Eddie Munson Oneshots

Can't Sleep, Love

"Eddie!" you yell across the cafeteria, ignoring the looks you receive from those who turn at your outburst. The messenger bag at your side flails around as you practically sprint, being called out by a teacher who tells you to walk. You hardly listen as you move some hair out of your face. Some people snicker, others roll their eyes. You don't care, too focused on the person you were trying to reach.

The person in question looks up at the sound of his name, brown eyes finding yours as he smiles. His hands, decorated in the rings you seem to adore so much, are clasped in front of him as he leaned on his elbows. His hair, long and dark, sits on his shoulders in tangles and frizzy curls.

You shoo away the sophomore in your usual spot, plopping down next to your best friend with a huff and a groan. Scattered 'hey's are spread around the table. It seems you have interrupted a conversation you had little to no care about at the moment. "I hate making calls," you mumble to him as you drop your bag down onto the floor with a loud thud. You slouch as you grab his plate of food — food he was merely picking at, rather than actually eating — and chew on a semi-cold fry.

His face lights up at your complaint, "So you called like I said?"

You nod, but the second groan you let out as you toss the fry onto the table is a pathetic one that he rolls his eyes at. "What did they say? Did it go well?"

"I've got an interview tomorrow at two-thirty," you tell him, picking at the peeling table.

"Well, that's good. Isn't it?"

You roll your eyes, "Yeah, Eds, but that means I actually have to go and talk to people and pretend to be a normal human being. Nobody wants that." He laughs at you — that teasing, throaty laugh that ends with an inhale as he leans back in his seat — and you scowl. "Your support in me is welling up in my soul," you mumble, sarcasm dripping from your lips as you continue to glare.

He sighs contentedly, like he has finally stopped laughing from the greatest joke. "I'm sorry, you're just so funny."

"Har, har," you said monotonously.

He gently punched your arm and you rubbed the spot as if it had hurt. "Don't be a pussy," he says, although his eyes convey a much less curt tone. Surrounded by all these people encourages him not to get all soft on you. He's got a reputation to uphold and so do you. "It's only one job interview. The worst they can do is say no."

"Exactly!" you exclaim, slapping your hands on the table as your own rings — one which was gifted to you by Eddie — clatter against the hard table. "They could say no and I will have socialized for nothing, and wasted a perfectly good Saturday." You mumble the last part to yourself under your breath.

Again, Eddie rolls his eyes. "Oh, hush. You'll be fine, Bug," he snorts. Your grumble is loud and annoyed as your head hits the table with a thump.

"Oo, that sounded like it hurt," Dustin says as he approaches the table with Lucas and Mike on his heels. They take their seats, and you ignore the slight pulse in your forehead.

"What's going on?" Lucas asks with his arms folded over the table.

You look up at him sharply, clenching your jaw as you practically snapped at him. "O' fearless leader...is an asshole," you seethe with no real anger or hatred in your voice, but just enough annoyance to substitute for both.

Like you were delivering a never-ending joke, Eddie laughs once again. "Bug's got a job interview, and she's upset because she actually has to go to it," Eddie confesses, giving you up like chopped liver.

Mike shrugs, "You'll be fine. You're good at talking to people."

This time, Eddie's laugh is louder. It's like he has just heard the funniest joke that could ever be told as he leans back in his seat, hand over his chest, and head thrown back. "Clearly, you've never seen her talk to people," he says in between fits of laughter.