Fine Line // Eddie Munson x Reader

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍

The movie Eddie chose wasn't one you'd seen before, but then you didn't make a habit of watching them since it meant spending time with your family in the living room and you were absolutely against that. It always seemed to end in an argument. Mostly because you'd say something mean (and totally deserved) to Jason and your mom would pitch a fit about it.

'The NeverEnding Story', Eddie had called the movie. It had a slow and a little boring start but eventually captured your interest as soon as the big fluffy creature called 'Falkor' came into it. "He's so cute," You'd smiled as his big dark eyes blinked slowly in the frame. "Hey, he kinda looks like you."

"Shut the fuck up." Eddie snorts as he laughs at the notion, shaking his head with a petulant roll of his eyes.

"I'm serious!" You argue, pointing at the creature on the screen. "Come on; pale as shit with big baby eyes all dark and cute? He could be your twin." It was your turn to laugh as you angle yourself on the couch to look at Eddie, turning your head against the back cushion and bringing your legs up to tuck beneath you. He shoots you a disgruntled look from the corner of his eye, but his lips twitched with a restrained smile.

"You sayin' I'm cute?" He taunts you, finally letting that smile loose and Christ was it beautiful. All dimples and a playful air that entirely thieves your interest in the movie. "A little." You admit. "When you're not being an asshole."

"Me? An asshole? Have you met you?" Eddie quips, mimicking your body language as he exposes how tired he is in the slowness of his blinks. 

Okay. That was cute. Tired Eddie was arguably very cute. 

"Hey, you comfortable in this?" He asks absently before you can respond as if finally realising you were in your cheer uniform. He'd reached over the space between you, fingertips toying with the hem of the skirt. In truth, you weren't comfortable in the tight dress at all, but it wasn't like you had other options. "I got a shirt or something you can borrow. Some sweats?"

"Oh, I'm okay..." Politeness once again wins out over self comfort. You were already a nuisance on his evening, the last thing he needed was you stealing his clothes. 

"Fuckin' liar." He calls you out anyway, and the shock of his abrupt words was evident on your agape lips. Fingertips move from your skirt to your fingertips, which he encases in his warmth and pulls you along with him as he heads down a narrow corridor. The trailer was small, but his bedroom is bigger than you expected it to be. 

Definitely just as messy as you pictured it despite that. 

But then, he wasn't expecting guests. You can see the panic in the flush of his cheeks as he flings errant clothes into the toppled-over laundry heap and stuffs skin mags under the bed. Gross. But something glinting on the wall catches your eye before you can mock his choice of reading material. 

The handcuffs you'd trapped him with at The Hideout were dangling from a nail quickly and haphazardly hammered into the wall. You were giggling as you realise what they were, stepping over a heap of clothes to get a better look.

"You kept these?" 

"Huh?" He looks at you over his shoulder as he's digging through his closet, teeth capturing his lower lip as he notices what you were holding. "Oh. Those... I did, yeah."

"Why?"

He'd gone back to hunting through his clothes, but you didn't have to look at his face to know he'd be grinning from ear to ear. "Why wouldn't I keep them? Free handcuffs. Cop grade, too."

It was a lie. You think. Either way, his dumb grin was infectious and plastered on your own expression as he turns back to you, some folded clothes in his hands that he hands over to you. "Here. Not much, but it's clean and more comfortable than what you got on now."