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pollenallergie · 3 days

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Jitterbug | E.M.

A/N: I’m in the mood for some cheesy mutual pining at the moment so here’s a best friend!Eddie fic based off this hc <3 Edit: The movie mentioned in this fic didn’t come out until 1985, but oh well… I’m too lazy to change it.

TW: none, I think? Reader’s pronouns aren’t specified and Eddie uses pretty gender-neutral terms of endearment for them. Nevermind he calls you a princess, I am so sorry, I totally forgot about that. Although, it is specified that they would wear a dress to a wedding, so take that for what you will. Also, I tried to keep the explicit language to a minimum since this is a fluffy fic.

18+ only

do not interact if you’re under 18 years old!

If you asked him, Eddie would deny it, but, secretly, he lives for these moments; moments where he gets to watch you, to hear you yearn for love. Perhaps it should be bittersweet, listening to you talk about the kind of love you’d like to have, all while under the impression that you probably don’t want to have that kind of love with him. However, Eddie gets an odd sense of joy out of watching your features alight with the joy that only daydreams of love and romance can bring, out of listening to you passionately describe all your deepest wants and desires. You’re such a romantic, Eddie loves it. He wants, so desperately, to be the one to make your dreams come true, but, for now, he’ll settle for listening to you talk about them.

Currently, the two of you are camped out in the living room of his trailer, watching Secret Admirer, the latest romcom that you’ve decided to torture him with. He only endures it because he knows that, once this garbage little love story is over, you’ll launch into one of your long-winded spiels about what love should be like, what you want your future love to be like. A wonderful bonus comes in the form of your passionate reactions to the events of the film; the way you giggle at Eddie mocking the protagonist's cliche friends, the way you adorably clutch the blanket closer to you whenever the protagonist caresses or kisses his secret admirer’s cheek, the way your brow furrows and your top lip curls when the protagonist’s dad kisses another woman, not to mention the way you fluster during the intimate scenes. You wear your heart on your sleeve, even when you don’t mean to; it’s one of Eddie’s favorite things about you.

By the time the credits roll by, Eddie can tell that you’re just barely holding in your commentary on the film. He decides to indulge you, as always, and asks, “So what’d you think, jitterbug? Was it worth the five-dollar rental fee?”

You sigh, pulling the blanket closer to your chest as you unconsciously snuggle up closer to your best friend, who responds in kind by wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “It was okay.” You reply, though, you're not very convincing.

Eddie chuckles, “Just okay?” Eddie whistles before continuing, “That’s quite a harsh critique coming from you, bug. What didn’t you like about it?” He teases.

“I don’t like how willing Debbie’s mom and Michael’s dad were to just throw away their marriages over some stupid letter. Love shouldn't be like that. Marriage shouldn't be like that.” You answer, looking up at him with those bright eyes that he loves so much. "Besides, it hits too close to home, you know?"

Like most children of divorce, you’re all too familiar with infidelity. You often confess to Eddie that you're worried that all love is doomed to end like that sooner or later, with one person cheating on the other, breaking their heart. It makes his heart ache for you. Of course, Eddie didn’t have any good examples of love to look up to either; his mom left when he was young and his dad wasn’t the loving type. However, the sweet old couple living in the trailer a few lots over makes him believe that sort of love, the kind that isn’t doomed to end in despair, truly exists. Eddie wishes that he could show you that kind of love. Granted, the only things preventing him from doing that were his own cowardice and your severe obliviousness.

Eddie curses every single person who’s ever made you feel less than. He curses society for making you feel like there’s something wrong with your body, like you aren’t pretty enough. Most of all, he blames them both for making you think that no one could ever be attracted to you, and for making you oblivious to the affection people showed you. You’re stunning and, if you could only see it, then you’d surely see the way the guys around town looked at you; guys like Adam Polanski who spent the entirety of sophomore year following you around like a lost puppy until Eddie finally told him to give it a rest, like that dirtbag Dave Harris who lives in the trailer next to you and leers at you whenever you take the trash out in those tiny little pajama shorts of yours, or like Eddie, your best friend, the guy who’s been hopelessly in love with you since the sixth grade. Hell, Eddie even knows of a couple of girls that have had crushes on you. However, you’ve never noticed them, any of them; always too caught up in that busy mind of yours.

“Not to mention Cliff DeYoung is just plain creepy.” You add.

“Yeah?” Eddie huffs out a laugh.

“Yeah, he reminds me of that pervy custodian from the public library, the one that always hits on my mom.” You shudder at the memory.

“What else didn’t you like?” Eddie probes.

“I-I don’t think I like the idea of secret admirers very much.” You admit as you begin to bashfully pick at your cuticles.

“No?”

“No. I think it’s more special, more meaningful when someone tells you how they feel without the shield of anonymity; it shows that they like you enough to take that risk.” You explain and Eddie hums in agreement.

A brief silence settles between the two of you, but Eddie soon interrupts it when he notices your eyes fighting to stay open. “Are you stayin’ the night?” Eddie asks softly.

“I want to, but I hate making you sleep on the couch.” You murmur. “We should've had this movie night at my place so that we could both crash in my bed afterward.”

“It’s a short walk,” Eddie points out, “we could just head over there now.”

You offer a mere hum of acknowledgment, clearly thinking it over.

“We’ll have to walk back here for breakfast in the morning. ‘S no food at my house right now.” You inform him, tone laced with exhaustion.

“I’ll grab a box of cereal to take with us,” Eddie replies before carefully untangling himself from you and getting up off the couch. He walks over to the kitchen cabinet where they keep the non-perishables and carelessly throws open the door.

“D’ya want S’Mores Crunch or Raisin Bran?” Eddie asks.

“God, you guys have awful taste in cereal.” You groan as you pull yourself up off the couch, letting out a big yawn and heaving a massive stretch before you continue, “I s’pose s’mores is the least offensive choice.”

“So picky,” Eddie mumbles teasingly as he swipes the box of overly sugary cereal from the cabinet. He then moves on to the fridge.

“Don’t steal Uncle Wayne’s milk; we can just eat dry cereal.” You say, as if reading his mind, as you slip on your Keds.

“You’re an absolute psycho, jitterbug.” Eddie teases as he grabs the carton of milk, stealing it anyways.

“And you’re gonna be dead tomorrow when your uncle comes home to a milkless fridge, grub.” You reply as you shrug on your jacket before grabbing the milk from Eddie so that he has at least one free hand to help him slip on his Reeboks. “I’ll make sure to wear a nice dress to your funeral.” You feign somberness as you pat Eddie on the shoulder, causing him to scoff.

“C’mon, drama queen,” Eddie says once he’s slipped on his coat and shoes, “let’s get you to bed.”

The two of you walk in silence to the other side of the trailer park, where your mom’s cozy double-wide sits atop a decently sized plot. Your mom’s place is much nicer than Eddie and Wayne’s since her office job pays a bit more handsomely, but you and her both still receive your fair share of ridicule for not living in a house. Your dad lives in a house, it’s a nice house too. Eddie’s been there a couple times, but only when your dad wasn't home. Your dad doesn’t much care for Eddie, but that’s ok with him because your mom absolutely adores him and he likes her more anyways. Besides, your dad’s disapproval has never really gotten in the way of your friendship with Eddie.

When the two of you finally make it to your mom’s, you unlock the door to find your dog, Philby, already waiting at the door for you, or, more accurately, for Eddie. Philby loves Eddie. You let him and Eddie bask in their little reunion as you make your way back to your room. You shut the door and change into some pajamas real quick before summoning the speed of Quicksilver as you quickly gather up all of the clothes on your floor and stuff them in your closet; heaven forbid Eddie sees your underwear. Soon enough, you open the door and poke your head out around the corner, motioning for Eddie to come join you.

Once he’s in your room, you step out, heading to the bathroom to finish getting ready for bed and to give him some privacy as he changes into the pajamas your mom bought him for Christmas last year. Soon enough, he’s joining you in there, brushing his teeth next to you with the spare toothbrush your mom keeps around for him. This never gets any easier for you, being so domestic with him. The two of you have been like this since you first moved into the trailer park when you were seven, but it’s never gotten any easier to pretend like the faces he makes at you in the mirror while you both brush your teeth don’t give you butterflies, like waking up to the sight of him fast asleep next to you doesn’t make your heart melt every single time. You don’t even mind that he always leaves a pool of drool on your pillow, that he’s a blanket hog, that he refuses to sleep with a shirt on because he feels like the neckline chokes him when he lays down, not even that he thinks suffocating you with a dutch oven is the pinnacle of comedy. You’ve got it bad, but you think you hide it well. Truthfully, you don’t, but, luckily for you, Eddie is just as oblivious as you are, if not more so.

Perhaps if the two of you had any mutual friends, they might shake you both by the shoulders and pull you out of your minds, might force you to see how hopelessly in love with each other you are. However, it’s always just been the two of you, at least when you’re at home. In public, the two of you have always operated in your own social circles due to your differing passions; he's always had Hellfire while you've always had the tiny little nonconformist clique you ran around with, a group of somewhat artsy, somewhat smart kids that just didn’t quite fit in anywhere else. So, the two of you simply just continue to dance around one another, each unaware of the other’s incessant pining.

Once the two of you have finished getting ready for bed, you climb into bed together, snuggling up close to each other as you have a million times before. Eventually, you’ll break free from his sleeper hold during the night when you get too hot to continue snuggling, just as you always do, but, for now, you indulge his craving for your warmth. You always indulge Eddie, always spoil him.

“Hey, bug,” Eddie calls out softly into the darkness of your room.

“Yeah, grub?”

“Will ya tell me more ‘bout your wedding?” Eddie asks. It’s the same request he always has on nights like this. He likes to listen to you talk about your dreams and desires as he drifts off to sleep, much like a child likes to hear a bedtime story; he loves to hear the stuff that your beautiful mind comes up with. You’ve always assumed that he was just indulging you, letting you talk about the things you might’ve otherwise been too shy to bring up yourself, in the privacy of your room. Little do you know, Eddie takes great care in remembering what you tell him about stuff like this, he even writes some of it down in the same little journal Wayne gave him to write songs in for his fifteenth birthday. His memory has always been surprisingly good when it comes to stuff like that, stuff that other people might not put a lot of stock in, but that he knows you cherish more than anything. Although, it’s not so good when it comes to important dates or anything like that; anything that the average person would deem important.

“You remember how I said that I wasn’t sure if I wanted a beach wedding anymore?” You prompt him, not expecting him to remember, but more so saying it as a reminder.

“Yeah?”

“I think I’ve moved on from that; trying to walk around in the sand in a wedding gown seems like too much of a hassle for someone as clumsy as me. I think now maybe I’d like to get married at one of those big, fancy gardens that they have in big cities, like the one in Garfield Park. Or maybe it could be kind of cool to get married at one of those old, historic mansions in New England.” You ramble.

“Could get married in the backyard of your nana’s house, she’s got a big enough backyard, ‘s fancy too.” He offers sleepily.

“It’s not that big,” You giggle, “but it would be cute to have a small wedding there. It’d probably have to be a small wedding anyways; I don’t really like a lot of people.”

Eddie huffs a tired laugh, nuzzling his moppy head of curls in between your shoulder and your neck as he curls around you like a monkey clinging to a tree. Little fireworks erupt beneath the surface of your skin and butterflies flutter around your tummy as your body intertwines with his.

Yeah, I’ll never get used to this. You think.

You come from a pretty touchy-feely family, or at least your mom’s side of the family is like that, so you’re pretty used to physical affection, but Eddie’s clinginess has always somehow managed to exceed the level of affection that you’re used to. The two of you don’t hold hands, don’t give each other kisses on the cheek or anything like that, but Eddie will take almost any and every opportunity to hug you, to cuddle with you, to touch you. He’s like that with his other friends too, or so you think. You always see him playfully wrestling with the Hellfire guys or clapping a hand on one of their backs as he pulls them into the occasional celebratory hug, you figure that’s pretty similar to how he treats you. Although, you think that he’s probably a bit more touchy-feely with you because he’s known you for so long. He’d definitely cuddle with Gareth if he’d known him since he was seven, right? Certainly, he’d offer Jeff a shoulder rub every now and then if he had been friends with him for over a decade like he had with you. Of course, he would, Eddie’s just like that, it’s just how he is, you think.

“You’re gonna look real pretty in a white dress, bug. Like a princess.” Eddie murmurs sleepily. At that, heat blossoms in your chest and travels up your neck before flooding into your cheeks.

“What do you think you’ll wear to my wedding? Usually, the maid of honor wears a dress… and is a woman.” You tease and Eddie huffs out another tired laugh, this one nothing more than a puff of air exhaled through his nose.

“I’ll wear whatever you want me to, baby.” Eddie slurs before the stillness of sleep takes over.

Your eyes widen at the new pet name, your breath hitching before a smile breaks out on your face, one so wide that it hurts your cheeks and so fond that it shines in your eyes. You turn to look at him, confirming that he’s asleep, before pressing a kiss to the space between his brows, the only part of his forehead that isn’t currently shielded by his bangs.

“I love you, Eddie.”

#damn… now i’m reminiscing…#i gotta start writing again #like writing best friend!eddie stuff is literally like a balm for my spirit

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