Spare - Part 1
Eddie Munson x fem reader
Summary: After wasting years of your life working at Hawkins Bowl, watching new hire after new hire move onto bigger and better things, an intriguing new employee named Eddie feels like they could be a new beginning for you.
Warnings: none really, mentions of drugs and alcohol. Slow burn. Eddie and reader are in their early 20s. No Vecna. Reader is a bit of an outsider, not shy but not from Hawkins, and just usually keeps to herself.
Part 2Â Â Â Â MasterlistÂ
The first time you had to walk down the gutter lane, you worried about your balance. One slip and you would land flat onto the too-waxed surface, like bowling alley roadkill. So you kept your eyes front and tried not to get distracted by the blaring music over the shitty speaker system, the balls whooshing past and pins toppling, and the local shithead teens whopping for their shots. Once you got to the end it was risky business, prying the rogue pin that had jarred the mechanism and quickly pulling it away before you lost a finger, then hurrying back down the gutter and shuffling behind the safety of the shoe counter once again.
After the first few times, it became routine. Up and down the lanes you went, all shift long until your feet would ache in your Reeboks and you would beg for the sweet reprieve of a 10-minute smoke break whenever you got a chance to sneak away.
It wasnât much but this place had grown on you. Hawkins Bowl was tacky, even by normal bowling alley standards. A layer of grime covered almost everything but stayed hidden in the dim UV lights. The retro-patterned carpets were garish enough to hide decades of foot smell and food spills. Marylyn and Elvis stood proud on every wall, reminding patrons to drink Coke and feel nostalgic for the 50s. Even still, there was a charm to the place, and it was full of memories, of birthday parties and first dates, of Summer freedom and cheap beer.
This place was stuck somewhere between then and now. Which made sense, considering it had been closed for 8 years until a rich man moved to Hawkins and started buying up property and reopening all the boarded-up stores on Main Street. The old bowling alley was one of the first things Mr Hyde relaunched back in 87, with a few bare minimum cosmetic improvements to give the appearance that it was actually the 80s while you were in there. A few arcade games and an air hockey table were added to the corner, a cash bar replaced the old milkshake counter, and the toilets got a lick of paint, to hide all manner of past sins. It wasnât great, but Hawkins seemed to love it, and teenagers flocked every weekend.
It wasnât your first choice of job after you moved to Hawkins when you finished high school, but it was the only one that called you back when you were desperate, and the pay was ok. That was 2 years ago.
You were essentially part of the furniture now. Well, You, Murray, the day manager, and the two fry cooks that took the piss and goofed off all the time. Over that time, dozens of other kids had breezed in and out for casual work, never staying longer than a few months, before moving onto college or real jobs, or â if they were lucky â out of Hawkins for good.
You were in the back room rifling through the deep freeze to count the chicken finger supplies when you heard Murray calling you to the front counter. Here we go. You muttered to yourself, rolling your eyes at nobody. Another one you would have to train up and babysit for the week.
It wasnât really surprising to have another new starter today. And, just like with all the others, you hoped whoever it was would just do the work and not complain too much. Most couldnât handle the pace or the grime, but you had grown comfortable with it now.
You made your way to the front, noticing as you approached that standing next to and chatting to Murray was a tall guy with long shaggy hair. He looked about your age, maybe a bit older, and wore ripped jeans, a denim vest and some kind of metal-looking shirt. And, he was striking, out of place amongst the retro decor and disco lights. He didnât look anything like the usual teenagers Murray chose, usually popular types with trendy clothes that would tell their friends to come and give the alley some business.
Seeing you appear Murray called you over to come meet âEddieâ. So, you made your way over, careful not to stare at the mysterious new guy.
âY/nâ barked Murray, full of impatience. âYou know the drill. This is Eddie, show him the ropes, okâ. It wasnât a question.
Eddie looked at you and outstretched a ringed hand towards you, which you took, hoping your fingers werenât still as noticeably frozen to the touch as they felt to you. Damn that freezer. You inwardly cursed, noticing the shock of the cool metal against your skin.
âNice to meet youâ
Before you could speak Murray interjected. âGreat. Letâs get to it thenâ. He then turned on his heel and retreated to his office, slamming the door behind him.
âIs he always like that?â Eddie asks after a few moments of awkward nothing.
You shrugged âheâs the resident bundle of sunshineâ
There was another pause, so you grabbed the job clipboard and glanced down at it for some reprieve, even though you knew what had to be done inside out.
âAlright, toilets arenât gonna scrub themselves. You are on urinal duty so buckle up.â You say after a moment.
Eddie winced but agreed, not letting his smile falter.
âOh and ââ You tossed a T-shirt from under the counter at his face which he caught just in time. âYou can put this on in the back room and Iâll meet you back here afterâ you add, pointing in the right direction. Eddie headed towards the back room, raising two fingers in a casual salute as he went.
When he emerged you noticed how different he looked in his lame polo uniform with the company name and rose logo over the left side of his chest. The shirt was too tight and accentuated his slim frame. He looked kind of lanky and far less intimidating than he did in his metal garb.
âOk sweetheart, letâs goâ
You paused, taken aback by the endearment.
âFirst of all, itâs y/n.â You replied curtly. Â
His face dropped and he reached behind him to stroke the back of his neck in what appeared to be embarrassment, muttering a strained sorry.
âAnd second, we only have half an hour before the first kidsâ birthday party. Trust me. That will be way worse than the toilets, so we better get goingâ
You headed for the bathroom, with a trailing Eddie in tow.
That half an hour was spent in mostly silence, aside from you barking the occasional instruction or comment to pick up the pace. At some point while you were holed up in the bathrooms the two line cooks must have arrived, as now you could hear the hum of their old radio and the clanging of pans from behind the shared wall. This signalled that the peaceful portion of the day â and your favourite â was over.
Once the bathrooms were as good as they were gonna get you asked Eddie to gather everything, and help you put it all back. You couldn't help but sigh unconsciously as you packed away the cleaning supplies.
âThat bad huh?â He asked, looking right at you intently.
âWhat?â
âThe impending birthday party maniaâ he replied, chuckling. âI feel like Iâm about to go to warâ
You scoff. âYouâll seeâ and you left it at that. If you told him the truth â that he was about to face six straight hours of children squealing and wiping up coagulated cheese â he might high tail it out of there. You already doubted he would be back tomorrow, most didnât return or barely lasted a month working here.
âOk, chief. Where do you want me?â he asked with a wide smile.
You ushered him to the shoe counter. If the overwhelming foot smell bothered him he didnât let on. He listened to your shoe hire masterclass intently, nodding along and watching you carefully. His gaze was focused and you felt the blush clawing at your cheeks in response to it and prayed he didnât notice it.
âI think thatâs everything. Got it?â You added.
âYes chiefâ He replied, way too enthusiastically.
You tried to hide your scepticism at his abilities, before quickly retreating to behind the main counter podium which was situated directly across from him. Here people could order food and pay for their sessions. This spot has become like your second home now. You had a book stashed below the counter, for the occasional quiet afternoon, and had free reign on the soda machine, which added significantly to the appeal of front counter duty.
At that moment the front door chime rang, and both you and Eddieâs eyes snapped towards it. Eddie looked kind of expectant, but you felt your stomach sink. That bell signalled the beginning of the end, as a group of fifteen 9-year-olds ran in and towards the shoe counter. A trailing weary-looking mother rushed in after them, and towards the counter, apologizing profusely.
You were used to this but watched Eddie out of the corner of your vision scrambling trying to hand out shoes to the group and talk over the screeching hoard to get sizes. After a few minutes, the kids were situated and rolling the first few balls, surrounded by a pile of Their outside shoes and their brightly coloured jackets strewn over the backs of the table behind their designated lane. Eddie watched on with a look that could only be described as bewildered, which you couldnât help but snicker at, particularly as he glanced over to you with an exaggerated wide-eyed look on his face, playing it up. Â
The rest of the day shift went by like a blur of French fries and frosting. Until about 4 oâclock, when there would be somewhat of a reprieve. The short break gave you time to clean up the aftermath of too much birthday party fun and have a quick smoke, and the half basket for fries which had been generously donated by the fry cooks.
Eddie found you leaning against the cold bricks out back, having a quiet moment and a well-earned cigarette. You were in your own world and didnât even notice him until he spoke.
âJesus h Christ.â He exclaimed, nearly scaring you half to death.
You looked at him in surprise.
âSorryâ he replied âdidnât mean to scare youâ
âItâs fine.â You replied, half wishing he would go away. But instead, he sat down on the upturned milk crate and lit his cigarette, inhaling deeply, like his life depended on it.
It was silent for a moment as you both enjoyed the nicotine filling your veins. After a moment, he spoke again.
âIs it always like that?â
âPretty muchâ you replied dryly, not looking at him.
âI thought you were exaggerating,â he said, shaking his head and rubbing his eyes.
âI wish. Nights are better. youâll seeâ you said as you pushed off the wall and snuffed out your cigarette onto the asphalt with your shoe. âJust gotta hang in there for a few more hoursâ
You headed back inside and towards the kitchen to check on Jonathan and Argyle, who you found giggling and throwing a can of pinto beans pack and forth in some stoner iteration of the game catch.
âYou guys good?â You interrupted, to which Argyle threw you two thumbs up and a smile, causing him to forget to catch the can. It crashed down onto the floor before rolling towards you. You caught it with the front of your sneaker before picking it up and placing the now dented can on the bench. The guys continued laughing and went back to their stations, argyle peeling potatoes and Johnathon stirring a huge vat of chili on the stove.
At that moment, Eddie walked in, hovering behind you at the door of the kitchen.
âOh guys, I forgot to introduce you to the new guy before it got crazy out there. This is Eddieâ
The boys turned and Jonathanâs face immediately lit up in recognition. âEddie! Man itâs been ages! How are ya?â Obviously, they knew each other already, and launched into familiar conversation about mutual friends and their old school, which you took as your cue to leave and head back to the snack counter to finish off your prep.
Despite their stupidity, you had grown to love the cooks. Their hijinks made life worth living on the days when angry parents yelled at you or you had to wipe up vomit off the carpet because some teen had a few too many cheap beers. It had taken a while for you to warm up to them though, not knowing where you stood with the obviously bonded pair and taking months to have the courage to chat casually and bum smokes off of them when you were out.
Eddie seemed to have no trouble though, fitting right in with them already. He had had no trouble with the shoe counter either, settling into the job and the pace quickly, his customer service smile never faltering, even when one annoyed dad gave him a gutful about the table being sticky.
You couldnât help feeling a little jealous at his easy manner with the customers, even on his first shift. Although you had been working there for a while, you struggled to keep up the niceties and had been told many times that your face said it all, even when you were trying to be friendly. It had taken you nearly 4 months to feel at home here and seeing new staff member breeze in was always a little frustrating. Why am I like this? You inwardly cursed, but the sound of the door chime interrupted the thought. It was time.
The night-time crowd was very different, consisting of serious bowlers and what you like to call âbeer bowlersâ. They were mostly teenagers, or your age, heading to the bowling alley for something to do while they got drunk and chatted shit.
You called out to Eddie to come out of the kitchen, before serving the new customers jugs of beer and a few bags of pretzels, and sending them over for shoes. After the first few groups were settled the pace settled and you got into your normal groove. It was like muscle memory at this point. Even when a pin got stuck and you had to shimmy down the gutter lane, it didnât break your rhythm.
That was until you noticed Eddie eyeing you as you walked back down, so intently that you nearly fell off kilter.
That happened a few times, and you noted that he was probably just trying to learn the technique and was definitely not staring at you.
The next time the mechanism got stuck you were predisposed to five baskets of chili fries when you noticed and had to call Eddie over. He rounded the counter quickly, making his way towards you.
âWhat do you need, chief?â
âOh Eddie, um, would you mind going down the lane for me?â
âNo worries!â He said way too enthusiastically for someone agreeing to a job that could have them potentially lose a digit.
âJust watch your fingers, ok?!â You called out as he headed over to the offending lane, pulling his pants up by his back belt loops as he went.
You tried to focus on getting the baskets down on their respecting tables, and not watch him, but it was difficult. He moved effortlessly, gliding down the lane, despite his height and the narrow footing. Once at the end, he whipped the pin out without fear or hesitation, before turning back around and making his way back to where you were standing, with a noticeable smirk plastered across his cheeks.
âHow was that boss?â He asked, looking chuffed at himself. His overly positive attitude was jarring considering how rough he had looked when he first walked in. You were also genuinely shocked at how nonchalantly he did that, considering it took you nearly 6 months to not feel your stomach drop when you faced down the barrel of the gutter.
âHonestly, impressive. I still shit myself every time.â
âCould have fooled me sweetheart â I mean shit, sorry, y/n â I watched you do it like 10 times and you looked like you were born to do itâ he replied.
You blushed furiously at that, hoping it was hidden under the disco lights, scrambling to come up with a coherent response.
âI call it the jaws of death,â you said bluntly. âOne of these days, someone will get maimed. Glad it wasnât you. That would be a real shame on your first day.â
He chuckled at that âMe too. Would probably be a pain for you to re-wax the lane to get my blood outâ You scoffed at that, hiding a smile, before noticing the line that had formed at the beer counter and you tearing yourself away from the conversation to handle it, somewhat disappointed.
The rest of the night went smoothly, with a steady pace of bowlers and drinkers filtering in and out. Finally, the shift was over and you had a moment to catch your breath outside with a well-earned smoke.
Eddie met you out there, again taking his place on the crate.
After a moment of silence, you decided to ask him the question. âSo, your first day is done. Will you be back tomorrow?â
He signed, considering it for a moment. âThat depends. Do I get any say on the music?â
âUnfortunately no, we only play pop hits in here, just the way the customers like itâ
âThatâs a damn shame, a little sabbath would really liven things upâ
You couldnât help but laugh picturing kids screeching happy birthday over blaring metal. âIâll tell you what. Stick around a while and Iâll put in a good word for you with DJ Murray, ok?â
âDeal?â He asked, outstretching his palm towards you.
You considered it for a moment before gripping it tightly. Maybe this new guy might actually stick around for a while.
âDeal.â
ââââââ-













