#maaaaaaan I've been chipping at this all day

[courtingchaos]

Rent The Space Inside My Mind

1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female!Reader

Summary: You and Eddie are BFF's. Wonder what's going on between you two?

A/N: This is just a fraction of what I've been chipping away at but I wanted to post this because I was proud of it!!! (NSFW 18+ minors gtfo)

December is fucking cold and that cold loves to seep into the trailer from every leaking door and window. It’s the same at your place, though your mom had remembered to take out the AC units a few weeks ago. Eddie and Wayne have obviously let that slide.

“Hey man do you want me to help you with those?” You gesture to the unit in the window from your spot on the sofa where you’re bundled under a blanket. Eddie is curled up in his uncle’s recliner, with at least three sweatshirts on with his knees pulled up into them.

“It’s 8pm."

“Okay? And then you can shut the windows before it snows tonight and, Wayne won’t freeze out here.” You continue to stare at him until he sighs and untangles himself.

“Fine fine fucking fine.”

You knew bringing Wayne into would get him up so you go outside to help, because you’re sure if Eddie does he’s going to turn into a god-honest icicle. He unlatches everything from inside and you pull both units from outside, leaving them on the front porch to molder until at least April. You only end up with a little gross water in your shoe when you pull the unit out of his bedroom; Eddie ever the sweetheart, has a dry pair of socks for you when you get back inside to ditch your shoes.

“Look I know that was a good idea, and the space heater is working better but now my toes are freezing.” Eddie is whining at you from the spot he’s stolen on the couch. He’s looking at you with big, hopeful eyes while wiggling his toes and you catch his drift.

“Okay fine, you can shove your ice cubes under my leg.” You sigh at him, crowding up next him while he props himself against the arm of the couch, immediately shoving his socked feet under your thigh. You get the blanket re-situated around yourself and over his ankles, laughing at the feeling of his toes wiggling under you.

Now the thing that you haven’t seemed to have caught on to yet is that Eddie has been using the recent freeze to get closer to you. Not only do you run hot like a brand new kerosene heater (and he is absolutely using that to his advantage), he’s also able to use this as an excuse to be as impossibly close to you at any given time. He can’t seem to get enough of you lately and though he’s been aware of his growing feelings for you for quite a while, this new turn has felt…almost fanatical. 

Anytime you breeze past him and he can catch a whiff of your perfume? Absolute goner. 

When you lean over him at lunch and you prop your hand on his knee for balance? It’s all he’s focused on for hours. 

When you lean back on his van in the morning, legs crossed at the ankle, trying to finish your cigarette before first bell? He’s never wanted to be a cigarette more in his life. (He’s not even sure what that means but he means it).

The other day in History, you’d been seated towards the front with Eddie fully planted in his normal back row corner. The room was darkened while your teacher moved through slides on their projector and you…oh you had been running your fingers through your hair, trying to put it up. Fingers combing through your dark locks, pulling everything up high on the crown of your head. You’d been doing it absentmindedly with lazy fingers trawling through loose curls, pulling at a handful of knots. 

It was all he could do to keep his mouth shut, keep his noises to himself. That it should be his hands running through your hair, his hands gently pulling out tangles, his hands collecting your hair together in his fist, pulling it all back away from your face, letting him see your smirk before you open your mouth for him, small metal ball that sat so perfect on your tongue glinting in the low light of his bedroom.

He had to reel his imagination in so fast it felt like it physically snapped him. He would rather die than pop a boner in fucking History class like a freshman.

So! Toes under a thigh. A thigh he’d spent many a night thinking about. It wasn’t like he hadn’t ever felt this thigh before, in fact he’d grabbed it many times either giving you a piggyback ride or in some pit at some show or one of the million times you two roughhoused. It’s just that now that thigh, and its twin, had brought new meaning in his life. It was warm, so god damn warm and he loved the feel of it under his hand. It was soft and powerful and if he could lay his head in your lap again he swears he’d never leave it this time. He’s tempted to do it right now, just roll over and nuzzle up to you. He knows you’d giggle and probably lay your hand on his hair and muss it up and throw the blanket over him because he’s just always so cold. Maybe he could sneak his finger tips under your thigh, wiggle them around like his toes. 

Basically feeling her up at that point way to go idiot. 

He gives himself a shake to try to get his thoughts back on the TV and firmly away from your thighs and how warm they’d feel on his ears probably. 

Get it together you fuck.

~

You’re unknowingly also drifting on your side of the couch, thinking about reaching over and grabbing his face and kissing him stupid but the idea of him firmly pushing you back with that sad look he gets sometimes would actually kill you. At least you think he might do that but then you remember the phone call from a few weeks ago, him drunkenly whispering into the phone about you hating him if he told you…something. He wouldn’t say what but he did keep saying your name over and over like it was keeping him grounded. 

Or from throwing up, same difference. 

Honestly, you think he might even be fine with a kiss, a make out marathon let’s be real. He’d been extra close lately, more so than normal, and so much more gentle with you than he’d ever been. 

You know for a fact that he’d struck out with Gwen, his current cheerleader-looking-for-weed. She’d been nice enough about it but you could tell he’d actually tried with this one, not just using one of his normal quick-cute one liners. He’d told you about actually turning on his charm, being sweet and all it got him was a giggle and soft ‘Oh, Eddie no I’m sorry.’

Would you be okay with a pity fuck? Absolutely! You lie to yourself. 

The remote has fallen out of your hand while you’re staring through the TV screen, really mulling over your choices here. You start thinking about your most recent mornings at school, with the cold biting through everyone, especially Eddie wearing his fucking ripped jeans when it’s 20 outside. How it’s not out of the ordinary for you to hold his hands together to warm them up, or give him your already worn gloves. Sometimes he’ll shove his hands in the pockets of your second hand peacoat without preamble. You’ll never tell him (hell you barely admit to yourself) but it makes you blush deep down, all the way to your chest when he does that. The feel of his fingers wiggling around deep in the pockets near your hips while he talks over your shoulder to Gareth. The front of him close to you but just barely not touching and it takes everything in you to not reach out and grab the lapels of his vest, dig your fingers into the denim and leather under that and pull him in close.

He’ll laugh at something Jeff said and his breath, hot in the cold morning frost, ghosts over the shell of your ear and it should be considered an Act of God that you don’t lean forward and bury your face in his long neck. His hair would tickle your too cold nose but like, it’d be so god damn soft you know it. You’ve touched his hair before so many times but not like that. Not nuzzled into his throat where you could kiss up to the back of his ear, could run the bar in your tongue against his skin. You wonder what kind of noises he’d make, out in the cold, in front of god and everybody.

Eddie pinches the underside of your thigh with his toes and it snaps you back to the present.

“Earth to Major Tom.” He’s grinning at you with a playful gleam in his eyes. He’s obviously been trying to get your attention for a hot minute.

“What?” Why do you sound so annoyed?

“Got something on your mind?”

"I’m thinking.” You lie (only a little) pulling your legs up to tuck under his bent knees, keeping his toes under your leg still.

“Something more important than this?” He gestures at the TV, some PBS thing on. 

Oh my god Munson believe me it is. 

You both chuckle and you start flicking through channels again, now looking for a Christmas thing. If you both start drifting again, neither of you mention it, unaware of the absolute bonfire starting between you two.