harmony || the guitarist, book three (eddie munson x reader)

part one: absolutely perfect

AN: before you ask, no, i don't know what took me so long. hi!!! how are you?? this chapter's short and sweet, but I figured I owed some domesticity after all this time. speaking of time, i may be a little rusty, but worry not-- enjoy :)

"Fifty-two?"

"Fifty. Two." You confirmed, slinging your black waist-apron onto the smudged marble counter to your right. "Fifty-two dollars and a business card!"

Before you knew it, tattooed arms were lifting you from the ground, spinning you around the yellow light of the small kitchen as your laugh bounced off the walls.

"A business card! You must've really charmed their pants off," Eddie grumbled into your hair.

You could hear the smile on his lips, even with your forehead pressed against his chest.

He pulled back, grasping your face in his calloused hands.

You were right, he was grinning like a fool.

"It's no big deal," you smiled, shaking off the adoration in his gaze as the corners of your mouth pulled up. "Maybe nothing'll come of it."

"Are you kiddin' me, Thief?" The guitarist chuckled, and you could see the memory on his face just as it was playing out in your own head. "Business cards are always a good omen."

You rolled your eyes flamboyantly, one of many dirty habits you'd picked up from your boyfriend over the last four years. All these months of living in a cramped apartment with the metalhead had smeared a series of swearwords into your vocabulary, and anointed you with an undeniable itch for ink.

With your hand in his, you spun away, poised like the two of you were about to share the dance at the end of Grease.

"I think you know what time it is, Munson." You raised a knowing brow, dramatic flair dripping from your lips.

"You mean..." he began, a showman's excitement gleaming in his eyes. "The jar is full?"

"The jar," you crooned, wedging the cash out of your pocket and into the glass jar on the counter, "is full."

You stared at each other for a beat, excitement drumming through the warm light.

You could see him bouncing on his heels, practically vibrating with anticipation.

"It's time!" He boomed, shuffling to catch you in his arms once more. This time, he lifted you fully off the floor, giving you only enough time to grab the jar from the counter and swipe his keys off of the nail by the door.

Your laugh echoed through the empty hall of your apartment building, escaping before you could slap your hand over your mouth.

"That's my girl," he grumbled, still carrying you over his shoulder. "Always a screamer."

You were glad he couldn't see your face as a blush bloomed up from your neck, and you couldn't help but snort as his remark.

"I think you're gonna be the one screaming once they're done with me," you joked, smacking his back lightly to signal your metalhead to drop you back to the floor.

He grinned wildly, grasping your hips before the door to the stairs after gently placing you back on your feet.

Seemingly speechless and humming with nerves, the two of you stood grinning in the hall.

Before you could blink, his lips crashed into yours, tasting like the same adrenaline buzzing in your fingertips. You always loved that taste.

"Alright, alright," you laughed between breaths.

He sighed dramatically, unable to shake his twin-to-yours smile. "Yeah yeah," he huffed. "We better go."

You clutched your jar as he hurried you along, humming the chorus of whichever song he'd been working on.

"You know what you're gonna get?" Eddie's inquiry came as he slung an arm around your waist, unable to keep from touching you for more than a few seconds. You always loved that about him.

"Hmmmm..." you dangled. "I think I have an idea."

You traced the bare skin on your upper arm, still in your waitstaff uniform.

"Well whatever it is," he cooed, "it'll be perfect."

The two of you reached his van, now with a few upgrades, and you slid into the familiar leather seat by his side.

After you'd buckled in and expected him to reach for the radio, he reached for you instead.

"Everything about you," Eddie mumbled, tracing your jaw, "is absolutely perfect."

That same blush crept up to your cheeks, your smile shying under his gaze.

Even after all this time, he could still make your face turn pink, still pull at the corners of your mouth with barely a glance.

The full-moon light shone through the windshield, illuminating his features and washing them in pale, cool light. 

He offered that familiar smile and your heart warmed with the buzz of the radio as he flipped through the pre-sets, settling on your favorite station.

This night, his grin, this life with him... all of it was absolutely perfect.