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@waynemunsonste
“I get it…. I can head out and check the usual spots, see if I can find him,” he volunteered, worried that if Eddie’s uncle was calling around to his friends’ houses, it might be more important than he was letting on.
"No, if you happen to see him, just let me know. He's always been a free spirit, so I know he does what he wants..." Wayne could admit that, but he could never hold back his worry.
Eddie made a wounded noise at “s’edible”, clutching his half‑eaten slice like Wayne had personally insulted its honor. “Edible is a low bar, old man,” he said, but the grin tugging at his mouth gave him away. “But fine. I’ll take it.” He flopped back in his chair, stretching his legs out under the table like he owned the place. Which, in a way, he did. When Wayne joked about him not being too cool to hang out with his uncle, Eddie scoffed dramatically. “Too cool? For you?” He pointed at Wayne with the crust. “Never happening. I’m cool, but I’m not that cool.”
When Wayne stood to grab the takeout menus, Eddie perked up immediately, eyes lighting like a kid promised Christmas. “Oh hell yes, warm food,” he said, already abandoning the cold pizza. He watched Wayne flip through the pamphlets, something soft settling in his chest. The kind of quiet comfort he never took for granted.
At the question about his friends, Eddie shrugged, picking at the edge of the pizza box. “Uh… yeah. Stuff’s good,” he said, voice a little lighter. “The band’s actually sounding decent lately. Dustin’s still a menace. Henderson’s mom keeps trying to feed me like I’m wasting away.” A beat. He hesitated, then added, more quietly: “And… things with Mona are… y’know. Good. Really good.” He cleared his throat, suddenly flustered. “But yeah. Everyone’s fine. No disasters. Yet.” He nudged Wayne’s elbow with his own, a small, familiar gesture. “What about you? Work treating you okay?”
Wayne chuckled at his nephew's remarks. They always had an easy banter between them, and he was more than grateful that it hadn't changed since Eddie's return.
"Whatever you say s- Edds," Wayne caught himself. He had come to think of Eddie as more of a son than a nephew, but he never wanted to overstep. They were family. They would always be family, and that was all that mattered.
"Invite me for dinner if she lets you. I've heard Henderson's a good cook," he remarked as he held the landline against his ear, waiting for the local take out place to connect.
"You want soup or something fried?" He asked, knowing they could both destroy egg rolls or wantons.
"I'll admit, Mona seems like she gets along with you," he encouraged, shaking his head when it was turned back on him. "Work's fine. Reliable, which is all that matters."
Dani wandered over from the folding table where she’d been arranging condiments, wiping her hands on a dish towel as Wayne made his declaration to the crowd.
The corner of her mouth tugged upward. Not quite a smile, but close. “Charcoal’s a flavor profile now,” she called back, stepping into his orbit like it was second nature. “You’re just ahead of the culinary curve.”
She reached past him to snag a paper plate, her shoulder brushing his lightly. “You need a refill?” she asked, nodding toward the beer in his hand.
"Oh, you know how it goes, Rourke," he stated with a shake of his head and a friendly smile. "Keep the patties coming at the risk of burning a few— including a few hot dogs."
He flipped a burger onto her plate and a hot dog for the road, just in case.
"You'd be a life saver," he admitted, holding up his empty can. "I'll make better company once this line is served." Dani was an old favorite of the trailer park feasts, so he was grateful for the offer to keep his cup full while he served everyone.
Rory glanced at his fingers drumming on the bar, then huffed a small laugh, leaning her elbows on the bar as she wiped down a spot that didn’t really need wiping. “Three’s generous,” she teased lightly. “You’re pacing yourself tonight.” When he asked if she was tired, she shook her head, a soft smile tugging at her mouth. “I’m alright,” she said, voice low but sure. “Long day, but nothing I can’t handle.” She stepped a little closer. The blonde lightly bit down on her bottom lip as she looked the man over. She didn't let her gaze linger, instead she grabbed a beer from underneath the bar. The woman lifted it to her lips and took a swig. "Don't tell anyone. This is my secret spot." She laughed, setting the bottle on the bar. You really weren't supposed to be drinking while bartending, but people bought drinks for her from time to time.
"A man's gotta know his limits," he responded with a shrug. Wayne was doing his best to seem relaxed, but he had to admit that he felt nervous being around a beautiful woman alone. "If anyone asks, it's on me," he responded easily, tipping his almost empty beer towards her. "What do you really prefer to drink?" He asked, genuinely curious since he figured she was used to going along with the regulars. "You know beer's my go to, but whiskey is nice on special occasions," he admitted.
moodboard 001: wayne + rory
( @roryvale-ste )
Hopper was leaning against the side of his car, a half-empty bottle of beer sweating in his hand, when Wayne’s voice cut through the smoke and the generic classic rock filtering out of someone’s screen door. He exhaled a cloud of cigarette smoke, dropped the butt, and crushed it beneath the heel of his boot. He didn't need to be told twice about the charcoal. He'd eaten enough of Wayne’s "well-done" hockey pucks over the years to know that timing was everything. Hopper grumbled, stepping away from the truck and walking over to the grill. His knees gave a faint, familiar pop, a souvenir from a lifetime of bad choices.
He held up his paper plate, nodding a quiet, respectful greeting to a couple of the Forest Hills regulars who were already lining up. Hopper liked it better down here anyway. No one at the trailer park asked him about town budgets, or why the north-side patrol was late, or expected him to make polite conversation over a five-dollar glass of wine. Here, if you brought a six-pack and didn't act like a prick, you were golden. "Give me one of the thick ones before you incinerate it," Hopper said, gesturing toward a patty that was still mostly pink on top.
Wayne nodded as he saw the sheriff approach. Despite his unease with judgmental law enforcement, he didn't take Hopper as the kind of guy to take action without having all the facts. That, and it helped that he was not a stranger to trailer park barbecues. Beer might have also played a factor into Wayne's ease around the other man.
"Ah, just for you, sheriff," he declared, scooping up a large patty and dropping it onto the other's plate. "Condiments are right there."
He gestured to the fold out table next to the grill.
"You gonna participate in any of the drinking games or just play ref?" He asked, knowing that once all the food was dished out, people would be quick to pull out cards and beer pong once they got settled.
location: trailer park cookout (memorial day)
It was Wayne's turn to man the grill, tongs in one hand and a cold beer in the other. Ribeye was not on the menu today, but he and a few other trailer residents had pitched in to get more than enough burgers and hot dogs to feed everyone and anyone who showed up. On days like today, he preferred the company of his neighbors to dragging himself to a more privileged friend's cookout.
"If you don't want a burger that tastes like charcoal, get your patty now!" He called out to the crowd and waited for a line to start.
Rory stepped closer, close enough that the dim bar lights caught and accentuated her bright blue eyes, close enough that he’d know she wasn’t brushing it off. “I don’t drink on shift,” she said, voice soft but steady. “But I’m off in…” She glanced at the clock, then back at him. “Two minutes.” Her fingers drummed lightly on the bar, a quiet, thoughtful rhythm. “If you’re still here when I lock the door,” she added, tone dipping into something teasing but undeniably sincere, “maybe I’ll keep you company for real.” She paused. Her gaze held his, warm and a little dangerous.
Wayne was old enough to recognize when a woman knew well enough to know what she wanted. His fingertips drummed across the bar top as he took another sip from his slowly dwindling beer. "This'll last three," he mused, not quite slurring, but his accent was digging in. He was comfortable with her. She was comfortable with him. Wayne reassured himself while keeping his desires in check. "Tired?" He asked, sipping from his beer to give her another out if he might not be worth the trouble.
Ollie walked into the living room and sat down on the couch, looking around the room for a bit. Her eyes went back to Wayne; he seemed to be concerned for her, and Ollie didn’t want people to feel that way. She knew she could do most things herself.
Ollie had originally come here to tell Eddie about a fight she had with David and that she had almost used her powers on him. But a question from deep in her mind came back: did Wayne know what really happened to his nephew, and why he had suddenly come back to life? And now something called the Echoes was everywhere, the reason why Eddie was alive at all. She couldn’t ask that—she would sound crazy if she even began to explain it.
Weird things had been happening, so maybe—just maybe—he had some idea that someone didn’t just magically come back from the dead. It just wasn’t possible; no science or anything could ever explain it.
As she sat on the couch, she started to speak. “Thank you, sir, but I’m good...” Ollie said, pausing a little as the light above flickered slightly before stopping. She spoke again. “Did anyone tell you exactly how Eddie came back to the world of the living?” Ollie said softly, gathering her words, hoping she didn’t sound crazy. Her eyes scanned the room again before stopping to look back at Wayne.
Wayne nodded and finally took a seat in his recliner. If she wanted to sit in silence until Eddie came back, he was ready for that. He was not ready for her to ask him about Eddie's comeback. He knew it was some kind of miracle that his nephew was alive, but he had been too afraid to question it.
He was no fool. He knew weird things had been happening in Hawkins for awhile. He had just hoped Eddie's return was one of the rare good weird things. He hoped it was something that would last.
"Eddie's no great liar, but—I prefer to let him tell me the details when he's ready." As long as his nephew never left him wondering too long about when he would next come home, he held himself back from suddenly being overbearing. He wanted to do more, but Eddie was a grown man now. Wayne would have to wait for him to be ready to come to him on his own if he needed help.
Eddie froze in the doorway like he’d just walked into a sacred ritual. Cold beer. Colder pizza. Wayne in his chair. Yeah. That was basically church. He kicked the door shut behind him with his heel and padded into the kitchen, curls falling loose from the tie he’d half‑assed earlier.
The sight of Wayne with a beer and a plate of sad, congealed pizza made something warm and stupid bloom in his chest. “Join you?” Eddie scoffed, dropping into the chair across from him. “Old man, that’s not an invitation. That’s a summoning spell.” He reached for a slice, took a bite, winced dramatically. “Jesus Christ, this is like… refrigerated cardboard. With trauma.” But he kept eating it anyway.
He grabbed a beer from the fridge, popped it open, and clinked the neck of the bottle lightly against Wayne’s. “Cheers to culinary excellence,” he said, deadpan. For a moment, he just sat there, shoulders loosening, breath easing, the kind of quiet settling over him that only ever happened in this kitchen. Then, softer: “Yeah. I’ll join you.”
Wayne shook his head in amusements at his nephew's dramatics. He should be used to them by now, but no one ever really got used to a guy like Eddie. "S'edible. That's all that matters," he corrected with a fond eye roll.
"Good to know you're not too cool to hang out with your uncle yet," he mused jokingly. "We can order something warm," he suggested, since there was less than half a pizza left. That was hardly enough to feed two grown men so he stood up to pull out their selection of usual takeout places.
"Anything new going on with your friends?" He asked, tearing off another bite of cold pizza as he read over the local Chinese food pamphlet. He could definitely go for some egg rolls.
Rory huffed a laugh under her breath, the kind that curled at the corner like she was trying not to smile too obviously. “Better things to do?” she echoed, leaning her elbows on the bar as she looked at him. “Wayne, if I had better things to do, I’d be doing them.” Her tone was light, but the warmth underneath it wasn’t something she bothered hiding. She grabbed a towel, wiping a ring of condensation near his glass, then glanced up at him again, slower this time, like she was taking him in piece by piece. “And you’re not an old man,” she added, voice dipping into something gentler. “You’re just… you. Which is kind of the point.” She shrugged one shoulder, casual, but her eyes stayed on him a beat longer than casual allowed. “Besides,” she said, pushing the towel aside and resting her hip against the counter, “I don’t mind watching you finish a beer. You’re good company.” A small, crooked smile tugged at her mouth. “And I don’t say that about just anyone.”
Usually, Wayne was a more tight lipped and gruff man, but being five beers in loosened him up a bit. His eyes watched her as she finished her bar duties. "Right, good company," he responded with a joking tone. "I'll be better company if you have a drink with me," he mused, unsure where the suggestion came from. Perhaps he was feeling lonely. He drank alone more often than he cared to admit, but if Rory insisted she didn't mind hanging out, he figured there was no harm in asking for more of her time.
“Yeah, I do. I am just catching some air, is all. Heartbreak hurts…” El said softly as tears fell from her eyes, and she wiped them away. She sniffled, wiping her nose as well, her eyes remaining wet. She didn’t know much about Wayne, just that he was Eddie’s uncle and worked late nights. He was a nice man and meant no harm to anyone.
“I have a place to go, I just forgot how to get there,” she said again. She had been doing so much running in the fog that she wasn’t looking at the direction she was going. The heartbreak she felt was agonizing to her, like a pain she thought would never heal, and maybe Wayne knew that all too well—not because he was older than her, but because he knew what to do and say.
Yeah, she could have gone to Hopper, but would he even understand? She was young and had her whole life ahead of her. She couldn’t let one boy stop her from that, but pain had a funny way of coming back when you didn’t want it to.
Heartbreak. That was definitely one wound that Wayne had no idea how to mend. He had been a lovesick teen once, but that felt like forever ago.
Still, he knew when a kid needed help, so he offered her a hand. "Um well, if you want to dry up at the trailer, maybe have a midnight snack—" He was sure they had some ice cream left. "Then I can take you wherever you need to go or call someone." He just hoped Hopper wouldn't start up a town search party before she was ready to go back. He recognized her now as Hopper's kid, and he knew how protective that man was of the women in his life.
Rory paused mid‑wipe of the counter, glancing over at him with that small, crooked half‑smile she only ever gave the people she trusted not to break it. “Tired’s kind of my default,” she said lightly, flicking a stray lock out of her face. “Doesn’t mean I’m kicking you out.” She leaned her hip against the bar, arms crossing loosely as she watched him take another sip. “You’re fine,” she added, softer this time. “Finish your beer. I’m not in a rush.” She pushed a fresh napkin toward him, casual, like she hadn’t just admitted she liked having him there. “Take your time, Wayne.”
Wayne shrugged, giving her a nod of thanks before taking another sip. "I'm sure you have better things to do than watch an old man get drunk." He liked to think he was a polite man, but if she was offering, he didn't mind taking an extra minute to finish his beer. Rory was a well-liked bartender, especially amongst men, but he appreciated her way with people more than anything.
grab a beer || wayne & eddie
The trailer creaked the way it always did when the temperature dropped. Metal settling, wood complaining, the whole place sounding like it had opinions about being old. Eddie didn’t think much of it at first. He was used to the noise. Grew up with it. Slept through worse. But then he heard movement. Not the usual shift of the wind or the rattle of the siding. It was actual footsteps. Slow. Familiar. He froze halfway through peeling off his jacket. “Wayne?” he called out, voice low, like the dark might echo it back wrong. A beat of silence. Then the soft scrape of a chair leg in the kitchen. Yeah. That was him.
@waynemunsonste
Wayne settled down with his leftover pizza, ready to enjoy his night off with a cold beer. "In the kitchen," he called out to his nephew. "You going to join me for cold beer and colder pizza?" He asked jokingly. They had a microwave, but Wayne was allergic to using it for anything that wasn't completely frozen.
Ollie nodded as she walked inside. The place felt the same as many other times. She didn’t know much about Wayne, just that he worked with David at the plant. He was mostly never there when Ollie was around during the day after school or whenever she stopped by. She wiped her tears away with her sleeve as she walked into the living room, the light shining slightly in her eyes, which remained glossy from crying earlier. Ollie looked around the room, trying to focus her eyes on something other than what had happened. She found a place on the couch and sat down, placing her bag on the other side of her.
The Munson trailer wasn’t fancy, but it was a nice place to hang out. Ollie hated living in a big house—a house no one was in when she got home. It felt lonely, so she did what she could to fill the time while her mom, Ruby, was working at the hospital and her stepdad worked at the plant. They never really seemed to have time for Ollie, though she never wanted David’s time. She hated that man. Hated him for ruining her life. Hated him because he took her mom away from her when Ollie needed her most. That was something she could never forgive. As she sat on the couch, her eyes dropped for a moment before she looked up at Wayne, catching his gaze.
Wayne was familiar with kids who had that look in their eyes. A look that meant they had already or were in the middle of enduring things that were far too much for anyone, let alone someone so young. He recognized that look the first time he met Ollie even if it was only in passing.
"Hungry? We got leftover Chinese, frozen burritos, and probably some ice cream if Eddie hasn't eaten it all." He liked to think food could fix almost anything, but he doubted that would be the case here. "Or water's always on the menu," he tried to joke, but it fell flat when the girl finally caught his gaze.
"You can stay as long as ya need," he finally offered, willing to do for her what he would do for Eddie since she had always been a good friend to his nephew.
closing shift || rory & wayne
Closing time always settled over the bar like a sigh. The music cut out, the lights dimmed, and the last of the regulars drifted out with lazy waves and half-slurred goodnights. Rory liked this part. The quiet, the routine, the way her mind finally stopped buzzing. She tossed a few bar towels into the bin, rolled her shoulders, and started wiping down the counter. The place was empty. Or it should’ve been. She hadn’t heard anyone move in minutes. She flicked off one of the neon signs, bathing the room in a softer, amber glow. The silence felt thick, but she chalked it up to exhaustion. Long night. Too many orders. Too many people. She grabbed a chair, flipped it onto a table, and let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. Almost done. Almost free.
@waynemunsonste
Wayne had grown comfortable at all the late-night bars of Hawkins. Most of the time, all he needed was one too many beers and a generous bartender. That was how Rory had become one of his favorites since she seemed to understand that no matter how much he drank, he never meant any harm. "You're tired," he spoke suddenly, sipping from his half-finished beer. "I'll be done in a few minutes if you don't mind,' he assured. He was almost sure he had one or two beers at home if Eddie hadn't snuck one out recently.
She felt the tears fall for a while, until she couldn’t feel them anymore. She wiped her eyes. She heard the rustle of trees snapping and looked around, but couldn’t see anyone. El sat there, turning back around as she held her knees, placing her head on top of them. For a moment, she thought about it—why was she even out here, knowing that someone, or Hopper, might be looking for her by now? Everyone treated El differently, like she was made of glass or didn’t have a good understanding of things. But she knew more than she let on. She was smart and understood how the world worked, in her own way. Her ears caught another snap of branches, and she turned her head. A man was standing there. Her breath shortened slightly, but she heard him ask if she was alright. For a second, she thought it was Hopper, but the man was too lean to be him. The night seemed to swallow them whole, leaving just the two of them. The only light came from the moon, barely illuminating her small figure. What was she going to tell this man anyway? Was she really going to spill her guts about her breakup with Mike, or the fact that Vecna wasn’t the only villain? How could she explain the echoes, the loud noises, all the things messing with her mind? On top of that, how could she explain her powers? This guy probably didn’t know anything about what had been going on—or maybe he had some idea. El slowly stood up, brushing leaves and dirt from her pants as she placed her hands at her sides. “I—” a beat, “I’m okay. Just really sad. A lot going on…” she said softly, standing there and looking in the man’s direction. How could she even explain why she was out here in the first place? How the dark forest reminded her of that tank chamber she spent so much time in, when she was in the void. How the sounds of the lab filled her ears, how the lights would flicker, and the aura in the room felt dark and filled with disdain. How El tried to do what Papa wanted, but it was just too much for her young body at the time. Remembering it now hurt, but she pushed it away like everything else.
It was hard to make out her features in the darkness, but he could have sworn she seemed familiar. There was a gaggle of kids who liked to hang around his nephew, but it was hard to say if she was one of them. Either way, she was a kid, alone in the forest at night. Even if she didn't want to talk, he needed to make sure she got home okay.
"Uh, well, I'm Wayne Munson. Eddie's uncle, if you know him." It was a risk since his nephew did have a more infamous reputation, but if she knew him or the kids that hung around, then she might be more inclined to trust him.
"Anyway, sorry to hear you're havin' troubles, but you shouldn't be out here so late." He paused, giving her a moment since even through the darkness he could see all the heavy thoughts racing through her head. "You got somewhere to go?"
