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strangersmunsons · 5 months

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read 'em and weep #3

you and Eddie spend more time together. romance blossoms.

Chapter 3 Eddie x Bookworm!Reader Series Read Ch. 2 -> Here!

Contains: Eddie x Reader, fem!bookworm!reader, lowkey shy!reader, new love and giddiness all around, and a brief cameo from Steve. Warnings: mentions of food/eating. Word Count: 5.5k this took me sooo, ridiculously long to finish. work, writer's block, etc kept getting in the way! hopefully this is okay. i've spent far too much time at this point editing & second-guessing everything, i finally just had to stop overthinking & post!

You’re lying on your bed, nearly dozing when the telephone on your nightstand starts ringing shrilly.

The shock of it startles you from your half-sleep, and you blearily push yourself upright from the prone position. One hand smashes into the pages of the magazine you’d been skimming through, which slips forward on the soft bed covers.

Too comfy to really want to move, you stretch over and clumsily pick up the phone, bringing it up to your ear. “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Eddie,” says the voice on the other end. There’s a fuzziness around the edge of his words as they crackle through the speaker.

It’s not the first time he’s rang you at this hour, but a thrill still shoots through you at the sound of his voice. “Hi.”

Eddie has quickly become a fixture in your life over the past few weeks. Your friendship continued to blossom with each visit he paid you at the library, where he gave you live updates on his reading progress, not even bothering to wait until he was finished before sharing his opinions. He was nice, and funny, and you became increasingly fond of him.

Then one day, while he was chatting your ear off about something or other, it hit you: you think Eddie’s pretty. His face is sculpted but soft, everything just looks so soft. The rounded chin and cheeks, the bulbous tip of his nose that looks like the perfect place to plant a tiny kiss…

He had kept on talking, but you could hardly hear what he was saying. Suddenly all you could focus on was the prickly warmth creeping up the back of your neck and into your ears. It was reminiscent of a feeling you’d had once or twice before around him, but this time it came in swinging. And finally, you could see it for what it really was. Oh.

“Did I wake you up? Sorry, I know it’s kinda late.”

“No, I was still up.”

You sound a bit groggy, but if Eddie notices, he doesn’t mention it. “Okay, good. How are you?”

“I’m alright. How are you?”

“I’m alright,” he echoes back wryly. “How was your day? Did you have to work?”

“Yes, I did. It was good.” You reconsider, an uncomfortable moment spent with your boss flashing back to you, and grimace. “Mostly, anyway. How was your day?”

“Listen, don’t worry about me yet, I’m trying to ask about you. Tell me about your day, why was it only mostly good?”

Eddie seems to have a knack for that; saying things that make your heart flutter in a very nonchalant way, like it’s no big deal. You’re glad this conversation is over the phone, so he can’t see the dopey look on your face.

“Well…” You bite your lip. “It’s not a big deal, but do you know the librarian at all?”

“Marissa? Unfortunately. She’s kind of a bitch.”

“Yeah, she is. And today she overheard me telling another clerk what I have planned for Story Time this weekend, and she doesn’t like it. So she got kind of nasty with me.”

“Why? Are you reading something very inappropriate?”

“I want to read them this Dr. Seuss book, Bartholomew and the Oobleck, do you remember that one? And then for the craft period, we’ll make the oobleck. It’s really easy, just cornstarch and water. But she’s saying that I shouldn’t do it because it’s going to make too much of a mess.”

“Oobleck is supposed to be a really thick slime, right? The whole point is that it gets everywhere and they can’t get rid of it?”

“Well, yeah,” you admit. “So she might actually have a point.”

“Are you kidding?” he replies brightly. “They’ll love that shit. You should do it anyway, I think that’s a sick idea.”

“Thank you.” There’s a touch of pride in your voice. You really do try your best to come up with fun and interesting things for the kids. Encouraging them to read and sparking their creativity is all you ever hope for. “I also think it’s a great opportunity to teach them all about non-Newtonian fluids.”

Eddie barks out a laugh, and it digs sharply into your ear.

“You’re funny sometimes, you know that?”

You were being serious, but if it means you’re making Eddie laugh, then you suppose you’ll take it.

He continues without waiting for an answer. “If you need help cleaning up after, I can be around for that, since I don’t work until later.”

Immediately, your brain conjures up visions of green goo splattering everywhere, getting stuck to the low tables and entrenching itself into the carpet. You can’t bring yourself to inflict that upon him. “That’s awfully sweet of you, but you absolutely do not have to do that,” you reassure him.

“I’ll be there,” he says firmly.

“No!”

“I wanna play with the oobleck. I’ll be there.”

“Fine,” you concede with a laugh. “I won’t argue with that.” There’s a warm pause, mutual affection running through the miles of telephone wire connecting the two of you. You fiddle with a small pilled spot on the bedspread. “So how’s the latest book coming along?”

“Well,” he heaves out with a great sigh, “I finally finished Left Hand of Darkness, which was really good. I can’t say I liked it better than Earthsea, but I enjoyed it. I get why you like it so much.”

“Comes down to personal preference. I’ve never met a bigger fantasy nerd than you, so Earthsea would be tough competition.”

“For my own sake, I’m choosing to take that as a compliment. Oh, and Genly and Estraven definitely had sex when they were alone on the ice together. I don’t care if they say otherwise.”

“Oh, they totally did!” you concur with a giggle.

“They were definitely kemmering, or whatever it is you’re supposed to call it. Anyway, I’m on to Geek Love now, and frankly, I’m shocked that you recommended this to me.”

“Why? You don’t like it?” It is a little grotesque, but you thought he’d be into that.

“No, I do. But I just can’t believe that a sweet thing like you would read a book like this.”

Your cheeks flood with heat as the word bounces around your head. Sweet, sweet, sweet — he thinks I’m sweet. “I like all kinds of books,” you mumble, and mentally kick yourself for not coming up with something more flirtatious to say back. The banter came a little more easily before you realized just how much you like him.

“So I’ve gathered.”

“Just you wait. I’ll have you reading the Brontës in no time.”

He huffs in disbelief. “Right. That’s likely.” He clears his throat. “Hey, um, can I ask you something?” There’s an edge to his voice you’re not used to hearing.

“Shoot.”

“Do you wanna come and hang out at my place this weekend? We could get food and watch a movie, like Lord of the Rings or something, if you still wanted to see it. Or we can go to the video store and pick something out. You can choose.”

So far, Eddie’s only ever come to visit you at the library. The prospect of spending time with him alone — truly alone, without coworkers and patrons lurking just around the corner — makes your heart hammer dizzyingly against your ribs. You keep your answer simple. “Yes. I would like that.”

“Awesome.”

Wayne can hear one side of the discussion drifting through the trailer when he comes home, kicking his work boots off and leaving them by the door. Halfway across the living room he spies his nephew in the kitchen, and his eyebrows shoot up at the state of him.

Eddie’s leaning with his back against the wall, the phone held in place between his cheek and his shoulder. One ringed hand is twirling the phone cord around his finger as he speaks in a low voice, goofy grin plastered on his face.

They make eye contact across the trailer. Eddie immediately straightens up and tries to neutralize his expression.

Wayne snorts out a laugh.

“So, um, so anyway—“ Eddie fumbles with the phone “— does six o’clock work?” He turns to the side in a poor attempt to muffle the conversation.

Wayne steps into the kitchen and tosses his jacket and lunchbox across the table. He makes a kissy-face at Eddie.

Eddie gives him the finger.

The day Eddie is meant to see you takes forever to arrive. However, as he stares at his reflection in his dresser mirror, he starts to feel like maybe it actually came way too quickly.

He’d spent the past half-hour wildly picking through his closet, combing his hair with his fingers, trying to figure out how he should present himself as more and more clothing gets flung around the room. Eventually he gave up on his hair, and came up with an ensemble he liked, but would you like it? Would you like him?

To the untrained eye, Eddie is wearing his standard Eddie-uniform: tight black pants and a band t-shirt. On the surface, it’s a regular outfit for him. But if one is a truly acute observer, they should clearly be able to see that there are subtle variations within this basic framework he’s donning that scream “Eddie Munson is Trying to Impress a Girl!”

His ripped jeans have tears that expose swaths of skin not just on his knees, but his thighs as well (scandalous!) and he’s wearing his coolest Slayer t-shirt, the one that he ripped the sleeves off of so that his tattooed arms are on full display. And it’s just loose enough so that when he leans forward, the fabric gives way so you can catch a glimpse of his chest, with its sparse hair and winking nipple ring.

It’s all very deliberate.

But as much as Eddie doesn’t want to admit it, he’s nervous. While he becomes increasingly enamored of you, unable to keep the sly compliments and saccharine terms of endearment from slipping out, you get more shy. He still hasn’t figured out if that’s a good or bad sign.

Both of you seem to be hovering in romantic limbo, tiptoeing along the fine line between friendship and flirtation. Playful and insecure. Tender and uncertain. Was your puckish rapport a new experience, or were you like that with every person you met? Did you like it when he phoned you late at night and called you honey and sweetheart, or were you just too polite to correct him? Did you hold his name and face in your soft heart when he wasn’t right there next to you, like he did yours?

He’d chickened out at the last minute, dancing around the word ‘date.’

Eddie could be smooth on occasion, sure. But it was different when you knew you didn’t actually have a shot in hell with the person you were talking to. He didn’t have to be afraid of rejection when he already knew it was coming.

Like, he could flirt and wink at Chrissy Cunningham all he wanted and invite her to the Hideout because he knew full-well that she was never really going to show up to watch his band play — let alone dump her boyfriend to go out with him. So he could ham it up, make a fool of himself, and then shrug it all off when nothing happened.

Only a few girls had ever taken him up on his offers. And they always ended up being private affairs; nobody wanted to risk being seen out at dinner with Eddie Munson. Instead there were quick and clumsy trysts in the back of his van or in the woods behind the school, and he was reduced to a novelty notch in the bedpost, a secret for them to whisper about at slumber parties, the eponymous who of a giggly “Guess who I hooked up with!”

It took Eddie a minute to catch on. He remembers the first time, when he hooked up with a girl at a party he was dealing at during his junior year. The next school day, he tried approaching her in the hallway as she chatted with a fellow cheerleader, and she quite literally turned on her heel and ran — but not without shooting him a look of such intense disdain that it made Eddie physically flinch. Her friend snapped her locker shut, and snickered knowingly at Eddie before following suit.

He won’t lie, that one stung. He’d stood there in mild shock at being brushed off so harshly, while other students milled about, completely oblivious to his distress; someone deliberately knocked their shoulder into his as they passed by, causing the handle of his lunchbox to slip out from his sweaty fist. It fell to the floor with a loud clang that echoed about his ears.

Eddie had already had a pretty good idea of what other people thought of him, but boy, did it really sink in that day.

It set the framework for what his love life would look like for the rest of high school. Which maybe wouldn’t have been so horrible to deal with, if only he hadn’t been in high school for two years longer than he’d expected to be.

So he leaned into it. It was really the only thing he could do, and hey, at least it meant that he could get some every now and then. What did it matter if they refused to make eye contact with him the next day? He didn’t need all that relationship mess, anyway. He didn’t care.

He didn’t care, he didn’t care, he didn’t care — if he tried to tell himself that one more time he was going to explode.

In reality Eddie’s a pretty lonely guy. But since meeting you? He’s hopeful for the first time in a long time that maybe his life doesn’t have to be that way.

Eddie raps on your front door with his fist, biting the inside of his cheek. Pizza and movies. Easy breezy. There has never been a more relaxed person than you, ever, he thinks, buzzing with nervous energy.

After a moment the door swings open. “Hi,” you greet him, stepping out onto the welcome mat, tugging at the shoulder strap of your purse.

“Hey,” he responds with an easy smile on his lips, one that doesn’t betray his anxiety. He gives you an approving once-over and lets out a low whistle. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

And you really are. He’s never seen you in anything but your work clothes, so he appreciates this chance to see you in an outfit that’s true to your style.

You let out an embarrassed chuckle and wave a hand at him. “Oh, please.”

“No, I’m serious! You look very nice.”

You can hardly meet his gaze, a flustered grin forming on your own face. “Thank you. So do you.”

He shrugs modestly, but his dimples show. He gestures to where his van sits parked by the curb. “Shall we?”

The interior of the van is plush and blue and smells of tobacco and something vaguely minty. Eddie insists on running around the vehicle so he can open the passenger-side door for you, and holds out his arm for you to grasp while you climb in; an unexpected act of chivalry.

“Wow, I’m getting the full VIP treatment here, aren’t I?” you ask him jokingly as you clamber onto the seat.

“Get used to it, sweetheart. I may not look it, but I’m a gentleman of the highest caliber.”

“I’m sure you are. I’ll bet Emily Post writes to you for etiquette tips.”

Eddie turns the engine on, and music starts blaring from the speakers. He quickly turns the volume down, shooting you an apologetic look. “Sorry. I, uh, I like it loud.” He gestures to a shoebox tucked away on the floor by your feet. “There’s a bunch of other tapes in there, you can pick a different one if you like.”

You’re delighted to realize that you have an opportunity to tease him. You tilt your head up, lips pouting as though you’re deep in thought. “Okay. Let's say I pull out a different tape.”

Eddie looks at you quizzically, but plays along. “Okay. Let’s say you do.”

“Now, hypothetically, I would do this because I want to hear something different from what’s playing currently. Right?”

“Right…”

You reach into the box and pull out the first tape you make contact with, and end up with the latest W.A.S.P. album. You cock an eyebrow at him while you hold out the tape for him to see. “So riddle me this: what are the chances that this album — or any of these albums, for that matter — sound any different from what you’re playing right now?”

Eddie attempts to stifle a laugh and fails. “Hey now,” he says, trying to sound stern, “there is something incredibly special and nuanced about every single tape in that box. I would never deign to compare Ride the Lightning to The Headless Children. Completely different. Worlds apart, in fact.”

You shrug, pleased with yourself. “If you say so. You would know better than me.”

“I’m gonna teach you how to be metal,” he promises, peering over his shoulder as he backs out onto the street.

You continue rifling around in his box of tapes. “Do you really think I could be? My job is reading picture books to preschoolers.”

“Totally. There’s nothing more metal than the public library.”

The first stop you and Eddie make is at his favorite local pizza joint, where he insists on paying for dinner himself — he wouldn’t even let you throw a dollar in the tip jar. The shop is conveniently located in the same strip mall as the Family Video, so after putting your order in, the two of you cross the road to browse for a movie while you wait.

When you enter the store, you’re greeted by the little tinkling sound of bells and a bored ‘Welcome’ from the employee seated at the counter.

The cashier is cute — not as cute as Eddie, you think — and probably about the same age. When he finally looks up from the counter and sees the two of you together, his eyebrows shoot up in surprise before furrowing again as he makes eye contact with Eddie.

The two boys stare at each other in mutual distaste. He nods coolly at Eddie. “Munson.”

Eddie’s reply is flat. “Harrington.”

As you approach the counter, the employee’s name tag comes into view: Steve.

Eddie strides past him and doesn’t stop, even when Steve calls out to his retreating back —

“You still haven’t brought back Spinal Tap!”

“I know,” Eddie replies, not bothering to turn around.

You follow Eddie across the store, skimming through the colorful titles. He stops abruptly in the middle of an aisle, and you bump softly into his back.

He gives you an amused smirk from over his shoulder. “Easy there.”

“Sorry,” you reply, giving him a little smile that’s all too apologetic for his liking. He can’t resist the urge to reach out and take your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze before letting go again.

You beam at him.

“So what are we feeling?” he asks, feeling needlessly scrambled at the brief but lingering affection. “Something scary? Funny?” He bats his eyelashes dramatically. “Romantic?”

Your response is automatic. “Whatever you want is fine with me.”

Eddie frowns at you. “I told you, it’s your choice. I already picked out a two-hour cartoon.”

He’s being very sweet. But you want to pick something that he’ll enjoy, too.

Acting on a little tip from your new friend Steve the Cashier, you ask Eddie —

“So you like Rob Reiner movies, huh?”

Eddie slaps The Princess Bride down on the counter in front of Steve.

“Nice vest,” he comments.

Steve shoots him a dirty look. “Your late fees are gonna pile up.”

Eddie ignores this.

Steve sighs and begins the checkout process. Eddie can’t help noticing Steve casting you sidelong glances, his eyes flitting up and down your figure appreciatively.

Eddie clears his throat pointedly.

“Here.” Steve pushes the film back over the counter.

Eddie grabs it and heads for the door without saying anything; you, confused and a little put off by the attitude, offer Steve your most polite “Thank you!” before scurrying out after him.

Eddie holds the door for you when exiting, a pleasant expression on his face that’s a stark contrast from the one he wore when talking to Steve. When you’re both back outside, you can’t help but wonder what that cashier ever did to him.

“I take it you’re not a fan of Steve from Family Video?” you press.

Eddie looks sheepish. “You caught that, huh?”

“It was kind of hard to miss.”

He hesitates. “Well, we went to school together, and he wasn’t very nice. Let’s leave it at that.”

You simply nod, understanding his reluctance to say more. Reliving your high school trauma isn’t exactly something you’re interested in right now, either.

As you and Eddie head back across the street, your swinging arms cause your hands to brush against one another. After a moment’s hesitation, he clasps your hand in his, and your fingers intertwine, like two puzzle pieces clicking into place.

Eddie starts the drive home, and he feels a wave of apprehension.

He told you he lived in Forest Hills early on, and you didn’t bat an eyelash. But with you being so new in town, he wasn’t really sure that you even knew it was a trailer park.

It’s not that he’s embarrassed, exactly, or even that he thinks you’ll really mind — nothing you’ve said to him thus far indicated that his economic status would bother you — but being called trailer trash as many times as he has…well, it’s enough to make anyone defensive.

By the time he pulls up to the Munson trailer, he still hasn’t dared to look across the cab to see your reaction. “Well, here we are!” he exclaims in a hearty voice that doesn’t match what he’s feeling inside at all.

While you fumble between unbuckling your seatbelt and balancing the pizza box on your lap, Eddie darts out of the van so he can help you climb out again. When he opens the door he’s relieved to see that you don’t seem phased by your surroundings; you flash him the same happy smile you always do, and it gives him a boost of confidence.

Hopping up the porch steps, he unlocks the rickety front door and gestures for you to enter, bowing slightly. “After you, miss.”

You curtsey back. “Thank you, sir.”

Eddie pretends that that has less of an effect on him than it actually does.

Inside, he watches you peer around the trailer in interest. He’s glad that he did a deep-clean yesterday: there’s no clothes hanging over the furniture, any garbage he could find was bagged up and taken out, and he wiped down all the flat surfaces with the lemon-y spray cleaner that lives beneath the sink. He even dumped out all the ashtrays; when Wayne saw that, he commented that he must really like this girl.

“That’s a lot of mugs,” you comment, looking admiringly at the shelves that display years of Wayne’s little hobby. “I’m impressed.”

“They’re my uncle’s,” says Eddie as he kicks off his shoes. “I keep telling him he’s got a problem.”

“No, they’re great,” you insist. “Everybody collects something. Don’t you?”

Eddie pauses, hovering by the boxy television. “I guess so. Music. D and D shit.” He sets the pizza down on the coffee table. “Here, have a seat. I’ll get us some plates.”

Eddie walks to the kitchen and starts rifling through the cabinets for some paper plates and napkins. You call out to him from your seat on the worn sofa. “Is your uncle working right now?”

“Yeah.” Eddie pads back into the living room. “He works a lot of night shifts.”

“Are all Munsons generally nocturnal?” you ask, referring to his bartending gig at The Hideout, a job that keeps him busy well into the night.

Eddie chuckles as crouches by the coffee table, pulling off two slices of greasy pizza and laying one on each plate. “I guess you could say that,” he says, handing you your share. Brown eyes find yours and he nudges your knee with his elbow playfully. “But it leaves me free to come and bother you at work during the day, doesn’t it?”

You dig the toe of your sock into the rug and look down at the food instead of him. “I wouldn’t call you a bother.”

His full lips turn up at the corners. “You wouldn’t?” He rests his hand on your leg, and his fingers swirl a gentle pattern over your skin.

You swallow. “No.” The word comes out subdued and breathy.

Eddie doesn’t move, but stays positioned by your knee, staring up at you. “Look at me again,” he says softly, leaning in a little closer.

You do as he asks and it’s almost too much. His eyes are huge and warm and they look like everything you’ve ever wanted.

A few seconds tick by, and then the phone rings and Eddie’s standing up again, whatever momentary spell the two of you were under, broken.

“Hang on,” he says, face tinged pink.

You settle back into the sofa and squirm, feeling feverish.

Eddie wrenches the phone off the hook in annoyance. “Hello?” When the person on the other line answers, he huffs and rolls his eyes, turning away so his back is towards you. Still, you catch snippets of the exchange:

“Henderson, I said tomorrow, okay?” Eddie hisses in aggravation. “No, I don’t care if you don’t wanna do it in the morning, man. I’ve gotta work tomorrow night. You guys either come early or it’s not happening.”

You watch him curiously.

“Suck it up.” Eddie pauses to listen to the person speak again, and turns and glances at you across the trailer. Then his tone becomes noticeably gentler. “Thanks, man. I’ll let you know. See ya.”

He hangs up the phone with a sigh, and his face relaxes into a smile again.

He strolls back into the living room and claps his ringed hands together. “So! Are you ready to experience a cinematic masterpiece?”

Some three hours later, you and Eddie are slumped back against the worn cushions, now one and half movies deep. Over the course of the night you’ve slowly closed the distance between your bodies, so his leg is pressed against yours. Eddie has one arm slung over the back of the couch, fingers dancing just above the skin of your collarbone. Both of you are stuffed to the gills, and more than a little sleepy. Even Eddie, who kept up a stream of commentary during Lord of the Rings, eager to discuss his favorite bits of Middle Earth lore with you, is tuckered out.

Shenanigans play out on the television screen. You let out a huge yawn.

Eddie’s arm curls around your shoulder, hand digging into the meat of your bicep, pulling you closer to him. “This okay?” he murmurs.

You nod clumsily and start fidgeting, your hands twisting in your lap.

Eddie says your name softly. You hum in acknowledgement.

“I really like you. And I think you like me.” He cocks his head to the side. “Is that right?”

Your heart throbs.

“Yes,” you whisper.

“Okay,” he whispers back. “Can I kiss you then, sweetheart?”

You nod; Eddie leans in slowly, then presses his lips to yours for a moment before pulling back again. It’s quick, chaste and sweet, and not nearly enough. Your hands find his face, palms landing on both his cheeks so you can bring his mouth back to yours.

He’s happy to oblige.

Eddie sighs, tongue dipping into your mouth, deepening the kiss. One hand cups the back of your head, keeping you right where he wants you. The other snakes around your thigh, and he uses the leverage to abruptly pull you up and over his lap. A small “Oh!” of surprise escapes you at the jolt, but Eddie wastes no time in securing his mouth to yours again.

His kisses are wet, heady, and grow increasingly frantic as the two of you clutch at each other. Your hands weave into his hair — a longtime fantasy of yours come true at last — and he lets out a soft moan when your fingers tug gently at the tangled tresses.

Your skin feels tingly, sensitive, alight at every little touch he gives you. Your head is full of nothing but Eddie, the way he looks and feels and smells, and the way he makes you feel, like a shaken-up pop bottle, full of pink fizz and ready to burst.

Eddie suddenly laughs against your lips, smiling into another kiss.

You pull back hastily, self-consciously. But he looks jubilant, cheeks dimpled in joy, chocolate eyes crinkled at the outer corners.

“Sorry,” he says breathlessly, “it’s just — I couldn’t tell — I wasn’t really sure where your head was at.” He kisses the tip of your nose. “You kept gettin’ quiet on me all of a sudden.”

You let your head fall forward, forehead pressing into his shoulder, and let out a tiny groan. “I know. I’m sorry, it wasn’t you.”

You lift your head back up and face him. “I’m not usually very good at this stuff,” you admit. “Connecting with people. It’s harder, when you’re introverted…and have different interests. But you were so easy to talk to when we met! And I was so excited to make a new friend, but I…,” you trail off.

“But you what?” he prompts.

“The more I looked at you the cuter I thought you were.” The words come out in a rush. “When I realized what was happening I got nervous.”

Eddie waggles his eyebrows at you suggestively. “Oh, something’s happening?”

You swat at him playfully.

“I’m kidding!” He rubs your shoulders soothingly. “But you don’t have to be nervous around me. I’m just some guy, y’know?”

“You, Eddie Munson, are certainly not just some guy.”

“Aw, shucks, sweetheart. You’re makin’ me blush.”

The movie has long since ended, and a peaceful darkness settles over the trailer. The only sound is the chirp of the summer crickets outside and quiet breathing.

Eddie’s fully sprawled out over the couch with you nestled in his arms. It took some coaxing, but eventually he convinced you to lay on top of him, your warm weight better than any blanket, the sweet fragrance of your perfume soothing his senses. Your face is half-hidden in the crook of his neck, and he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“I have a confession to make,” he says sleepily.

“Ooh. It better be something juicy.”

“It is. Excellent gossip. You can tell all your friends, I won’t even be mad.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“I scoped you out at the library,” he admits. “I came in that day specifically to talk to you. Y’know, turn on that Munson charm, and sweep you off your feet, and all that.”

“Really?” You blink, trying to jog your memory. “I don’t remember ever seeing you before that.” You think of his tousled hair and clunky jewelry. “And you’re pretty memorable.”

“Well, there’s a slight chance that I, um, ducked, and hid behind a shelf when you got close. It was the Saturday right before we met, after you did your reading.”

That recalls something for you. “Wait, wait, maybe I do remember…” It’s hazy. Pale face, brown hair? You can’t quite place this person as Eddie, but it must have been him. “I think I did see you creeping around.”

“What can I say? Your story telling enthralled me.”

It’s the truth. He’d been browsing for a Clive Barker book when he caught sight of you in the children’s area. You read We’re Going on a Bear Hunt with an enthusiasm usually reserved for trained Shakespearean actors, and it left him undeniably impressed.

You cuddle closer to him, burying your face in his chest. “I’m glad you decided to nut up and talked to me.”

He smiles against your hair. “Me too.”

Early the next morning, in the hazy gray-blue dawn, the front door opens quietly — cautiously even. Wayne’s not sure what he’ll be walking into. All he knows is that his nephew really likes this girl, and that for Eddie’s sake he hopes that his date went well. He’s not sure how much more disappointment the boy can take. He wants to see him happy.

So he’s pleasantly surprised to see you and Eddie piled up on the couch like two puppies, fast asleep and — thank Christ — fully-clothed. Eddie’s arm is slung over you protectively, his soft snores just barely audible.

Good for him.

And if they wanna sleep in the living room, that’s fine.

Wayne’s gonna take the bed.

thank you for reading!! <3 taglist: @eddiesgirlforever, @eds6ngel, @sheisahauntedhouse, @lokis-tardis-companion19, @teary-eyed-egg, @whenshelanded, @nanaminswhore, @witchwolflea

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