Project: 022 (Eddie Munson Fanfiction)

Meeting Eddie

Mentions of cheating (Not by Eddie, by MC's Ex), Mentions of homelessness, Mentions of Alcohol use, Mentions of Weed, Each part will have it's own warnings! If I missed anything, Let me know!

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I sit sideways on the big, purple armchair that the gang had thrifted before I moved in, my legs swung over the armrest as I take a long drag off the joint I had rolled for the four of us. I glance at the clock every 10 minutes, an eye roll following each check as the time gets later and later.

Nancy, Robin, and Steve were all adamant I stay home tonight from my shift at the bar to meet Eddie, with the excuse of 'we didn't even know you worked as a bartender' as if that's a valid reason for me to stay home. I do work part-time as a bartender. It actually makes me more money than working at the music store, but I can't seem to quit that stupid job. I just love it there too much, and the gods know my boss won't run that old music store himself. It'll close down if I stop showing up.

Bartending is where I get most of my money to pay bills, though. A popular bar downtown? Oh yeah, lots of tips. The actual paychecks are so-so, but the tips I get every weekend make every nasty comment from creepy old men almost worth it.

Almost.

"If he doesn't show up in the next 20 minutes I'm going to work," I pass the joint to Steve, listening to Robin groan in protest to my statement. "I can still get in half a shift."

"But you haven't gotten to meet Eddie yet! You've lived in the same house for two whole weeks and you don't even know each other." Robin takes the joint from Steve just as he puts it to his lips, ignoring his complaints. "I'm so positive you guys are going to be really good friends."

"He got back four days ago," I point out, flopping my head back, eyes closed as I wiggle my feet absentmindedly. "So, we've lived in the same house for four days, actually."

She's right, though. When he got back from his trip I was out working late, when I got home he was already passed out. The next morning I had to be up early and at the music store, and by the time I got home from work he was already out with some friends at a bar. I've lived here for two weeks, and I don't know one of my roommates.

I do know that his cat seems to like it in my room when he isn't home, that he has good music taste, and that he's chronically fucking late.

Nancy's fingers brush mine as she places the joint in between my fingers without a word, letting me keep my eyes closed as I lounge in the armchair. I bring the joint to my lips, the familiar comforting burn as I breathe in and out making me just slightly less irritated about being forced to wait. 

He was supposed to show up over an hour ago, and I'm really about ready to throw on my boots and show up to work. The possibility of going to work is the only reason I haven't changed into PJ's yet.

There's no time to pass the joint back to Steve before large, rough hands slap down on my shoulders, making my heart sink for a brief second as a gasp leaves my lips. My eyes shoot open, quickly finding an unfamiliar man standing above me, his face upside down from where my head is laid backwards. He grins down at me, long, dark curly hair flopping as he tilts his head.

"And who are you?" I can smell the alcohol on him, seemingly studying my face while he looks down at me, hands still on my shoulders.

My eyebrows furrow together as I sit up in one swift motion, leaning away from the stranger I didn't even hear come in. He leans forward, plucking the joint from my hands without asking, never breaking eye contact with me as he brings the joint to his lips.