part two of eddie munson in his teenage years fr. i canât over those pictures literally. i am sitting on my bed and watching them like a creep cause i exactly know that eddie looked like that AND AGAIN NO ONE CAN TELL ME OTHERWISE.
In the Master Bedroom, an Italian dressing table, used by Mrs. Astor as a dressing table, is accompanied by an amusing chrome adaptation of a tractor seat. Pale walls and fabrics contribute to the serene feeling of the decor. Doubly interlined draperies over blinds shield the room from the sometimes intrusive sounds of the city.
Summary:Â Telling a guy at a party that you have a boyfriend doesn't seem to deter him. Probably because that guy is your boyfriend and you're too drunk to realize.
Word Count:Â 4k
Warnings:Â Drinking, Major Fluff, Established Relationship, Cute pet names
A/N:Â Don't ever settle for a relationship if they wouldn't do your night routine for you.
The music was starting to give Steve a headache. Gone were the days of being the keg king and beer pong master, first to have a drink and last to stumble his way home. Now suddenly he was more worried about drunk Robin asking people far too personal questions and even drunker you deciding to play another drinking game because you liked that it had cards in it.
"Please, I'm sincerely begging you, Y/N, just sit downâ" you interjected with a whine, staring up at him with heartbroken eyes.
"Steve, the game just started. I didn't even break the circleâ" a loud hiccup cut off your slurred protests making Robin let out a squeaking laugh from the seat next to you.
Steve let out a tired sigh, squeezing his eyes shut for a minute before zeroing in on the two of you.
"Well, we're gonna play a new game. It's called sit here while Steve makes a phone call," he said, eyes flickering from yours, wide and disgruntled, to Robin's, half lidded from the joint he had found in her hand, not a clue where she got it from.
"It sounds awful," you grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest and sinking back into the couch.
"Yeah the name sucks," Robin said, picking up an unfinished drink from the side table next to the couch. Steve snatched it from her before she could press it to her lips because it wasn't her drink and she had thrown in her half smoked joint not even thirty seconds before, the rolled blunt floating around in the dark liquid.
"Rob, stop trying to drink everything you see. You're not aquatic," he hissed, harshly dropping the drink on a table out of her reach.
"Well maybe I'm dehydrated, Steve. You gonna let me die of thirst?" she quipped back, eyes blinking slowly revealing red rimmed irises.
"Then I'll get you a water, Robin," he hissed back, eyes narrowing at her. "But first let me make one single phone call, okay? You're not gonna die of thirst in three minutes."
"I might! I feel my cells disintegrating as we speak!" she exclaimed, eyes wide. You turned to look at her, mouth dropping open slight in horror.
"Disintegrating?" you repeated.
"Every moment that passesâPOOF. Another mitochondria bites the dust," she confirmed, giving you a sad smile and a shrug.
"Noâ" Steve pinched the bridge of his nose.
"That's terrible," you expressed, lips pouting and looking to Steve with an expression of alarm. "That's so sad."
"The saddest," she nodded again as Steve muttered an incredulous "Oh my god."
"We need to do something, Steve! Her mitochondria!"
"My mitochondria, Steve!" Robin echoed you, tone mocking as she smirked at him. Steve felt his headache growing steadily.
"Fine! Fine! I'll go get you a drink! Just stay on this fucking couch. Got it?" When neither of you protested, eyes flickering back and forth between your faces he added a strict Stay like you would a disobedient dog.
He hurried to find the house phone, knowing his timeframe was limited before the two of you wandered off in opposite directions, giving him another wild good chase to corral you together. It was late and he was tired and he desperately needed to call in some back up.
Punching in the numbers, Steve cast distasteful looks at the not so innocent sounds emanating from the bathroom adjacent from the landline. The phone rang for a while, making him fear no one was going to answer until finally the receiver picked up.
"Munson residence," the chirpy voice of Eddie Munson had Steve releasing a short-lived sigh of relief.
"Eddie, it's Steve," he said, pressing close to the wall to avoid two girls swaying dangerously and stumbling past him with mirroring green faces.
"Stevie! To what do I owe this pleasure?" Eddie seemed to be eating something as his words were slightly muffled.
"I need you to come get your girlfriend." He tried not to sound like he was begging even though that's exactly what he was doing.
There was shuffling on the line before Eddie's voice rang out clear, "She okay?"
Steve fought the urge to roll his eyes. "She's fine just plastered," he thought for a moment before adding with exasperation, "and like obsessed with card games. And really bad at them so she keeps losing and drinking more."
Eddie's charmed laugh sounded over the static of the receiver. Steve wanted to pull his hair out. Of course Eddie found anything you did endearing. You could insult Black Sabbath and he would still look at you like you put the stars in the sky. You had him completely under your enchantment.
"Just make sure she's not taking any," Eddie replied, his smile drenching his tone.
"Taking any what?"
"Card decks. She likes to collect them."
Steve was quiet. Eddie was quiet. Then Eddie laughed again and Steve had to resist banging his head against the wall.
"Eddie. I'm begging you. Please, just, come pick her up," he said through clenched teeth.
It didn't take Eddie long to reach the house party. You had mentioned where you were going earlier that night, commenting that it wasn't too far from where Corroded Coffin was playing and that maybe he could stop by after. He had agreed under the impression that you would probably be home by the time he was finished because it was far later than you were usually out. So he had headed home thinking you were in bed until Steve had called.
And now he was weaving through a legion of drunk high schoolers, on his way to relieve a very stressed sounding Steve from his never-ending babysitter duties. You were sat on a couch, arms crossed as you glared at Steve and Robin endlessly bickering about something. When Steve saw him he called him over.
"I'm taking Robin home. Good luck with that one because she snuck another drink in when I wasn't looking," Steve grumbled, hooking his arm through Robin's as she whined at him.
"What if I don't want to go home," Robin shot at him, eye brows raising.
"I don't care. It's late and I'm tired so we're leaving," he stated, tugging her towards the door.
"You're not the governor of the universe, Steve."
Eddie watched their retreating forms before turning his attention back on you. Your gaze seemed far away as you looked forward, not seeming to have even noticed his presence. He took few steps towards you before sinking into the seat next to you.
"Hey, trouble," he said, reaching out a hand to brush softly against your cheek.
You pulled away like you had been burned and turned to give him a glare. He lost his breath for a moment, confused by the sudden hostility.
"Can you leave me alone?" Your voice was slurred but it didn't conceal the overt bite to your tone. He felt a bubble of hurt grow in his chest, hand dropping to his lap.
"You want me to leave you alone?" he echoed, slightly bewildered. Hours before coming here you were pouting at him for not being able to join, acting as though it would physically hurt you to be away from him for a night. And now, suddenly, you didn't want him here? Were you mad at him for abandoning you?"
"Yeah. I have a boyfriend, so, you can leave," you bit back. He blinked at you, digesting your words, before relaxing. Your glassy eyes gave no indication that you realized it was him. You weren't mad at him, you were mad at the thought of a random guy bothering you at this party. He couldn't conceal his grin.
"Oh, yeah? What's his name?" he asked, playing along as the tension eased from his body. He wanted to reach out and push your hair behind your ear but restrained himself.
"Eddie. Eddie Munson. And he'll beat you up if he finds out you're bothering me," you proclaimed, arms crossed tightly over your chest as you glared at him, or however many versions of him you were seeing with your blurred vision.
"He will, will he?" he felt giddy at your admission.
He had had moments in your year long relationship where he let his insecurity eat away at him. You were beautiful and kind and alluring. You unconsciously had people gravitating towards you and sometimes he worried that one day someone would turn your head and steal you away from him. But seeing you be so cold to someone even attempting to have a conversation with you, bringing him up immediately, had his heart selfishly warming.
"Yeah and he's on his way to come get me. So try your luck with someone else," you concluded, words slightly garbled as you gave him your best glare.
"How many drinks have you had, trouble?" he asked, laughing incredulously. Your steely glare hardened. You unfolded your arms to poke him harshly in the shoulder.
"You don't get to call me that. Only my boyfriend can call me that," you stated, poking him again for good measure. It didn't hurt him but he feigned pain anyway, hand flying to his shoulder as he sunk back like he was shot.
He opened his mouth to respond but suddenly you were clambering your way off the couch, form swaying as the alcohol in your system made your vision spin. Eddie was up next to you in an instant, gripping your elbows to steady you.
"Easy, sugar. Don't want you face planting," he murmured, trying to bit back his laugh. You halfheartedly swatted him away, making him remove his hands from you only to hover them behind you in case you started swaying again.
"I just told you not to touch me. I'll beat you up myself if I have to," you said, giving his shoulder a light shove that had you stumbling instead of it's intended affect. Eddie ghosted his hands behind your back as you righted yourself, eyes dancing over your flushed face and glazed eyes.
You marched away from him, dead set on avoiding him and finding something to do until your actual boyfriend showed up. Eddie followed behind you like a shadow, eyes alight in amusement as he waited for you to finally realize it was him. You were nearly oblivious to your surroundings, bumping into people, stumbling over loose cans littering the floor. He followed behind, one hand floating to press your back lightly when you wobbled and the other pressing bodies away so you could move easier through the crowd.
When you found the front door and burst out into the cool air of the autumn night, you whirled around to give your stalker a piece of your mind only to freeze when you noticed his wiry curls and amused smirk.
"Eddie!" you breathed, voice airy and light as you tumbled towards him, arms flying to wrap around his neck. He let out a boisterous laugh, arms snaking around your midsection as he squeezed you tight, lifting you slightly from the ground.
"Hi, pretty," he breathed, face nuzzling into your neck to leave a few searing kisses. You molded into him, body relaxing and contented sigh seeping through your smiling lips.
"Eddie, what took you so long! There was this annoying creep who wouldn't leave me alone," you whined, breathing in his cologne and the faint smell of cigarettes. His chuckle vibrated into your neck making chills run up your spine. You pressed in tighter, addicted to his touch.
"Did you tell him to fuck off?" he asked, playing along, smirk widening as he pulled back, finally allowing himself to brush wild pieces of hair behind your ears.
"Told him I'd fight him," you replied and he gave you a bright grin.
"Good girl," he said, pinching your cheek lightly, before leaning in to press his lips to yours. You preened at the praise, stepping on tip toes to deepen the kiss that was making your head fuzzy. He smoothed both his hands on the sides of your face, thumbs resting on the apples of your cheeks, pecking your lips a few more times for good measure before he was reluctantly pulling back.
"Let's get you home, yeah, trouble?" You nodded, eager to go anywhere with him. He took your hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it before tugging you in the direction of his truck.
The drive to your house was filled with you animatedly recounting the party to Eddie, who listened with a soft smile on his face. There were moments where your slightly slurred speech and foggy memory made your stories hard to follow but anytime you laughed he did too, your glee contagious and endearing. He had to scold himself to pay attention to the road a few times when he felt his gaze being reeled in like sailor to a siren.
When you arrived at your home, you handed him your bag claiming your keys were somewhere in its depth. He turned the ignition off, the both of you sitting in the car as the heat slowly seeped into the chill of the night. He opened your bag and let out an incredulous laugh. At least three decks of cards were shoved into your small purse, stolen from a fair few disgruntled partygoers who probably wouldn't have suspected you as the thief in the slightest.
"You're a menace, you know that?" he commented, pushing the decks to the side so he could reach for the set of keys glinting at the bottom of the bag. You pouted at him, no clue what he was referring to. He chuckled, leaning over the inner consul to press a sweet kiss to your lips. "A cute one, but a menace."
"C'mon. Let get you inside," he said, unlocking the doors. You were nearly putting all of your weight on him as you headed to the front door of your house, body slung around him like a backpack. He had one arm wrapped around your back, pressing kisses to the top of your head every few steps, your bag looped over his shoulder.
As he fumbled with the lock, keys rattling against the metal of the doorknob, you mumbled something about your family being away when he winced at the noise he was making. And once you were inside, door shut behind you, he flicked on a few switches, lighting up the empty house. He dropped your bag and keys on the small table by the door before turning towards you.
With both arms wrapping around you, he bent slightly, his hands moving to cradle the backs of your thighs.
"Up," he commanded. You jumped, letting him hoist you into his arms as you wrapped yours around his neck, legs hooking his waist.
"'M, tired," you mumbled into his shoulder. His chest vibrated as he chuckled, taking cautious steps up towards the second floor.
"I bet. It's nearly two," he replied and you humphed in response. When he made it to your room, he slowly released his hold on you, letting you slide down until your feet touched the ground. You whined against him, not liking the idea of not being completely wrapped up in him.
"Need to get you ready for bed, sugar," he said, reaching around behind his neck to pry your arms away. You whined again but had little strength to resist him. He nudged you forward until the backs of your legs met your bed, causing you to reluctantly sit down, the mattress dipping slightly.
He crouched down so he could rest his weight on his knees, the carpet of your floor cushioning them. You were blinking slowly down at him like you were fighting against sleep. Hand wrapping around your ankle, he undid the laces and slipped off your sneaker, dropping it to the side. He repeated the action with your other shoe.
"I'm gonna get you something to change into, okay?" he said, pushing up from the floor. He kicked off his own shoes next to yours, pulling off his vest and then his jacket, draping them over your desk chair.
Your room was yards cleaner than his own and starkly different. Remnants of your childhood were woven together with band and movie posters, shelves of books, and colorful post-its and polaroids taped to your mirror. He spotted his face in many of them, heart warming each time he noticed yet another one of him you managed to find room for.
He headed for your dresser, pulling drawers open at random trying to find something for you to sleep in. His cheeks warmed at the drawer of underwear he yanked open, the pretty pastels and swirling lace making him swallow harshly. He wasn't here to be creepy he was here to be a doting boyfriend. He opened a few more until he found one of his shirts he thought he had misplaced. Menace, he thought.
When he turned around you had already begun slipping off your pants, kicking around until they flew off your ankles. He walked over to you as you were pulling your shirt over your head. His Adam's apple bobbed as his eyes trailed down the straps of your bra to the curves of your chest, heat rising on the back of his neck. He cleared his throat, averting his eyes as he chided himself. Now was not the time for that. He heard you undo your bra and kept his gaze on your sleepy eyes as he handed you the black T-shirt. You slipped it on without protest.
"Alright, now to the bathroom," he said, patting the side of your bare thigh.
"But I'm tired," you groaned, wrinkling your nose at the idea of exerting more energy.
"I know, trouble, but you still have your makeup on," he said, leaning over to take your hand in his. He held his other one out and you reluctantly grabbed it, letting him pull you up. He maneuvered the both of you into the bathroom. You wobbled against him, eyes squinting shut at the harshness of the overhead light. He let go of your hands to slide them to the sides of your ribcage. Then he lifted you so you were sat on the counter besides the sink.
âOkay, sleepyhead, I need you to direct me through your night routine,â he said, rubbing his hand on the side of your neck. You looked at him through bleary eyes before looking down at the counter. An assortment of bottles and serums and tubs of cream littered the expanse of the white laminate. You blinked heavily before pointing at one.
âThatâs makeup remover,â you said as a yawn over took you. He picked it up, unscrewing the top and then staring blankly at you.
âDo I . . . use my hand?â he asked innocently. You giggled softly, leaning back to rest against the wall.
âNo, silly. A cotton pad,â you replied, waving your hand in the direction of the cabinet. He found them, dropping a few as he struggled with the zip lock, before pulling one out. He tipped the clear liquid from the bottle, soaking the cotton pad before turning back to you.
âEyes shut,â he ordered, stepping closer so your legs parted for his thighs. You followed his instructions, eyes fluttering shut as he brought the pad to your face.
Eddie was nothing if not gently when it came to you. The damp cotton brushed softly over your eyelids, over your eyebrows, down your temples, trailing your jaw, over your lips, and in circles on your cheeks. He could tell you were dozing, needing to move his other hand to frame your jaw so your head wouldnât lull to the side.
Dropping the dirtied cotton pad in the trash, he grabbed a hand towel and soaked it under the tap. It was warm when he brought it to your face, the stitched loops of the towel swirling around as he wet the skin. Dropping it down, he scanned the array of bottles until he found one clearly labelled face wash. He squeezed probably too much onto his palms before moving to massage it around your face. The gel foaming as he circulated his fingers, tender movements nearly putting you to sleep. Your eyes blinked open, finding his focused on his movements, tongue poking out from between his lips in concentration. A balloon of affection blossomed in your chest.
âYouâre my favorite person in the whole world,â you mumbled, blinking slowly at him like cat. His movements slowed as heat rushed to his cheeks at your words.
âWell youâre my favorite person in the whole universe,â he said back, moving to rinse the face wash from his hands. He re-wet the small towel and moved to wipe your face down. You pouted at him.
âThatâs not fair. I canât go any bigger than the universe,â you grumbled, unhappy that he outdid you so quickly. He let out an endeared laugh, hand moving to cup the back of your neck as he wiped the foam from your face.
âI donât play fair, baby. Not when it comes to professing my undying love to you,â he said making you wrinkle your nose. He leaned in to press a quick kiss to your lips.
âI missed you tonight,â you confessed as he finished cleaning your face. He rinsed the towel in the sink before turning to look at you. Your head was resting against the wall, eyes half lidded in fatigue but glinting prettily under your lashes. He felt his chest tighten at the sight, his breath stalling for a moment at your effortless beauty.
âI always miss you when youâre not around,â you added. He moved to face you, chest coiling in unbridled affection, hands moving to cage your face in. He swiped his thumbs under your eyes, the soft skin glittering from the water.
âWish I could be with you 24/7 but I donât want you to get sick of me,â you continued, eyes fluttering up at him. He thought you might really kill him.
âNot even in an alternate dimension could I get sick of you. Not even in a hypothetical scenario. Not even if my life depended on it,â he replied, moving closer until your noses were almost touching. Your hands snaked around his torso, tugging him closer, bunching up the back of his shirt.
âIf youâll have me Iâll probably be up your ass until the end of time,â he added, making a peel of giggles erupt from you. His eyes squinted as he smiled, leaning in to press his lips to yours, your giggles dissolving into his affection.
âNow, no more being cute until weâre done with this,â he said after pressing yet another kiss to your lips. Your swollen lips chased his to steel another, then another before he was squeezing your sides, making you squirm and laugh as he pulled away.
You leaned back against the wall, eyes drooping as he continued, grabbing your moisturizer and spinning open the cap. He repeated his gentle motions over your face, swiping softly around your eyes and smoothing any tension from your face.
âBrush,â you blinked your eyes open noticing him holding out your toothbrush, toothpaste already sitting on the bristles. Your movements were sluggish but you managed, leaning over to spit in the sink before he was handing you a cup of water to rinse.
You were both quiet for a moment. He watched as you leaned your head back, eyes shut. His hands trailed the sides of your thighs, brushing the skin, squeezing slightly, warming them and making goosebumps appear. His eyes danced around your face, taking in your peaceful features. You were breathtaking even when on the edge of sleep. He was completely enamored with you. He never thought someone could have him so enchanted that he would be taking their makeup off before bed and making sure they brushed their teeth but you had sent him one dazzling smile and he was lost in a sea of desire to take care of you for as long as he lived.
âAlright, ready for bed?â he asked, affectionately brushing his thumbs on the tops of your thighs. You nodded, slumping forward to wrap your arms around his neck. He tugged you forward, hands slinking under your thighs to pull you up into his arms.
He laid you gently on your bed, pulling the covers down so you could slip your legs in until he was moving the duvet up over you. He wandered back over to your dresser, digging back into the bottom drawer where he knew a treasure trove of his clothes was hidden, never to be seen in his closet again. He slipped off his pants and then shirt, pulling on an old Van Halen T-shirt, the ratty edges brushing against the waistline of his boxers.Â
"You're staying, right?" your sleepy voice rang out from the bed. He kicked his pile of clothes to the side, knowing you were going to chide him for it tomorrow.
"Wouldn't dream of leaving," he answered, pulling off his rings, the silver clanking as he dropped them on your desk.Â
He hurried to shut the lights off before he was crawling in beside you, finding your sleepy body in the dark and pulling you into him. You let out a contented sigh, warm breath tickling his neck, making him pull you in even tighter.
He wasnât sure how he had gotten so lucky. Nothing seemed to compare to finally being in your arms, breathing in the smell of your perfume and feeling the smoothness of your skin. His lips traced your hairline, leaving soft honeyed kisses around your forehead and down over your eyelids. You smiled into the darkness, tilting your face up in a silent beg for more. He kissed your nose, his eyelashes dusting the tops of your cheeks.
"Love you," you whispered, melting against him and his warm lips. You felt him smile against your cheek.
"Love you more," he whispered back, a kiss following his admiration.
âLove you times a million,â you added, hoping finally to win a battle of affection.
âLove you times infinity,â he replied. You let out a whine at him one-upping you yet again but he just chuckled in fondness, teeth nipping at the plumpness of your cheek until he was seeking out your lips again, to press a dozen more kisses until you inevitably fell under the spell of sleep, dreaming about him and his big brown eyes and warm kisses and how very very lucky you were.
So I did an edit to see what Billy would look like if he had natural long hair instead of a mullet and I ended up with a combination between 2014 Harry Styles and Jesus Christ:
yousharknotpass
2087
discoholicmusic
dededos
romaincrisis
theartofmadeline
