dawn (eddie munson x reader)

Dawn

A sliver of dawn cut through a small gap in the curtains. It unspooled over your entwined bodies like a ribbon, draped across the soft curve of Eddie's bicep laid across your body and his curled fingers resting beside your cheek, ending just beyond your splayed hair across the pillow, the tips burning gold in the light.

"You awake?" You asked quietly, reaching forward to press a light kiss to his knuckles, fitting your palm into the curve of his hand. He answered by sliding his fingers between your own and shifting his head to plant a trail of featherlight kisses across your shoulder and up the slope of your neck.

Goosebumps raised tiny peaks against your arms at the sensation, his exhale a whisper of a tickle against your skin causing you to let out a tired laugh. You shifted slightly to see him properly, hip cocked backwards until it was flush against his stomach. "Morning." You smiled.

"Morning, sweetheart." He replied, bringing your joined hands to your chin so he could tilt your head back further, kissing you properly.

Morning Eddie was a favourite of yours – partly because he belonged to you alone, with his heavy-lidded eyes still bleary with sleep and mussed hair that rose like a crown around his head. The gravel in his voice, mouth filled with the cotton remnants of sleep. You loved Eddie in all his chaotic glory – the constant movement, the expressive way he carried himself, his complete inability to talk at a normal volume for longer than five minutes – but you cherished this slow, gentle version of him like stardust pooled in your palms.

He smiled and kissed you a second time, thumb tracing slow circles against your cheek. "You want coffee?" He murmured. You hummed in agreement. "Back in a sec." With a final kiss atop your hair and a squeeze of your hip, he disentangled himself and padded into the kitchen, steps like the steady drip of a broken tap.

While he made your drinks you opened the curtains and watched the golden sunrise spill across the room like water, waves of light glinting off Eddie's jewellery in a pile beside his bed, the handcuffs chained to his wall. When he came back in he pretended to melt beneath the brightness, bringing an arm up to block his eyes and hissing like a vampire. "Too early for daylight." He complained as he handed you your mug. You savoured the warmth that seeped into your hands and through your body, snuggling your bare legs beneath the sheets and leaning against the headboard to wake up properly.

Eddie's hand tapped rhythmically against your ribs while you drank, watching the sun stretch across the horizon between the reeds of the tall grass and wire fences; the haze of bruised purple and carnelian orange sky fading slowly as the day began properly, replaced with a misty blue.

"Play me something." You asked. Eddie rolled his head towards you and raised his eyebrows, looking down to where your head rested against his shoulder, noses almost touching.

"It's," he picked up his watch to check the time. "half six in the morning."

"I know." You took a sip of your coffee to hide your smile. It didn't take much – he would put on a show of complaining, sighing, and picking up his guitar like it was some heavy burden, a weight he hated to bear – but he loved to play for you as much as you loved to hear him play, no matter the time or place.

Skilled hands skimmed the opening chords to Death or Glory by The Clash, foot tapping to the beat where his leg hung off the side of the bed, the other curled beneath him to prop his guitar on his thigh. It wasn't his band of choice – far from it, really – but the song was a favourite of yours, one he learnt to play purely for moments like this.

Watching him play was an irresistible bonus – his deep concentration from the comfort of familiar chords, smoothing out the worried creases on his face. The subtle shift and flex of joints beneath his skin, the backs of his hands undulating like a wave against the shore. Mouth curving quietly around lyrics he memorised for you, sunlight framing his fuzzy hair from behind like some fallen angel.

You sang the lyrics together softly, loud enough only for the two of you; words fragile enough to be swept against the wind and up into the new day. Until the chorus began –

"Death or glory!

Becomes just another story,

Death or glory,

Becomes just another story!"

You belted together, laughing at how offkey you were. Scratchy voices and tired eyes but still – always, unfailingly – in sync. The sound filled the trailer and breathed through the smallest gaps through the windows, the walls, the door – carried on the air through the trailer park and up into the trees past barking dogs and still sleeping neighbours, alarm clocks and hushed good mornings.

In those moments, it felt like a corner of the universe had been carved especially for you and Eddie. A place to exist as you were, together, sculpted perfectly around the shape of your affection.