Honey I'm Home / Eddie Munson x you (female reader)

Epilogue

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—-
Cereal
Hotdogs
Bananas
Jelly —grape, not strawberry
Bread
Crackers
Toothpaste
Noodles
Chicken thighs— babe are you making fun of me?
Heartburn medicine

You tap the chewed cap of your pen along the lined paper of a scribble heavy grocery list. Desperately wishing you had x-ray vision to see inside your cabinets and remember what you were in need of, you chew the cap again.
Giggling to yourself every so often at Eddie's notes on the grocery list. Crossing off items he thought weren't needed, mostly vegetables he didn't like. And always making sure you got his favorites. And not, "that healthy bullshit cereal, give me sugar or kill me babe, I will not eat Raisin Bran"

Peanut butter
Sunny D
Thyme
Heavy cream
Basil
Carrots
Onions
Chicken stock
Hey sweetheart can you please get me some candy? I like skittles but you know I love m&ms.. and twizzlers, it's for the shop. :)

The lady behind the desk chirps a name again, but you are still racking your brain on what else was needed. The soup you had planned on making tonight would be perfect for the chilly weather rolling in. November was coming in like a lion, ferociously cold and temperatures already dipping below zero.

Eddie loved your potato soup, so much that he begged you to make it after another long, grisly week at the shop.

He loved everything you made, even your chili that he doctored up by adding sour cream and Doritos to it. Bon Appetit he would say with a smirk on his lips, a heaping bowl steaming in front of him.

The clerk behind the desk tutted and huffed, the schedule was getting behind. 

"Tooty Munson! Is there a Tooty Munson here?"

You glance up quickly at the sound of your name, "shit," you breathe, "here, yes," you scramble shoving the list and pen into your purse, buried amongst the gum wrappers and a spilled container of tic-tacs.

The receptionist clicks her papers against the formica counter and holds her nose in the air, as if this job and you were beneath her.

"He's ready for you now."

—-

"...alright, Ed, did ya look o'er those applications yet? 'Tween you D and Mike I don't think we are going to be able to keep up everything that we got on the schedule."

Wayne's eyebrows are raised as he looks over the bifocals perched on his nose. He had been scouring over the schedules and the books for the better half of the afternoon since lunch hour—trying to figure out how to swing their overloaded schedule.

It wasn't that they couldn't do the work, they were simply short handed. After Boom closed his doors  in Hawkins, he had recommended to his regulars that they travel to Bridgeport to Master Mechanics to see Eddie and Wayne. Business was booming, and the Munson's could barely keep up.

Early on, Wayne and Eddie decided they would only be open until noon on Saturday's but now with the packed schedule, they worked til almost dark every night of the week, including some Sundays.

Wayne rubs his short nails through his scratchy mostly white scruff, "we can't have these boys workin' like this, they'll quit on us before you can slap a tick."

Eddie was leaning against the doorway, a bottle of Coca Cola held limp in his hand, a greasy rag stuffed in his back pocket.

"Yeah," he yawns, stretching out his back, "let's hire 'em all, we need the extra hands, or I'm gonna need an extra back."