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bewilderedbunny · 1 year ago

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baby, as if (the flashbacks)

the flashbacks: part one. baby as if: masterlist (read with caution.) i looked at that poll and i said 'absolutley not, you'll take what i give you.' jk, but i realized it'll just be easier for me if i take this a few chunks at a time, so i give you the beginning of 'the flashbacks'. here, you'll see eight, six, and five and a half years ago. a little entry way into how reader and (not so) f!boy eddie met and started getting involved. tw: 18+, oral (f recieving), not much in terms of tws for this entry, discussions of drugs and drug dealing -- otherwise pretty fluffy. our timeframe setting starts out in 2007-ish. (take all actual year timelines with a grain of salt, i just like incorporating the early aughts into shit.) but here we go, i give you the beginning of baby as if: the flashbacks.

8 Years Ago You didn't really know each other when he started working at the shop. Your dad had mentioned 'my daughter' in passing, but you didn't go to Hawkins High or middle, you went to the highschool in the next town over using your aunts address because it was a better school. Your parents didn't want you to end up stuck like them, but you'd already beaten them by not getting pregnant at nineteen. He knew you went to college in Fort Wayne to study English -- he thought that was stupid since you spoke English already. Why would you have to spend all that money to study it? That didn't make sense to him.

He did know your little brother, Beau, often found small and sugar high at the end of a long day at kindergarten being dropped at the shop by your mom so she could take more clients at night in the salon. Eddie would take the morning shift on cars and then the afternoon shift as a baby sitter until the shop closed at 5:30. He'd take that time to teach him how to read -- but only the best books. He started with the Hobbit and went from there.

On one particular hot summer night, your mom didn't come by to drop off your brother which made sense since it was the summertime -- but he still heard the pitter patter of his light up sneakers against the concrete floor.

"Beau, don't run please!"

He hadn't heard that voice before, it wasn't nearly as nicotine soaked as your mom's or your aunt's. Eddie feels the slam of a tiny skull against his mid thigh and looks down to see Beau looking up at him with his big baby eyes.

"Hi," Beau says -- breathless in the way little kids are when they run or take a big gulp of water. He reaches up at him with his arms over his head, "I didn't wanna go home yet so I asked sissy if she could take me here after camp."

"Sissy?" Eddie asks with a quirk of his brow, hoisting him up onto his hip, "You're gettin' big dude, I don't know if I can keep pickin' you up."

"My sissy," he says, pointing over to the office your dad normally spent the afternoons in, but there you were right outside of it. Summer sun soaked, shorts tight over your thighs, run down sneakers and an old weathered sweatshirt completed your look. Eddie gulped at the sight of you but you were too preoccupied with your phone to pay attention.

"Mumma, can you tell Eddie about the dragon I saw at the zoo?" Beau asked, shimmying down Eddie's body to get back down on the floor to run to you.

"Okay kid, is she your sister or is she your mom?" Eddie asked, trying to hide confusion and surprised. You look up at him with a gaze that immediately makes him feel stupid, but intruiged.

"Ew, no, I'm definitely his sister," you answer while snapping your phone closed, hand falling onto Beau's head, "Can you guess which one of us was the mistake?"

Your playful grin makes him laugh, "Sorry, he called you mom so -- I just didn't know."

"Don't worry -- it's sorta like when you accidentally call your teacher 'mom' when you're a kid. He just gets confused," you shrug and introduce yourself before asking, "What's your name?"

"I'm Eddie. I uh --"

"Oh! You watch Beau when he's out of school!" you interrupt, "He talks about you all the time."

"You're not telling him about the dragon, sissy," Beau whines and squirms, "I seen a dragon today."

"You saw a dragon today, B," Eddie corrects, "I saw, not I seen."

"Still seen one," Beau crosses and uncrosses his arms with a dramatic eye roll, already bored with the conversation enough to scurry over to another co-worker.

"He saw a bearded dragon lizard at the zoo today," you smile.

"I swear he's five going on fifteen with all that attitude," Eddie says with an exasperated sigh through puffed out cheeks, "Gives me a run for my money..."

You laugh a little out of your nose and flip your phone open, he's stunned at how fast you text. Your thumbs flying over the keyboard of your Sidekick iD. All he had was some Nokia burner from Rick and an iPod he stole at the gym.

"Uh, your dad's in there, by the way. Like, you can just go in," he says. His coverall feels too hot and scratchy, noticibly concious of how much is pools around his sinewy frame. He doesn't look like a man the way the other guys who work here do, he doesn't really feel like one either. Too soft. Too gentle. Even when he was lugging around tires and getting into fights at The Hideout.

"He's on the phone," you scrunch your nose while you point at the door, keys in your hand jingling. He thinks about what you'd do if he reached forward and tapped his finger on it. If he traced down the bridge gently. You look so touchable.

"How come I've never seen you around before? I've been here like, almost a year," he says, running the rag that was over his shoulder through his hands to occupy himself.

"I'm not around a lot, normally in Fort Wayne 'cause I go to school there. I stay with a friend and work at the school over the summer to make some money," you explain, "Trying to save up for my own place."

"Oh, cool," he nods, swallowing the disappointment in his tone. Of course you don't want to stick around this shit hole town. You have better things to do. You're literally in college.

"What's your SN? I'll add you to my buddy list and tell you all the weird shit Beau says this weekend," you giggle.

"What's an SN?" Eddie asks, throat running dry. Is this some kind of joke? Are you trying to make fun of him or something? "SN? Your screen name?" you reply, cocking your head when he still doesn't know what you mean, "Like your AIM screen name?"

"Oh!" he says, embarrassment continuing to creep up on him, "Like, on the computer? We um -- I don't have one at home so I never really signed up for it."

"Oh," you say softly, nodding, "Um, well like, what's your number then? Gotta keep up with Beau's replacement older sibling."

He internally gags when you refer to him as your replacement. Did you already put him in that catergory? The friendzone? That's what they called it at the comic book store when they had their D&D nights and just talked about girls.

"Here," you say, handing the phone out to him with the 'New Contact' page up. He takes it, albiet shakily, unsure if Rick would want him to be giving out his number to just anyone -- but you're so cute and girls never ask for his number. Not even after they hook up with him in his van outside of the bar. Rick would understand.

"Thanks, it's saved under Eddie M," he replies sheepishly, "In case you know any other Eddies."

"I don't," you smile, "But I'll keep the M."

The door to the office opens and your dad appears, tired and disheveled but glad to see you.

"Hey kid, where's the gremlin?" he asks you gruffly.

"I don't know, probably doing something illegal," you shrug, but the pitter patter of light up sneakers on concrete starts up again across the garage.

"Let's go, buddy," he says while Beau leaps up into his arms.

"That was a big jump dude. What, are you half spider monkey or something?" Eddie teases.

"We saw them at the zoo, today!" he calls out, before turning to his dad, "And I also saw a dragon."

"That's very cool, you'll have to draw me a picture when we get home," he says with a nod before putting his attention on Eddie.

"I'm gonna head out, but are you good to lock up here with Mark?"

"Yeah, for sure," Eddie nods. A smile spreads across his lips, maybe you'll think he's important or something, "It was um...it was nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you, too," you say softly while you head toward the door with your dad. He tries not to look, but there's something about the way your cut off shorts hug your ass that has heat rushing to his cheeks.

You turn back as the door is about to close behind you and grin, "I was the mistake, by the way. I'll shoot you a text after nine!"

You do text him after nine.

'heyyy. how r u? :)'

No one ever really asks.

Six Years Ago

He didn't mean to fall for you, but how could he not? Your weekly to bi-weekly phone calls during your senior year of college were all he looked forward to. Outside of pay day and parties at Rick's. And D&D campaigns. And shows at The Hideout. You were up there, you were top ten. He swore it.

He knew when you came home for winter break last year, helping your parents bring Beau to swimming lessons and indoor soccer. It started with small, yearning, glances when your daddy would invite him home for dinner, or you'd drop off lunch for the guys. Soft little flicks of brown eyes from under envious full lashes to watch you watching him, leaning over his work bench to ask him a question for your dad. Watching you live your life in your family’s small house while he ate brisket and showed Beau how to do shading in his coloring books. He nearly died when you grabbed his hand in the kitchen, manicured nails dancing over the new burnished silver jewelry on his fingers and asked, ‘Are these new rings? Where’d you get them?’

He'd survey you while you helped your brother with his math homework when your mom was busy with her fourth haircut that night -- your aunt who wouldn't pay her and your dad too burnt out to do anything but drink in front of the TV in his recliner.

"Oh, no, that's not right," Eddie pipes up gently. You looked up at the sound of his words, sitting across the kitchen table while you stood over your brother's shoulder.

Eddie blushes, scrunching into his shoulders, "Sorry, sorry, it's just, you're a little off -- when you're converting ounces to pounds you--"

"I don't need you to teach him about grams, ounces, and pounds, Munson," you say softly, a little giggle escaping your chest. He flushes deeper than before, "I think he's a little young for that." Everyone knew what Eddie did on the side, it didn’t take much to find out what he always had hidden away in his beat up backpack. Your daddy said that it taught him good entrepreneurial skills and as long as he wasn’t getting into trouble or selling to kids, he was fine to work at the shop until the cops came knocking – and they never did.

"Sorry, I just -- Just because it says 5 doesn't mean it's a half pound. 5 ounces isn't a half pound, it's like a 'gotcha' question," he explains. Your brother's eyes are glued to Eddie, his cool rings and long hair, his leather jacket, the soft stubble on his chin. Eddie was the coolest guy your brother had ever met, so if it meant he had to learn weight conversion from a drug dealer, then so be it. He'd listen to him before he’d listen to you.

"How many ounces are in a pound, bud?" he asks.

"Sixteen," your brother replies.

"What's half of sixteen?"

"Eight."

"You're so sharp, dude," Ed encourages, "You should skip second grade, for real."

"So even though it says point five, it's actually eight ounces? Not five ounces?" your brother asks, pencil tracing over the question on his work sheet.

"Exactly," Eddie grins, "See, you get it."

He meets your eyes for your approval and when you nod, running a hand over your little brother's head comfortingly, he has to hide the giddiness on his face in his hands.

"How come Eddie's good at math and you're not?" your brother asks. You laugh, Eddie's snort comes out from behind his hands, dancing through his silver rings.

"I haven't taken a math class in a while, Eddie does math every day," you say, like a kindergarten teacher trying to explain bomb drills.

"How come?"

"Oh, um," you look at Eddie, his flushed cheeks and boyish smile, "He's just -- Eddie's really smart."

You stayed out in Fort Wayne for six months after graduation until your mom got let go at the salon. 'Making room for new talent', they'd said. She'd developed joint pain, recurring carpal tunnel -- she couldn't do as much as she used to. So, like every good first born, you moved back home to help out -- taking whatever job you could find. At first it felt bad to be back in your childhood bedroom, forced back into the mundanity of the world around you. The embarrassment of running into people you knew at the mall or getting gas. But at least one thing was fine, you got to see Eddie -- and he was kind of exciting. Way more exciting than your job at the diner you picked up back in May. It worked out fine, you guess. You'd have mornings off some days to take Beau to school and to soccer, or baseball, or whatever sport he was into that season. Your mom would do hair in the kitchen for the older ladies -- roller sets, perms, colors. She could take her time with them, they had no rush. Then you'd leave for the diner when Beau came home and your mama would take more clients in the evening. Your daddy would be home at five thirty to take on the heat.

Things were easier on your parents when Eddie started coming around to keep Beau occupied. The second grader had a lot of energy, even after sports practice or game days. Eddie's personality matched his in intensity -- always finding new ways to keep him engaged in his homework, in his reading, in the way he navigated the world. Beau was at a fourth grade reading level by the end of the school year and whipping through math like he was born to know it. Your daddy started taking Eddie to boxing matches and monster truck shows with Beau. Your daddy started to forget you were there, too.

Except when Eddie’s big brown eyes started to linger a little too long at you one night when you were at work.

“Munson, I’m old. I’m not stupid,” your dad’s voice grumbles like a bad engine when he talks, “You wanna ask my daughter on a date, don’t you?”

Eddie sputters into his orange soda, smattering it onto Beau who throws into a fit of giggles.

“Uh – what?” he gasps, “Sir, I – excuse me?”

“I see how you’ve been lookin’ at her since you saw her two summers ago,” he shakes his head, coughing a cigarette cough into his fist, “You’ve got the most love sick eyes I’ve ever seen.”

Eddie can’t help the blush that grows in his cheeks, “Sir, I dunno about that.” “Everyone knows you have a huge crush on sissy, Ed,” Beau says matter of factly, taking a big gulp of his chocolate milk. Ed reaches for the cup as he goes for a second gulp and eases it out of his hands. “Slow down, kid,” he huffs, “And gross, dude. Girls have cooties.”

“Sissy has her cooties shot,” Beau shrugged, “She told me when I said there’s no way you liked her, ‘cause girls have cooties.” “Did sissy ask if I told you I liked her?” Eddie asks with a smile. Beau smirks and giggles, tiny teeth shining back at his dad – he’s a troublemaker but he’s no good at keeping secrets. Your dad smirks into his coffee mug, too.

“Did she ask you if I liked her?” Eddie’s heart pounds in his chest when your dad nods at his question.

“Did um – did she say if she liked me?” he stammers out. He pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth to squeeze out any remaining moisture as he saw you walk out of the kitchen to one of your tables. Two regulars, construction guys -- Bryan and Charlie, always come in at the same time and always tip big cause they think you're pretty. Eddie hates that he hates when you talk about them -- you aren't his, it shouldn't make him so upset. He smiles to himself for a minute when you press a hand to your lower back, scrunching your face in pain. He can tell it’s because you always pop your hip to one side when you take an order.

“She might’ve mentioned something,” your dad shrugs, “But I asked you a question, kid.”

The sticky heat from outside flows in through the door and into his chest, “Am I allowed to ask her on a date?”

“She’s twenny-two, she can do what she wants,” he laughs, “Just don’t have her coming home in a cop car and you got my blessing.”

“I promise I won’t have her come home in a cop car,” he breathes out. His excitement outweighs his embarrassment when you come over to the table. To him, your diner dress fits you just right. To you and your dad, you wished it was a little looser. He swallows hard when you plop your hands on the linoleum and lean forward on your palms. Your manicured nails click on the plastic when you drum them a few times, the pen in your hand shines.

“Anything else I can get you boys?” you ask with a smile.

“I think we’re heading out, pum’kin,” your dad’s jagged grin shines through his eyes while Beau crawls over Eddie to get out of the booth, “Gotta take this rugrat to the movies for his friend’s birthday party.”

“But um,” your dad chuckles while he stands up, stretching a bit before adjusting his biker vest, “I think Ed’s gonna stick around. Said he had somethin’ to ask you.”

Five and ½ Years Ago Money flows when he makes it. Your first date was to the movies, nervous hand holds on your knee – uncertain arm around your shoulder. He smelled like Suave body wash and cigarettes. Your second to some restaurant out of town, he stumbled over his drink order and yours but it made you giggle in a way that made him giggle too. He wore a ‘nice’ shirt that Wayne let him borrow but he shifted in it all night – rolling up the sleeves and opening up the collar. Some chicken scratch tattoos on his forearms. He kissed you in the van with warm full lips and smiled all the way home. But as the months went on and Rick started giving him bigger plays, bigger bricks to move – two years in the trenches had his seeing stacks he had only dreamed of before. You got to reap the benefits. A pair of earrings, nicer dinners, paying for your manicures every now and again. New tattoos on his arms, on his chest, littered in them – good ones too, he’d go out to Ohio for them. He’d work his shifts at the garage with your dad and then on some nights and weekends do his business. Your daddy still looked the other way, if the cops weren’t knocking then it didn’t matter. Eddie was making you happy, he was making everyone happy, so there wasn’t any reason for him to worry. You spent your shifts at the diner thinking about when he’d come pick you up. Thinking about when he’d come in during your opening shifts and flirt with you while he had a cup of coffee – sometimes in his coveralls, sometimes in his clothes from the night before. He smelled good, new colognes – he got a couple. You liked the one he wore on date nights and loved the one he wore during the day. Got some silver chains to match his rings – subtle upgrades. He’d started to fill out some – making more money, eating more, more muscle, more cash, more confidence – still yours. Still lovesick. ‘The most lovesick eyes I’ve ever seen.’

His hair tickled your thighs while he had you splayed out on the mattress in Rick’s guest room, the ‘welcome to the weekend’ party still raging down stairs as the night begins to approach the early hours of the morning. Perks of living on the outskirts of town – no neighbors to call the cops to tell you to shut the fuck up. The thud of the music makes the walls vibrate, putting you in a steady trance in the dark. The joints you were passed earlier had made their claim, body languid and floaty — he could have you just how he wants you.

“Fuck, you taste so good,” he whispers into the crease of your thigh while his hands push your knees apart further. His tongue is his best feature, and he knows it now. Easily his strongest muscle with the way it’s started to get him in and out of anything. Sweet charm turned as silver as his rings as he got more and more successful, more and more of Rick’s approval. His tongue lies flat in slow intentional drags between your legs, spit pooling out in its wake. He likes to take his time here to build you up, your soft ‘hm’s encouraging him to keep his pace.

“It’s nice like that, huh?” he asks gently, pressing a kiss to your clit, “Using my tongue on you?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out, eyes closed and sleepy. His head pokes up from between your legs when he notices your body reacting less and less to his mouth. Your sounds get progressively quieter, losing enthusiasm.

“Hey, you okay?” he asks, crawling up over you.

“Mhm,” you respond, eyes still shut.

“You fallin’ asleep on me?” he laughs, thumb coming up to run over the side of your head, “You little lightweight.”

Your lips stretch into a smile, the weight of your high pressing you further into the mattress. Each time you take a breath you feel yourself falling further and further away, it’s almost scary until it's not – because he’s there. You feel the pad of his index finger run down the bridge of your nose and slide over your bottom lip. He quietly eases off the bed, grabbing your panties and jeans from the floor to put them back on with the finesse of a person who’s had to redress their passed out friends many times before. You’re almost out like a light when he drapes the throw blanket over your legs, adjusting it to slouch messily over your shoulders. You barely feel the kiss he leaves on your forehead.

“I love you,” he whispers, before heading back down stairs for a drink. You wake up to the music still blaring downstairs, mouth dry and disoriented – realizing that what woke you up is the sound of the door opening.

“Hey sleepy, didn’t mean to wake you,” Eddie whispers, wincing a bit as the music gets louder. He closes the door with his hip, clicking on the overhead light making you both squint, “Well, technically I did, but I didn’t mean to wake you up like this. I brought you some food, baby.” Heat rushes to your face at the name. Baby. No one had ever called you that before. Not other hookups or boyfriends - always ‘babe’, never ‘baby’. Always ‘babe’, never ‘angel’, never ‘sweetheart’, never ‘my girl’. Eddie called you every sweet name he could think of. “Thank you,” you smile, eyes falling on the ringed hand cradling a paper plate with two slices of pizza, dripping in grease. The other held a can of Pepsi that he watched your eyes fall on for a brief moment.

“They didn’t have Coke, m’sorry,” he scrunches his nose, leaning in to give you a kiss while he places the plate and can on the side table, clicking on the lamp.

“That’s okay, this is fine,” you smile, he smiles back while clicking the big light back off. He crawls onto the bed next to you, the warmth of him enveloping you in his scent, his body heat, his essence. Things moved fast since your first date. You’d never felt loved like this, you’d never been kissed how he kissed you. It’s like he wrote the schematics for your body and kept them a secret until the day you let him touch you in the back of his van. The day you let him take you in your bedroom when your parents went to watch Beau’s baseball game. Even his stare made you flustered. Eddie would say the same about you. Gareth and Jeff would label it as lovedrunk, Rick said he was more addicted to being with you than he was to making him money. Sandra at the diner said he’s obsessed. Obsessed with you. It had a nice ring to it.

“Thank you again,” you nod, cracking open the can of Pepsi that soothes your dry mouth instantly.

“Anything for you,” he smiles while his hand reaches to yours, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

“I heard what you said, by the way,” you smirk, “When you left the room.”

His face somehow blanches and fumes red like sweet cherries at the same time, “You weren’t supposed to.”

“Didn’t want me to know that you love me?” you tease, shoulder bumping him with a laugh. He doesn’t laugh back, he just looks at you with soft eyes – big and brown, begging.

“Is that stupid?” he asks softly, disappointment weighing heavy on his tongue.

“No! No! It’s not stupid,” you quickly assure, “No, I um –” You smile down into the can of Pepsi, manicured nails on your opposite hand drumming on the aluminum. “I love you, too,” you whisper, “I was nervous that maybe it was too soon. I didn’t like…I didn’t wanna scare you.” “Scared by my girl saying she loves me? Nah,” he shakes his head, teeth gleaming in a smile that hurts his cheeks, “That’s the best shit I’ve heard all year.” “Why don’t you eat first,” he starts huskily, taking your Pepsi can and placing it on the side table. The cologne on his skin had mixed pleasantly with tobacco, enveloping you in sandalwood, fruit, and smoke. His lips were plush as he pressed first against the corner of your mouth and then the other, holding his index finger in the center of yours. He nuzzled your nose gently before easing himself into a deep kiss, index finger tracing down your cheek. “As I was saying,” he starts again, a light giggle floating out of his chest and escaping pink cheeks, “Why don’t you eat first and then maybe we can go to mine and I’ll show you how much I love you.” “What about Wayne?” you ask, looking at his distorted face with your foreheads so close together. He steals a quick kiss from you again, another on your cheek. “Wayne’s staying close to the plant to do a morning shift, so he won’t be home until tomorrow night,” he grins, “We can play house all day tomorrow.”

“You’re stupid,” you laugh, leaning back to take the pizza off the side table to take a bite. “What? You don’t wanna be my baby all day?” he gets on his knees on the mattress to lean into you, lips finding their way to your cheek and jaw. You squirm under his touch, a feather light gasp coming out of your mouth when he nips at the spot at the top of your neck. “What’s got you so flustered, hm?” he teases into your ear, his ringed hand trailing up your thigh. Your hand covers his and he stops his journey, pulling back a little. “Nothing bad, s’just – I really like it when you call me baby,” you hide your face with one hand, “I don’t think I’ve said that before. It’s just really nice.” “Baby,” he pours out like warm syrup, it sounds so natural in his nicotine soaked voice. He pulls your hand away, smattering slow soft kisses across your cheeks. Mumbling between each one, “Baby, baby, baby.”

#i cant handle this rn #hes so sweet and gentle 😭#im in anguish #beautiful work Carol 💖

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