Black Sheep - Eddie Munson x Reader

Crimson and Clover

"Mom, this is Eddie. Eddie, my mother." You introduced.

"Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. L/N!" Eddie stuck his hand out for her to shake.

And that self righteous, holier-than-thou woman winced. As if she had any reason to believe he was a threat, as if he were going to strike her.

Reluctantly, she took his hand, but no pleasantries were extended in return. When she turned on her pointed heel to lead the two of you to the cocktail hour being hosted, Eddie glanced down at you.

That shit eating, humored smile of his caused butterflies to hatch from their cocoons in your belly, their wings beating violently against your insides.

In the study where socialites mingled, you were greeted by a haze of smoke from pipes being puffed on and cigarettes perched between manicured fingers. These people wouldn't know a single day's hard work if it slapped them in the face. You watched as your mother trotted across the room to your father, working up a sweat to get to him before he had the chance to view your shenanigans for himself. She leaned down and whispered something in his ear and her husband's eyes quickly landed on you amongst the crowd of people.

"Wait, are we allowed to light up in here?" Eddie asked you, but before he had the chance to pull the pack of cigarettes from his vest pocket your father abruptly stood from his place on the couch.

"Folks, I believe dinner is waiting for us in the dining room." He waved his guests toward the door from which you'd just come. "Please, sit wherever you'd like. I just ask that you save the two seats closest to my wife and I for our daughter and her, uh..."

It wasn't so easy to throw around the terms boyfriend, fiance, and husband now that he knew who the constituent was. And this was exactly the reaction you'd been hoping for.

"Boyfriend, dad." You said in place of his hesitancy.

Unlike your mother, your father offered his hand to Eddie first. If saving face were an olympic sport, your conniving dad held the goddamn gold metal.

"Eddie Munson, sir."

"Pleasure to meet you, son." He replied.

One thing that Eddie seemed to have missed, or perhaps just wasn't privy to the meaning behind, was the fact that your father never stopped puffing on that fucking fat cigar for a second while looking your "boyfriend" in the face. You, however, had been raised to pick up on these subtle signs of disrespect. Your father would never dare blow smoke in the face of someone he saw as an equal; a representative from Ford or Chevrolet. Hell, maybe not even the caddie at the golf course where he spent nearly every Sunday.

Blood warmed your chest as your heart rate increased to dangerous levels. It was one thing for your parents to make you feel inferior, but Eddie...

Oh, you hadn't expected to feel so protective over his emotions. But ferocity hit you like a tidal wave, sucking you under the currant and drowning you in a level of rage you'd never experienced before.

"Let's go eat dinner, shall we?" Your mother sang, and off you were led to the formal dining room.

With your father seated at the head of the table, you took the place between him and Eddie to his left. Your mother was perched directly across from you, that white linen napkin immediately finding a home in her lap like a woman of dignity knew to prioritize. A member of the help made his way down the table with a bottle of red wine plucked fresh from the cellar. He filled every glass to the brim.

It's not alcoholism if it's expensive and enjoyed with company, right?

"Actually, can I get a Coors? Or maybe a Rheingold?" Eddie asked the man.