insomnia
eddie munson/f!reader
sfw
If it weren’t for Eddie sleeping peacefully by your side, you’d be crying in frustration right about now. The aching pull of sleep behind your eyes was a constant reminder that if you could just relax, you’d be out cold. But whether it be your heart or your mind, your body betrays you; so, despite your exhaustion, you lie awake in Eddie’s bed at four o’ clock in the morning.
Your legs are tingling with restlessness and it starts to reach your arms, you dare yourself to stay still, wallowing in discomfort to save Eddie the ordeal of waking up just to help you fall sleep. As many times as he’d tried humming to you, rubbing your back, tried talking you to sleep, the stress of wanting to give him that satisfaction of lulling you into slumber kept you awake despite his best efforts. More-so on your part you’d decided it best not to indulge in that frustration just to have him awake with you. He needed rest, too, and you’d either fall asleep, or you wouldn’t. Mornings when he could tell you hadn’t rested were a blessing within your curse, anyway — he’d coo and sweet-talk you, rub your back apologetically and bring you a cup of coffee in bed, tending to your enervation.
When the dark night begins to give way to the earliest of the sun’s light, it’s a bit too much to bear, and you rub your eyes with a soft sigh of irritation before carefully climbing out of his bed. You grab one of his discarded sweatshirts off the floor and pull it over your head, arms wrapped tight around yourself as you leave his bedroom, gently closing the door behind you.
Wayne is still working the night shift, leaving the rest of the empty trailer to your devices. For a little while you watch some TV, curled up on the couch with your arms around your knees — early morning reruns of Batman, infomercials pleading you to buy K-Tel albums and Ginsu Knives.
You could pass for a zombie right now.
TV does nothing but worsen the ache in your eyes, still restless, so you switch it off in favor of staring out the window. You might as well be the last person alive on planet Earth. The trailer park is silent, still, hardly even a breeze shuffling the flora. You brush away an intrusive thought that encourages you to go outside and scream as loud as you can. Satisfying as it might be, it likely won’t help you sleep. You’re not even sure sleep is what you’re after anymore, what good would it do you now? Either way at this point, you’d still be exhausted in the morning.
Hell, it practically is morning.
You take to pacing to wear out your restlessness, down the hall to Eddie’s closed door and back to the living room - repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat. You close your eyes on the sixth rotation, you’re a ghost haunting the Munson household at this point, you know every angle of this trailer like the back of your hand.
What you don’t expect is to collide with something, someone — which you do, walking straight into a pillar of warmth and soft chuckles. The run-in elicits from your lungs a shriek, silenced midway by Eddie clamping a hand over your mouth, your eyes snapping open to find him grinning down at you as he laughs softly.
“Christ, you scream like a banshee.”
You smack his hand away half-heartedly and heave a sigh, “you scared me!”
“I’m not the one practicing my zombie shamble in the dark — I nearly grabbed the bat! Have you been bitten?”
He playfully tugs at your arms, pulling up the sleeves of his sweatshirt you wear, swiping calloused fingers against you, checking over your skin in a mock assessment. Everywhere he checks, he plants a warm little kiss, making you blush and squirm away from him.
A nightlight plugged into an outlet in the kitchen casts him in a warm glow, and you can see how sleepy he is, likely waking up for a quick piss only to find you meandering the short and narrow hallway like you were sleepwalking. His hair hangs in a tangled ruffle, wearing a ratty and bleach-stained band tee where only a few letters of the name are visible — if not worn — the rest faded away from years of washing and wearing and washing again; sleeves ripped off to promote his shoulders and biceps. The shorn hem ends just at his navel, showing off a bit of his soft belly and the trail of hair leading down into boxers that hang low on his hips.
After all this time he still makes you soft, and you for him.
In the silence of your admiration he ceases his playful ministrations to look at you, brown eyes cast to black in the near-dark — you could fall into them forever for all you cared. But he rests a curled finger against the underside of your chin to capture your full attention, or at least as much of it as he can have in your sorry and depleted state.
“Can’t sleep, huh?”
“No, actually, I just really like pacing back and forth at five a.m.”
He snorts and lightly shoves your shoulder, before pulling you back and into his arms, his splayed hand rubbing your back as he rests his face in the crook of your neck and breathes you in.
“M’sorry.”
“Not your fault,” you mumble, giving in to his comfort with a soft sigh as your eyes fall closed, winding your arms around his middle and tucking yourself against him.
“Can I do anything?”
“No, baby, it’s okay. I don’t wanna keep you up — I think sleep is a lost cause for me at this point.”
“Nuh-uh,” he shakes his head, lifting it from your neck to pout at you. “Lemme help. Let me try, even just an hour or two would do you good. Just let me try. Please? I really don’t mind.”
How can you refuse this giant puppy? You groan softly in resignation and firmly plant your face square in his chest, rubbing into his shirt as he laughs softly and continues to stroke your back.
“Fine,” your voice comes muffled. “Misery loves company.”
Eddie laughs again and kisses into your hair before ruffling it, “misery is fucking cute when she’s tired. Go on, go lie down, I’ll be right there — I gotta take a piss.”
“Eeewwww,” you bemoan teasingly.
Eddie snorts and retorts with a lighthearted swat to your ass to which you squeak, sending you on your way.
As he heads into the bathroom, you trudge back into his bedroom, collapsing into the bed with a weary groan, burying yourself in the messed sheets, waiting for his return. He joins you again a few minutes later, sliding into the bed beside you and greedily pulling you into his arms, squeezing you in a warm hug before you relax together in your entanglement.
Eddie pulls all the moves he can think of as he lies on his back with you pulled up against him, your head resting on his chest so you can feel the steady rise-and-fall movement of his breathing, the thud of his heart just below your ear. The fingers of one hand comb into your hair, gently grazing the nape of your scalp in a tender massage, while his other hand once again lies flat on your back, rubbing wide and slow circles into you.
You don’t know why you initially deny his comfort when you’re struggling to relax, as when you receive it, you feel muscles ease up that you didn’t even realize were tense in the first place. You let go of a deep sigh, melting into him as you close your eyes, and this time it’s not a struggle to keep them shut. Maybe you’ve finally worn yourself out.
“Relaxed?” Eddie murmurs.
“Mhm…”
“Comfy?”
“…mhm…”
“Love me?”
You giggle softly and nuzzle yourself into him as you nod, “love you.”
Eddie nestles his face into your hair, hiding his smile there, shifting you into him further as he exhales a slow and soft breath. You’re cocooned in his warmth, his comfort, arms pulled up between you as you clutch yourself to him with loose fists twisted into his shirt, anchoring yourself to his refuge. Eddie is your safe place, his arms a home, eager to welcome you into the sanctuary of his grasp.
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