Chapter Text
Eddie Munson was a thorn in your side. A pain in your ass. He was annoying, so incredibly annoying. He had only been working at your boss Murray’s record store, Indie-ana Records, for a month and you already wanted to strangle him. He was loud, rude to customers and would complain to no end unless some form of music he approved of was playing. That music usually consisted of metal and some grunge and industrial bands who were slowly emerging.
He was currently lecturing a poor girl about why she should listen to Metallica instead of Bananarama.
You rolled her eyes and let out a huff before leaving the counter and walking over to the two of them.
“Thank you so much for visiting Indie-ana Records, what were you looking for today?” You asked with a bright smile and a pleasant tone.
“Uh, I, I- “the girl stuttered looking between you and Eddie. “Um, do you have any Bananarama records?” She said quietly.
“Sure do. You can find their vinyl, cassettes, and CDs under ‘B’ in Pop!” You told her and she quickly scurried off.
Your turned to looked at the long-haired man beside you, your cheery disposition disappearing. “What the fuck are you doing?” You spat at him.
“What?” He exclaimed running his hand through his dark brown locks flopping them to one side. “She came in looking for a shitty band, so I told her about a better one.”
“You can’t insult every customer who comes in here just because they don’t listen to what you listen to.” Your hands went to tighten the red flannel shirt you had tied around your waist.
“Why not?” He asked genuinely confused.
You sighed pinching the bridge of your nose. “Because we are a record store and it’s your job to help people find what they are looking for. Stop doing it.” You turned to go back to the counter and finishing pricing product.
He followed you. “But her life will would be better with Metallica.”
You stopped abruptly and he ran into you. “Another thing, judging people cause they don’t conform to your form of normal makes you just as bad as the people you think are trying to make you conform.” You tried to ignore his proximity and how hard his body was when it bumped up against you. He smelled like he always smelled, like weed, clean laundry and whatever deodorant he used.
He opened his mouth to speak but he couldn’t seem to find the right retort.
“Uh-huh, that’s what I thought.” You stomped up the stairs to the slightly raised U-shaped counter and took the Dio cassette out of the player. You found a Paula Abdul tape and put it in the player knowing it would piss him off.
“George, why are you so mean to me?” He whined, following you, leaning against the counter.
“I still have no idea why Murray hired you.” You confessed as you began to sort music into genres.
Eddie shrugged. “I annoyed him for six months until he caved and gave me a job.”
“That I believe.” You handed him a pile of vinyl and cassettes. “Can you go file these in the back and stay there until that girl leaves. She’s probably terrified you’ll lecture her again.”
“Fine but this has to come off when I come back out.” He pointed upward swirling his finger, commenting on the music.
“Pearl Jam or nothing. I can’t listen to Dio anymore.” You told him.
“Deal! I like Pearl Jam.” He grinned and bounced down the stairs.
“Is that why you stole Eddie Vedder’s look?” You teased.
“You love it!” He quipped kicking open the back-room door and disappearing.
It was true, you did. By far the most annoying thing about Eddie Munson was how attractive he was. He wore different variations of the same thing every day, but it worked for him. A white t-shirt that hugged his lean frame perfectly, ripped jeans and a flannel shirt of varying colors rolled up to his elbows, showing off a smattering of tattoos. His shoes were either black converse or black Doc Martens, no exceptions. His hair was a grunge rockers dream, just a little dirty, shiny, wavy and it looked so soft; it took everything in you not to touch it. It helped frame his strong jawline and warm his dark brown eyes. His lips were plump and pouty, and you could barely look at them when he spoke to you. You didn’t trust what your body would do if you looked at them for too long.
You were brought back to reality when the girl stepped up to the counter and handed you the cassettes she wanted. “Sorry about Eddie, he’s new.” You told her with a smirk.
She laughed. “That’s okay, he was just a little weird.”
“That’s Eddie.” You winked, reading off her total and completing the transaction.
Just as the girl exited the store, Eddie was pushed out of the backroom by Murray. “Keep him out of here, Georgia!” Murray shouted, looking in your direction. “Never shuts up.” He mumbled as he disappeared into the backroom where his office was.
Eddie looked at you dumbfounded. “Why is everyone so mean here?”
You leaned your elbow on the counter with your chin resting in your palm. “I think it’s you, honey.”
Eddie put his hands on his hips causing his shirt to lift just slightly. You tried not to get distracted by the lines of black ink you could see there. He shook his head. “No that can’t be it.” He sprinted to the counter and changed the tape. “I’m a fucking delight.” He grinned.
You could only roll your eyes afraid you’d agree with him if you said anything.