solace | eddie munson x reader [y/n]

014

       Eddie had joked about desperately needing to fix your car so that you could drive him around. Thacher Tire out on Cornwallis was where he offered his auto-mechanical handiwork from time to time. Seeing as it was far too cold to be working outside in the Indiana autumn, the owner opened up a space for the boy to use.

He was heading there Friday afternoon and invited you along. After all, you two were free with the temporary delay of Hellfire. The long week had pummeled you and lolling in the comfort of Eddie's passenger seat was heightening your sleepiness. You were no match for the exhaustion as the hum of the engine rocked you into a snooze.

When the metalhead noticed, he melted. His lower lip curled absently as he took in how your head drooped to the side, your arms loosely crossed your torso, and long eyelashes laid against the top of your cheeks. Normally, he would've been a dick and blasted Mercyful Fate to wake you. But he couldn't bring himself to screw with how peaceful you looked.

The van pulled up to the large complex and Eddie moved with care to stay quiet as he got out. A woven blanket draped his arm while he bent into the frame of the passenger's side. You didn't wake up from your nap even though Eddie unbuckled you, reclined your seat, and covered you warmly.

       A quick hour later you awoke not even knowing the year. There was a crick in your neck from the position and your left cheek flushed red where it had pressed on your shoulder. Like a groggy zombie, you shuffled into the first door you saw. In the garage was a sight not even your most aware self could have been ready for.

Eddie leaned on his wrists under the open hood of the car, curls pulled back in a messy bun and abdomen exposed under a cropped Metallica tank. He was sweating so the fabric stuck to him and beads matted his happy trail as they dripped down his skin. Oil and black residue stained his hands and face, polishing his existing ruggedness. His mouth hung open and his pink tongue washed over the lower lip in concentration.

Holy mother of god. You were ruffled by the view, stuck in place on the concrete floor. Eddie spun to grab a wrench when he noticed you.

"There's sleeping beauty," he beamed. "Feel better?"

Your stare froze when he faced you fully frontal. A response tumbled out, strained. "Much better."

       He dug back into the space under the engine block and you took up a rolling stool next to the vehicle. Getting closer alerted you to the way small strands of fringe lay wet on his temples and neck. He glistened with sweat and physical labor. You gulped hard and started nervously biting your nails.

"Thanks for the blanket," you mumbled. As much as you thought making conversation would help, it didn't halt your wandering eyes.

"Mhm," he replied without looking up, preoccupied with digging hands in the maze of metal.

You gawked at the way he bent over the car, waist exposed and biceps flexing deliciously while he worked. It was ridiculous how sexy he looked.