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jackie-alt-ego · 2 years

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what happens at the drive-in...

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader word count: 3.5k warnings: friends to lovers, mutual pining, kinda angsty, very fluffy, emotional hurt / comfort, jealousy, adult language and somewhat mature themes, use of pet names (sweetheart), mentions of food and alcohol consumption, mentions of violence (in the movies they watch) - unedited - pls let me know if i missed anything! summary: an unspecified amount of time in the lives of eddie munson and his best friend, as you watch various movies together and your platonic relationship blossoms into something more.

a/n: technically a part two to this little fic, but can definitely be read as a standalone.

There is a small part of your brain that constantly wonders what if, when it comes to Eddie Munson.

What if you told him how much you enjoy it when he unintentionally reaches for your hand whenever the two of you are alone?

What if you didn’t ignore the way he looked at you sometimes, and vice versa?

What if you had let Eddie kiss you last year after the homecoming dance when he called you beautiful for the very first time?

Or more recently during Halloween when the two of you crashed a random house party and everyone complimented his Frank N. Furter costume? The stupid happy grin was plastered across his face the whole night and he kept thanking you for “turning the freaky into something desirable.”, to which you drunkenly replied: “I always find you desirable, Eddie Munson.”.

What if you never put Eddie in the strictly platonic box in the first place? Would it be easier now to cross that invisible line you both drew during the course of your friendship?

What if…

“Then she laughed at my joke,” Eddie states with excitement, breaking you away from your thoughts, “Can you believe it? Betsy Bolton found something I said funny.”

He looks at you and your heart sinks because you haven’t seen him this amped up about a girl since his unrequited secret crush on Chrissy Cunningham while you were dating your then boyfriend Andy.

But you plaster the best heartwarming smile you can muster and reply honestly, “Because you are, Eddie, a funny guy, so I’m just glad someone else finally made you realise.”

There is a hint of hurt detectable in the sound of your voice, betraying the facial expression you put on for his benefit. Eddie notices immediately although doesn’t react to it — for your benefit.

“No offence but as my best friend, I’m not going to believe you when you tell me I’m funny,” he says instead and lifts a tape from the counter, “I took the liberty of renting out ‘Salem’s Lot’, if that’s okay?”

You nod in response and he gets to work in setting up this evening’s movie.

“Full offence because, as your best friend, I am the only one that can tell you the brutal honest truth which includes when you’re not being funny.”

“You’ve never once uttered those words to me, sweetheart.” Eddie sits next to you on the sofa, casually throwing one arm behind you. His fingers graze your shoulder in the process and your stomach flips.

“Yet you still choose to believe Betsy Bolton over me,” you sigh dramatically, ignoring how you were feeling to retain some normality, and place the back of your hand to your forehead in a fainting motion. You tip towards him, gently landing into his chest as you let out a giggle.

Eddie laughs too. He looks down at you, a goofy grin highlighting his features. Then, as the two of you lock eyes, there is a brief moment of silence. Normality is fucked.

What if you just reached for his collar and pulled him in…

The curly haired teen clears his throat and you bite the inside of your cheek, forcing the intrusive thoughts to dissipate from your mind, before sitting back up to focus your attention on the television screen.

Everything is tense again.

You blame yourself. Eddie blames ‘The Neverending Story’.

He also thinks he should have told you then and there how he really feels because what if you felt the same way?

ALIEN

Every time that ugly creature makes an appearance, you can’t help but gag, and Eddie can’t help but chuckle next to you.

“I can’t believe this is one of your favourite films,” you exclaim about three-quarters through, not hiding your disgust.

He shrugs and without taking his eyes off the screen, he skews closer to you and simply states: “Sigourney Weaver is hot.”.

You roll your eyes. “I think I’m arguably better looking than Sigourney Weaver,” you bait, remembering his comments about Al Pacino a couple of weeks back.

He shifts in his spot and proceeds to place a hasty kiss to the top of your head.

“I never said you weren’t,” Eddie mutters against you and you’re wondering whether he’s mocking what you had said to him that night during your rewatch of ‘Cruising’ or whether he’s actually being sincere.

(Hopefully the latter).

BLUE HAWAII

“If I ever get married, one day in the distant future, this is the song I’ll use for my first dance,” you admit quietly as ‘Can’t Help Falling In Love’ plays through the lousy speakers, Elvis Presley’s character singing on screen.

Eddie glances at you, his mouth twitching upwards. “What if your future husband-to-be doesn’t like this song?”

“That’s too bad for him,” you reply and tilt your head to meet his doe-eyed gaze, “It’s Elvis or bust.”

He chuckles while running a hand through his brown locks before shrugging. “Well, I’m not a big fan of Elvis.”

You raise a brow. “Is this your way of asking me to marry you, Eddie Munson?”

Wait, what?

The question rings in his ears and the way you’re looking at him right now definitely doesn’t help in getting his thoughts in order.

So he’s not thinking clearly when he takes off one of his rings. He’s not thinking clearly when he reaches for your left hand. And he’s definitely not thinking clearly when he slides the silver item down your finger with ease.

Your heart is in your throat during the whole interaction. “Is this your way of asking me to marry you, Eddie Munson?”, stupid, why would you even say that?

The film has faded into the background. Your focus is on Eddie and Eddie alone, and you want to scream because this is not platonic behaviour.

The curly haired teen leans in ever so slightly and whispers nonchalantly, “Elvis or bust.” Then, still holding onto your hand, he shifts his attention back to the television.

You want to comment, say literally anything, but you bite your tongue because you started this whole thing and whatever comes out of your mouth next, could make it even harder from crossing a line that cannot be uncrossed.

A NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET

Eddie can count the amount of times he’s been truly annoyed with you on one hand.

Truthfully, he lets you get away with a lot of shit because he knows fighting with you over silly little digs or unwarranted comments is not worth the time. And you act exactly the same with him. Nothing said is ever too serious to lead to an argument.

Until this moment. When one hand turns into two and a fight is imminent.

‘The killer's still loose, you know.’

“Eddie, I’m just repeating what I heard!”, your voice is rigid as you stand on your feet and take a step in his direction.

He’s not listening, he chooses not to.

‘You saying somebody else killed Tina? Who?’

“And I think you heard wrong, alright?! There’s just no way—”

“So you’re gonna believe some girl who laughed at one joke over me,” you interrupt, your blood starting to boil at his fucking stuborness, “You’re gonna believe stupid Betsy Bolton over your best friend?!”

How this whole thing even started, you couldn’t really remember anymore. One second you’re buried in his embrace, under the guise of averting your eyes from the screen, and the next thing you know, tensions are high and you’re both yelling.

“Betsy is not stupid!” Eddie counters. His statement causes you to roll your eyes which is a reaction he definitely doesn’t appreciate, “Why are you acting like this, y/n?”

‘I don't know who he is. But he's burned, he wears a weird hat, a red and yellow sweater, real dirty, and he uses some sort of knife he's got made into a sort of... glove. Like giant finger-nails.’

Your feelings are hurt because he’s defending her and you can’t figure out why. “I can’t fucking believe you…”

‘I think you should keep Nancy at home a few days. 'Til she's really over the shock.’

Eddie observes as you grab your cardigan and your bag before making a beeline for the front door of the trailer. He groans. “Where are you going? We’re not finished talking about this.”

‘I got something better…’

“The last thing I want is to be angry with you, Eddie, so I’m just gonna go home,” you state sternly, “Call me when you’ve come to your senses.”

The door shuts with a bang and he lets out a deep sigh.

‘I'm gonna get you help, baby. So no one will threaten you any more.’

FUNNY GIRL

The whole world is spinning when you open your eyes. The scratch in your throat seems to have gotten worse and your fever too, causing your whole body to shiver the second you try to move.

A groan escapes your lips as you try to reach for the tissue box on the bedside table. Although to no avail because the second your fingertips touch its side, the carton falls to the floor.

God, you hate being sick.

You hate being helpless and weak. You hate how heavy your whole body felt, how hard it was to do basic menial tasks. You hate how you had no appetite. On top of it all, you hate how you were missing valuable time with Eddie.

It’s been four whole days since you last saw him. If your memory serves you correctly, this is the longest period of time the two of you had gone without hanging out since you first became friends.

Sadly, the stupid flu you caught wasn’t the only thing to blame here. There’s also the matter of the recent fight your friendship hasn’t really recovered from.

Thinking about Eddie, you slip back into unconsciousness.

You’re not sure how long you’d been asleep for when you wake up later. The bedroom is darker than before and it’s considerably cooler.

You can hear talking and footsteps. The noises seem far away yet close by at the same time. You blame the fever and are about to close your eyes again when there’s a knock on your bedroom door.

“Are you awake?”

A familiar voice asks quietly. You hum something in response and the next thing you know, the mattress dips under the weight of your visitor. You peep from underneath your covers and your heart skips a beat.

“How are you feeling?” Eddie asks, gently cupping your cheek.

“W-what are you doing here?,” you croak in response, “G-get out. I-I could get you sick a-and then I-I would hate myself foreverrr...”

“Relax, sweetheart. Your mom says you’re not contagious anymore,” his voice is reassuring, “She also said they were going out so, and only if you’re up for moving, we can sit downstairs and watch something.”

And that’s how the two of you end up downstairs, on your sofa for a change, tangled up in each other's limbs.

One of his arms is wrapped tightly around you, pulling you into his chest, while the other is propping your thigh against his hip. Your head is resting against him, just below his neck, while your hand is holding onto his side, fingers rubbing gentle circles into his t-shirt.

‘I’m The Greatest Star’ plays in the background.

You can feel his heartbeat. He can feel yours too.

Neither of you say a word for the entire duration of the film.

THE TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE

It was your idea to switch it up again.

For totally selfish reasons — because it was getting really hard to be completely alone with him — rather than renting out a movie and watching it as usual in Eddie’s trailer, you suggested going to a drive-in.

Convincing your best friend was easy, after all they were playing ‘The Texas Chainsaw Massacre’.

The two of you ended up taking your parent’s car which meant you were behind the wheel and he was in the passenger seat.

You sat with your legs up on the chair and pressed against your chest, to allow you to bury your face in your knees whenever a gory scene was shown on screen.

Eddie on the other hand was completely relaxed in his spot, munching on the bag of trail mix he bought earlier that evening.

He sneaks glances in your direction, just to make sure you are doing okay. This is the first time the two of you are watching a slasher and he’s not close enough to let you hide in his embrace.

“Wanna cut this short?” Eddie asks, “Go get a milkshake or something?”

“No, no,” you answer and turn your head, resting it on your knees. “I gotta get through this film at least once since you’re gonna want to see the second one when it releases in theatres in a couple of months.”

Eddie smirks then raises a brow. “Wait, how do you know there’s going to be a second?”

“Steve told me.”

“You’ve been talking to Steve?”, he sounds jealous. He is jealous.

You nod. “Yeah, I mean I can’t act weird whenever I go rent a movie just because we went on one rather unsuccessful date,” you explain, “Plus we live in the same area so I bump into him every now and again, he gives me a ride to work at the odd time.”

Eddie doesn’t know what to say. Well, actually he does, but it would be an irrational response that would most likely hurt your feelings and he couldn’t risk that. Not right now. Not after the two of you barely got over your last argument.

It’s not his place to tell you not to hang out with Harrington. Just as it wasn’t his place to tell you not to go on a date with the guy in the first place.

You’re quick to notice his doleful grimace. Extending a hand in his direction, you poke his tricep.

“I have to befriend someone else in case you abandon me for Betsy Bolton,” you tease, your best attempt to keep things normal.

Eddie glances down at his lap, his attention focusing on the empty spot on one of his fingers where the ring you now wore around your neck used to be. A warm sensation settles in the pit of his stomach and he knows in that moment, he can’t continue doing this charade with you.

It’s now or never.

“I’ve been ignoring Betsy,” he utters eventually.

“Oh…” you murmur, “Why?”

And now he’s peeping back at you. Natural and ordinary go out the window. They’re replaced by shit, fuck, and what even is being platonic anymore?

He leans across the centre channel and as if on instinct, you let your legs fall from the seat and also incline in his direction. By the time he presses his forehead to yours, you’re shaking slightly because you know there are certain things that cannot be undone.

(Was this a good idea? Or will you both regret this later?)

However, there’s really no time to think about the repercussions because his nose slides down the side of yours and his lips are inches away as they part, his hot breath sending a shiver down your spine.

“She’s not you,” Eddie whispers against your mouth and you’re done for.

One soft inhale later, and his lips brush yours lightly, then again with a little more intent, and again, only deeper. His hands are cupping your face while yours are gripping onto the collar of his denim vest as if your life depended on it.

All of the emotions that had been churning rose to the surface and exploded all at once.

With every passing second you’re melting into him further. The kisses get rougher. You’re biting his bottom lip. His tongue grazes yours. The two of you break apart and come together over and over again like magnets.

A few blissful moments later, Eddie draws back, quite unwillingly, to meet your amiable gaze.

“Shit, sweetheart,” he whispers and licks his lips, “You’ve no idea how long I’ve wanted to fucking do that.”

“Ditto,” you reply breathlessly and lean in to kiss him again, annoyed at yourself now for deciding on the drive-in instead of his comfortable couch.

THE BREAKFAST CLUB

Lately, everything is exhilarating.

Getting up in the morning is easier. The grim Hawkins weather doesn’t seem to bother you as much. Your family is far less insufferable. The people that come to the diner where you work aren’t as annoying. Life is good.

It’s great actually.

And all thanks to the curly haired boy currently reheating leftover lasagna you brought from home.

Ever since your first kiss at the drive-in, the two of you have been pretty much on top of one another. Constantly holding hands, hugging, making out, finally doing all of the things you both dreamt of for months on end.

Eddie in particular found it hard to keep his hands to himself. Who could blame him? You were smoking hot and finally his.

At least unofficially.

Even though he’s thought about asking you to be his girlfriend on numerous occasions since the night at the drive-in, he hasn’t found the opportune moment. He also didn’t want to pressure you, because what if you didn’t want to be anything more than whatever it was the two of you were right now?

He couldn’t handle that kind of rejection so in the interim, this arrangement suited him just fine. That’s what he told himself at least.

“Just be careful, sweetheart,” he warns as he hands you a plate, “That microwave may be old but it’s got some kick to it. The food is piping.”

The corners of your mouth twitch upwards and you reach for the dish, thanking him. Eddie returns the smile and plops down on the sofa, in his spot next to you, before proceeding to resume the film.

‘Are all these your girlfriends?’

‘Some of them…’

‘What about the others?’

“I have to say,” you begin in between bites of food, “you kinda remind me of Bender.”

Eddie cocks his head in your direction and raises a brow at your admission. “Is it because I too have a wallet full of pictures of random chicks?”, he teases and you nudge his side using your elbow.

“Hilarious,” your tone is sarcastic, “I bet the photos you cherish most are of Chrissy and Betsy.”

‘Well, some I consider my girlfriends and some...I just consider…’

‘Consider what?’

‘Whether or not, I wanna hang out with them…’

He chuckles at your comment. “You’re an idiot,” he jokes and places the plate of food in his lap to free up his hands. He reaches over to hold your face, brushing his fingers gently along your jawline.

“Actually, the only picture I have in my wallet is yours.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks, the revelation settling in the air. You almost want to ask him if he’s bluffing but judging by the glimmer in his eyes, you know he’s being honest.

You swallow your breath and lean in to peck his lips.

“So let me get this straight,” you murmur against his mouth and his grip on your face tightens ever so slightly, “A photo of me is in your wallet, I have one of your cherished rings around my neck, yet you still won’t ask me to be your girlfriend?”

‘You don't believe in just one guy, one girl?’

‘Do you?’

‘Yeah...that's the way it should be.’

Eddie smirks, his heart skipping a beat. He analyses every inch of your face, capturing this moment forever. God, he was the luckiest fucking guy in the world.

“And if I asked, would you say yes?”

“I would.”

He’s grinning now, as are you.

“Then I guess it’s settled, sweetheart. You’re my girlfriend now.”

His mouth slants over yours with ease, not giving you a chance to respond. His body pushes into yours and you have to be extra careful not to drop the dish you were still holding onto, (because pasta sauce is not the easiest to clean out of cushions).

Eddie’s mouth is possessive and it doesn’t take long for his tongue to breach your lips, the kiss now deeper than ever.

Your heart is on a rampage as both your heads rotate back and forth to vary pressure. Tongues are dancing together, each trying to assert dominance.

Eddie bites down on your bottom lip vigorously, causing a velvety moan to escape. The smooth sound of pleasure is music to his ears and breathless, he pulls away. This position isn’t working anymore, he wants to be able to touch you all over.

“I think you should put that plate to the side so we can move this to the bedroom,” he suggests, his hand slowly travelling down to your neck.

“But I wanna know how the movie ends,” you whine, teasing a little.

The doe-eyed boy smirks and releases you from his grip. Rather impatiently, he reaches for the half-eaten lasagna dish in your grasp to set it aside. He stands, extending you his hand which you take instantly.

He spins you around once and you land gracefully into his chest.

“I can tell you how it ends,” Eddie offers in a whisper, his arms sneaking around your waist, holding you in place.

“Oh yeah?”

He nods. “The guy gets the girl.” — and in the space of a heartbeat, Eddie lowers his mouth back down to yours with immense desire.

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