes over his birthdate and he passes it back with a short and gruff thank you. Eddie takes a few steps before checking his phone to remind him what you said youâd be wearing.
in a red cut off sweatshirt, jeans that look like dickies â hard to miss! white airforces!iâm here, looking for you if you canât spot me just approach the most off putting girl at the bar, itâs probably me :)Â
He smiles into the light of his phone. Youâre are funny. His phone lights up again, another text bubble added to your previous one. Eddieâs heart hammers in his chest when he looks at it, knowing youâre really only moments away. got you a guinness cause thatâs what you said you liked on your profile. it looks like battery acid tbh. thereâs a couple seats by the end of the bar, iâll grab them. He looks up from his phone finally to see a blur of red start maneuvering over to the end of the bar. Thatâs you. Oh shit, thatâs you. Oh shit, youâre â fuck. You have a fat fucking ass in those jeans. He swallows again, shaking the horny thoughts out of his head through the tendrils of his hair. Another deep breath through the nose, out of the water to the diving block just to dive again. He walks the length of the bar and hears his name, your voice in real life â not through a voice note or on your profile. âEd?âÂ
Eddie catches your eye and his heart sinks and leaps so quickly he thinks heâs going into cardiac arrest. Youâre real pretty, even more so when you grin at him from a few feet away. You wave him over and he does his best to walk confidently towards you, taking his jacket off while he does. He doesnât know it, but the other girls at the bar are looking. Heâs all broad shoulders and dark tattoos, two silver chains and understated rings. Full lips and doe eyes. Tatianna never told a lie, he was unmistakably handsome â he just didnât know what to do with it. You toss your hair when you speak to the bartender from the end of the bar with a bright smile. The man puts two drinks in front of you and you leave cash in their wake. Eddie winces when he sees you pay, but tries to ignore the sting. In a way, it feels like heâs already losing â like heâs playing Sims with Robin and heâs not on track to get a gold reward on date night. Youâre hot and you know it, but he can tell itâs like you just found out. Your eyes are flirty no matter what youâre looking at, youâre full bodied and itâs like you know itâs making him salivate. Eddie canât help but be nervous when he takes a seat next to you, fingers immediately drumming on the bar top in front of him. âGuinness for you,â you say, sliding the pint glass in front of him. âThanks,â he smiles, âYou didnât have to do that. I asked you out, youâre not supposed to be paying for me.âÂ
âI know, but â why donât you get the next one and weâll call it even?â you offer. He nods while he takes a sip, eyeing the lighter orangey liquid in your glass. âDid you get a cider?â he teases.Â
âItâs a grapefruit beer, thank you,â your brows furrow at him while you take a sip. You have a good face, part of him wants to say that but it seems like a weird compliment. âNice face.â Like, what does that even mean? His tongue feels heavy, he can feel the sweat building under his curly bangs. âWeaksauce,â he laughs, scrunching his nose, âGrapefruit beer? Not for me, toots.âÂ
âYeah, because you drink battery acid!â you tease back, âYouâre a stout snob, huh?â
âNah, just never heard of grapefruit beer. I always drink Guinness â or like, Miller light. Never really stray,â he shrugs.Â
âYou wanna try mine?â you ask, sliding the glass to him.Â
âYou sure?â he watches you nod and brings the beer to his lips. Itâs tart, a little bubbly, hitting his tongue on the off beat from the stout before. It settles and then itâs sweet, he wonders if youâre the same. Eddie smacks his lips, âI donât hate it.âÂ
âThatâs such a stout snob thing for you to say,â you pull a face, bringing your drink back to sit in front of you. âIâd offer you a sip of mine but I know you donât like it,â he smiles, âWouldnât want to ruin the taste of your dessert beer.â âFuck off,â you shake your head and smile, taking another sip of your drink. The Guinness in his hand makes him feel less nervous, but not all the way â toeing the line of the end of the diving block but not scared to look down into the water. He can tell youâre nervous too by the way you pick at a hangnail on your thumb absentmindedly, the way you cross and uncross your legs. Eddieâs eyes linger for a moment at the way they spill over each other, squishing flat on the seat of the stool when you keep them uncrossed. He tries to discreetly follow the line of your thighs to your hips, up to your waist before getting ahead of himself and pulling his eyes away.Â
âHow was your day?â you ask. Not the question he was expecting. âMy day?â he asks, brows raised while he tries to recollect anything before getting ready to see you. âUh, my day was good. Yours?â You fucking dumbass, you couldnât just spare one detail? Sheâs gonna think youâre an asshole. âIt was fine,â you answer quietly. Your smile fades a little and he feels a panicked chill rush in his chest. âS-sorry, I shouldâve elaborated. I sound like such a dick, sorry,â Eddie feels the heat creeping up on his cheeks, a clamminess starting up at his hairline, âI um, I went to work. Came home, went to a friendâs house for a minute and we talked about a campaign weâre putting together next weekend. I had some dinner, and then I started getting ready to see you and um â uh, now Iâm here.â âCampaign? Are you a politician or somethinâ?â you quirk a brow while you look him over. He feels insecure under your gaze, he hopes you like his tattoos. Â
âNo, no, itâs for Dungeons and Dragons.â Saying it outloud makes him feel like a loser, even though you donât react like you think so.Â
âCool,â you smile.Â
âDo you like, even know what that is?â Defensive already, waiting for you to make fun of him. Waiting for this to end up another mistake. Waiting to belly flop.Â
âYeah, I know what it is,â you answer quietly again, this time your shoulders, âHave some friends that play.âÂ
âOh, cool. Cool,â Eddie nods, chest tightening, toying with his rings while you reach for your drink, âUm, Iâm â yeah, sorry if that came off like, dickish. I didnât mean toâ.âÂ
âNo, no, itâs okay,â you shake your head when you say it, almost like itâs rehearsed. Like youâre always âokayâ-ing something.Â
âSometimes people think itâs weird when I tell them, I dunno,â he shrugs, still looking down at his rings, âIf Iâm being honest I havenât been so great at this whole dating thing.âÂ
You smile again and he looks up in time to see it, his breath hitches. Youâre very pretty.Â
âIf it makes you feel any better, I learned how to play Magic the Gathering twice to impress a boy. Two different ones,â you grimace, scrunching your nose, âGross right?âÂ
âOof, thatâs rough,â he jokes, âMagic the Gathering? Thatâs like, way worse than D&D.â
âWell the difference between you and me, is that I donât still play,â you bite back, cocking your head while you take another drink. âDidnât impress those boys after all, huh?â he raises a brow and your mouth falls open in faux offense.Â
âYouâre so mean,â you gasp.
âSorry, sweetheart,â he drawls, âShouldâve put that in my profile.âÂ
âOh, so you are mean?â you grin.Â
âThe meanest,â he grins back, teeth straight and shiny. Full lips pulled tight against them, âHow was your day?â âI worked,â you shrug, âNot as exciting.âÂ
âWhat do you do?â he asks, turning towards you on the stool, leaning one arm on the bar. He relaxes into the seat, legs spreading wide while his free hand runs nervously over his thigh.
âIâm a personal assistant to a jewelry maker,â you let out a half chuckle through your nose, âIt sounds fake when I say it out loud. But basically, I just keep her schedule and run errands and keep her shit in order. Sheâs an older woman and sheâs not the most tech savvy in the world â great at what she does though, really eccentric but I feel like you gotta be when you work in the arts like that.âÂ
âThatâs cool,â he says softly, watching you talk, âWhat kind of jewelry does she make?âÂ
âOh youâll love this, since you like D&D and stuff,â you start, your excitement is infectious, his heart thrums, âShe makes fine jewelry for the most part, but also makes anodized chain mail jewelry and wearable pieces for theater and ren fairs on the side. I told you, eccentric.âÂ
âOh, so sheâs a little alchemist, huh?â he smirks.Â
âKinda, yeah,â you shrug, heat hitting your cheeks while he keeps his gaze on you, âItâs cool to watch the first few times, and then you get bored.âÂ
âIâm sure itâs the same for people who watch my band,â he laughs. You shake your head, a curve pulling from the corners of your lips while you finish your beer.Â
âAlchemist,â you repeat with a playful roll of your eyes, âYouâre such a nerd.âÂ
âWhat do you do for work?â he notices you fully turn when you ask, your knees toward him. He remembers Steve telling him once that it was always a good sign when they do that. Like Steve knows anything about body language and dating these days, heâs been platonically attached to Robin for years. His little guard dog.Â
âIâm a teacher,â he replies, knocking back the remainder of the Guinness in his glass. Â
âHm,â you hum, looking him over suspiciously, âThatâs surprising.âÂ
âI work at a performing arts school,â he rolls his eyes, âItâs 2023, Iâm allowed to have tattoos.â âWhat do you teach?â you squint when you look him over a second time, âActually, let me guess â drama?âÂ
âMusic theory,â he corrects.Â
âOoh, big brain,â you joke, âThatâs cool.âÂ
âBig brain? I donât know about that, I just like music,â he shrugs, âIt makes sense to me.â âWhen I was in high school everyone always talked about how hard music theory was â like, all the band kids,â you explain, thereâs a sparkle starting to glint in your eye when you talk to him. âYou were hanging out with the band kids?â he tosses a sarcastic knowing look before taking his glass in his hands, âAnd Iâm a nerd? I dunno girl, itâs not looking good for you here...â âEven worse, I was dating one,â you grimace back. âFuuuuck, you were really fighting for your life in 2009 huh?â Eddie laughs low, lower lip tucking in between his teeth to run his tongue over it.Â
â2007, 2008 all the way to like, 2016,â you hide your face in one hand and he wishes you wouldnât.Â
âDamn, thatâs a long time,â he observes, âYou didnât marry that guy?âÂ
You lift your head back up, and shake your head, âIt was on and off for a long time, heâs not a fan favorite. Itâs uh â itâs why I normally donât date musicians. I almost didnât match with you âcause of your first picture.âÂ
Fucking Tatianna.Â
âEek, sorry,â Eddie puts his hands up, âShould I go?â âDo you play bass?â you wince.
âI play a lot of instruments,â he chuckles, âI can play the bass. But Iâm not likeâŠa bass player, if you know what I mean.âÂ
âOh, I know what you mean,â you breathe out a sigh of relief, âMade that mistake more than once.â âWhatâs your favorite instrument that you play?â you ask, itâs almost girlish. He ponders it while you cross your legs, the toe of your shoe barely brushing the back of his calf but he knows it's there. You rest your chin on your fist while you watch him think about it. His brown eyes glint in the reflection of the light overhead, plush lips parted while he runs his hands over his stubble. âI think Iâd have to sayâŠelectric guitar? Iâve been playing that the longest,â he hopes you think thatâs cool. âIs it the same one thatâs in your pictures?âÂ
âThe Warlock?â he asks with a grin, âYeah, thatâs my girl. Best relationship of my life, probâly the only lady who talks more than me.âÂ
âItâs really nice. I like the color.âÂ
âThank you,â he says quietly, eyes darting to your knees where they sit between his, âUm, can I get you another drink? Do you want a beer orâŠ?âÂ
âIf I get a real drink will you stop making fun of my beer?âÂ
âI promise.â He slides off the stool, sad to see your close proximity to him fade away when he stands up.Â
âThey have food here, right? Iâm sort of hungry, if thatâs okay,â your voice gets sheepish when you ask.Â
âYeah, thatâs okay. Did you eat dinner?â The words fall out of him too fondly.Â
âI had like, a huge spinach salad,â you explain, âMight not have been enough.âÂ
Something tells him to press further before he buys you more liquor, lest this date go to the wayside too quickly, âDid you eat lunch?âÂ
âI worked through lunch.âÂ
âDid you eat breakfast?âÂ
âI had a smoothie,â you confess.Â
âOkay, so before I get you a drink, why donât I get you some chicken fingers or something?â he insists. Youâre shy in your smile back to him, nodding along at his advice. Yes, you should eat more before you keep drinking with him. He doesnât want you to think heâs just trying to get you tipsy, heâs never been that kind of guy â even when heâd bring home girls from the bar. (Theyâd at least be the same level of totally obliterated as he was.)
He beams back at you when you nod, âAtta girl.âÂ
He doesnât notice when your thighs clench.Â
The last chicken finger is eaten, the last fry of the basket he got for you to split crunched through. The conversation had lulled, not because you werenât interesting â the nerves were getting to him, creeping up like vines along his chest. The look over the diving block at the water, itâs slow waves teasing him to jump.Â
âSo um,â you began, swallowing your final fry and wiping your hands on a napkin, âSince youâre a teacher, how was school today?âÂ
Eddieâs so used to this question that his response doesnât change, always the same quote from the same movie. Forgetting he doesnât know you like that, his mouth moves quicker than his desire to play things off cool.
âThe worst day of my life, what do you think? Gosh!â Eddie sounds more like John Heder in 2004 than John Heder does now â but when he hears himself say it, heâs immediately embarrassed. Eddie opens his mouth to apologize, nervous you wonât understand but instead â you laugh. And what a sound that is for him to hear.Â
âOh, shit. I havenât watched Napoleon Dynamite in years. Like, not since grade school.â Eddie laughs with you, âSorry, sorry, thatâs like my go-to reaction at home when my roommates ask me that. I shouldâve said something more normal like, âIt was fine. The kids canât stop trying to take TikTok fancams of me.â
âRoommates? Fancams? Youâre so hip, tell me more,â you enthuse. He puts a finger up to stop you at first, locking eyes with the bartender so he can finally order another round of drinks.Â
âWhat kind of real drink do you want?â he asks.Â
âJust a marg on the rocks, salt,â you shrug.Â
âPsh, I said a real drink,â Eddie teases with a roll of the eyes, but they soften when you go to argue back, âIâm kidding, Iâm kidding.âÂ
His toes inch towards the middle of the diving block.
âYouâre cute when youâre mad,â he flirts. Eddie can see the heat hit your cheeks, the creep of a smile slowly curving upwards, youâre embarrassed. Nervous like he is. Maybe this is going just fine.Â
When the drinks arrive he slides the margarita towards you and sips his own Jack and Coke slowly through the tiny bar straw.Â
âOkay, so. I have two roommates. Gareth, whoâs been my best friend since I was nine; and Tatianna who has been my best friend since I was twenty-nine,â he explains.Â
âSo why arenât you dating Tatianna?â you challenge. You miss the straw when you reach for it with your mouth, it slides over to the other side of the cup. You try again and miss, cheeks burning while Eddie looks at you continue to fuck up. His eyes glint mischievously while you hold in your frustrated laughter, âStop looking at me.âÂ
âItâs fine, Iâll wait while you get your life figured out over there,â he jokes, checking âthe timeâ on his wrist, âShouldnât be too long until you finally get it.âÂ
âYouâre so annoying,â you grit out playfully while you capture the straw between your teeth, âShouldâve put that on your profile, too.â
âAnyway,â he continues, âIâm not dating Tatianna because Gareâs going to propose to her when they go on vacation in a few weeks.â
 âOh! Yeah, that makes sense,â you nod, âProbably not a good idea to date your best friendâs almost wife.âÂ
âYeah, definitely not well advised,â he shakes his head, pulling his hair up off of his neck for a minute before dropping it down, âPlus, her last name is Edwards and I dunnoâŠdonât think I could live with myself if I was âEddie Edwardsâ.â
You laugh again and he hoped you would. Itâs a goofy laugh, you donât try to sound cute when you do it. He knows you must be a loud laugher, if your small ones are any preview to what you could really do. You donât sound like Chrissy. Her laugh was dainty, feathery. Like how they teach you to giggle in an etiquette class â all soft edges, all smooth lines.Â
âYou wanna take the girlâs last name?â you raise your brows, âVery forward thinking. Progressive.âÂ
âI donât know, something about itâs kinda hot right?â he asks cock of his head, âPlus, my dad sucks so I donât want to keep repping him by having his last name.âÂ
âOh wow, my dad sucks, too,â you reply cheerily, âWe have so much in common!âÂ
âWhat was it you said before? âTwin behaviorâ?âÂ
âTwin behavior, yes!â your hands meet both of his knees where he sits across from you, your tone is light and earnest, âYou get me.â
Eddie takes in a hitch of breath, desperate to keep his cool when he feels your hands on him. Itâs not even sexy but he could shoot straight to the moon if you asked him to. You use his knees as leverage to hop down from your stool, grabbing your drink before nudging him with your hip.Â
âIf weâre still battling though, thereâs an air hockey table in the back room if you wanna play,â you offer.Â
âAre you any good?â he wonders, hopping off the stool to follow you to the back.Â
âIâm amazing,â you grin, âActually won seventeen first place trophies in the intergalactic air hockey competition â of course Iâm fucking bad at it, thatâs why itâs fun to play.âÂ
Eddie laughs this time, itâs gruff and nicotine soaked. Youâre already winning the battle for funniest person â youâre sharp with him and heâs starting to like it. He runs his hand over the side of the air hockey table in the empty back room, more and more pleased that he put this date together on a Monday. He slides a dollar into the machine so it whirs to life, the neon lights flicking on with a stutter.Â
âThis reminds me of birthday parties when I was a kid,â you muse to yourself, reaching for the hockey disc trapped in your goal, âCan you help me?âÂ
He nods, hand grazing your back to get you out of the way â youâre warm to the touch. If he was a braver man he wouldâve pulled you into him but heâs not, instead squatting down to reach further into the goal where your game piece was.Â
âHm,â he murmurs, reaching further back and barely touching the top of it, âItâs in here, itâs just back there. I can get it, just ââ he sucks his teeth like he did the night before, getting to his knees to try. Music plays over head, stuff the new crop of bar goers would consider oldies. You smile at the opening âDamn, shawty snappinâ...â of T-Painâs âBuy U A Drankâ, but even more surprised when you hear Eddie sing along softly to himself.Â
âSnap ya fingers, do yuh step, you can do it all by yourself. Babygirl, whatâs your name?â âNot you knowing the lyrics,â you laugh.Â
âI was in highschool in 2007 of course, I know the lyrics,â he huffs, standing up, âI think itâs a bust for air hockey.âÂ
âThatâs fine,â you shrug, âWe tried.âÂ
âI know the club, close at three,â he lip syncs to himself before, turning his attention to you, âWhatâs the chances of you rollinâ with me?âÂ
You back and forth to each other in time with the lyrics before settling back down in your spot at bar.Â
âYou even know the Yung Joc part? Damn,â you laugh again, he loves it.Â
âWhyâre you so surprised? Is it the tattoos?â he asks.Â
âWell yeah, you definitely give off a âloved Avenged Sevenfoldâ in high school vibe,â you scooch your stool closer to his, your knees slotting between his open ones like a perfect puzzle. Itâs not enough though, and heâs not sure if itâs himself or the Jack and Coke that encourages him, but he reaches for one of the legs of your stool to pull you closer.Â
âHey,â he says, your faces only a few inches apart.Â
âHey,â you respond. You catch his eyes flick briefly to your lips before they meet yours again. You can see the light smatter of freckles over his nose, long faded from the summer.Â
âYouâre right, I was really into Avenged Sevenfold when I was in highschool.âÂ
âI figured. I was into that whole scene thing, back then. All those singers that are mad at their dadâs and like, in retrospect, all hate women I guess,â you realize it as you speak.Â
âI probably wouldâve thought you were cute,â he guesses.Â
âNo, you wouldâve called me a poser,â you correct, âDonât lie.âÂ
He hesitates before nodding, âNo, no, youâre right I definitely wouldâve called you a poser. Did you like Fall Out Boy and all of that shit?âÂ
âDonât shit on the music I liked,â you frown, âThatâs not cool.âÂ
âIâm not, Iâm not,â he assures, pulse speeding, âI promise, Iâm not. Iâm sorry.â You continue talking about music, high school, college, some ins and outs. Nothing too serious. Nothing too intense. But by now, Eddieâs feeling nice and if one thingâs for certain:
He wants to fucking kiss you. Toes at the edge of the diving block, Miss Tiffanyâs whistle caught between her teeth.Â
âSo now that weâre three drinks in, can I ask you a personal question?â you ask, your eyes a little glassy. Youâve confessed that youâre tipsy, but aware, that if you have one more drink you wonât be â so Eddie already paid the tab.Â
âWhat do you wanna know?â he asks.
âWhyâre you,â you enunciate, implying heâs something, âOn the apps? Itâs hard to believe that someone like you would be single. Unless you have like, something deeply wrong with you, but youâve been all green flags so far.âÂ
Your hand falls back to his knee and he eyes it before sliding his own hand down his thigh to lace your fingers with his.Â
âYou want the real story?â he asks, lifting your hand up of his knee to play with your fingers in both of his hands while he talks. His hands are warm and calloused on the fingertips, but the rest are soft. Lacing and unlacing, running his thumb up the lengths of your fingers, tracing your palm.Â
âThe real story.âÂ
âYou gonna tell me why youâre on the apps after?âÂ
âSure,â you nod. You look gentle, at ease. He eases in, too.Â
âI got divorced in 2020,â he confesses. It feels like a weight off his chest to tell you, âMarried my high school sweetheart, things were great for a long time, but yâknow. People grow and â the pandemic was not kind to us.â
âOh, IâmâŠIâm sorry to hear that,â you offer softly.Â
âItâs okay,â he smiles tightly. âI guess I was both surprised and not surprised at all when she broke up with me. Almost relieved, I guess â that I didnât have to play the part of her husband anymore. Not that she was a bad wife or anything, she was great she just â I donât know,â he rambles, âAnd I donât know, I just threw myself into work and my friends after. Girls after shows. Was too scared to like â go on dates incase it ended up like my marriage and ââÂ
He laughs, âMy friends were tired of seeing me be so sad, I guess.âÂ
âYou have such a solid support system,â you comment, âYou mention your friends, like, every other sentence.âÂ
A beat. âI like that,â you nod and smile. He canât get over how you look when you do that.Â
âWhyâre you on the apps?â he asks, your hand now cradled between the two of his, his fingers grazing your wrist.Â
âIâm six months out of a six year long relationship,â you let out a breath through your nose and drop your shoulders a little, âFigured it was time to get back out there â enter my slut era.âÂ
âOh yeah, youâre super slutty,â he teases, âThatâs actually the first thing I thought when I saw you. âSheâs in her slut era.ââ âGod, fuck offfff,â you giggle again.Â
âBut yeah, I ended it. I figure I should make that clear,â you say, âJust in case thatâs like, a red flag for you. But I donât know, we just werenât growing in the same directions. Things felt done way before I left and I â I donât know. I think I was just scared. I took some time for myself and now, here I am.âÂ
âItâs okay that you ended your relationship, itâs not a red flag,â Eddieâs voice soothes you when he says it, âIf you told me you like, cheated on him and then hit him with your car then maybe yeah, Iâd be a little concerned. But youâre an adult, you just know what you want better this time around.â
âYeah,â you agree. Your eyes meet in a silent confirmation. His eyes flick to your lips for a second time before tucking his lower lip between his teeth again.Â
BELLY FLOP!Â
âYou wanna head out? Itâs getting a little late,â he offers.Â
Your brows raise in surprise, âUh, sure, yeah.âÂ
âNot that I donât like spending time with you,â he assures, letting his fingers linger over your hand while he stands up, not wanting to lose contact just yet, âJust donât want to keep you out too late.âÂ
âOh yes!â you start with an old southern twang, âMy daddyâll be out there with his pistol if I donât get home âfore sundown.â
âYouâre funny,â he laughs, letting go over your hand to reach up and squeeze your cheeks affectionately. You both put on your jackets and head outside, both of you wincing in the cold of the winter air.Â
âIâd really like to do this again, if you want,â a shy blush reaches his cheeks, meeting the pink from the cold.Â
âYeah, Iâd like that,â youâre just as shy in your response, âThis was fun. Youâre fun.âÂ
âThank you,â he flushes deeper, trying to prolong the inevitable. What if he belly flops? What if it hurts? What if the kids make fun of him?Â
âIâd offer to drive you home but Iâve had a few,â he says, hand reaching out to fall on your shoulder, âI feel good to drive but like, god forbid anything happens so â Iâm happy to get you a car or pay for it for you.âÂ
âThatâs really sweet, thanks. Let me just um,â you pull out your phone to get in Uber with a speed that impresses him, âItâs really not that pricey, Iâm close-ish by.âÂ
âStill,â he says, âJust wanna be a gentleman yâknow?âÂ
âYouâre very gentlemanly,â you flirt. Eddie stiffens, nervous, palms clammy.Â
âSo um, Iâll see you soon?â he asks, opening his arms to give you a hug.Â
âYeah, for sure,â you nod while you let him engulf you. His scent is warm and spicy, mixed with tobacco. You guess either still smokes, or he used to, but he never got up to have a cigarette in the hours you were at the bar. Eddie letâs go and cups your cheek briefly before giving you a gentle but winning smile. His warm brown eyes linger for the last time on your lips, now theyâre slightly parted, waiting for him. His toes curl over the edge of the diving block, his knees are bent, arms up over his head...I donât want to Miss Tiffany.Â
Swimming sucks.
âSee ya.âÂ
You quirk your brow for a moment, having expected much more than a hug, âOh, umâŠsee ya.âÂ
He walks half way down the street to his car, heart thrumming in his chest in embarrassment. He shouldâve just done it. FUCK. He shouldâve just kissed you.Â
But what if it hurts? What if she leaves? What if you canât make it to level three? What if they laugh at you?Â
He breathes heavily through his nose while tears threaten to well up in his eyes, staining his eyelashes. What if you donât want to see him again after this? What if you change your mind? He sighs audibly when he turns the key, phone auto connecting to the speakers. He turns up the radio while the car revs to life, pulling on his seatbelt and putting the wheels into gear. He leans back in his seat to pull out of his spot only to see you still waiting for the car outside of the bar.Â
Blink-182 blares through his speakers, hitting him straight in the chest.
âLetâs go, donât wait, this nightâs almost over. Honest, letâs make,this night last forever. Forever. And ever. Letâs make this last forever.âÂ
What if he did stay a little later after class? What if he got the chance to move on to level three?Â
Fuck it, he thinks. He turns off the ignition, shaking out the sounds of Jason Carver and the kids laughing, the sounds of their feet kicking in the water. Just Miss Tiffany and her whistle. He gets out of the car, determined. Youâre still there, head whipping around to see him coming towards you while you bounce on the balls of your feet in the cold.Â
Arms up. Knees bent. âEd? My carâs gonna be here in a secââ Whistle. His hands reach out to your cold cheeks to pull you in before his full lips capture yours. His eyes flutter close at the contact, feeling your mouth react to his in time. Soft and needy, hydrated. You immediately know how to keep his pace while he separates and goes back in for more. Wet but not messy, passionate but not feverish. The smoothest dive heâd ever done in his life. Your hands escape your pockets, fingers sliding behind his neck to pull him closer, sliding through the nape of his hair. He breaks away for a moment to delicately push your hair out of your face and really look at you before pressing his lips to yours again. You only stop when your Uber beeps from across the street.Â
âI wanted to do that all night,â he mumbles sheepishly.Â
âI wanted you to do that all night, too,â you giggle, breathless and blushing, âThank you.âÂ
âThank you,â he says, running a hand over his face, âLet me know when you get home, okay?âÂ
âOkay,â you nod, hurrying across the street as the car honks again, âBye!âÂ
âIâll put something together for next time!â he calls out. âCause there will be a next time.Â
Tatianna is leaning over the back of the couch with her chin in her hands when Eddie opens the door. Her cheshire cat grin matches his own.Â
âSo I didnât hear from you all night,â she starts, her voice syrupy smooth, âSo that means it mustâve went really well.âÂ
Eddie sighs dreamily, kicking off his boots at the entryway and hanging his jacket on one of the hooks by the door.Â
âOoh, you like herrrr! I can tell! Look at your stupid face!â she laughs, pointing at him, bouncing on the cushions.Â
âTati sheâsâŠfuck,â he shakes his head in disbelief while he walks towards her, âThereâs either two ways this could go.âÂ
âYeah?â she asks, looking up at him, âAnd those are?âÂ
âIâm gonna marry her, or sheâs gonna absolutely fuckinâ ruin my life.âÂ
âI like her already,â Tati grins, âSit down, tell me everything.âÂ
âYeah, yeah, give me a sec,â he grumbles, his phone buzzing in his pocket. He plops down onto the couch while Tati grabs two cups of tea from the kitchen that she made especially for the recap of his night. Gareth had been long asleep for an early morning at work tomorrow.Â
Eddie takes out his phone, two unread text alerts lingering on his home page. He opens them, smiling stupidly into the screen.
iâm home :)Â youâre a really good kisser by the way.Â
glad you made it home safe. you are too. :) but you started off pretty kissable so, thatâs probably why. youâre making me blush over here, stop it.Â
Eddie lets out a soft chuckle through his nose, clicking out of your text conversation to go back to his home screen.Â
He deletes the apps.

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scrumpting
Paper Wings: Chapter One
A Billy Knight fanfic
Word Count: 7.8k (whoopies, got out of hand) Rating: M/E (for later chapters) Pairing: Billy Knight/Molly Hart (Original Character) Warnings: Mentions of abuse, mentions of abandonment, mental health struggles
A/N: Not nearly enough love on this site for this sweet, brown-eyed boy. Especially since he's one of the VERY FEW characters a certain Bambi-eyed bitch has played that have, if not a happy ending, at least a hopeful one. Here is my contribution to the We Love Billy Knight Club. Please be kind and reblog if you're into it.
Summary: Molly moved to this small town outside of London for the fresh air, the fresh start, and the chance to be 5000 miles away from the worst thing that ever happened to her. Making friends with a gentle, kind-eyed man named Billy was just icing on the cake.
Paper Wings: Chapter One
A faint sheen of sweat prickled across Mollyâs forehead as she reached for her knife and slid it across the taped seam of another box. She stopped for a moment and cocked her head to one side. âSusie-Susie Q!â she called through the small house. âWhere are you?â
âKitchen!â
Molly let her shoulders drop with a sigh. âAre you done unpacking your room?â
A long pause from downstairs. âNo?â
âCan you come up here and finish please?â She could hear her niece sigh through the floorboards. âAnd can you bring me a water, too?â
Another grievous sigh and the sound of the refrigerator opening and shutting before she climbed the stairs. After a moment her head popped around the corner of Mollyâs office. âWater,â she said with a breathless huff, handing over a can of fizzy water. âI wasnât slacking,â she added, pouting her lips as Molly cracked open the can.
âI know you werenât,â Molly said patiently and sat down to fight off a little wave of dizziness. She patted her knee and beckoned the six-year-old to climb onto her lap. âWhat were you doing?â
âI was looking at stuff,â Susie said, climbing up into the chair with her. âAll the people who drive past are on the wrong side. Of the road and the cars.â
Molly smiled faintly and took a sip from her can. The fizzing bubbles swam pleasantly over her hot, sticky tongue. âItâs the right side here, Q-Ball.â
âStill looks weird.â
Molly snorted and kissed the side of Susieâs head, letting her soft frizzy hair brush her cheek. âHow many more boxes to go in your room?â
âUmâŠâ Susie twisted her lips in thought before she looked up with a guilty smile. âA hand and a half?â
She let out a dramatic groan before she grinned and used her free hand to tickle Susieâs side. âYou want some help?â
âWhat about your office?â Susie asked, squirming and wriggling as she giggled.
âPfft,â Molly pushed the word through her teeth and gently slid her niece to the floor so she could stand up. âI got a whole week before I have to start using it every day. Plenty of time to get it set up. Your room, on the other hand, should probably be set up by tonight.â
âSo, I can sleep in it!â
âExactly,â Molly agreed, letting Susie lead the way down the short hallway. Because Susie needed to start sleeping in her own bed again and Molly needed to be able to run to the bathroom in the middle of the night or early morning to vomit without worrying about waking her up.
They found the sheets and blankets for the twin bed and ran everything through the washer-dryer in the kitchenâa feature that delighted Susie to no endâand unpacked most of her books and art supplies before the first stirrings of hunger began to gnaw at them both.
âHow about a walk, little lady?â Molly asked once sheâd tossed the last pillow on the bed. âWe can check out the shops in town and find something to eat. Iâll do real groceries tomorrow,â she added with a guilty twinge about all the home cooking she hadnât been able to do since theyâd started the move from Portland in earnest two weeks ago.
Their new house was a small cottage a few minutes from the center of town. The rooms were small, but there were enough of them, and opening the windows brought in a lovely breeze. There was a fenced-in yard with a little garden in the back and a place to park in the front without worrying about a ticket or someone swiping her mirrors by driving too close.
When Molly had asked for a transfer to her firmâs London office, HR had been wonderfully helpful in finding her and Susie a new place to live. Theyâd suggested Faringdon, close enough to the city for Molly to occasionally commute while still working remotely most of the time, with great schools, and a nearby village of cafes, specialty shops, and plenty of parks to keep one adventurous little girl occupied.
After another dinner of fish and chipsââWeâre British now, Momo,â Susie had insisted when Molly warned that these were the last fish and chips for at least a few days. âItâs what weâre supposed to eat.ââthey wandered the streets, checking out the little shops and markets while Susie chattered happily about what she hoped would be waiting for her at her new school.
âMomo,â Susie pulled on Mollyâs hand gently, holding her back from turning the next corner to start back toward home. She pointed to the shop window. âKitty.â
Molly stopped and looked. Sure enough, a slinky calico cat was lounging in a fluffy cat bed in the corner of The Blackbird Marketâs front window. Inside, she could see that it was a small grocery and juice bar. Not big enough to be the place where she could do a full weekly shop, but they looked like they had fresh bread, produce, and bakery treats if she ever needed something in a pinch.
Susie tugged on her hand again. âCan we go pet her?â
âWe can go ask if we can pet her,â Molly corrected. âSome cats donât like to be touched.â She held open the door and let Susie wander in ahead of her. The shop was empty but for one elderly woman perusing the dairy section and one younger man stocking a flat of apples from a wooden crate. Molly nudged her niece. âGo and ask him, Q. He works here.â
But Susie hung back, clinging tighter to Mollyâs hand. âCanât you ask?â
Molly shook her head. âBut Iâll go with you,â she compromised, hoping to nip some of this sudden shyness in the bud.
She watched as Susie took a deep breath and walked slowly toward the man in the apron. As they got closer, Molly guessed he was probably around her age, and had curly, sandy brown hair and a scruffy beard. Susie cleared her throat as they approached. âUm. Hi,â she said quietly.
A little too quiet. Molly smiled and squeezed her hand. âExcuse me,â she said a little louder, pleased when the man blinked out of his concentration on the apples and looked at them. He was cute. Big brown eyes and soft features. Molly smiled. âHi, sorry to disturb you.â
The man smiled briefly and then shook his head. âNo, you didnât,â he said quickly. âDid you need something?â
Molly looked down and gave Susie a nudge. âWhat did you want to ask, Suze?â
âUm. Could I um,â she looked over her shoulder toward the window. âCan I pet your cat? Please?â
To Mollyâs relief, the manâs smile broadened. It kissed two deep dimples into his cheeks as he nodded. âSheâs called Tuna.â
Susie looked up, her eyes sparkling with delight. âSheâs called Tuna, Momo!â
She took off toward the window without another word. Molly smiled at the man again. âThank you.â
âOf course,â he nodded and waited just one extra-long moment before he turned back to his apple arranging.
âHello Tuna,â Susie cooed into the ear of the purring animal. âYou are the prettiest cat, and you have the best name. I want to be your friend.â Molly watched as she paused before touching her, slowing herself down so she was gentle enough not to frighten the animal when her fingers touched her fur. âMaybe Momo will let me have a cat here and you can be best friends with her, and Iâll name her something likeâŠâ She looked up with a pensive face. âWhatâs some fish names?â
Molly laughed. âUhâŠshrimp?â
âUh-uh.â
âHalibut?â
Susie giggled. âNoâŠâ
âWhat about sushi?â
âYes!â Susie exclaimed and turned back to Tuna. âIâll get a cat and call her Sushi and she can be your best friend.â
Molly ruffled Susieâs already messy hair and glanced back over her shoulder. The older woman had finished her shopping and was checking out. Over the top of her head, above the counter was a menu of fresh-pressed juices. âYou thirsty, kiddo?â
âKinda,â Susie shrugged, not taking her eyes off Tunaâs patchwork coat.
âStay here with Tuna.â It was not an order that needed to be given. Judging by the way the cat was shoving her head into Susieâs hand, purring and squishing her cat bed, Tuna wasnât going to let her go anywhere. She approached the counter and took out her wallet. âCould I get two of the pear juices, please?â
âDoes that have leaves?â Susie called before she could hear an answer from the man behind the counter.
Molly sighed. âYou need something green,â she replied before she turned back to see he was smiling again. It was a small, shy smile and something about it made her want to see more of it. âSheâs been eating nothing but fried food for days.â
âNuh-uh,â Susie huffed as she appeared at her side again. âI had grapes yesterday. And a banana on the plane.â
âThe plane was three days ago,â Molly reminded her while numbers flashed on the cash register screen. âAnd I promise, a few leaves wonât kill you.â
âIs the pear juice good?â Susie asked, turning back to look at the man ringing them up.
He nodded. âI like the carrot best,â he said after a moment. âBut the pear is very good.â
âCan I try carrot instead?â
Molly opened her mouth to protest and then looked back at him. âIs that a problem?â she asked, a few crisp notes already between her fingers, ready to pay. âIf it is, sheâll be fine with pear.â
âOh, n-no,â he stammered just a little, shaking his head again. âItâs all the same price.â
She smiled again. âThen I guess weâll try one pear juice and one carrot juice, please?â
He read off her total and made her change before he turned back to the bar and began dropping ingredients into two blenders. Susie climbed up onto one of the stools and watched with her chin on her hand. âYouâre not even measuring,â she said, impressed, after a moment.
He turned over his shoulder and Molly caught a peek of one of his dimples. âIâve made a lot of these,â he said. âI know how much goes in each without having to measure anymore.â
âDid you used to measure?â
âI did,â he nodded, returning his attention to the cold-pressed concentrate he was pouring into the green mixture for Mollyâs order. âVery, very carefully.â
Susie waited, watching with intense focus while he blended the drinks, and didnât speak again until heâd poured out two plastic cups and set them on the counter. âIâm Susie,â she said with a big smile when he handed her a straw.
âHi Susie,â he said warmly. âIâm Billy.â
âHi Billy,â Susie beamed before she pointed to her right. âThis is Momoââ
âMolly,â she cut in gently. âMy name is Molly.â
âRight,â Susie plowed ahead. âOnly I call her Momo. We just moved here fromââ
âOh, let me guess,â Billy was still grinning when he offered Molly a straw for her juice. âIs itâŠRussia?â
Susie giggled and shook her head. âNope.â
âHmm,â he pretended to think. âChina?â
She laughed harder like this was the best gag sheâd ever been in on. âNo!â
âOh, I know,â Billy snapped his fingers. âYouâre from Australia!â
âWeâre from America!â Susie cried, crashing into Mollyâs side with another peal of giggles.
âIâm sure he never wouldâve guessed that Susie Q,â Molly laughed and bent down to kiss the top of her head.
When she looked up, the tops of Billyâs ears were a delightful shade of pink. He caught her eyes again for just a moment before he glanced down at the counter and picked up the nearest towel to wipe at a spot that wasnât there. She was just about to try and think of something else to ask him when the swinging door on the back wall moved and a middle-aged man popped his head around the corner.
âBill?â
Billy looked up and over his shoulder. âHalf-six already?â
The other man smiled. ââFraid so.â
âOh,â Molly looked at her watch. Sure enough, six-thirty on the dot. âAre you closing?â
âWeâll be open again at eight Tuesday,â the man said from the doorway.
âI canâI can walk you out,â Billy said. The words came out in a rush before he turned another shade of pink and added, âSo I can lock the door. Behind you.â
âSure,â Molly nodded and ushered Susie off her stool. âLetâs go, Q, theyâve got work to do.â
âCan we come back?â Susie asked as they made their way toward the door and Molly was surprised to find she wasnât asking her. Sheâd directed her question to Billy. âTo see Tuna? And have another juice?â
âOf course you can,â Billy said kindly and then paused with his hand on the door. âYou can say goodbye to Tuna if youâd like.â
Susie did like. She ran over to where Tuna was still lounging and gave her ears a good rub before she placed a kiss on the top of her head. âIâll come back and see you later,â she said quietly. âMaybe tomorrow.â
âWeâre only a short walk away,â Molly reminded her with a light laugh as she returned to her side. âIâm sure weâll be back all the time.â
âGreat,â Billy said brightly before he coughed again, and his smile dimmed slightly. âFor business. I mean. Itâs nice to have regular customers.â
Molly smiled and felt an unexpected twirl of interest and curiosity about the man holding the door for them.
âAnd friends,â Susie added before she popped her straw back in her mouth and took a long drink. âItâs nice to have new friends, too.â
âYes,â Billy nodded. âYes, of course it is.â
âAlright sweetie,â Molly herded her through the door and back out onto the sidewalk. âLetâs go home.â She hitched her purse up onto her shoulder and followed her, turning back to offer Billy one more smile. âIt was very nice to meet you,â she said and held out her hand.
He was slower to take it than she expected, but after a moment, he extended his own so they could shake. His hand was large and rough with callouses on his palm and fingers, but his grip was gentle and warm and for the strangest moment, Molly found herself not wanting to pull away.
âN-nice meeting you, too,â he said finally, tripping on the words just a little before he let her go.
Susie held her hand and prattled the whole walk back to the house in between sips of her carrot juice. And to Mollyâs relief, there was no fighting about a bath and an early bedtime after theyâd unpacked another two boxes in Susieâs room before the sun started to dip behind the houses.
Feeling like she could fall asleep at any minute, Molly managed to keep herself awake long enough to run a comb through Susieâs wet hair and pull it back in a braid to keep the tangles at bay for another night before they took turns reading one of the books theyâd just set back on the bookshelves.
âWait,â Susie reached for her arm as she was about to lean over for a goodnight kiss. âIsnât it Saturday?â
Molly hid the urge to sigh. âWe can look it up in the morning, Suze.â
âBut in the morning, itâll be Sunday,â she said with her big, green eyes wide and pleading. âAnd thatâll be a new week. And weâll have missed this week.â
âOkay,â she gave in easier than she might have if she wasnât so tired. âOkay, the book is in my bag I had on the plane,â she said with a yawn. âIf you go get itââ
Susie was out of bed and bolted towards Mollyâs room before the request was finished. She returned a minute later with Your Pregnancy, Week-by-Week in her hands and climbed back under her covers. âWhat week is this?â
Molly closed her eyes and counted backward to her doctorâs appointmentâthe one that had confirmed all her fears and set all this change in motion. âUh, eleven weeks.â When she opened them, Susie had flipped the pages and was holding out the book for her weekly update. Molly cleared her throat. âIn your eleventh week of pregnancy, your baby is the size of a figâŠâ
She glanced over the top of the book as she read, watching with a smile how Susieâs eyes widened with each detail and how interest and excitement painted themselves so clearly over her little round face.
It hadnât been Mollyâs intention to share this news so earlyânot with anyoneâbut Susie had been listening when sheâd been on the phone with her doctor, trying to arrange for an international referral prior to the move, and was too smart to be lied to about something so important.
And Susieâd had enough people lie to her already in her short life. She didnât need to add Molly to the list.
âDo you hear that, baby?â Susie asked, leaning down to speak to Mollyâs belly. âYour hands and feet donât look like a duck anymore! But youâre still very small.â She looked up with another thoughtful expression on her face. âWhen weâre allowed to tell people,â she began slowly, choosing her words carefully. âCan I say Iâm getting a little brother or sister?â Before Molly could say anything, she rushed on. âI know Iâm not really going to be their big sister, butââ
âHey,â Molly reached out and ran her hand along Susieâs soft cheek. âOf course, youâre going to be their big sister,â she said firmly. âAnd youâre going to be a great big sister. You and me, Susie Q, weâre a team, right?â Susie nodded with a faint smile. âJust âcause our family doesnât look like someone elseâs doesnât mean itâs any less real.â
âI love you, Momo,â Susie said and wrapped her arms around Mollyâs neck, squeezing her tightly.
Molly set the book to the side and squeezed her back. She kissed the side of her head and blamed the rush of emotion stinging her eyes and nose on the little fig wreaking havoc on her body. âI love you too.â
Susie pulled back, her hands still on Mollyâs shoulders. âHow far do you love me?â
Molly grinned and got up slowly, flipping Susie onto her back so she could pull the covers back up under her chin. âI love you all the way up and around the moon.â
âWell, I love you up around the moon and back down to the dirt,â Susie replied. They scrunched their noses and rubbed them together before Molly stood and plugged in the nightlight. âMomo?â Susie spoke again when her aunt was almost to the door.
âYeah?â
âWeâre safe here, right?â
Molly felt her heart sink even as she forced herself to nod. âWe are,â she assured her. âI promise.â She crossed back to drop a kiss on Susieâs forehead. âIâm never going to let anything happen to you.â She lifted her eyebrows for confirmation. âYou believe me?â
Susie nodded. âUh-huh.â
âGood,â she kissed her again. âGo to sleep, Q. Weâve got lots more unpacking to do in the morning.â
She turned the light off and left the door partway ajar. The unpacked boxes in her own room got exactly one momentâs consideration before she shook her head and pulled back the sheets and blankets of her bed.
Molly went through her nightly ritual of brushing her hair and teeth, pulling on lighter, breathable pajamas, and climbing into bed with her phone. The Oregon State Offender Search website was still top of her favorites and the search auto-populated with Danielâs case number and information when she tapped the screen.
She inhaled slowly and read through all the details just like she did every night, not allowing her breath to leave her completely until she got to the last two lines.
Current Status: Awaiting Trial
Current Location: Coffee Creek Correctional Facility
Coffee Creek Correctional Facility.
Wilsonville, Oregon.
Almost 5,000 miles away from her and Susie in their new town.
Almost far enough to feel safe.
Almost.
***
They settled into a nice, easy routine in their first few weeks in Faringdon. Susie made friends with Fatima, a little girl who lived just down the road and whose mother, Tessa, had the kind of warm, welcoming energy that made it easier for Molly to agree to playdates.
It didnât hurt that Tessa was one of the teachers at Susieâs new school and promised to keep an eye on her in the first few weeks of the term.
Having a job that was 99% virtual made for an even easier adjustment for Molly. She checked in once in person in London to meet her new local teamâa sham of a meeting that was just an excuse for a mid-afternoon outing to a pub for chips and pints where, thankfully, no one batted an eye when she just ordered a ginger aleâand then returned to her usual routine of designing and facilitating trainings over Zoom.
The Blackbird Market quickly became part of their routine too, which Molly could have expected as soon as Susie had laid eyes on Tuna. The cozy little shop with its fresh pastries and kind-eyed cashier was on the walk home from school and the perfect place to stop a few times a week for a treat.
âŠAnd if Molly found herself wandering over some mornings while Susie was still in schoolâŠ
âŠWell, that was fine too. That wasnât hurting anyone.
âWhat are you working on today?â Billy asked on one such morning in the middle of September. He set down a cocktail napkin and a bright, sweating glass of green juice with a straw at the little outdoor table.
Molly looked up and squinted in the sun for a moment before she tapped her sunglasses down from her head and smiled. âThank you,â she took a sip before she answered. âIâm working on a conflict management training,â she said and closed the notebook where sheâd been scribbling her ideas. Billyâs eyes crinkled just slightly at the corners, urging her to go on. âThereâs a big leadership conference coming up for my firm,â she explained. âOne of the sessions Iâm building is on how to coach their team members on poor performance in a more positive manner.â
He smiled, still looking a little confused. âSo, youâre teaching peopleâŠhow to be cross with their employees?â
She grinned back up at him. âIn a way that doesnât get them fired,â she nodded. âYep. Pretty much.â
âIâŠdidnât know they made jobs like that.â
She laughed. âIt does sound a little made up when you say it out loud, doesnât it?â
âNo, I didnât meanââ his face dropped as he shook his head. âI mean. I believe you.â
Molly fought the urge to put her hand on his arm. âOh, I know,â she assured him. âBut youâre right. It sounds a little strange. Especially when youâre talking to someone who's got a real job.â
âA real job?â he repeated with a light laugh as he went pleasantly pink. It was almost too easy to make him blush. âNothing so proper about just working in a shop.â
Molly took another sip of her juice. âYou also make excellent drinks,â she added before she glanced back over her shoulder at The Blackbird. âAnd itâs a lovely shop. How long have you worked here?â
âOh, uh,â his face scrunched as he considered her question. âThreeâŠyears? About that? Since Iââ he stopped and coughed before he nodded. âYeah. About three years.â
âDo you like it?â
He moved his broad shoulders in a shrug. âSâpose so,â he nodded. âThe owner, Paul, heâs a friend ofâŠwell, of a friend. Heâs been very kind to me.â
Molly thought it was a little odd, the way things like that would slip into Billyâs speech sometimes. That it was worth noting when people were kind to him, or in general. She thought it might have had something to do with his occasional stutter or the particular way heâd rub his nose when he was flustered. Almost a twitch or a nervous tic.
Touretteâs? sheâd wondered once or twice. Autism?
Whatever it was, it didnât take away from how kind Billy wasânot to just her and Susie, but to everyone. He was sweet and thoughtful in how he spoke with all the customers, the owner of the shop, and even Tuna when he had to shoo her from one surface to another.
âHow are you liking it here so far?â he asked.
âItâs been great,â Molly acknowledged. âI keep meaning to get out and wander a little moreâsomething beyond just the playgroundsâbut I havenât made time yet.â
âYouâve been to the horse at least, havenât you?â
âThe chalk horse?â she pointed over her shoulder, vaguely toward the north where she thought sheâd seen the turns for it. Billy nodded. âNo, not yet. I thought Iâd take Susie some weekend, but things keep coming up.â She smiled. âAny recommendations on the best time to go?â
He blanched for a moment and then recovered. âOh, I donâtâerâI donât go up there. Anymore. Butâuhââ The fingers of his left hand twitched, and he shook his head. âFrom what I remember itâs, um, itâs nice at sunset.â
âSunset,â she repeated, feeling a little disappointed that he hadnât offered to be their tour guide. âThat does sound nice.â
That was the problem with trying to make friends as an adult. How do you just ask someone to hang out with you without it sounding like a date?
She got another chance only a few days later when she took Susie to one of the local parks with a walking trail that wound through the trees. With the long-anticipated return of her energy that came with the beginning of her second trimester, Molly was thrilled to be able to do more than one activity per day without her body begging for a two-hour nap.
That Sunday afternoon was a welcome change from the dreary way the week had ended. With just the slightest mossy-smelling breeze, a pale blue sky decorated with puffy white clouds, and trees that were just starting to turn yellow with the encroaching autumn.
Susie spotted him first and charged away from Mollyâs side without warning. âBilly!â she called, waving her arms wildly until he looked up from where he had stopped on the path. Heâd been runningâhis face was flushed, and his gray t-shirt was dark in places and sticking to himâbut he brightened with a smile when he noticed Susie. She skidded to a stop a foot in front of him, scuffing her new white sneakers in the dirt. âHi!â
Billyâs dimples deepened predictably as he took a pair of headphones out of his ears and tucked the cord into the pocket of his running pants. âOh, hello.â
âWere you running?â Susie asked as Molly caught up to them.
âI was,â he nodded. âIâve just finished.â
âWeâre walking,â Susie said with confidence. âMomo says I have too many zoomies and I have to get them out.â
Billy looked mildly confused. âZoomies?â
âItâs like this,â Susie paused and then proceeded to shake each of her limbs in a different direction like sheâd been shocked by an electric current and then stopped abruptly. âIf I stay in the house with all my zoomies, I get crazy.â
He smiled. âI get like that too,â he assured her, and then raised his eyes to Molly. âHello.â
âHi,â she grinned and pulled Susie back to rest against her legs. âSorry, she didnât mean to interrupt your run.â
He shook his head. âNo, I was just finishing up. She didnât interrupt anything.â
âDo you want to walk with us?â Susie asked without warning.
âOh, I donât want to intrudeââ
âYou arenât,â Molly heard herself say before she could stop it. âWe just wanted some exercise. But if you've already finished upââ
He shook his head a second time. This time, a sandy brown curl dislodged and fell across his brow. He pushed it back quickly. âDonât think an extra lap or two would hurt.â
She felt a quick flash of relief when he fell into step with them on the trail. Susie walked between them, providing a nice buffer so Molly could walk with her hands at her sides without worrying about any unintentional brushing of fingers.
Susie asked about Tuna first, wanting to hear all about the mouse she chased out of the shop on Saturday and about the piece of twine someone brought her to play with. Theyâd just rounded the first corner when Susie abruptly changed the subject. âBilly, guess what?â
âWhat?â
âIâm gonna be a big sister!â
Molly stopped walking and felt her eyes widen. She fought the urge to clap a hand over Susieâs mouth and tell her to stop talking. But it was too late for thatâBilly had stopped walking tooâand anyway, that was ridiculous. It wasnât like it was a secret anymore.
And even if it had been, it wouldnât be in a few more months when even the loose-fitting clothes sheâd been wearing stopped hiding her changing figure.
Susie had continued walking, leaving a gulf between Molly and Billy. He turned to look at her first, his face an unreadable maskâsomething between confused and embarrassed, and if she didnât know better, Molly would have said he looked a little disappointed. âUmâcongratulations,â he said finally.
âThanks,â she replied with the tight-lipped smile that accompanied that particular expression of gratitude more often than not.
Another awkward silence stacked up between them before Billy spoke again. âSorry. Iâumâdidnât know you wereâŠâ he coughed. âUm. Married.â
Molly blinked. âMarried?â she repeated once before she shook her head. âOh, no, Iâm not married.â She held up her left hand and her empty ring finger like it was proof. âNo boyfriend either,â she went on, even as the little voice in her head told her that was probably enough. âJust me. Uh. Having a baby. By myself.â
Really, Molly, the voice in her head, the one that sounded too much like her mother, scolded. Thatâs more than enough.
âOh,â Billyâs look of confusion didnât quite vanish, but the disappointment was replaced by surprise. âGood!â he said and then immediately flushed bright pink. âSorry,â he rushed on. âI didnât mean good. I mean itâs notâŠâ he coughed. âItâs not good, is it?â Before she could answer, he raced on again, words lining up one after another to fall out of his mouth. âNot that itâs bad, either. I donât think itâs bad. I sâpose some people might butâbut itâs not. I mean. Unless it isâŠunless youââ he stopped himself when he finally looked up and at the look of surprise on Mollyâs face. âSorry. I donâtâŠuhâŠâ he swiped twice quickly under his nose. âSorry.â
âNo, no,â she heard herself say and surprised them both with a laugh. âI think youâre probably rightâŠsomewhere in there. Itâs certainly something. I havenât quite figured out if itâs good or bad yet so.â She felt herself smile again. âIt seems weâre on the same page there.â
Billy looked like he was about to apologize again, but he stopped and slowly returned her smile. The left hand that had been twitching settled back at his side when Susie returned, having run back the ten yards sheâd made it before she realized they hadnât followed her. âCome on, slowpokes!â she exclaimed and took Mollyâs hand to drag her along to resume their pace.
And Billy kept walking, so Molly kept walking, and that was that.
Billy worked most days at the Blackbird. He lived in the apartment next door above the bakery and without realizing it, Molly had started looking for him every time she went into town.
When he had time to chat, he told her stories about the town, filling her in on bits of history all the locals carried with them like trinkets in their pockets. He had an amazing memoryânot just for the kinds of juice she and Susie liked to order, but for a million little anecdotes of ancient, silly feuds between families and what the oldest buildings in the square were used for and why.
He was a calming presence. Kind, friendly, and soft-spoken, and with something about him that made her feel safe when he stopped to talk to her. Someone who didnât make her heart clench or a sweat break out on the back of her neck when Susie ran over to say hello.
But when Molly stopped into the market for apples and some milk late one Thursday morning, she could tell right away that something was wrong.
Billy looked terrible. His eyes were red-rimmed and painfully matched his chewed-on, swollen lips. There was a notable tremor in his right hand and the left twitched up toward his face, fingers curled tightly in a fistâthe knuckles as red as the space beneath his nose that theyâd rubbed raw.
The juice bar behind the counter, usually so clean and orderly, was a mess of juice and scattered ingredients, and measuring cups and spoons littered the cutting board.
Molly had only just crossed the threshold when a roll of change split and the coins went scattering all over the place. âIâm sorry!â he exclaimed, much louder than he needed to with just a few waiting customers. âIâIâm sorry, Mrs. CarrollâI justââ
The old woman heâd been waiting on smiled kindly and waved a hand. âItâs alright, dear,â she said with a weak chuckle. âIâve got all the time in the world.â
Paul appeared in the doorway behind the counter as Billy bent to gather the change that had spilled. âBill,â Molly watched as he put a light hand on Billyâs back and spoke in a low voice. âWhy donât you let me finish up here,â he suggested. âGet some air.â
Billy shook his head as they stood up together. âN-no, itâs fine, Paul. Itâsââ
âItâs alright,â Paul assured him. âI shouldnât have asked you to come in today,â he said and gave Billyâs shoulder a brief squeeze. âIâve got it sorted.â
âIâm sorry,â he said quietly, and the way his voice broke just slightly made Molly drop her eyes and pretend to look for something in her purse. âIâm justââ
âNo, I understand,â Paul said when the words got stuck on his tongue. âJust get some air,â he advised a second time. âClear your head, and weâll see you back here in the morning.â
Molly looked up in time to see Paul give Billyâs cheek a quick, fatherly pat before the younger man nodded once and took off for the back of the shop through the swinging door. Paul offered a sympathetic look in his direction before he shook his head and bent to collect the rest of the change. He rang out the two people in line before Molly stepped up with her small grocery order and a handful of silver coins that had rolled out from behind the counter. He gave her a tired smile. âAlright, Mol?â he asked like theyâd known each other for ages.
She smiled. âCanât complain,â she said with a shrug before she let her smile slip. âIs Billy alright?â
Paulâs expression tightened. âBit of a bad day for him, Iâm afraid,â he admitted. âI didnât want to call him, but Roslyn called in and, well,â he shrugged. âItâs a blessing we havenât been busier. I should be able to handle the place on my own for the rest of the day if it stays like this.â
âBut is he alright?â she repeated. Because, of course, she wanted the Blackbird to run smoothly, but that wasnât what had twisted her stomach with concern. âHe didnât look very good.â
Paul shook his head. âNot really my place to explain, love,â he said after a moment. âBut if you see him when youâre on your way home, tell him itâs alright, would you? Iâm not upset or anything.â
Molly paid and nodded. âSure,â she assured him. âNo problem.â
The park where theyâd taken to walking together on Sundaysâjust by accident, by happy coincidence, three Sundays in a rowâwas not really on the walk home. Still, Molly found herself wandering in that direction anyway. She told herself that if she didnât find him there, she would just go home. But with her work caught up for the morning, she had at least a few hours before her next call, and Molly knew herself well enough to know that if she had the time, sheâd keep looking for him.
She didnât have to look far. Billy was sitting on one of the benches by the duck pond where Susie loved to throw seeds and grapes and practice making her quacks as realistic as possible. His left hand was still curled against his mouth and as she got closer, Molly could see that he was chewing on the cuticle beside his thumb. She came around the side of the bench slowly and waved, forcing her face into a friendly smile when he looked up. âI thought that was you,â she said cheerfully, trying to keep her tone as light and unbothered as possible.
The tic returned, forcing him to swipe roughly under his nose before he shifted on the bench, trying to hide his face. âHi, Molly,â he said quietly.
She felt her heart squeeze a little as she motioned to the empty spot on the opposite end of the bench. âMind if I sit?â
He let out a sound that was more of a choked, joyless chuckle than anything else, but he nodded once before he rubbed his nose again. They sat in silence for just long enough for Molly to consider broaching half a dozen topics that were just as quickly discarded before he mumbled, âMâsorry.â
She turned slightly to face him. âWhat are you sorry for?â
âFor being likeââ he twitched again. âFor being like this. I donâtâIâm not usuallyââ
âI donât think itâs anything to apologize for,â she said gently, trying to choose her words with care so as not to further upset him. She waited another moment before she cleared her throat. âDid something happen?â
âIâuhââ he coughed and shifted again on the bench, moving to fold more in on himself. His arms crossed over his midsection. âTheyâre a few days behind on a refill for the tablets I take,â he admitted. âAnd I had to go seeââ he stopped and shook his head. âI donât have to go,â he corrected himself. âItâs the day I goâI usually go see my brother. Heâs at. Um.â He sniffed hard and swiped at his nose again. âBullingdon. Itâs a p-prison,â he stuttered. âItâs not far from here.â
Molly nodded slowly and swallowed hard. Hoping that if Billy ever did look at her, heâd see sympathy, not pity. âI think thatâd make me have a bad day, too.â
Billy shook his head firmly. âHe just. He says things sometimes. He doesnât mean them. He justââ another twitch. âHe hates it there and I canâtâI canât do anything to get him out and I justââ He ground his teeth together, clenching his jaw into a tight square.
She waited to see if heâd go on, but he didnât. Part of her wanted to ask what his brother had done to end up in prison. Another part wondered if this was how Billy felt after a one-hour visit, maybe it was for the best that his brother was behind bars. She coughed lightly again. âI have a brother, too,â she admitted and then offered a small, sad smile when he finally glanced her way. âHeâs not very kind to me, either.â
Billyâs forehead wrinkled slightly in confusion. âWhat did heâŠâ
âHe never hurt me,â she shook her head. âNot like that. But when we were younger, he..." she paused and pursed her lips. âHe had a talent for trouble,â she said after considering how she wanted to phrase it. âAnd he usually dragged everyone around him into it with him.â
If it wasnât for Matthew, Molly would have a spotless police record. She never would have broken her collarbone chasing after him across an icy rooftop. She wouldnât have lost her parentsâ trust by lying for him again and again. She wouldnât have been in that car accident when she was eighteen.
And she never would have met Daniel.
âI havenât seen him in four years,â she went on when she noticed that Billyâs hand had started to slowly uncurl from its fist. She didnât know why she was telling him any of this. She hadnât planned to. She hadnât planned on telling anyone here anything personal if she could help it. But Billy was listening. And he seemed calmer than he had when was talking about his own family. So she kept talking. âThe last time I did, he brought Susie to my apartment and asked me to watch her for the weekend, and thenâŠâ Her fingers fanned out like she was letting go of a handful of sand, ânever came back.â
When she looked over again, Billyâs brow furrowed deeper. âHe asked you to watch Susie?â
âSheâs his daughter,â she said with a small roll of her shoulders. âNot mine. Her mother left when she was just a baby and Matty tried to make it work on his own butâŠâ she shrugged a second time. âI donât know. I guess it was too much for him.â
âI just thoughtâŠâ he trailed off and started again. âWhen she called you âMomoâ that was justâŠAmerican.â The edge of his lips spasmed in just the briefest smile. âLike how we say âMum.ââ
She smiled and shook her head. âNo, she started calling me that when she was about four. Momma-Molly,â she clarified. âBut Momo is faster.â
âItâs sweet,â he said softly. âSheâs a very sweet girl,â he added. âI canât imagine anyoneâŠâ his throat bobbed as he swallowed. âNo, thatâs not true. I guess I only wish I couldnât imagine.â Another silence passed between them before he looked up again. âSheâs lucky she has you.â
Molly sniffed back the sting behind her nose and smiled. âYour brotherâs lucky to have you, too,â she said softly. âIâm sorry if he doesnât make you feel like it.â
âItâs nice of you to say,â Billyâs jaw tightened briefly. âDoesnât make up for how it makes meâŠfor how I was at the shopââ he shook his head and looked down again. âGod, Paul must beââ
âNo, no,â Molly reached out and covered his hand with hers. âPaul is fine,â she promised. âIâm sure heâs worried, but heâs not mad at you. Everything is okay at the shop.â
He looked over where her hand rested on top of his and Molly felt frozen. Take your hand back, her brain hissed at her. Apologize for touching him without asking. But before either of them could move or say a word, a cell phone started to buzz and they both jumped, negating the need for Molly to do anything more than let Billy reach for his pocket.
She folded her fingers together in her lap as he studied the screen and visibly deflated with relief. âOh, thank God,â he mumbled and ran a hand over his face.
Molly glanced back over. âGood news?â
âJust the chemist,â he said as he tucked his phone back into his pocket.
âTheyâve got what you need?â
Billy nodded and got abruptly to his feet. âI should reallyââ
âYeah, of course,â she nodded and made a move to stand, surprised when he offered her a hand. âThank you.â He helped her upâthe combination of his gentle pull of her hand and her standing on her own with too much momentum nearly sent her careening straight into him. She stopped herself just before they made contact and she laughed, trying to wish away this sudden, inconvenient fluttering in her chest. âSorry,â she said before she tilted her head to one side. âCan Iââ she paused. âIâm sorry,â she repeated herself and blurted out the thought that had been chewing at her since sheâd first walked into the Blackbird. âBut you seem like you could use a hug. Can Iââ she stopped again. âIf thatâs too forward, please tell me. I donât want to make you uncomfortable. ButâŠâ she shrugged. âI donât know. Iâm American. We hug our friends when theyâre having a bad day.â
âUm.â He looked more surprised than uncomfortable. âIâuhâyeah,â he said finally. âThatâsâŠgood.â
Molly smiled, feeling reassured that she hadnât just overstepped, and pulled him in for a squeeze. It took a second for him to respond, but his arms folded around her waist and fit her against him like a puzzle piece clicking back into its rightful place.
It was a challenge not to sigh in relief at the feeling of being enveloped by his broad chest and strong arms and warm, safe, comforting smell. She felt him tip his chin and press his face against her shoulder and she wondered, for as long as it felt that sheâd been hugged and held by someone who made her feel so safe if it had been even longer for him.
He let go first and stepped back, swiping once under his nose, but without the harshness from before. âUm. Thank you,â he said. âThat was nice of you.â
âWell, maybe I needed a hug too,â she shrugged her shoulders before reaching back to pick up her purse and grocery bag. âSo thank you.â Billyâs smile was slow to spread over his face, but it got there eventually. Molly pointed to his dimples with another grin. âThere it is,â she said with a nod. âWasnât going to let you go until I saw a real smile.â
He laughed lightly before he sobered. âI mean it, Molly,â he said quietly. âThank you. For checkinâ on me.â
âThatâs what friends do, Billy,â she reminded him before she reached out and gave his shoulder a squeeze. âNow go get your prescription and feel better.â
âI will,â he nodded. âPromise.â
That night after dinner, Susie pulled down one of the recipe books and pointed to the page with cinnamon apple hand pies. They made enough that she could bring them in to share with her class.
And Molly made sure they made a few extra so she could bring them to the Blackbird to share with Billy.
He could fuck up my life
what day of the week do you read most fic?
monday
tuesday
wednesday
thursday
friday
saturday
sunday
any / all weekdays
any/ all weekend
literally everyday
*pls rb for wider sample*
.: Trapped Under Ice :.
Fem!Reader x Eddie Munson
Summary: Winter in the Midwest is killer and Eddie can't stand a freezing night alone! Now that you're back in his life after a brief falling out, you're the person he calls for comfort: His pretty best friend who he's been harboring a crush on since you were kids.
Warnings: 18+ mature content (minors DNI!!) mentions of a deceased grandparent, best friends to lovers/ years of yearning, smoking, classic one bed trope, confessions, Eddie accidentally makes reader cry, sloppy first kisses, sneaking around, fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it up, folks) Eddie and Reader are both cum eating nasties that cuddle afterwards <3
word count: 9.3k (pheww.. hope you guys love a slow burn hehe)
Childhood summers and holidays were for spending time with the grandparents. Both of your parents worked long hours, so it was pretty much a default that they would be the ones to watch you after school as well.
Your grandfather knew Wayne from being his supervisor at the plant, fully aware of the custody situation with his nephew. The family kindly offered to watch his young nephew until his day shift ended.
Back in elementary school, there wasn't a care about expectations or social pressures based on who you surrounded yourself with. You were thrilled that you had suddenly had a playmate every day.
Just you and your "bestest friend" Eddie.
As time went on, you both found different ways to spend your summers and after school. There were other things you'd rather be doing than hang from the trees in your grandparentâs backyard, filling your days with whimsical play.
Well, maybe only you grew up from days of whimsical play.
How giddy you would get, seeing Eddie in the hallways in passing to your respective classrooms. The two of you would be able to start new games at recess and continue them after school. You'd get antsy at the end of the day, a young mind filled with ideas for your stories that you just needed to tell Eddie about.
"Youâre supposed to be the princess!â Eight year old Eddie Munson yells, as you two ran around the yard with cardboard shields and swords. Eddie had brought over his handmade set last weekend and you just absolutely had to make one of your own. Saving you from the fierce dragon was one of his favorite games. It was a bit confusing to him on why you wanted to be able to fight for yourself all of a sudden. âGirls can't be knights!" exclaimed the boy with a slight lisp through his missing two front teeth. "Yes they can!" You shout back at Eddie while proudly holding your longer paper towel roll sword. You towered over the boy with a buzzcut, despite being a whole year younger than him. "Says who?" Eddie spat, rising on his toes to catch up on those few inches you had ahead of him. In all his well loved fantasy books, the damsel was always in distress. You were a damsel so it was his job to save you from distress as your strong and brave knight. "Says me!" You declare, rising on your toes to get that height advantage back. Eddie couldnât stay that worked up about it though. All the games you made up together, playing pretend for hours, it was his favorite part of the day.
Because he was a year older than you, he was always in the grade above you. When it came time for him to enter middle school, everything changed. Eddie got into heavier music and spent his after school time at a social gaming club where other storytellers gathered. A babysitter was no longer necessary. Next thing you knew, your meetups consisted of mere acknowledgements from passes in the halls. You still remained friends through time, though it shifted to a primarily school-based friendship.
Of course you remained friends! Eddie knew some, if not most of your deepest secrets.
It was a surprise that this previous year was what you brought back together. He had to repeat a year as you entered your senior year, taking the same core classes together.
You found each other like magnets once again.
Eddie would slightly move his desk closer so heâd be able to talk to you in class. Heâd whisper something cheeky and youâd try not to snort while scribbling away lecture notes.
He knew you were ignoring him on purpose. Always such a good student, not wanting to miss anything that was written on the board.
Eddie liked the way you tried not to break into laughter, narrowing eyes that told him to stop and lips that flattened so the chuckle couldnât escape.
Eddie also liked that new dark berry lipstick you started wearing. He'd stop at your locker at the end of lunch, just watching you reapply the color in the small mirror you kept in there. Eddie would stand behind you with his back against the lockers, a side glance now and then to catch your lips in the small reflective circle you held up.
He wasnât as subtle as he thought he was. You caught on after the first hour you wore it, causing a small flurry in your stomach the way he stared at you all day.
In class, you'd give a small turn of your head to have eyes meet with his, causing a sudden clearing of his throat to pretend he was only looking down across the aisle at your notes and answers. You gave him the answers with a slide of your paper to play along, a roll of your eyes while trying not to get the teacherâs attention. The school day wasn't even over and you had caught Eddie multiple times.
He was persistent.
"Hey, before I forget," you turn to him as the bell rang. "I'm staying at my grandma's house this weekend," You start to say, handing Eddie a folded note. "-so, you can call. Y'know, if you want."
Eddie held the little bit of torn lined notebook paper, admiring the glitter pen written phone number he already knew by heart.
You two have changed so much through the years, it was a weird feeling when he thought about you assuming he didnât know the number to the house he spent his childhood in alongside yours.
-
Metallica's 'Ride the Lightning' album now blared through the bedroom of Eddie Munson. He had this idea that blasting the music at deafening levels would distract him from the fact that he was shivering under all the blankets he could find in his room.
He scoffed, hearing the screeching of electric guitars on the intro to the next song.
I don't know how to live through this hell Woken up I'm still locked in this shell Frozen soul frozen down to the core Break the ice I can't take anymore
Eddie couldn't take it anymore.
So with a moment's hesitation, getting ready to embrace the chill of the trailer, Eddie got up and scurried his way to the living room. Wrapped in his wool blanket, he walked right on by his tossed aside jeans that had the piece of paper you gave him. It stayed in the pocket, unnecessary, as his finger quickly punched in the number pad.
Can't move at all Screaming Can't hear my call I am dying to live Cry out I'm trapped under ice
"Hello?" You answer, your sweet voice directly into his ear.
"This shit's getting out of hand! " A voice cracked, making you pull back from the phone.
It was Eddie, recognizing instantly despite the lack of salutations. "What's up?" You smile, entertained by the annoyed hiss of his voice, only to be cut off.
"-What's up?" He mocked the pitch of your voice, "Have you looked outside? I'm f-freezing my balls off-f here!"
A hand was brought over your mouth to not laugh out loud. The same hand then went to push aside the lace-doily curtains of your grandmother's kitchen window. Snowfall had picked up since you last checked, gentle during dinner, but now you were seeing nothing but the start of a mild blizzard outside. The entire backyard was completely covered by a tall blanket of snow. It was getting bad.
Stepping away from the window, you lean on the counter, a finger playing with the curl of the attached chord. "Are you alone?" you ask if Wayne was with him, speaking into the phone again.
"Why? Wondering w-what I'm wearing?" His tone changed, you could just picture his cocky grin. Alongside his playfulness, you could also hear the sound of teeth chattering in his voice again.
"Wayne's not here. -Probably be home by the t-time this shit calms down." He paused, "-can I come over?"
Your end was silent until he heard a faint soft hum of contemplation.
"-C'mon... you're not gonna make me beg, are ya?" you hear him react to your pause.
"It wouldn't hurt to hear you say please," you tease Eddie.
"Really? I have to beg my way out of hypothermia?"
It would be nice to have some company. You loved your grandmother but she went to bed way too early, leaving you to entertain yourself for hours until you eventually tired yourself out. You could always do some weekend homework, but having your best friend over seemed like a better time
"I'm waiting," you harmonize.
You hear him huff with annoyance, making you grin wildly.
"Please, can I come over? Please, please, pleeeeeeeee-" His voice is mimicking a near dial tone sound. "-eeeeeeeeee."
"-Okay! Okay! Yes, you can come over!" you tell him to stop.
"Excellent." Eddie stops. "Would it be okay if... I slept over?"
You don't make him beg this time, already excited that he was coming.
"Sure, Eddie." you tell him. "I'd like that. "
-
Eddie braced the few steps from the front door to his van, cursing under his steaming breath as the engine sputtered to start. "C'monâŠ." he grunted with each turn of the key in the ignition, "Old piece of shi-" The roar of the engine made him jump in his seat, "There we go!"
He kissed the fingers that turned the key and placed it on the dash, "Thank you, gorgeous."
The vehicle's heat was on full blast, although not that much help in such a wide vehicle. His knuckles gripped white onto the steering wheel.
He made it to the house faster than you expected, probably from avoiding most traffic signals and dangerously going over speed limits. Eddie was very lucky to not have his old van slide on the icy road, but that cosmic karma caught up to him as he hopped out of the van and landed right into a mushy pile of snow-dirt sludge.
You could hear a "Shit!" shrieked and the slam of a heavy door from the edge of the driveway. Eddie brought his limbs close to his body, hands under arms, knees lifted high as he trudged through the freezing wind. Snowflakes were getting caught in his curls and eyelashes.
The front door you waited behind were like the gates of a warm haven to this weary traveler on his arctic quest. You opened it and shivers immediately crawled up your legs. The second he stepped in, you threw a towel over him like he was a charging bull. Eddie was chuffing and snorting, smothering his face into the fabric as you locked out the harsh weather.
You shushed him while trying to suppress your laughter, as he rubbed his face in it one last time. Eddie's hair was a complete mess when he popped out of the fluffy towel. It dried off the melted snow but he was still a bright pink all over his cheeks and nose.
He was slipping off soaked shoes, feeling the plush carpet under his mismatched socks. It was like he stepped into a memory, everything looking the same as it did ten years ago.
"Let's go look for some clothes that you can change into." You take the towel, then help brush aside the tangled mess of hair out of his face. Eddie jokingly went cross eyed, watching you pinch the longer hairs out of his bangs.
âEds, your face is gonna get stuck like that.â
He looks at you, keeping his big brown eyes at the inner corners, âLike what? You know I donât believe in those silly Old Wives' Tales.â
A roll of your eyes has him with a grin, shaking his head with a blink,, hitting the side of it to pretend to reset his vision.
Starting the walk down the hallway, you turn back and place a finger on your lips, warning him to be mindful of his steps. Heâs always walking with such flat, heavy footsteps. It was a dead giveaway as kids when you tried to sneak an extra treat from the cookie jar.
Youâre carefully tiptoeing past your grandmother's bedroom as he follows you into the storage closet at the end of the hall. A reach for the small string to turn on the light, you unexpectedly bump into Eddie's own extended arm. He was also reaching for the light.
"Sorry," You simultaneously say, closer than you thought you were in such a narrow space.
"Ladies first." He smirked, a bow of his head.
"Gee, thanks. " You scoff with a smile, again on your tiptoes to reach, while Eddie could have easily grabbed it. A bright click and you begin to search through bins of your grandfather's old clothes.
"Cute jammies." You heard, turning to see him take note of your nightgown with the pattern of tiny roses.
Raising a brow, you gave him a shady flick of your eyes over your shoulder. An up, down, up scan, you turn back to your task. "You're one to talk, Donald Duck."
Though he wore his leather jacket and denim vest, completely decorated with heavy metal patches and pins, there below was the grinning face of the classic Disney character scattered all over his bright red pajama pant legs.
"Touché" He playfully pouts with a nod.
After a momentâs worth of searching, you found the exact clothes you were looking for. âAha!â Long thermal underwear and an oversized knitted grandpa sweater may not be the most metal, but they would keep Eddie warm.
Taking him into your room and closing the door so you could converse with a normal volume, you hand over the clothes to Eddie. The quick touch of his fingers grazing yours felt like a zap of static shock.
"Shit, Eddie," you curse under your breath, taking his hand. Throwing the clothes on the bed, you quickly grab the other and clasp them together. "Your fingers are frozen!â
You hold his hands between your own warm palms and lower your head. Lips hovering barely an inch over his skin open to release a few hot breaths directly onto thick, rosy fingers.
âHow do you expect to play guitar with frostbite?" You raise your head to look at him again, still rubbing his rough hands.
"I-" he choked, a whirling feeling was shot to his stomach from the gesture.
The last time you held hands were as children, crossing the street together with your Grandma when she took you two to get chocolate ice cream cones on main street.
"I expect not that very well." He replies, a bit saddened when you drop them.
You were already on to the next thing, asking Eddie if he wanted something to drink.
"A beer?"
" Like you need a frosty bud light right now." You retort.
âOh, of course not⊠You know I only drink Blue Ribbon.â Eddie gave you a wink, making you roll your eyes again. He watches you turn to leave, âCareful, your face will get stuck like that!â
âJust get out of those wet clothes, Munson. You smell like a wet dog.â A light-hearted tease is thrown as you shake your head, exiting the room.
âOh, how I love it when you're mean to me, woman. Makes me all tingly in my chonies.â Eddie gets the last word in before you close the door. He saw his victory in the wide grin on your face, just through the crack of the closing door.
Eddie stands there, touching his fingers, staring at the door while you made your way to the other side of the house. It takes him a moment to collect himself, a longing sigh exhaled through his nose as he feels the evidence of your hot breath still on his silver rings.
Earlier, you told him to just throw his wet clothes in the hamper when he goes into the bathroom. Youâd get to the laundry in the morning since it was so late.
He found that the clothes fit him perfectly. A pull over his head, looking at himself in the mirror. Eddie smooths down the creases in the chest, feeling each ribbed knit of the sweater. The fabric was worn, loved. He remembers your grandfather wearing this sweater every year when it started getting cold out.
The smell of this home, the old cuckoo clock that echoed in the hall, the two of you sneaking around; it all takes him back. He canât help but smile as nostalgia fills his heart.
-
Eddie enters the kitchen, careful not to drag the chair's legs as he takes a seat across from you the table. He takes a sip out of the mug you placed there. It's a new flavor to him.
"What's this?" He asks, taking another sip, the look on his face is more intrigued than disgusted. He let the flavor sit on his tongue while hands hugged the source of warmth.
"It's just herbal tea with honey." You say, taking a sip from your own mug. "Grandma doesn't seem to have any hot cocoa."
"What kind of grandma doesn't have any hot cocoa?"
"Mine, apparently."
Eddie takes another sip, "Do you remember back in⊠'75 I wanna say? We had that snow day?"
Your head tilts, hoping Eddie would give you more detail about something that happened nearly a decade ago.
"We tried making that snow castle...?" he hinted.
"Hmp!" You gulp your tea, mid realization, "Yes, of course! Our Crystal Palace! We nearly caught pneumonia that day, we were out for so long." "We just had to finish building it." Eddie's smile is radiant, glad that you recalled one of his treasured memories. You both laugh, he continues, "-then your grandma dragged us in by our collars and forced us to drink all that hot chocolate! I think about it, like, every winter."
"The Crystal Palace or the hot chocolate?" You ask.
"Sometimes both." He shrugged, a smile into his sip.
You take a sip, too, creating silence in the kitchen as you turn your head to hide your blushing face.
Your first kiss was with Eddie in the Crystal Palace. Nothing risqué, just a simple kiss on the cheek to wake the sleeping princess. A purple grandma-made scarf was wrapped around your brave knight as a token of gratitude for breaking the curse of your century long slumber.
It was still in one of his dresser drawers, buried deep in the back to keep it safe.
âHowâs she doing?â Eddie refers to your grandmother, noticing a carton of cigarettes on the table. He helps himself, the stick hanging from his lips as you watch his fingers dig into the small matchbox next to the amber colored ashtray. The sulfuric smell of an ignited match instantly hits your nostrils.
You shrug as an answer, then take one as well. You lean over so he could light your cigarette too. âShe has her days.â You briefly say.
Thereâs no proper way to measure grief. You were still shaken up from it happening just in the spring. â-She really misses him. They were married for, like, forty years.â âDamn. Forty years? My folks couldn't even manage four." Eddie shakes the match, extinguishing the flame and flicking it into the ashtray. You watch as he takes a drag, that hand coming back to down next to his drink. His free hand then rubs the back of his neck, âIâm sorry I couldnât make it to the funeral."
The somber subject change has you silent in your seat. You take a drag of your own cigarette, leaned back. Reaching over to tap the ash that already built up on the end, the corner of your mouth lifts in a crooked, yet comforting smile.
âI really wouldâve- I wanted to go. I just had so much going on with yâknow, club and not graduating and stuff. I wish I was there to say goodbye." His smoke rises to the ceiling, the cigarette is more of an incense stick at this point. The hand that holds his mug of tea is slightly trembling. "Iâm sorry we had a falling out." He softly says, finally bringing that cigarette to his mouth. He inhales and you can hear a small sniffle. There's a gloss over his eyes but no sign of actual tears building up.
"Eddie," You take his hand over the table, thumb caressing over knuckles, "It's okay. I mean, Iâm at fault too. I shouldâve reached out when I didnât hear back. I know I kind of went M.I.A on our friendship these past few years, too.â Eddie squeezes the hand that comforted his, returning the assurance that it was okay. New friends, different paths, it was bound to happen.
"He always considered you family." You smile at his returned gesture, the pad of your thumb now caressing over the corners of his heavy rings.
"Really?" There was a look of disbelief on his face, like it was new information to him. "Seriously, Eds. Heâd ask about you, like, all the time. To the point where I even got annoyed.â You laugh, but you can feel your chest get heavy and cheeks get hot. You still canât really talk about your grandfather without getting overwhelmed.
Eddie looks at you with the wettest puppy dog eyes youâve seen, a blink and a tear could fall right into his tea.
âHeâd say,â You lowered your voice to match his scruffy tone, stubbing your cigarette so you could freely use your hands to impersonate your grandpa. âWas that Eddie I saw at the hardware store? That boy is getting too damn big. Why donât you invite Eddie over for Sunday dinner? Has Eddie asked you to prom yet? He hasn't? Well, why don't you ask him!â You both chuckle, droplets finally falling from eyes as the rising apples of your cheeks were the push you two needed.
What you two really needed, which was obvious to everyone else, was each other.
-
In the bedroom, Eddie pulls the sweater up over his head, revealing an old black t-shirt with the sleeves cut off.
"So... I'll take the floor?" He suggests while youâre turned around to fix the bedding.
"Don't be silly, we used to have sleepovers here." you replied without a thought to what you were suggesting. Eddie tried playing safe, not doing anything that could ruin your friendship.
Because that's all you were, right? Best Friends. If only he knew what was on your mind at this moment: A quick glance over your arm while the comforter was tossed up and thrown across the mattress, you caught the very end of Eddie pulling down the shirt that got tugged along with the sweaterâs removal. The bottom of his stomach burned an image into your brain. The room was dimly lit but it shone a spotlight right onto the trail of hair that disappeared down into his boxers. "Yeah, as tiny tots." He countered, not noticing that you were aggressively fluffing pillows because of him. "Pretty sure the bed won't be the same as it was thirteen years ago."
Almost an hour went by and you counted every one of Eddie's tosses and turns as he tried to get comfortable.
Though you didn't want to admit it, Eddie was right. The bed was not the same as it was all those years ago. Backs facing each other felt like the only appropriate position as you tried going to sleep. Anxious thoughts raced, your bodies have greatly changed since you last shared this bed. He wasnât that scrawny kid anymore. You thought about how he looked at the table earlier, the cigarette between lips that had no business being that pink and plump. Eddie's smile lines, the hairs on his upper lip from not shaving these past few days, the little scar on his forehead that peeked through his messy curtain of curls.
You thought about how rough his hands were when you held them on the lacquered wooden table, how he stuffed his thick fingers into the tiny slot of the matchbox-
Your breath hitched at the sudden realization.
Turning your head to peek over your shoulder, you see the moon's glow in his messy hair resting on the pillow. His head was still, you watched his breathing for a moment before lifting your chin above the shared comforter. "Eddie?" You chirp in the dark. The sound of your voice perks his ears, making him turn to look over at you with eyes that were also wide awake.
"Yeah?" his voice is deep and raspy when it answered your call.
You can see his big brown eyes sparkling even in the dark room, making you speechless for a moment, while he waited for you to speak again.
Eddie was gorgeous.
It brought a flutter to your stomach while you stumbled for something to actually say. You wanted to keep his attention.
Completely turning your body to face him, you whisper, "Are you still cold?" Talking to him. That only amplified the pulse in your body but you needed something to break that silence.
"Not anymore." He smiled, a thank you in his own way. "Are⊠you cold?"
"A bit." You lie, curling in on yourself with the blanket.
Being so close in this bed with him made your cheeks hot. Could Eddie sense your temperature and know you were lying?
"C'mere." You hear him beckon in a soft whisper, a clench in his jaw as you push your body up, chest pressed against his.
You adjust on the pillow again, lifting up your head up to place it on his exposed bicep. So close together, you could feel his heart beat drum at the same nervous rhythm as yours.
He was expecting you to press your back against him, hiding your sleeping face away while you let him hold you and bask in his warmth. Eddie always imagined himself being the big spoon, come the day you were to finally embrace each other in bed. Usually those imaginative visions consisted of the two of you in less clothing.
"Better?" He asked from the top of your head.
You adjust yourself once more, bringing your arm around to rest on his waist. "Mhm." You nod, which was more of a nuzzle into his shoulder.
He holds you by your lower back now, his once frozen hands were now hot enough that you could melt under his touch. It wasnât fair when that hand started rubbing your back, the spot where a bra strap should be. It made you blissfully sigh with eyes closed,
"Youâre so warm, Eddie."
Breathing on his chest, it felt nearly intoxicating being this close. Eddie made you feel light headed, weak in the knees.
"You smell different." you whisper. Eddie chuckles, âLike a wet dog still?â âI didnât mean that earlier.â âI know, itâs cool.â He smiles before curiosity has him asking you what you meant by âsmelling differentâ. "I meant that you smell more⊠grown up." Another inhale has you note faint cigarette smoke in his hair and a faded cologne that was mixed with his natural musk.
He blinked, blushing with eyes wide for a second after hearing you say that. "Is that good?"
He feels you nod your head to confirm, then that hand on his waist starts to move and sneak under the hem of his shirt. You're feeling the soft skin of his hips, sending shivers up his spine as you grazed your fingers against the surface, resting them on another part of his torso.
You shift your head up slightly, his chin on your forehead as your nose touches the underside of his jaw. Eddie's small patch facial hair coming in from under his chin tickled your brow. Across your head you could feel Eddieâs breathing, each inhale and exhale starting to deepen. Heâs probably asleep by now, you assume. Youâd drift off to slumber soon if you were to just close your eyes. Just close your eyes, you kept telling yourself.
Truth was, the second you put your body to his, you had this urge to just put your mouth on his flesh. A suck, a bite, anything. Your back molars tighten together, resisting the desire to open your mouth and lick that tempting pulse line up his throat. A carnal desire for Eddie? Is that what you were feeling? You cared so much for him, it was much more than that.
Impulses take over but theyâre gentle. Sweet. Again and again you slowly and lovingly kiss his neck.
Itâs the softest pressing of lips to his Adam's apple that takes him by surprise, awakening him to place a hand on your shoulder. He pulls back slightly to look at your face in the blue moonlight. Eddie's lips are partially opened, ears already flushed red. Before a word can be said, you pull yourself even further away, completely embarrassed.
"I-I'm sorry. I don't know -what- why I did that?" You were out of breath, trying to explain yourself in a panic. Your heartbeat was pounding between your ears, alongside the ache you felt in your lower region, feeling its faint murmurs upon the mattress where you sat.
Youâve kissed other people before but never have you had nerves like this run through your body after expressing such affection.
"Hey, it's okay." Eddie coos your name in the dark, reaching out for the light so he could see you. "It's okay. So what? You kissed me, it's okay."
"Oh my god, Eddie, it's not! You have no idea what youâre doing to me." You blurt out. "It's not just that kiss -my chest feels heavy, I canât breathe - you're not even doing anything to make me feel like this! You're just laying there and I just-" A mess of words spew out, not even sure what you were saying.
You stared at his lips before looking at him in the eyes once more, stuttering vowels as you were at a loss for words. Eddie's brows were slightly furrowed, making you feel nervous about your confession. He sees the tip of your tongue lick your bottom lip before opening your mouth to speak again.
"I need you, Eddie."
Hearing your own words, you thought they were pathetic. Desperate. The plead rang through your ears as Eddie still hadn't said anything.
Your heart feels twisted, like someone was wringing out an old rag.
Eddie then drops his head with a snort, following a hearty laughter that makes his head fall back. "What?" Why is he laughing? You look at his glowing face, it almost makes you want to cry.
"What??" You say again, this time punching his arm, trying to get him to stop.
Eddie grabs you by the wrist to pull you back down with him on the pillow, wrapping his arms around your head. You can hear his laughter rumble straight from his chest as you're pressed against it once more.
"I need you, Eddie." he mimics your voice, much like he did earlier on the phone.
"You're such an asshole." You growl, trying to push away with a hand to his abdomen. Your struggle to escape his entrapment causes a small tear to fall. He knows not to wrestle too hard with you, letting you go the second he hears a small crack in your voice. You wipe your cheek with the back of your palm as you sit up and turn away.
"Kiss me again." he says from behind, now in a serious tone.
He was feeling like hot garbage that he got carried away and made you cry. Please, please, kiss me again he wanted to say.
You shake your head no. "Why did you laugh?"
He bit his lip, "I don't know -I mean, I was -I'm kind of... shocked?"
"Shocked that I just stupidly told you how I felt?"
"It wasn't stupid. Listen, I'm the stupid one."
Your silence tells him to continue.
"I should have told you years ago. Instead, I made you cry because I laughed like a jerk after years of torturing myself."
He nervously chuckles, "Like, okay, you need me? I need you." Eddie pushes back his hair, overheating from finally confessing to you. His big hand drags down his face, squeezing his eyes shut with a grunt. "Christ. -how I need you, sweetheart."
There's a lump in your throat that melts once Eddie says those words. You give him a 'be serious' look and he shoots an 'I am' one right back.
"I need you." He furiously nods his head, bringing down his sweaty palm to wipe it on the blanket. "-And I need you... to get your ass over here and kiss. me. again.â
With a giggle, you begin to crawl back to Eddie. Nearly sitting in his lap, you showered him with kisses all over before sucking on his cute little cupid's bow.
Everything was sloppy, inexperienced. The smacking of lips was a little too loud while the two of you tried your best to stay quiet.
You weren't the only ones home after all.
Eddie laid back down with you on your side, slightly on top of him. A leg over his has your night gown bunched up, letting you press yourself onto his thigh. Each rub from under had you humming, then a soft moan in his mouth as he pulled you closer by your bottom. A hand squeezing your ass has you pressing harder against him.
He catches his breath for a second, pressing his forehead against yours so he could speak. "I want to try something."
"Yeah?" Your eyes were closed but they fluttered as you feel his hand slide up your dress. Eddie was approaching new territory for the first time.
His Princess has such soft skin, he thought to himself, as he's slowly caressing and appreciating every inch of his travel.
There was a twitch between your thighs as his calloused fingers crept closer to your mound. He goes right over it, making you shiver as you anticipate the next move.
Eddie presses a hand to your soft tummy, holding you there while he presses deep kisses onto your lips once more.
Heâs like an anxious racer at the starting line, cautious as fingertips pause right before the elastic under your navel.
Your lips feel him take in a deep breath.
Bang, the starting pistol goes off.
Eddie takes the plunge to touch you for the first time.
Fingers slide down under the thin fabric, you quietly moan into Eddie's mouth as you feel his hand holding you from below. The waistband of your panties is caught on one of his rings.
"So warm," his hot breath says on your lips, to then slowly start palming your wet pussy. âEddie.â You whine in his mouth.
Thatâs the first time he hears his name like that. Heâs getting the feel of your cunt, how wet youâve become just from his small touches, as fingers sow through your folds âUhm, do you feel that little bump on my-" A whisper turns into a gasp as right away, his palm and finger drag along your sensitive bud before you could finish your sentence âYeah, that.â You bite your lip. "Yeah? What about it?" Eddie cheekily grins. Eagerly looking at you, waiting for further instructions.
âKeep touching me there.â
Toes begin curling as his middle finger begins to rub gentle circles on your sensitive spot.
âHow's that?â Eddie asks, picking up the pace now. âMhm.â You whine from your throat, âyes. Just- just like that.â A buzzing builds in your body, you start to feel the slight tremors build in your thighs. He continues to rub, feeling your slick increase as he plays with your clit. You wrap your arms around his neck, hiding your face into his shoulder to quiet the moans you're not strong enough to swallow.
"More. Please, Eddie." You're coming undone, begging right in his ear.
Your neediness makes him hard, his cock pressing against his boxers. He'd want to feel relief soon, but for now, he just wanted to continue pleasuring you. Listening to how you wanted him to touch you, how he loved hearing you say his name in whimpers. Your breath hitched as he began inserting fingers to your entrance. âEddie. Ah- Eddie.â You moan as you take in the first of his thick fingers.
Say my name again, he repeats to himself. He continued fingering you, the bottom of his palm rubbing against your clit. Listening to your moans alone could get him off.
You start to buck your hips, fucking yourself harder with Eddie's hand. âAre you,â he gulps, âare you close?â A bite of your lower lip, eyes that were shut start slowly open to look at him through a half lidded gaze. You confirm with a nod.
âEddie -I want-" You whine, words were too much right now. You put a hand to his chest, and he halts, making you shudder at how close you were.
"I want you to fuck me now."
The way you lustfully look at him, it made his heart jump to his throat. Face and ears flushed red with how blunt you were about your needs.
âYes. I-I can do that.â
Eddie removes his hand, fingers coated with your slick. He brings it up to see it glisten, you watch the amazement on his face as he spreads his fingers to see the stringy bridge.
"Oh, here, I'll grab something-" You look to the side of the bed for the box of tissues, but when you turn back, Eddie has his fingers in his mouth, licking himself clean. Your jaw drops, you were not expecting that.
Your pussy trembled, seeing him audibly savor your taste. âDo all girls taste like peaches, or is that just you?â
âHuh?â You feel like a fool with your dumb, breathy response. You havenât even tasted yourself before and here was Eddie, licking his fingers clean.
âTry it,â he encourages, bringing two fingers to your lips. He doesnât force them into your mouth, but with the tips of his fingers touching your bottom lip, he didnât need to. You hold onto his wrist, steadying his fingers as you start to suck on them. They rested halfway on your tongue and youâre instantly hit with the sweet and salty combination of your juices and his spit.
Eddieâs breath hitched when he felt your mouth open once more to take his fingers to the far knuckle, your tongue sliding underneath.
âShit.â He hissed, his palm touching your chin before you slide your mouth back and release it with a subtle 'pop!'
You lick your lips, answering his question. âMm. Just me, Eddie.â
-
Standing up now, you're watching each other remove clothes from separate sides of the mattress.
It was a swift removal of your nightgown, leaving you in your underwear as you wait for Eddie catch up. You see his chest rising and falling. He swallows hard, seeing your naked body for the first time. His stare burns your cheeks, knowing very well that his mouth is watering from staring at your bare breasts.
A clear of your throat has Eddie looking back up at your blushing face.
"O-oh, right." He gets the hint, quickly taking off his pants and boxers with a forceful pull down to his ankles.
The room is quiet, but not from awkwardness. Youâre both admiring the young adults you've become, bodies lit by a single bedside lamp. You admire itâs warm casts of shadows over Eddieâs toned, naked body.
Thereâs a sudden chuckle from you that makes Eddieâs shift his weight from one foot to the other. âWhat?â He asks, trying not to get bashful as youâre staring at his exposed body.
You shake your head once with a smile, turning to look away for a second while your arms crossed over your chest.
âOh my god.â You mumble, looking back and then away again in disbelief.
âWhat is it? -is it me? Is it⊠him?â He notions to his cock, some worry in his tone.
You say nothing, again, a vague nod of your head. You're confusing him with that giddy look on your face.
âWhat the hell is it then?â Were you making fun of his cock? âDoes it look weird? Small? I know it kinda curves to the right but-â
âNo! God, Eddie! I just-â you stop his assumptions, realizing that you raised your voice in defense. You speak again with a lower volume.
âThatâs you not even fully erect? -like, youâre gonna get even bigger?â
Eddie watches the worry on your face from looking at his cock then back at his face, as another telepathic 'are you serious?' is sent.
He feels smug, biting he inside of his cheek, proud of himself even. âItâs gonna get bigger, sweetheart.â Eddie cooed.
The small shudder you release makes his cock twitch. This was definitely happening
You come around the corner after panties are shimmied down, laying the long haired boy on his back, swinging a leg over to straddle his waist. He cups your face, keeping you interlocked in a kiss as you grab his member from underneath you. His sensitive cock in your hands has Eddie moaning, the tip sliding along your folds.
His hands are on your waist now, a grip on your flesh tightening as you continue to toy with him. His stomach tightens with urgency, his moans through clenched teeth have him seething. He wants to shove himself right into you the second you start to align him with your entrance.
"Shh, Eddie." you tell him with a smirk, "we don't want this to be over before it's even started."
Your smirk instantly drops as you slowly start sitting on his cock, finally pressing him into you.
Sliding down inch by inch on his shaft, your eyes shut from the overbearing feeling. Everything about Eddie was bigger. You havenât taken him all in and youâre already being so stretched out. A whimper has you wrapping your arms over his shoulders, your faces buried into each other.
"It's okay." Eddie gently soothed you, his hand rubbing down the small of your back.
"You're doing so good" he says, kissing your down your neck to your sternum. "You feel -'sgood." His words are now slurred.
You were determined to take him all in. You wanted to take him all in. Eddie's hard cock now deep inside of you, you slowly start riding him. He grabs your waist, gasping as he feels how tight you are. "Oh, god, -ah -F-fuuuckk." he stutter and whines at the in and out movements.
"Yeah? That feels good?" You chuckle at Eddie becoming the whimpering one now. He feels your chuckle on his cock, little clenches that have his eyes squeezed shut, the vein in his neck protruding.
You force your fingers under Eddie's near bruising grip on your waist, having him interlock fingers with yours to now hold hands to hold you up.
Holding hands to cross the street, now holding them like this. Eddie's bigger hands, squeezing yours as he watches your breasts bounce in front of him. He thinks you're absolutely gorgeous like this, but he desperately wanted to know how you'd look coming undone underneath him. You're flipped over onto your back, Eddie still deep inside of you. You squeeze your lips shut, not wanting that loud high pitched whimper to turn into a loud moan. While hovering over you, Eddie looks down between your colliding bodies, hypnotized at his cock disappearing into you with each thrust into your pussy. Your pussy. Sweet and warm, now all his. His princess taking him so well.
Eddie remembers what you said earlier about touching that button right above your entrance.
With one arm next to your head, propping himself up, he reaches down with the other to play with it once more. It instantly makes your pussy clench tightly around his cock, eyes rolling back as legs wrapping around his waist to keep him in deep while he rubbed your clit.
"Eddie! -ah! Ah-!"
He leans down to silence you with a kiss, âBaby, we have to stay quiet, remember?"
You nod your head with eyes shut, desperately wanting to let your cries out.
Eddie sees the look on your face, switching off his aching arms to brush aside the hair that fell over your eyes "Oh, god, I know- I want to hear every sound you make. You sound so fuckinâ purdy right now."
âYeah?â You lovingly look into his eyes, something about his drawl just did something to you. Eddie did a good job of hiding it in everyday conversation, rarely ever did you hear it.
He was already filling you up so well, making you react with every pumping movement of his cock. You find the strength to clench your walls around him again, making him now gasp and try not cry out from pleasure.
Eddie lowers himself to your chest, mouth against the soft bosom that muffled his grunts. You hold his head between your breasts while his arms are wrapped around your lower back to hold you in place while he rapidly impaled into you.
"I- I'm -fuck. -so close." He confesses with each breath.
"Wait for me," you tell him, going mindless in the rhythmic pounding. "Can you hold on just a little longer?"
He nods while looking up at you, big brown eyes full of adoration. "Good boy," unconsciously escapes your mouth as he complies. Your hand running through his hair, a deeper spot he reached has the caress turn into a sudden grip of long wavy locks. He grunts at the praise and at you tugging his hair. "Yes!â You gasp, âThere! Harder." You instruct.
Eddie's arms hold you steady, keeping you still while with more force, pounds right into your pussy to catch you up to the edge. He's close, about to release.
"Yes, yes!" You moan, more stimulation on your pulsing clit as it slams against his base. His balls are slapping against your skin, filling the room with amplified sex sounds. You couldn't care about that volume restriction now. Eddie has your legs shaking, fists tugging at his hair. "Donât stop, donât stop. Please!â you beg
"I'm gonna- fuck, I can't anymore. I'm gonna-" He grunts.
âEddie Iâm-!â you cry, unable to keep quiet as you've reached your climax. His hand is quickly brought up over your mouth to cover your orgasmic moan, quickly removing himself to spill his seed. Your eyes make contact as you simultaneously cum. Your pussy pulsing, making you absolutely fall apart as your tongue touches the underside of the silver rings.
Eddie was harshly biting his lower lip while white streams shoot out from his cock, decorating your thigh with grunts as he empties himself. You're heavily breathing through your nostrils, Eddie's hand was still over your mouth.
âSorry, baby.â he says, letting go of the grip on your cheeks, kissing the area he didnât mean to squeeze so hard.
His other hand still holds your leg, his thumb pressing into your soft thigh to get a better view and admire his load next to your swollen pussy.
Eddie gives you another kiss and you smile, using whatever strength you had left to look down at your beautiful body as he grabs the nearby crocheted covered tissue box.
Grabbing a handful of the soft tissue to clean you up, Heâs not quick enough. It was your turn to taste Eddie, quite literally giving him a taste of his own medicine.
His jaw drops, just as expected, seeing you swipe up his warm cum with your fingers and bring it to your mouth.
âSweetheart, wait-â
Itâs too late, the mess on your fingers hits your tongue and you taste Eddie.
âHow- how is it?â He watches your finger pull out of your mouth, a few licks to the side where the cum dripped down.
"Hm, itâs different than mine. See for yourself."
You do the same as he did before, placing your fingertips on Eddieâs bottom lip. He tastes himself, sucking on your fingers like you did his. Heâs lost in the wonders of the thought of your tastes combined. The sweetness, faint salty and earthy flavor.
Eddie's tongue licks the parts that trickled down. You cleaned off his fingers, it was only fair.
You giggle and tell Eddie he looks like a puppy right now, lapping the rest of his cum off your fingers.
"Such a good boy." You tease, remembering you called him that earlier. Using the licked clean fingers, you tickle under his chin, âWhoâs a good boy? Who's a good boy that licked up our cum?â
âYeah, yeah, cut it out.â He swats your hand with a hard blush.
-
Resting on Eddie, you trace the thin legs of his black widow spider tattoo with your last few moments of consciousness. Sleep was finally taking over, you felt it in the way your body relaxed into his side.
He's playing with your hair, wrapping the locks around fingers before dropping them and starting another coil.
This silence was nice. Warm and fuzzy, like you were swimming in pool of silky cashmere.
His hand is then placed at the back of your head, you can feel your eyelids start to get heavy.
Something is mumbled above you, too tired to comprehend what it was exactly.
"Hm?" you make a noise, not being able to stop your eyes from closing.
"Are you asleep?" Eddie speaks up again.
"What is it?" You say with eyes closed, your cheek squished onto his bare chest.
A kiss to the top of your head tells you not to worry about it. "I'll tell you in the morning." He chuckles. "Go back to sleep, sweetheart."
With your stubbornness, of course you didn't want to wait until morning. You lift your head up, sleepy eyes looking right at Eddie as the point of your chin presses into his chest. "What did you say, Eddie?"
He snickers at your furrowed brows and tired, glossy eyes. Eddie strokes the back of your head, each pet erasing the small lines your face made.
"I said," he pauses, there was no taking back what he was about to say.
Then there it was. Three words he was dying to tell you after being silent all these years. The first of many upcoming,
" I love you. "
"Oh." was all you said. " I- "
"-You donât have to say it back right now. I just want you to know that I do." "When did you-?" "When did I know?" He exhales with a lip trill before his free shoulder raises in a small shrug. "I guess.... I kinda always knew? I'd wake up and want you to be the first person I talk to."
Eddie watched as you pout, like you were reacting to something cute instead of him handing you his heart.
"What? C'mon, don't laugh..." "I'm not laughing!" you grin, accidentally chuckling. You squeeze your lips shut and Eddie scoffs with a roll of his eyes "You literally are! Right in my face, babe!"
You take a deep breath, composing yourself, as you bring your tucked away arm up to cushion your chin on the backside of your palm. "I'm not laughing." You repeat, a firm shake of your head.
Eddie gives you a 'be serious' look and you shoot an 'I am' one right back. He told you you don't have to say it back right now, but you ponder on his response. He's always known? This quick moment of thought, you start to think about when you realized you were in love with Eddie. Was it the way he fixed your hair when you went out for a walk together on a windy day? You'd be rambling on about your current interests and he'd stand there before you, one hand in his leather jacket pocket while the other tucked the strands behind your ear. Eddie would always be standing where he faced the sun, always squinting when you saw him on sunny afternoons. He's squinting so you can turn your back to the sun and comfortably continue on with the conversation.
Little things. The most minute details of your everyday, but they showed how much Eddie cared for you.
Your need for Eddie was beyond what you originally thought.
You loved him, so much. "Eddie," You catch his attention, he gives it to you undivided. Your breath hitched, lifting up your chin from its resting spot. Your expression softens, you'll never get over the way his chocolate button eyes can just make you melt.
"I love you too."
-
You hear chatter from around the corner as you step into the kitchen. You still had some sleep in your eye, rubbing it away with your knuckle as slippers shuffled across the tiled floor. You were exhausted from last night, surprised you could even walk. "Morning," you greet your grandma, a side hug while she's standing in front of the stove. "Good morning." she pecks your cheek like always, "-sleep well?" "Mm." You groggily shrug, giving her a vague answer. "Gooood morning." Another voice announces in the kitchen. Eddie was already sitting at the table, a plate full of pancakes in front of him, completely drenched with maple syrup. "Morning." You smile, seeing Eddie's messy morning mane. You thought he was still in bed when you left, thinking it would give you time to tell your grandma that Eddie spent the night.
They were acting like old chums so it's safe to assume she didn't mind. She was lively this morning, even. Humming a song while she plated pancakes for you. You take your serving before making your way over to the table.
Your grandma's back is turned so you bend down sneak a kiss with Eddie. His lips are sticky sweet, making you giggle as you rub his back before taking the seat next to his. "So you needed homework help last night, Eddie?" Your grandma inquires, turning off the stove and walking over with two mugs. "Yeah, it was kind of urgent. You know how math was never one of my strong suits. Sorry my arrival was so unannounced." He was so casual, explaining his presence to her while you smothered your pancakes in syrup like Eddie.
She places the drinks in front of your plates, "Oh, it's fine, Eddie. Seeing you this morning was such a pleasant surprise." Your grandma smiled.
Eddie drops his fork and looks into the mug, "I thought you didn't have any cocoa?" He licked his lips, getting ready to indulge in that rich, chocolate beverage.
"I don't bother with that ridiculous pre-made stuff. I prefer to make it myself." Grandma proudly spoke.
" I can see why." He swallows a big gulp, not caring that it's probably a little too hot in his mouth. "This shit's divine- Ah -I mean." Catching himself after cursing in front of the older woman. "Excuse me." Trying to keep a straight face, his lips purse to conceal his grin. He looked up at her with a tug of his collar.
She laughed, "That's quite alright. Thank you, Eddie." Grandma then gives a playful pat on Eddie's head. "Such a good boy." She trails off, before turning back to attend to something on the counter.
That phrase made you awfully choke on the extremely hot drink, a painful experience that splattered chocolate onto your nightgown.
Your grandma spins around, wondering what in the world just happened.
Eddie's eyes were wide, also shocked after hearing what she said.
It doesn't take long for the two of you to start stifling your laughter, trying not to have your grandma ask too many questions.
She simply looked at you, her mess of a granddaughter, wondering what was so funny.
You shook your head, trying to convince her it was something else, "Nothing. I just burnt my tongue."

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Happy birthday big boy!
THIS FUCKING MALE
SPEECHLESS
so yeah
bad idea
+18 eddie munson x fem! reader
synopsis; whatever you do⊠donât you ever take an aphrodisiac with your best friend (who you secretly love), or do⊠We all have good bad ideas.
REMINDER: english is not my mother language so i apologize if there are some mistakes <3 ! either ways, i hope yâall like it<3
REPOSTS AND COMMENTS ARE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED!<3
cw; no use of y/n, use of pet names (angel, sweetheart, gorgeous, babyâŠ) cursing, dirty talk, daddy kink, aphrodisiac (as a drug and drug mentions!), teasing, throat/mouth fucking (w fingers too <3), cum eating, breeding kink, dacryphilia (kinda??), a lilâ tiny bit of perv! eddie, smut, p in v sex, cock warming, overstimulation, squirting, choking, non protected sex (GUYS STDS ARE REAL, WRAP THE DONG UP), cream pie, finger fucking, oral sex (f and m receiving), hair pulling, praising, degradation, multiple orgasms⊠MINORS DNI!!!
Please, under no circumstances, repost my work on any other sites. I do not consent to anyone taking my work and posting it as their own.
a/n; THANKS FOR THE 1K FOLLOWERS, YâALL MADE ME SO HAPPY ITâs INSANE
this was so fun to make! hope you all love it!<333
âYou need to open up wider, sweetheart.â
Eddie was really stupid. You loved him, and he has been your best friend your whole life. But he was stupid. The biggest idiot in the world⊠But if he was the biggest stupid in the world then you were the second.
When Eddie started to sell weed you were scared at first for him in case Hopper ever caught him, but he never did and never will. Eddie was cautious. Knew what he was doing and how to do it. And he did it great. He was sly, and had a lot of clients. Clients that he did everything to try and please, so much that he tried every new type of drug that fell into his hands to make sure he was giving no shit. He took pride on his quality.
And you swore to try every and each of one of them. You had your good trips and bad trips. Took care of each other and always stood safe. You knew your limits. Or thatâs what you thought.
âCause you should have known that this was a really bad idea. You knew that it was dangerous, and crossed a line a little⊠sensitive. But once again you were stupid. Really stupid. And you liked your best friend too much to think straight.
âYou want me to take an aphrodisiacâŠ, with you.â you tried and clarify as Eddie stood there, all wide eyed and smiley with two pink little pills on his hand.
âYeah.â he nodded.
ââŠâ âOkay.â you shrugged, not thinking twice to on swallowing the pill along with him.
If only you knew what of a great mistake that wasâŠ
Or maybe not.
-
You were horny, so horny that you couldnât stop your thighs from pressing against each other, trying hard for your best friend, which stood seated on his bed next to you, to not notice. You were listening to some music, waiting for the drug to take effect. It was fast. Too fast.
Your whole skin grew on goosebumps, your cheeks flushing and body running hot, so hot you were melting. You tried not to. Not to think about how nice he looked, the way he licked his lips every few seconds as if his mouth were dry. You tried not to stare too much at him, not to breath too hard or youâll inhale his perfume, which seemed to be everywhere. And you surely tried to not let your mind get filled with scenarios in which your best friend shouldnât be participating with you. But it was no luck, you failed the very moment you noticed the bulge that had grown under the sweats that he wore to stay comfy on his house.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Eddie was suffering. His eyes away from you as best as he could. He couldnât stop too much to stare at your bare legs and plushy thighs or heâll for sure burst on his pants like a complete 13 year old virgin who just found out what porn was. And your tits⊠God, he always tried and avoid thinking about your nipples pressing against his tee-shirts âwhich you borrowed every dayâ, and the way you just casually stopped wearing bras around him. But now was impossible, since you were wearing his Hell Fire shirt and he could see just how erect your nipples were through the white of it. He wanted to lick them, wanted to suck on them so bad, kiss your chest and leave you full of marks, fuck his cock in between your tits and paint them on his cumâŠ
Shit. Shit. Shit.
His dick was incredibly hard, leaking on his thigh and twitching in need of attention. His breath hitched when he tried and reposition it inside his pants, biting down on his lip to not let out a groan due to the pressure.
You were seating one next to another, shoulders almost brushing, hands almost touching. And you needed to touch him so bad⊠So bad, oh god.
You couldnât stop thinking about what he had told you about his sexual encounters. About what he had found he liked the most.
It was no big deal. You and Eddie didnât keep secrets from one another, and somehow along the way, the theme had just⊠came up. So you had talked about it. A lot. And it was no big deal, âwasâ, or so you tried to convince yourself. But now⊠Now it was a big deal.
You couldnât stop wondering if he would treat you as he treated all of those other girls. If he would choke you, spank you, praise you⊠You wondered what position would make you feel him the best. How far would his dick go down your throat? You would love to suck his dick. You wanted to call him daddy too. Knowing that he would probably fuck you harder, like he once told you he had fucked a girl after it.
You needed to know, needed to know how he would eat you out. Needed to know how big he was.
Shit.
You were breathing heavily, your eyes on the veins of his arms and hands, those hands that youâve dreamed with so many times, those fingers that you had pretended and were the ones fucking your cunt when you touched yourself.
The tension inside the room could be cut with a knife. And you were the only ones in the trailer since Wayne was working a double shift.
You couldnât look at each other. Or at least you did as if you hadnât caught the other staring⊠âCause Eddieâs mind was getting too fussy and his attempts to stop staring at you slowly started to be more and more effective. He just couldnât get the image of fucking you right there and then, with his tee-shirt on, and fill you up with his cum over and over again until you couldnât stop crying due to how full you felt. He couldnât stop thinking about playing with that little button that he for sure knew would make you scream, the tightness and wetness of your pussyâŠ
God, he shouldnât be feeling this way about his best friend, the one that he had grown up with⊠But he did, and always had.
âItâsâŠâ he jolted when your voice suddenly filled the room, taking him by surprise. âItâs good.â you awkwardly smiled, still not looking at him.
It was good as fuck. So good that it had you soaking through your short jeans.
âYeahâŠâ he breathed out, feeling his cock stir just by hearing your voice on his pants as he scoffed and repositioned himself on the bed. He wanted to know how good you would sound moaning his name.
You gasped when your skin made contact, both your hands brushing the slightest, but still enough to make your skin grow on goosebumps.
Eddie looked at you and then at your hands. His cheeks were flushed, and his lips looked all red and swollen, as he hadnât stopped biting on them.
You thought he would move away then, but surprisingly enough he made your hands brush again, getting the same reaction out of you.
You were shivering when he turned your hand on his own. You stared at him with furrowed eyebrows, confused. But he simply looked into your eyes and started caressing your palm. Slowly, teasinglyâŠ
He knew what he was doing. You could see it in his eyes. In the little smirk that was trying to appear on his lips.
Your breath hitched, wherever his fingertips touched felt like your skin was mixing up with his.
You only could look into his eyes, into his stupidly beautiful dark brown eyes which pupils were blown.
You didnât say anything, you couldnât. Your throat was tied in knots and your stomach was burning with suck need that was making you feel dizzy. Maybe thatâs why you did what you did, but before you knew it you were taking his teasing hand and slowly raising it up to your lips.
Eddieâs breathing was heavy when your lips parted and you nipped on his fingertips, your cheeks hollowing around two of his fingers when you pushed them inside your mouth. You never stopped staring at him as your tongue started to swirl his fingers, teasing, invitingâŠ
He groaned, and your pussy clenched around nothing, gagging when he suddenly thrusted his fingers deeper inside your mouth. âUh-uhâŠâ he clicked his tongue. âYou need to open up wider, sweetheart.â you did as he told you, this time feeling his fingers down your throat. âThatâs it, good girl.â his praise was low, his voice making you shiver and moan around his fingers. He smirked when you took his wrist to push his hand closer, his fingers deeper. You needed more. You needed him to fuck your mouth, use your throat and make you gag all around him. âOh, well isnât that pathetic⊠Look at you. Why so needy, hm?â you whimpered, and his dick twitched so hard he had to breath in the best he could. Shit, you looked so pretty. âMy girl just needed something to suck on, isnât that right? Your mouth was feeling empty, huh?â he inquired and you nodded, your teary eyes staring into his own. He wanted to make you cry. On your mind his words playing over and over again. âMy girl, my girl, my girl, my girlâŠâ âPoor baby, having such a hard timeâŠâ he shook his head. âMaybe I should help you, what do you think, hm?â his heart skipped a beat when you pushed his fingers out of your mouth, still connected by a string of spit that he so badly wanted to lick.
âPlease, Eddie, please, please, pleaseâŠâ you begged, and even if you didnât âknewâ, you knew you were in too deep now. Your brain was completely disconnected, you couldnât think straight, the only thing in your mind being your oh so pretty best friend, and his lips, and his eyes, and hisâŠ
You gulped when he smirked, his hand guiding yours towards his crotch, his dick reacting to your touch with a tug that you felt through the sweats. He was hard, so hard your mouth was watering.
âGo ahead, sweetheart.â he said, and you had never been so fast in your life at tugging someone elseâs pants down. The boxers disappeared just as fast, and your eyes widened when his cock slapped his stomach when it was finally freed. It was so bigâŠ, so big that you couldnât stop the moan that left your lips, making Eddie groan. His tip was the most beautiful pink you have ever seen, fully leaking and all pearly with his pre-cum. He was long, and a couple of veins popped on his shaft. You could only imagine how good it will feel dragging up and down your walls. You were salivating, with your knees tucked below your butt for him, kneeling on the bed. âHere, let me help you, baby.â he said before taking your hair in one of his hands, collecting all of it in some kind of a ponytail that would allow him to fuck your throat harder and see those beautiful eyes of yours tear up as you took him in your mouth. He had been dreaming about this moment since he could remember, and he sure as hell was going to fully enjoy it. He was going to take it all in.
He groaned when your lips took his head, your tongue tasting the musk and saltiness of the beads on the slit, which made you hum. Eddie had to try really hard to not cum right there and then, his balls so full it was painful.
âThere you go.â he sighed, watching as you slowly started to fuck his cock into your mouth.
You could almost cry of happiness and relief. He felt so heavy on your mouth, so warm and so big⊠You only wanted to choke on it, wanted him to leave your throat sore and swollen from thrusting on it. You didnât care, you just needed it, even if that made you unable to talk tomorrow morning.
âSo greedyâŠâ he chucked when you took too much of him and gagged, pulling yourself off of him to take a deep breath, your hand on your base, which pooled with your spit. âI know what you want.â you let out a little shriek when he suddenly pulled at your hair towards his cock, making you take him once again in your mouth, fucking your throat. âBeen wanting me to fuck this tight throat of yours, huh? Isnât that right, doll?â he panted when your nails dug on the flesh of his thighs, your eyes squeezed shut as you tried to contain your gagging and breath through your nose. âBeen wanting me to use you like a simple little toy, hm? Fuck your mouth full of my cum.â you moaned, making him do it as well at the feeling. âShit. You look so pretty taking me so good, choking on my cock and letting me use you like a fucking slut. Fuck, been thinking about you sucking my cock for years.â
Eddie moaned when one of your hands took his balls and rolled them in between your fingers. They were heavy and full for you, ready to stuff you up with his cum and get you all fucked out and pretty for him.
âYeah, thatâs it. Good girl, shit, youâre gonna make me cum so hardâŠâ he groaned, struggling to maintain his eyes open, getting too lost on the squelching of your mouth, on the feeling of your tongue and throat, of your hands on his balls, on the tears on your eyes and the whimpers and moans that you were letting out only for him to hear. âFuck.â he was close. He could feel it, the drug making him impossible for him to hold it much more due to how turned on and sensitive he was. âIâm gonna cum.â he moaned, and before you knew it, he was filling your throat with his white, heavy and creamy seed. You sighed in pleasure, milking him with your mouth as he rode out his orgasm with a groan.
He let go of your hair, and you let his dick fall out of your mouth with a pop, not before having cleaned his head with your tongue and having swallowed his seed just like the good girl he knew you were.
âFuck.â he groaned before he harshly pulled you in, crashing your lips together in a searing kiss that had you moaning in his mouth and left your legs shaking.
Your hands found his hair as he pushed his tongue inside your mouth, humming when he tasted himself in it. He needed to drink you up, needed you to ride his face and leave him tasting of you, needed you to leave his face all soaked with your juices.
âNow itâs my turn.â he said, and you didnât argue when he popped the bottom of your shot jeans open. âGod, angel.â he groaned when he saw the little lace pink panties that you were wearing, which now stood completely soaked with your slick. âIs this for me?â you moaned when his fingers touched you over the lace, pushing the slightest between your wet and warm folds. You nodded, whimpering a âyesâ, feeling blissed by his touch. It was everything you had ever dreamed of. Like biting the apple of Eden under the eye of god, like drinking water after days in the sun, like breathing after almost drowning in the sea⊠Eddie was everything you had dreamed of. Everything you wanted. Everything you needed. âSo good for meâŠâ you cried out when he pushed you against the sheets, his mouth latching at your thighs to leave marks that youâd proudly wear tomorrow with your oh so short skirts and dresses. âWhy donât you pull your panties off for me and let me take a look, hm?â you nodded, using your legs to raise your hips and pull your underwear down your thighs. Eddie took care of it, once they were completely off, throwing somewhere on the roomâs floor, still taking a mental note to make sure to steal them before you could notice.
You were burning up and dying at the same time.
It was like his touch didnât exist but filled your senses altogether.
âOh god.â
Just the simple act of touching, of him kissing you, holding you⊠Was just so intimate that your bones were breaking in half. It hurt, but hurt so good .
You felt everything ten times stronger.
And you swore your heart was about to stop when his hand disappeared in between your legs. His touch felt like freezing, but burning at the same time.
âFuck, angel.â he groaned and you moaned at the sleek that pooled between your tights. You were soaked. You could feel it flowing down your lips to the sheets. âSo wetâŠâ Eddieâs fingers shone with your arousal, which he tasted when he inserted his fingers in his mouth, moaning at the taste. âSo sweetâŠâ
Suddenly his head was now inches away from your heat, and you screamed at the first drag of his tongue, lapping at your slick with his eyes closed in pleasure, separating your lips âwhich hardly stood connected with strings of your arousalâ and circling your clit. You could see stars. Even if you had your eyes closed.
âEddie.â you cried out as he ate you out like a starved animal, devouring you, tasting you as if you were his last meal.
He groaned when your fingers laced in his curls, tugging on them due to the pleasure.
He hummed when your hips rocked against his face when his nose bumped against your clit, his tongue harshly pushing against your hole. âPleaseâŠâ you didnât know what you were begging for, but he seemed to understand. He always did.
Your eyes rolled to the back of your head when he plunged two of his fingers on your warm and wet pussy. You couldnât help it. Couldnât help the way your grip tightened on his curls, the way your hips rose or the word that fell of your lips in a needy moan.
âDaddy.â
And then he suddenly stopped. He stopped his thrusting, his kisses⊠Everything stopped. And your gut clenched in need.
âWhat did you just call me?â he said below a whisper, his dark onyx eyes heavy on you, so heavy you felt crushed.
Your cheeks heat up, but even if you had heard him, you couldnât listen. âNo!â You whimpered, one of your hands reaching to circle his wrists in hopes that he would touch you again, that he would help you subside your thirst for him once again. âPlease donât stop, please!â you were at the verge of tears, you felt so close to cumming, so close that you swore it physically pained you. You needed him, needed him so bad your bones shivered and your whole body trembled.
âWhatâs wrong, baby?â he pouted, mocking you, although you didnât care since he was back to curling his fingers inside of you and making pants fell from your lips. âYouâre about to cum?â but again, he had stopped, and again, you found yourself pleading him. âIf you want to cum, then youâd have to say it.â you knew what he was referring to, but you still found yourself so embarrassed that you could bring yourself to say it. âCome on sweetheart, use that pretty mouth of yours to call me âdaddyâ again, would you?â your whole body flushed at his smirk, your cheeks so red and hot that you could feel them burning.
But again, even though you were embarrassed to the marrow, it only took a single curl of his fingers to make you dissolve on his hands. âDaddy, please, daddyâŠâ you whimpered, and he smiled.
âThatâs my good girl.â you moaned, probably due to his praising, or probably to the fact that his lips were back on your clit, sucking on it âtill your thighs were shaking on the sides of his face. âDaddyâs good girl.â
You clenched around his fingers with a moan so high that you swore the whole trailer park had heard you as the tension on your lower stomach finally snapped, your pussy gushing on his mouth and fingers, slick that he made sure to lap at to as he helped you ride out your orgasm.
You could feel tears swelling in your eyes at the overstimulation. It was too much, but at the same time not enough.
You needed him, needed his cock, his body, his mouthâŠ
âEddie, pleaseâŠâ you begged for him with a new tug and he looked at you, his chin and lips completely bathed in you. âPlease itâs not enoughâŠâ you whimpered. âPlease, daddyâŠâ
He groaned, âcause he felt the exact same way than you, he could eat you out day and night, he loved it, from your taste to the little sweet sounds that you let out⊠But he couldnât stop thinking about stuffing you full, filling you up until he could see his dick bulging in your lower stomach, fuck you so raw and rough that you couldnât stop screaming, leaving you voiceless the next morning. He wanted to make you cry.
âFuck.â he was quick to pull his boxers down and get on top of you. âI know baby, I knowâŠâ you whimpered when he took place in between your legs, the head of his huge cock gliding through your folds in ease, circling your clit, pushing against your entrance⊠âGonna let me fuck you raw, sweetheart? Let me cum inside and fill you up? Get you all round and pretty for me?â you moaned, sensing your whole body shake. You shook your head âyesâ, crying out a âyes please daddy, pleasepleasepleaseâ and he almost could cum right there and then.
You let out a quiet scream when he got balls deep inside you in a quick and harsh thrust. You went breathless. He stretched you out like no one would ever do, fill you to the brim, his head abusing your g spot with every new snap of his hips.
âIâm sorry baby.â he moaned as he moved âtill only the tip stood inside. âI donât think Iâm gonna be able to control myself. I need to fuck you so badâŠâ you nails dug on his back when he thrusted in again.
âEddieEddieEddieEddieâŠâ you cried out over and over again, the squelching sound of his dick fucking into your wet hole making you so horny that you couldnât stop the need to move your hips against his, what ïżŒmade him groan and grip your hips to do it for you, but harder. Much much harder. âShit!â your voice cracked. He rose you up as if you were as light as a feather, making you sit on his cock.
You choked on just how deep it got, it caressed places so deep within you that made breathing harder.
âThatâs right baby, fuck, moan for me, you sound so sweet when your voice breaks with every scream.â your jaw was slack, lips parted as he rose you up and down his dick, using you like he could use a toy. You couldnât stop moaning, moans that came out broken due to how hard he was fucking you and how high and loud your voice was.
Tears were falling from your cheeks with every new thrust, you felt so overstimulated by the drug that it was too much. Too much, but your body desired so much more.
You wanted Eddie to break you, fuck you brainless, make you sobâŠ
The grip on your throat silenced your screams as he choked you, his tongue licking the tears out of your face just to later on lick into your mouth. Spit dribbled out of your lips and painted your chest due to how messy it was. You were a babbling mess. âDaddy, daddy, ah, Eddie, shit, ahâŠâ
Eddie groaned and moaned, his eyebrows furrowing when your walls started to clench around him. âAre you gonna come for me, princess? Gonna come on my cock? Gonna come on daddyâs cock?â you nodded, your breathing ragged as you whimpered slurred âyes, yes, yesâŠâ. Your g spot was being abused with every new jump, your clit, being caressed by two of his fingers. Your nails dug on his shoulders, your head falling backwards and a scream leaving your lips. You rode him in need of a release and he knew that, his lips on your neck, sucking bruises that made you lose your mind. âThen come.â your whole body seemed to die and come back to life then, your high hitting you so hard your ears rung and your sight went white. Eddie moaned when he felt it, the warmth of your cum surrounding his dick, painting his cock in white, and he almost came when he watched it pool at the base of his cock like a white ring.
He had you back on your back, taking your legs and pushing them agains your chest, fucking into you so hard that hit your cervix over and over again.
You though that your high would go down, but instead, you found yourself screaming when it only seemed to go higher and higher.
âEddie, Iâm gonna, Iâm gonnaâŠâ you found yourself coming again, right after your first.
âOh shit sweetheart, did you just came twice?â you where digging your nails on his biceps as tears rolled down your cheeks and onto the pillow, soaking the sheets. You were letting out cracked and short moans that got cut with every thrust of his. âFuck, you drive me insane.â
And yet you felt like you were gonna die.
âEddie, stop, stopâŠâ you cried out due to the overstimulation, still feeling your body scream for more, your âoâ slurred and dragged. âSomethingâs gonnaââ
Before you could finish your sentence, your back was arching and your pushy gushing as itâs walls fluttered around Eddieâs cock, which now stood soaked with your squirting.
âFuck.â he moaned when he saw it, his hips snapping harder and harder against you, following the amazing feeling for your tight, warm cunt. You kept squirting over and over again as Eddie praised and teased you under his breath. âAre you feeling good, princess? Look at you, all messed up on my dick. So pretty soaking my sheets.â
He was close, so fucking close that moans started to fall from his lips, his hips stuttering as his high reached him. âGonna fill you real nice, gorgeous. Gonna leave you so full your pussyâs gonna be dripping. Gonna look so pretty when I fuck it back into you.â
And with a final grunt he came, his load creamy, hot and heavy inside you. You moaned at the feeling, pushing him deeper inside you. You needed him deeper. He let go of your legs, which fell around him, trembling and twitching, as he fell on top of you, his lips on your neck.
He stood there for a couple of minutes, just kissing you, hugging you. But you could feel it, you could still fell the burning feeling that the drug had left you with, feel his dick growing inside of you. When you least expected it, he had turned you over, pushing your body against the duvet and starting to fuck into you once again.
âSorry angel, just one more.â you couldnât say no, not when he was fucking you so good and nice, not when you needed him so bad you felt like drowning.
Your nails dug in the bed sheets, your moans and screams being muffled by his pillow, which was getting wet with your drooling and new tears.
âGood girl, taking me so good⊠Pussy so tight and wet for me, sucking me in so niceâŠâ you screamed when one of his hands sneaked in between your legs and under your stomach to start circling your clit, in just a mere seconds slowly starting to build another orgasm, as strong as the rest. âCan feel you clenching, sweetheart. Are you gonna come again? Gonna soak my sheets for me once more?â before you could even answer, you were falling apart, droplets falling down your tights. âFuck.â
This time it only took a couple more hard and deep thrusts for Eddie to cum, overstimulated by the recent orgasm and the incredible feeling of your own.
You whimpered, feeling so full your stomach would bulge with his cum.
You felt boneless when he slowly and softly took you with him to your side, cuddling you with his cock still buried deep into your full cunt. You sighed at the feeling, so drunk on him, so in love with the soft kisses that he left on your shoulders, the sweet words that he whispered in your ear. âYou did so good for me, angel.â âYouâre so beautiful, so, so beautiful sweetheart.â âSuch a good girl for meâŠâ
âGonna let me keep it inside you all night like the good girl you are, huh? Gonna let me fuck you up all pretty tomorrow morning too, isnât that right baby?â you nodded, letting out a little whimper that made him hum.
Eddie was stupid, and you were stupid too. And you two were stupidly in love with each other.
Stupid, isnât it?
-
love all of you, see you soon! xx

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