for @corrodedcoffinfest day 3 prompt 'tv trays'
rated g | 739 words | no cw | tags: wayne pov, good uncle wayne munson, eddie's childhood, corroded coffin origins
Wayne doesn’t have a kitchen table. It’s something he only really notices when the case worker comes by to make sure his house is free of drugs, criminals, and major safety concerns.
“Do I need to get one?” He asks, suddenly worried they’ll actually take Eddie to a foster home because he doesn’t have a kitchen table.
“Not necessary,” the woman says with a kind smile. She’s a lot nicer than the first person who showed up at his door and told him Eddie needed a place to stay, possibly permanently. “But I know they’ll want to see somewhere for a kid to eat that’s not the floor. Any kind of hard, flat surface will do. Maybe just clean off the coffee table before the next visit.”
Wayne nods. He can do that.
Eddie thinks it’s pretty cool to eat dinner at the coffee table. It’s missing part of one leg, so it’s leaning, but he likes it.
Wayne likes giving him something to smile about as much as he can. It’s looking more and more like Eddie will be a permanent fixture in his trailer.
Stupid Al and his big mouth talked himself into even more charges during his court appearance and he’s looking at 10-20 years. Eddie’ll be an adult by then, even if he only gets 10.
Wayne keeps his eyes out for any dining tables at garage sales, but most of them are out of his budget.
There’s a set of TV trays though. Perfectly fine. Sitting right at the edge of a driveway near the garbage cans for pickup.
He brings them home and gives them a good hosing down, scrubs them with the good dish soap that costs more to make sure he gets all the evidence that they belonged to someone else off. Eddie comes home from school that day with his first ever 100 on a test.
They eat ice cream for dinner on the trays while a movie Wayne’s never even heard of plays on TV. He can’t stop smiling the entire time.
When Eddie’s 14, Wayne gets a dining table. It’s nothing fancy, barely even big enough for the two of them. Its got stains on it from hot pots and nail polish. It’s loved.
Eddie doesn’t complain. He never complains. He’s a good kid. Most people don’t see it, especially his teachers, but Wayne does.
They still prefer eating on the tv trays. Wayne works more now that Eddie can kind of take care of himself, so it’s tough to have a meal together.
Wayne’s late tonight. Eddie may have already eaten. But he still walks in with a bag full of burgers and fries from the diner.
Eddie’s sitting on the couch, strumming his new guitar. He’s pretty damn good at it; A natural some would say. Wayne’s pretty sure he can play by ear, he’s just gotta have a bit more patience than he currently has.
Eddie perks up when he sees the bag and sets his guitar next to him on the couch. “I’ll get the trays!”
“Tell me about your day,” Wayne asks when they’ve both had a few bites of food. “Anything exciting?”
Wayne grins. “Tell me about them.”
Eddie talks about this kid, Jeff, who took actual guitar lessons and showed him his electric guitar he got for Christmas. He tells him about Jeff’s friend, Frankie, who plays bass pretty well, and sometimes even reads music.
“No drummer?” Wayne asks.
“Not yet. Jeff says there’s a kid in his neighborhood who has a drumset, but he’s not very good. And he’s only 12.”
“Maybe you could give him a chance, son,” Wayne takes a sip of the beer he grabbed from the fridge. “Can’t hurt.”
“Yeah. I guess we could talk to him.”
“Just make sure you’re back home by curfew.”
“And you leave a note with their address if you go to their houses.”
Wayne smirks. “I just worry ‘bout ya, kiddo.”
Eddie knocks his knee against Wayne’s. “Yeah. Thanks.”
When Eddie’s passed out on the couch, holding his guitar on his stomach, Wayne folds up the tv trays and throws a blanket over him.
He leaves the bathroom light on for when Eddie wakes up in the middle of the night to go to his bed.
There’s not much he won’t do for that kid.
