Work Text:
There are exactly three things that Richie Tozier knows to be true.
The first is that he’s going to be famous someday. Despite what other people (Stan) may say, Riche is fully confident in his ability to make it big. Sure, he’s never had a real gig before, and yeah maybe he’s still stuck in Nowheresville, Maine, but he’s got a plan, okay? He’s got a sweet job at his college radio station, for starters, one that he’s going into his second year at. It’s the ideal job, all things considered. He can play pretty much any music he wants to so long as it doesn’t have anything too explicit in it (he gets by on a lot of technicalities), his manager is too stoned out of his mind every day to worry about hovering over him, and he gets paid a whopping five dollars every hour. That’s a whole seventy-five cents above minimum wage, thank you very much. Plus he gets paid to entertain people on air! Richie’s not sure a job has ever been more perfect for him than this one, and he considers himself lucky to have landed it so early in life. All he needs to do now is wait for some famous executive to hear his (absolutely hilarious) jokes on air, and before he knows it he’ll be out of this hellhole with nothing but his aspirations and seven tickets to shiny Los Angeles, California.
Speaking of seven tickets, the second thing that Richie knows is that he has the best friends in the entire world. He’s not sure how he got so lucky in life, but he imagines five year old Richie must have done something right when he walked up to similarly five year old Bill Denbrough on the kindergarten playground. He had seen the boy standing off to the side, staring longingly at the other kids running around on the playground. Richie approached him in all of his gap-toothed glory, stuck his sticky hand out, and said, “Hiya! M’names Richard, but you can call me Richie! Do you wanna be friends?”
The boy had stared for a long moment before grinning nervously and grabbing hold of his outstretched hand, and the rest was history. Soon after Bill came Stan, just the very next day. Richie had similarly seen him standing off to the side, although he wasn’t staring at the kids, as he had his gaze trained calmly on the treetops. Richie had approached with the same excited manner as before, offering a hand out, but was met with a neutral stare instead. Richie wouldn’t be deterred, however, and had waved Bill over from where he was standing off to the side. Stan said Richie was a nuisance, Richie poked his tongue through the gap in his teeth and nudged Stan with his elbow, and felt unbridled joy flow through him when he saw Stan fighting back a smile. Eddie arrived a few weeks later, a small boy with wide brown eyes and a frown set upon his face. However, Richie’s Awesome Friendship Plan – as he dubbed it after its two successes – crashed and burned upon impact at the feet of Eddie Kaspbrak. Richie’s gap-toothed smile was met with a crinkled brow, and his offered hand was faced with a grimace and a shout of, “Ew! When’s the last time you washed your hands?”
Richie had grinned wildly, feeling his heart thump in his chest at the response of the frankly adorable boy in front of him, and had ignored Eddie’s ninety-decibel level shrieked remarks of disgust as he laughed and grabbed his hands to drag him over to the other two boys, kicking and screaming. Despite his words he stuck by Richie’s side the whole day, and Richie let the pride he felt at that carry him all the way until he fell asleep that night. One day became one month, then one year, and before Richie knew it he had landed himself directly into the title of “best friends” with Eddie. Beverly, Ben, and Mike didn’t join their little posse until much later, but by the time they were thirteen they were the most tight-knit group of teenagers in all of Derry.
Reminiscing aside, Richie isn’t sure how he ended up with people as wonderful as the Losers Club. They’re the best friends he could ever ask for, and he wakes up every day thankful they’ve put up with him all these years. Richie’s glad they all decided to go to college together, because he’s not ready to part with any of them yet, and he’s not sure he ever will be. They’ve been with him through everything, and they’re always the first and last things he thinks of every day. Richie’s dreams for the future are big, but it takes a lot of room to fit seven people, doesn’t it? He thinks he would rather live with Sonia Kaspbrak than leave any of them behind. When they got to college in a town on the other side of Maine, things definitely changed. Turns out shirking the reputations of your hometown can make you grow in some major ways. Some of the Losers became more popular, or at the very least socially accepted. Eddie joined track, Mike and Ben got jobs at the campus library, and Stan started going on dates with a lovely girl named Patty. But Richie stayed the same, in his hawaiian shirts and shitty sex jokes and debilitating crush on one Eddie Kaspbrak.
Oh, yeah. Can’t forget that last thing.
Richie is completely, utterly, head over ass in love with Eddie Kaspbrak. And to make matters worse, he’s pretty sure he’s about to lose his fucking mind.
~~~
“Spaghetti, can you hurry the fuck up already?” Richie’s flat on his back, staring at the fan turn slow circles on the ceiling of Eddie’s dorm. He’s been shouting through his bathroom door for the better part of thirty minutes now, but as the time wears on it seems less and less likely that Eddie is going to be ready to go anytime soon. The party has definitely started by now, and for the love of God, how long does it take to put on a Halloween costume? Richie starts sitting up to go pound on the bathroom door when he hears Eddie’s voice float through the crack under the door. He sounds more than a little put-out, and Richie stifles a grin.
“Richie can you hold your fucking horses? I told you I’d be ready in a second, God, you’re so impatient, if you would just wait one fucking-” Richie sighs and flops back onto his back as he zones out of Eddie’s rant. He’s clearly just getting started, and Richie knows more than anyone how long these can go for. He runs his hands across the bedsheets, bounces his leg, and sighs again. He tunes back into the conversation, “-and I’m almost done dipshit I just need to put the finishing touches and you know how much I hate being rushed-” tunes out again, rubbing his tongue against his teeth. He’s antsy, sue him. It’s the first party of the year, and Richie is itching to get a drink in his hand. He would have pregamed, but Eddie said it’s “a waste of money to buy our own drinks considering we’re going to be drinking a shit ton at the party anyway, Rich,” and Richie might not get what he means but in all fairness to him, his brain kind of blacked out as soon as Eddie called him by that nickname. He hasn’t even seen Eddie’s Halloween costume either, which is an affront to their friendship if you ask him.
Oddly enough, Eddie’s been rather secretive about the whole thing. He had told Eddie what he was wearing months ago, and while he hadn’t expected Eddie to be as excited as he was about it… Well, he’s not quite sure what he was expecting, honestly, but a part of him might have been hoping Eddie would want to match. They always match! As long as Eddie Kaspbrak and Richie Tozier have been best friends (some odd fifteen years now) they’ve always worn matching Halloween costumes. Marty McFly and Doc Brown, Ferris Bueller and Cameron Frye, Batman and Robin (Richie didn’t think ahead of time about the ramifications Eddie in spandex shorts would have on his sanity, he barely made it through that one), the list goes on. And if Eddie doesn’t want to match this year, that’s fine. Even if Richie specifically chose his costume – Roger Rabbit, of course – in part because it might make Eddie his Jessica, if Eddie doesn’t want to match then Richie will survive. He’s not sulking about it, he swears, he’s not. And he’s in no way jealous either, because that would be a ridiculous thing to feel, and if there’s anything Richie’s not it's ridiculous.
Richie sighs again, brushing his hair out of his eyes and clicking his tongue when he hears the door to the bathroom swing open. Finally, he thinks, and lets out a groan. “Jesus Christ, Eds, took you long enough, now are you ready to-” Richie’s voice cuts off.
Oh, God.
Oh, God.
Richie’s so fucked.
Standing in front of Richie, in all of his 5’7 glory, is Eddie Kaspbrak dressed as a cowboy. Not just any cowboy, in fact, but Woody from Toy Story. Richie distantly remembers watching that movie with Eddie in the theaters just the year before, although most of his memory is of the way the movie screen had reflected light off of Eddie’s profile. It’s for that reason that he doesn’t exactly remember what Woody wears, but based on the amount of time it took for Eddie to get ready he’s assuming the costume is movie accurate.
Richie’s eyes trail over Eddie slowly, mouth hanging open, drinking him in. Eddie’s got a yellow button up with red stripes on, although he’s rolled the sleeves up to his elbows, leaving his forearms on full display. Richie flushes red, and thinks to himself God help me as his eyes follow the way they flex when he crosses his arms. He’s got a cropped cow print vest on over the shirt, with a red bandana tied around his neck, and as Richie’s eyes fall lower he sucks in a shaky breath because holy fuck it’s like he’s trying to kill him.
Eddie’s jeans are, for lack of a better word, sinfully tight. They wrap snug around his thighs and oh Richie feels breathless just looking. To make matters worse, he has a length of rope attached to his hip. A lasso, his brain supplies helpfully. Just imagine what he could do to you with that. He could tie you to his shitty dorm twin sized bed, leave you helpless, unable to do anything at all but feel as he sinks slowly down on your- Richie blinks. Hard. He barely chokes back a helpless noise as he takes note of the boots Eddie is wearing, shiny and brown and painfully cute on him. Eddie clears his throat and Richie’s eyes snap back up to his face, flushing even darker at being caught staring. Eddie’s eyes are narrowed but Richie can see a glimpse of meekness in them, and Richie realizes he's nervous.
It all makes sense now. Eddie didn’t tell Richie about his costume because he was shy about it, not because he didn’t want Richie to know! Richie silently cheers to himself as he clears his throat and stands up, sliding an easy grin onto his face. “Aww, Eds, look at you! Well aren’t you the most adorable rootin’-tootin’ boy in town,” Richie watches as Eddie’s face falls into a scowl. His heart lurches painfully in his chest, so naturally he shoves it aside and takes a step forward to try and ruffle Eddie’s perfectly gelled hair. Eddie bats his hand away lightning fast before he can even get close, but Richie notices with relief the look of embarrassment in his eyes is gone.
“Shut the fuck up, Richie, I don’t wanna hear it, okay? And what the fuck is with your costume? You look like an idiot.” Richie laughs loudly, chest filling with glee and heart beating wildly. He loves when Eddie makes fun of him. No one can throw a jab out as fast as Richie can except for Eddie. It’s what makes them so special. They’re the only people alive who can keep up with each other step for step (although Richie would say it takes Eddie two steps to match Richie’s one, and would probably receive an elbow in the side for it). They’re the only ones who can get under each other's skins, drive each other crazy. They’re also the only ones who understand each other the way they do, the way not even the other Losers do. Richie knows when Eddie needs a break just by the sound of his footsteps, and Eddie knows when Richie needs a hug just by a waver of his voice. No one else knows how to scale the wall to Eddie’s window in under a minute, or has one of Eddie’s old inhalers, just in case. They need each other around. Richie needs Eddie around.
Richie is drawn out of his thoughts by the sound of metal jingling, looking down just quick enough to see the spurs on Eddie’s boots as he turns around to grab something. Richie chokes on air, eyes zeroing in on Eddie’s tight ass in those damn jeans. He’s barely a couple feet away, Richie could reach out and touch him in less than a second, could press up against his back, feel the way Eddie would push back onto-
Eddie turns back around, raising an eyebrow at Richie. Richie, for his part, waves it away with his hand. “So, you ready to head out, Eds?”
Eddie rolls his eyes. “Don’t call me Eds,” he says, walking up to Richie and oh God he’s in his space and why is he so close he’s getting way too close to him, and Richie’s about to reach out in a moment of confused bliss when Eddie continues, “and could you get this for me?” He holds up one hand, less than a foot away from Richie’s face, and Richie sees a plastic ring attached to a length of white twine dangling from his pointer finger. When he sees the confusion in Richie’s eyes he speaks again, “On my back, dipshit. It’s the string to his voice box.”
Richie can’t do anything but nod, his voice gone completely at their proximity, but then Eddie turns around and backs up even more. He’s less than six inches away from Richie now, it’d be so easy to wrap his hands around his waist, to pull him in the rest of the way. If Richie were a stronger man, or maybe a weaker man, he’s not quite sure. All he knows is he likes having a best friend, thank you very much, and isn’t inclined on ruining that because of any stupid feelings or whatever. Richie focuses on clipping the twine onto Eddie’s shirt, gulping when he feels the warmth of Eddie’s back through the thin fabric. He pokes his tongue out of his mouth a bit, concentrating, and is Eddie leaning back even more? He pushes the thought from his mind and finishes securing the pin. Once he’s done he claps a shaky hand onto Eddie’s shoulder, not quite trusting himself to speak yet. He can smell Eddie’s peach shampoo and the soft, warm scent of what might be cologne and it’s making Richie’s head spin with want.
Eddie walks forward, mumbling his thanks when something breaks in Richie for just one moment. One second where all he feels is need, the need to grab onto Eddie, the need to hold onto him and never let go, the need to make him his. He grabs onto the plastic ring, yanking Eddie backwards until he’s falling back into Richie’s space, coming so, so, so close to him. Richie spins Eddie around by the shoulders until he’s facing him, looking up with wide eyes and pink cheeks. Richie’s hand moves from the ring to his waist, grabbing him tight and sliding his other hand up, up until he’s cradling his jaw.
The room is absolutely dead silent. The only movement comes from Richie’s heaving chest – when did he get this lightheaded – and Eddie’s eyes, searching Richie’s intently. Richie’s eyes flick down to Eddie’s lips once, twice, and Eddie licks his lips. Richie starts to lean in, and he must have lost his mind because it almost looks to him like Eddie is too, and his eyes are half-lidded and riddled with want, and they’re about to make contact and he can feel the ghost of Eddie’s breath when all of a sudden reality comes flooding back and Richie’s heart thuds to a stop.
He leans back in a rush of cool air, eyes darting all over up above Eddie’s head and absolutely anywhere except for his face. He forces out a laugh, and his hands burn like fire where they’re pressed against Eddie so he pulls those away too. “Just checking it works, Eds, and y’know you might wanna get that checked out because isn’t Woody supposed to say something when someone pulls on his string? Not a very accurate depiction if you ask me, and I really think you oughta-”
Eddie slaps a hand over Richie’s mouth, eyes boring holes into him. He looks unimpressed, and frustrated, and something else Richie doesn’t know how to name. “Richie,” he starts, leveling him with a hard look. “Richie, I-” He cuts himself off, biting his lip and glaring at the floor.
“What,” Richie asks, although it comes out more like mmph with the hand over his mouth.
Eddie sighs, looking up at him again with what almost seems like a pleading expression. “Fuck,” he mutters to himself, shaking his head. “Just-” He drops his hand, turning away. ‘“Don’t call me Eds.”
Huh, Richie thinks, that was weird.
~~~
The path to the party wasn’t long, only a ten minute walk from the dorms, but it seemed to stretch on for hours to Richie. The party was situated in a house just off campus, one Richie had been to for many parties during his past two years away at college. Getting Eddie out was a less common feat, given that house parties were “cesspools of disease and vomit filled with people I hate” according to Eddie. Richie managed to convince him this time considering it’s Halloween, and that’s always been a thing for them. Even if Eddie doesn’t feel like matching this year, Richie thinks with a scowl. He wasn’t lying earlier, it isn’t the end of the world, but it sure feels like it. Without them matching their costumes, who’s going to be able to tell that they came as a pair? That Richie and Eddie, RichieandEddie, always come as a pair. They’ve been practically conjoined at the hip since childhood, although as time has gone on Richie thinks he would rather be conjoined by something else, if you catch his drift.
The walk is mostly silent, aside from the jingle of Eddie’s spurs. Richie glances over at him every few seconds, never really able to draw his eyes away for very long. Like a moth to a flame, it’s in his very nature to try to be as near as possible to Eddie at all times. His glances have been especially painful in his chest ever since they left the dorm, coincidentally lining up with the moment Eddie placed a cowboy hat on top of his perfect head. Richie couldn’t handle the excited glint in his eye or the tilt of his grin as he ushered Richie down the hallway to the elevator, so he had tried (and failed) to keep his gaze resolutely on the ground instead. It worked for maybe five minutes. He was already resigned to a night of life ruining yearning, no use trying to avoid it. Welcome to his life for the past fifteen years, you can check your ticket at the door, etc.
After what feels like a hundred years (but was in reality only two minutes) Richie caves into the urge to talk. Silence freaks him out, and silence with Eddie freaks him out even more, considering they’ve hardly ever had any of it since they entered each other's lives. “So, Eds…” Richie trails off, scanning his brain for something, anything to say to fill the void growing inside of his lungs. “You think that girl from your biology class will be there tonight?” Fuck. Wrong choice. Richie doesn’t want to talk about that, why the fuck did he bring that up. He panicked, okay!
Eddie simply tilts his head curiously, a passive look on his face. “You mean Sam?” He pauses, thinks. After a moment he shrugs noncommittally. “Maybe,” he says simply. Richie stares at the floor. Maybe, he says. What the fuck does that mean?
Shoving his foot in his mouth even further, he continues. “I just mean, you’ve mentioned her a lot in the past couple weeks since school started up again, are you thinking of, I don’t know, asking her out?” He chokes out the last of the sentence, jealousy already filling up his chest. He has no idea why he’s bringing this up, considering the thought makes him want to rip all his hair out and curl up in a ball to cry for hours. It has been gnawing at him, though, more and more as each day has passed. Eddie’s mentioned Sam twelve times to be exact – yes, he counted, leave him alone – in the past three weeks, and he’s starting to get nervous.
Eddie’s never really showed an interest in girls before, something Richie is selfishly grateful for. He’s never had a girlfriend, never asked a girl out on a date, or even mentioned anyone in particular. When all of the guys in the Loser’s Club started talking about dating, around the age of entering high school, Eddie sat resolutely to the side alongside Richie and rolled his eyes. But Richie’s not dumb enough to hope Eddie stayed out of the conversation for the same reason he did. He can’t afford to let himself be so foolish. Sure, he may have been, once upon a time, where he thought carving their initials into a bridge for the whole world to see was a good idea, but that Richie is long gone. He’d given up hope years ago.
Richie’s not sure what he would have done if he had been forced to see Eddie date a girl, but it probably would’ve involved a lot of crying. And a lot of brooding. It’s a hard thing, okay? It’s hard to see the love of your life smile at someone else the way they only seem to smile at you, secretly fond. To see them hold another person’s hand the way you did once, in a dilapidated house, turning their face to yours, wanting it to be the last thing you see if you die. To see them laugh at someone else’s jokes, open and carefree, the way they don’t laugh at yours.
A pang tears through Richie’s chest and he blinks back sudden tears.
But none of those things do happen, in fact quite the opposite.
All Eddie does in response to Richie is give an amused snort. “Yeah, very funny Richie.” He jostles Richie with an elbow like he said the stupidest thing in the world. Richie’s head is spinning.
Richie clears his throat awkwardly and nods his head, tapping a rhythm on the side of his legs as he walks. “Sure, yeah, ‘course. Funny.” He adjusts his glasses and ignores the sidelong glance he receives from Eddie.
There’s a long pause. “Rich, y’know I-” Eddie starts. Richie’s not ready to hear whatever Eddie has to say. Probably something about how he’s looking for a girlfriend, he’s finally thinking of getting out into the dating pool. Maybe he wants to ask why I haven’t dated anyone either, maybe he’s found me out. Oh God, does he know? Is he trying to find some way to tell me he knows, and he doesn’t feel the same. Fuck no. Fuck. I can’t take this right now.
“Oh would you look at that! Looks like we’re here! Hey Eds, let’s go inside, yeah? Wanna get a head start on drinking before all the good shit’s gone, you know me, haha.” Richie cuts him off loudly, taking swift steps towards the door. He reaches out to guide Eddie along by the shoulders but pulls his hands back like he’s been burned before he can make contact. Eddie’s eyes flick down to the aborted movement, a deep frown on his face. He opens his mouth to say something, but Richie’s already through the door.
Alright, Richie thinks, I can do this. Just one party. Everything’s fine.
~~~
Entering the party is a blur of faces and names, most he already knows, some he definitely won’t remember tomorrow.
They meet up with some friends from their classes, making polite conversation and sipping on a lukewarm beer. It tastes like shit, but it was the first thing they saw when they walked in, so beer it is. Richie doesn’t remember most of the conversation, too distracted by Eddie standing next to him. He’s got one hand on his hip, the other holding his beer, and his head tilted back in a laugh. Richie’s eyes zero in on his adam's apple, watching the way it bobs with his movement and biting back the urge to feel it against his tongue. Get a grip Tozier, you aren’t even drunk yet.
That conversation passes quickly, or maybe not, Richie doesn’t really care all that much. As long as he has Eddie by his side he’s okay.
After that they run into Stan who’s chatting amiably with Patty, one hand around her waist. Stan’s been dating her for a few months now, and Richie thinks she’s an absolute doll. Patty lights up when she sees him and Eddie, and Richie bounds over to meet her halfway in a crushing hug.
“Pats! Light of my life, I missed you so much! Ready to leave Staniel for me yet?” Richie cheers while they hug, rocking the two of them back and forth. She laughs from in his arms, reaching up to pat his cheek.
“Sorry Richie, but Stan is taking me out this weekend, so I think I’ll keep him around a little longer. Better luck next time,” she says as she slips back into Stan’s hold, sinking into it comfortably. Richie’s more than a little jealous of them, if he’s being honest. Seeing them so happy together, looking at each other like they’re the entire world, it’s something Richie’s only dreamed of. No one has ever looked at him that way, and this far into his life he’s sure no one ever will. Not who he wishes would, anyway. Richie plasters on a smile and shrugs.
“No worries, I’ll woo you eventually, Patty. In the meantime I’ve got Eds here so it’s no biggie.” He pulls Eddie in with an arm hooked around his neck, pushing a messy kiss to his head and laughing as Eddie fights his grip.
“Yeah you wish Tozier, you couldn’t get anyone to date you if you tried.” Richie raises his eyebrows.
“Oh yeah? ‘Cause I seem to remember just last night your mom and I-” He’s cut off with a swift elbow to the ribs.
“Oh my God, shut up about my mom!”
Richie grins. “Aww, Eds, you jealous? You know I have enough love for the both of you. C’mere, I’ve got a kiss waiting for you right here,” He leans in as if to kiss Eddie on the cheek and Eddie screeches, pushing Richie’s face away with his hands.
“Ew, what the fuck, that’s so gross Richie, I have no idea where your mouth has been, knowing you you’ve probably been licking rocks or some shit and your mouth is coated in germs-”
“Boys, as much as I love to watch you two flirt, I really need to ask you two to tone it down.” They both turn their heads to face Stan, who’s staring at them with an unimpressed look while Patty muffles a laugh into his shoulder. Stan looks at Richie, raising a single eyebrow in a look that Richie takes to mean obvious much? Richie sticks a tongue out in response, communicating back shut up Stanley. Not a word.
Richie adjusts his glasses and clears his throat, finally letting go of Eddie. It’s really not his fault Eddie is so damn cute when he’s riled up. His face gets all flushed with frustration and his cheeks go bright pink. Plus he does that adorable air chop with his hand, and Richie gets his full attention all to himself. In his eyes there are no downsides, who cares if it annoys the everloving shit out of all of their friends?
Richie thinks he would give up everything in the world for Eddie’s attention for just one minute. But anyway.
“Have you seen anyone else around? You’re the first Loser we’ve run into here.”
Stan clears his throat. “I think I saw Bill and Mike earlier, they were playing cup pong. No idea where they could be now though. And I haven’t run into Beverly or Ben yet, but they should be here by now.” Stan shrugs. “I’ll find them eventually. It’s too loud in here.”
Richie nods in understanding. He knows Stan isn’t the biggest fan of parties, and he can assume Patty is the reason they’re here at all. That plus the fact that they’re matching in disgustingly cute Robin Hood and Maid Marian costumes, 1973 Disney movie style. It makes Richie’s chest ache again, glancing over and seeing Eddie in his own costume. He still can’t help but wish they had matched this year like they normally do, despite how pretty Eddie looks.
They talk for a while longer, mostly about how classes have been going so far and what birds Stan has seen around campus. The entire time Richie can feel Eddie brush against him at his side, and sometimes it feels like Eddie is chasing the feeling as much as Richie is. He shoves that thought aside. It’s not worth it to get his hopes up.
At some point Richie finishes his beer and Eddie makes mention to grab another. As Eddie goes to walk away he stops, turning back around after just a few steps. He stops right in front of Richie, hand placed gently on his arm, eyes searching intently. Richie’s eyes drop to his lips and back up quickly and he sees Eddie lick his lips. Eddie leans up onto his tip toes and mutters to Richie, “Don’t go anywhere without me, okay?” Richie can smell peaches again, from his shampoo. He wants, badly.
Richie’s voice comes out shaky. “Uh, okay? I mean, I wasn’t planning on it, but…”
Eddie hums, seemingly satisfied. He leans back down and ruffles Richie’s hair. Whatever he was searching for before he must have found, because all he does now is beam up at Richie. “Good. I’ll be back in a second. Stay put.” With that he turns back around and leaves for real this time, disappearing into the party to find them another drink. Richie watches him go, heart pounding and face warm. His mouth is hanging slightly open.
To the side he can hear Stan sigh. “Jesus Christ. He’s really got you around his finger, huh?”
Richie flushes even more. “Shut up, Stan.” Stan smirks in response and pats his arm consolingly.
He really does, Richie thinks mournfully. He’s practically got me on a leash. I’d do anything he asked me to, anywhere, anytime.
A couple minutes go by and Eddie is nowhere in sight, but Richie stays put where he is. Stan and Patty have left by now, going off to find one of Patty’s friends. Richie doesn’t move, standing off to the side of the room, eyes scanning for Eddie’s cowboy hat or the sound of his spurs. He feels a bit like a dog told to heel and his face burns at the thrill that idea gives him. Eddie’s dog, his mind supplies. I’d bark for him if he asked.
The crowd seems to part and it’s like a spotlight shines down from above because all of a sudden he can see Eddie again and his heart soars. He’s just about to call out to him when he sees someone at Eddie’s side, a girl, Eddie’s talking to a girl, and his heart immediately crashes to his feet when he notices her costume.
She’s dressed like Little Bo Peep. Eddie is Woody and this random girl is Little Bo Peep and she’s matching with Eddie and Richie isn’t.
Did Eddie plan this? Did he plan all along to match with whoever this girl is, and that’s why he didn’t want to match with Richie? Richie feels like he could cry. He wants to storm over, to take Eddie away from her, to yell and pull and show to the whole world that Eddie is his best friend, that he’s the one who sees the world in Eddie, better than some random girl ever could. But Eddie told him to stay put, and mad as he is he would never do anything Eddie didn’t want him to.
Doesn’t stop him from glaring daggers at this girl though, which he does with glee. He fumes when he sees her place a hand on Eddie’s arm. He hates being touched by strangers. Except, she’s not a stranger to him, is she? Not if they planned this like Richie thinks they did. She must touch him all the time. He pinches himself for that thought.
A sudden thought runs through Richie’s mind. Why didn’t Eddie tell him about this? Why hasn’t Eddie told him about her? Does he not think Richie can be trusted with information on someone he likes? Richie isn’t that bad, at least he doesn’t think so. Does he think Richie would embarrass him? He probably would, to be fair, but that’s not because he wants to see Eddie unhappy. It’s just because Eddie is so damn cute when he’s annoyed!
Even worse is the thought that maybe Eddie just doesn’t think Richie is important enough in his life to tell these things to. Eddie is Richie’s best friend, but maybe Richie isn’t Eddie’s? He can’t remember the last time Eddie said they were best friends, but then again he never thought he needed confirmation before now. He may be resigned to the fact that Eddie is never going to reciprocate his feelings, but he would at least like to believe they’re still important to each other in a special way. Maybe Eddie told a different Loser about her. Does Bill know? Eddie’s always been really close with him. He’s always looked up to him too, admired him, followed him without question. He squeezes his eyes shut and breathes through his nose. He already suffered through that thinking for one summer, years ago when he was fourteen and naive enough to think Eddie possibly liked guys. He held a secret grudge against Bill that entire summer, couldn’t stand to be around him and see the way Eddie looked at him. He feels bad about how he treated Bill, and has long since made up for it in his own ways, but that jealousy sometimes comes back to haunt him.
It doesn’t matter anyway. Eddie isn’t his, and he never will be, and Richie needs to remember that. No matter how much he wishes it weren’t true.
When Richie opens his eyes again they immediately lock onto Eddie, although this time he sees Eddie looking right back. That girl is still talking to him and he sees Eddie say something back to her, but his eyes are trained directly on Richie. He feels like he’s being observed, like Eddie’s looking for something. Or waiting for something. Richie gives a tentative smile. Eddie simply raises a brow.
Sweat gathers on Richie’s forehead under the scrutiny of Eddie’s gaze. He feels like he’s being judged, and somehow feels like he’s not up to par on what he’s being judged on. It’s like he’s failing a test he didn’t even know he was taking. He’s getting restless, tapping his foot against the floor and drumming his fingers on his leg to the bass that thrums through the whole house.
Right when Richie is about to give in, end whatever weird tense staring contest they have going on and find something else to do, he sees Eddie break away from the conversation and make his way in Richie’s direction. Finally, he thinks, sending one last menacing thought in that girl’s direction. He’s mine, don’t you forget it. Richie shakes his head at himself. Alright, easy tiger, don’t get ahead of yourself now.
“Richie!” Eddie greets him with a smile and a fresh beer, stepping close and pressing their sides together like they’ve been all night. Richie immediately feels hot under the collar.
“Took you long enough. Seems a bit lengthy of a trip for just another drink, eh Eds?” Richie tries to keep his tone light but even he can hear some of the venom seeping in.
Eddie shrugs. “I ran into Sam. Didn’t know if she’d be here, but it was good to catch up.” He peers up at him with clouded eyes. “Sorry I kept you waiting so long.”
Sam. That’s who that girl was. From his biology class, the one he’s mentioned twelve – no, thirteen now – times. He was matching with her. They looked like a couple, from a distance. With her hand on his arm and their bodies angled together, laughing and smiling about God knows what. Richie takes a long drink from his beer bottle. Fucking Sam.
“Richie, you okay?” Eddie turns to face him fully, reaching up to cradle his jaw. “Hey, I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean to leave you for so long. I just- well-” He presses his lips together in a thin line. “It doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t have done that.” Richie wants to be upset, and he is, but not at Eddie. Never at Eddie. Upset at the situation, sure. At his dumb stupid luck for making him fall in love with his straight best friend who will never love him back and will eventually leave him behind for a girl from his bio class? Absolutely. But not at Eddie, because it’s not Eddie’s fault. It isn’t, it’s Richie’s, and he can’t let Eddie, wonderful sweet Eddie, feel bad for something that’s Richie’s fault.
So even if all he wants to do is find a quiet room in the hallways of this McMansion and cry, he knows he can’t do that. Instead he shrugs, feigning nonchalance, and smiles at Eddie with the most teasing look he can muster. “No worries, Eddie Spaghetti. Water under the bridge. You two looked like quite the pair, huh? Makes sense why ya didn’t wanna match with your good ol’ pal Richie this year, you scoundrel.” Too honest, Richie. Don’t show all your cards now.
Eddie furrows his brow. “Match- Richie, wait a sec, what do you mean? I’m-”
Richie cuts him off. “Eds, darling, don’t be shy now! I’m proud of you, about time you actually talked to a girl, amiright?” He laughs to himself. “Now let’s go find our friends. I’m sure Beverly could use some good old Tozier loving. Since your mom isn’t here right now for me to give it to her, of course.”
With that he starts to walk into the crowd, and while he didn’t wait for Eddie to follow he may have walked a little slower than normal just to make sure Eddie could keep up. He said not to go anywhere without him, after all.
It takes a while to find Beverly, since he gets swept up in conversation after conversation and drinks a couple more drinks while he’s at it. He stops by the restroom – “Gotta take a leak, Eds. Drain the ol’ tank.” “You’re so disgusting Richie.” – at one point and splashes some water on his face. He stares at himself in the mirror and makes sure to give reflection Richie a stern look, one that says don’t mess this up. When he steps out of the bathroom Eddie is waiting at the door. His eyes shine just a bit brighter when he sees Richie. Richie cracks a smile, shoves Eddie in a friendly gesture, and they continue on their search for the other Losers.
He runs into Bev eventually, who’s sitting comfortably on Ben’s lap and chatting with a girl Richie doesn’t recognize. They’re in the room next to the one with the DJ, and this room is noticeably less crowded. Bev lights up and waves him over as soon as she sees him walk through the doorway, and Richie joins them, glad to be in a group setting. Normally Richie is jumping at any chance to spend time with Eddie alone, but he thinks any longer and he would have done something he would regret. Like telling him I’m in love with him and his stupidly handsome ass, he thinks.
Luckily Bev is there to save the day, as always, noticing the look on his face and drawing her mouth together in a silent “oh”. She always seems to just get it.
“Richie, thank God you’re here! I was just telling Mandy about your radio show, turns out she’s a huge fan.” She smiles wide and tilts her head in the girl's direction. Richie nods and lets a friendly grin slide on his face as he waves a hand.
Mandy is short, around 5’4 if Richie had to guess, although everyone below 5’8 looks the same to his 6’1 frame (he would definitely receive a kick in the shins from Eddie at that, who barely reaches 5’7 for his part.) She has mousy brown hair in a neat bob, and wide brown eyes that had locked in on Richie as soon as he entered the conversation. She’s dressed like an angel (literally) which really means a short white dress and angel wings on her back. It’s a simple costume, a far cry from what Richie and Eddie have been sporting.
“A fan, you say? Want me to sign something for ya? Always a pleasure to meet someone with exceptional taste.” He leans in for a stage whisper. “It’s hard being the only one around here with any brains, y’know?” Mandy covers her snicker with her hand. Richie waggles his eyebrows for extra effect, but is yanked back harshly by a hand on his left upper arm.
“Someone actually listens to Richie’s show? Jesus, that’s a first. I didn’t know they still let Richie on air, with the numbers he gets.” Richie turns to face the voice, finding Eddie with an annoyed expression covering his face. There’s something swimming in his eyes as he refuses to make eye contact with Richie, something that Richie can’t name but leaves him feeling a little dizzy nonetheless. “I brought you a drink, asshole. Least you could say was thank you.” Eddie shoves the drink into Richie’s hand, which seems to be a red solo cup this time with a mysterious pink liquid inside instead of another beer. Richie raises an eyebrow. He’s not even sure when Eddie had stepped away.
“You tryna poison me, Eds?”
Eddie takes a pensive sip of his own cup, hiding a smile. He looks up at Richie through his eyelashes. He’s so beautiful, Richie thinks. He’s so distracted admiring the man he loves that barely hears Eddie’s response. “Not yet, but if you keep calling me Eds maybe I will.”
Richie stutters out a laugh. There’s a look in Eddie’s eyes he’s never seen before, something swirling around that Richie’s not quite sure what to do with. He sees Eddie’s eyes glance once harshly to his left once, and his mind dings in remembrance.
“Oh right, Spaghetti, almost forgot! This is Mandy, she’s a friend of Bev’s. Get this: she listens to my radio show!” He grins at Mandy and Eddie’s face sours again instantly. Strange, Richie thinks. Maybe he likes her? Maybe he likes her and he doesn’t like that she’s talking to me instead of him.
“Well that makes one.” Eddie responds, his tone flat. He barely looks at Mandy, keeping his body angled towards Richie. His hand still hasn’t left Richie’s arm, gripping tight. Richie can feel the heat of it through his sleeve.
“Oh don’t pretend like you don’t listen to my show every day, Eds. You come over to my dorm half the time to complain to me about whatever music I played that shift.” Eddie huffs.
“I do not and I never have, dipshit. And if I did, it’s only because you’re the worst fucking radio DJ this shitty college has ever seen.” Richie grins again, this time towards Eddie. Maybe Richie’s drink is getting to him already – what did they put in this thing, man – but he swears he can see Eddie’s posture loosen minutely.
Richie hums disbelievingly, slinging an arm around Eddie’s shoulder and pulling him in close. He makes to ruffle Eddie’s hair, but only gets so far as barely lifting the cowboy hat off his head before Eddie is fighting him back. It turns into a scuffle, because it always does, until Richie is laughing mockingly and holding Eddie’s cowboy hat way above his head. Eddie’s shouting at him “Give it back, asshole! Fuck you and your stupidly long legs, I fucking hate you so much-” and jumping for it when a loud laugh cuts through the fight.
It’s Mandy, her eyes sparkling as she stares Richie dead in the eye. “You’re so funny, Rich!”
Eddie goes stiff beside Richie. His hand lands solidly on Richie’s shoulder, fingers clenching into his shirt. He turns to Mandy. When he speaks his voice is cold, and his glare is piercing. “Funny? Rich?” He says it like it’s supposed to be a joke but Richie can’t read any teasing in his tone. Mandy falters for a second, seemingly nervous that she said something wrong. Whatever she sees on Richie’s face must clear that away though, because she’s soon to follow it up with more.
“Don’t you agree, Eddie? His radio show is the funniest thing I’ve ever heard!” She smiles at Richie, sickly sweet, and takes a step forward. “Say, Rich, what are you supposed to be dressed as anyway?”
Richie grins. “Isn’t it obvious?” He puts on the Voice to accompany the outfit. “‘My only purpose in life is to make people laugh.’ Do you get it?” He hits a pose, his arms outstretched. Mandy’s face doesn’t change, but her head tilts in confusion. She takes another step forward. She’s only a couple feet away from Richie now.
“I don’t get it.” Richie hears Eddie make a noise of frustration but cuts in quickly.
“I’m Roger Rabbit, duh.” He does little jazz hands. Mandy nods in recognition. Another step.
“Oh, I get it! That’s so funny, Rich.” She places a hand on his chest, Richie’s mind blaring with the words what the fuck. He’s still painfully aware of Eddie’s grip on him, which seems to be pulling him slightly in his direction. “Isn’t Roger Rabbit supposed to have a wife, uh, Jenny or something?” Her grin is sharp. Richie can distantly hear Bev gasp, a mix of disbelief and giddiness, to the right side of him. Richie feels bright red and way out of his element here. He doesn’t even like girls, how is he supposed to act when he’s pretty sure one is flirting with him? Also why him when Eddie, the perfect person he is, is standing right next to him? Nope, his brain tells him, don’t think about Eddie getting hit on. Just be glad it isn’t happening.
Richie downs the rest of his drink in one gulp. “Uh, her name is Jessica, actually.” He eventually manages to say. He’s about to take a step backwards, putting some space between them, but before he can she hums in understanding, hooking a finger under one of Richie’s overalls.
“And do you have a Jessica, Rich?” She all but purrs out. Good Lord.
Eddie releases Richie all at once, cold air rushing into the space where Eddie’s warmth once resided. Richie stumbles, body following Eddie on instinct. It’s in his nature, what can he say? Eddie turns around and walks the complete opposite direction, muttering “I’m going to get another drink,” and not looking back. Richie pushes Mandy’s hand off his chest and looks at Bev. Her eyes are wide and her face is set in an open mouthed grin.
Bev swears under her breath, “Oh, my God,” and looks at Richie. Her eyes beg the silent question, Well? Are you going to go after him?
Richie stares back at her. His eyes are wide open, but they convey the truest thing he feels. Always. There’s never a time I wouldn’t. With that, he pushes away from the conversation and takes off into the crowd after Eddie. He can just barely hear Mandy say “Was it something I said?” in a lost voice.
Beverly’s answer is short, but consoling. “It’s not you, babes. Trust me, that boy has been a lost cause for years. But really? Richie?”
Richie shakes the words out of his head and scans the crowd for Eddie. He can’t see him at all at first and worry gnaws at his bones. He wouldn’t have left, right? Unless, was he really so upset that Mandy was flirting with me instead of him? No, he wouldn’t leave without telling me.
After a minute or two and a lot of pushing, the crowd parts a little and Richie sees Eddie by the drink table. He’s got his head tilted back, gulping heavily from a solo cup. He looks stunning. Focus, Richie.
“Hey! Eds! Eddie Spaghetti!” He shuffles through the crowd of people and lands himself right by Eddie’s side, shoulders brushing. His face goes warm. “Why’d you run off, huh?”
Eddie glares. His voice is clipped. “I’m just getting another drink.”
“O-kay, well, could ya get one for your ol’ pal Richie as well? I seem to have run dry.” He turns his cup over to show, and a single measly drop falls off the rim. Eddie rolls his eyes, but takes the cup from Richie. Their fingers brush and Richie’s vision swims. He takes a shaky breath. “Say, Eds, uh-”
Eddie cuts him off. “Don’t call me Eds.” He won’t look in Richie’s direction, but he hands his cup back to him and grabs his own cup to refill once again.
Richie concedes this time and takes a large gulp of his drink. Jesus, Eddie, how much alcohol did you put in this shit? It tastes like straight vodka. “Eddie, are you sure you’re alright? You kinda stormed off there. Listen, I- I get it if you didn’t like that she was flirting with me, okay?” Eddie tenses up at that, and his hand grips his drink tighter. His eyebrows are drawn together, suddenly looking ready to run. Richie hurries to continue. “Like, I get it, if you thought she was cute, I say go for it! Really, I won’t get in your way, I don’t even like-” Woah, slow down there Richie. You can’t exactly say that, now can you? Not if you want to keep him around.
Eddie’s expression drops. “That’s not- Richie, did you seriously think I was into her? That’s why you think I’m upset?” He makes a noise of frustration, muffled by his hands covering his face. “Rich, it’s fine. Seriously. I wasn’t into her.”
Richie presses his lips together into a thin line. “Well, neither was I, so.”
“Fine.”
Richie huffs. “Well Jesus then, Eddie, what are you mad at me for?”
Eddie glances at him from the corner of his eye. Please, Richie thinks deliriously. Just look at me. Don’t stop looking at me. “I’m not mad at you, Richie.” He takes a deep breath, stabilizing himself. “I’m just- stressed, okay? Nothing you need to worry about.”
Richie takes a hesitant step to the side, letting their shoulders press together. He exhales when he feels Eddie lean into the touch. “You sure?” I hate it when you’re mad at me. You always want space when you’re mad and I’m never sure what to do with myself when I’m not around you.
Eddie smiles, and oh if that doesn’t immediately calm Richie’s frayed nerves. He takes another gulp of his drink before he can do anything stupid, like tell him he would never talk to another person again if Eddie genuinely asked. “I’m sure, Rich.” Richie’s heart flutters at the nickname.
He grins, grabbing Eddie’s hand. “Well then, what are we standing around here for then, huh? Dance with me Spagheds, please?” He tries to shoot him his best puppy dog eyes, and despite standing six inches taller than Eddie, it seems to work. Eddie rolls his eyes but he’s suppressing a smile. I made him smile. If he had a tail, it would be wagging anytime he makes Eddie smile.
Eddie takes one more drink from his cup and tosses it in the nearest trashcan. “Sure, Richie. Why not?”
Richie’s already taking off, practically bounding to the room where he had heard the music coming from earlier. He can hear Eddie’s laugh from behind him where he’s dragging him along by the hand. The drinks have definitely hit him by now and he’s swaying a little bit but he feels carefree and happy. This is all I need, he thinks, Eddie is all I need. He shakes that thought away. Drunk Richie is a filterless Richie and there are some things he probably shouldn’t say to his best friend of fifteen years.
He weaves them through the crowd of bodies, landing them somewhere comfortably amongst the random partygoers. They have just enough space to dance without being pressed together, something Richie silently mourns. He doesn’t recognize the song playing, but it’s fast paced and it makes his intoxicated brain want to dance, so he does.
Richie’s not a great dancer, all things considered. He’s way too lanky to match his height and is all sharp angles, making most of his dance moves a threat to the safety of the people around him. Eddie, on the other hand, looks downright ethereal in the low lights of the party. He always loosens up like this when he’s drunk, losing himself in the rhythm of the music. He’s jumping around to the beat and he must recognize what song it is because he’s shouting the lyrics with his hands up in the air. He turns to Richie, a wide smile splitting his face, and Richie’s heart stops. He’s the most beautiful person Richie has ever seen.
The song changes, turning into something bass heavier. It fills Richie’s body with heat and he sways in Eddie’s direction. The energy in the room shifts, becoming heady and warm. Eddie turns to face Richie, grabbing his hand and pulling him in. Richie’s stomach rolls. They’re so close.
Eddie’s eyes are dark, peering up at him with a heat Richie doesn’t recognize. His hands land on Richie’s shoulders and he pulls him down to face level. His lips brush his ear. “Dance with me, Rich, please?” He asks, mirroring Richie’s earlier words. All Richie can do is nod and gulp, moving his body along with Eddie’s. After a few moments he feels Eddie’s hands grab his own and move them onto his hips. His fingers squeeze reflexively, and he hears Eddie inhale sharply, returning his hands to their place around Richie’s neck. Their heads are still bent together, and their bodies are flush, and all Richie can feel is Eddie. His head is swimming, and his heart is racing, and he’s already half hard where he can feel Eddie’s body against his and God if that isn’t the most embarrassing thing he’s ever experienced.
Richie’s body is curled around Eddie’s shorter frame but he’s the one who feels surrounded, senses overwhelmed with the sight, the smell, the feel of him. Eddie’s eyes slip closed and he hums, but Richie’s remain wide open, drinking him in. There’s sweat gathering at his collarbone where his top shirt buttons are popped open and Richie wants to lick it off his body. He wants to lick a lot of Eddie’s body, actually, and is just starting to consider the merits of getting down on his knees and begging for Eddie to let him suck his dick when Eddie’s eyes open again and Richie’s brain screeches to a halt.
Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. Eddie is looking at him like, well, like he wants to eat him alive. He pulls them closer together, if that’s even possible, and Richie is helpless in his grasp. He feels like a cornered animal, finally caught by the hunter, and it sends sparks flying down his arms. He grips Eddie’s hips more solidly for stability, because he feels like he might tip over any second. Am I dreaming? I feel like I’m dreaming. This has to be, there’s no way this is really happening.
Eddie shifts his head minutely, his breath grazing past his cheek, and Richie shudders as he feels Eddie press a gentle, solitary kiss to the hinge of Richie’s jaw. Richie lets out an involuntary noise, his dick throbbing inside his pants. He knows Eddie must feel it, there’s no way he doesn’t with how close they are, and Richie is mortified.
He knows, his drunken brain rambles, he knows he has to know how you feel about him, he knows and he’s messing with you. He finally figured it out, and he’s toying with you because he knows you’re in love with him.
Richie is gasping for air, shaking where he stands, holding onto Eddie like a lifeline, and he feels like he’s losing his mind.
The tipping point comes when he feels a small bite accompany the kiss he felt just a moment earlier, barely a nip of teeth really, but it’s enough to send Richie right over the edge into full-blown panic mode.
He rips himself back from Eddie and chokes back a heave at the shock on Eddie’s face. He feels like he’s going to throw up. Richie suddenly regrets every drink he’s had tonight.
“Eddie, I…” Tears start welling up in his eyes and he can’t hear much beyond the drum of the song still going on around them, but he can see Eddie inhale an uneasy breath. He doesn’t want to stick around to see what happens next, so he doesn’t.
Richie takes off into the crowd, hunching himself down as small as he possibly can as he goes. He thinks he can hear Eddie calling after him from behind but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t stick around to hear that beautiful voice say his name like he normally would. Even if he’s not sure he’s ever going to hear it again.
Richie stumbles through the house. The drinks have hit him fully by now and he’s swaying heavily with every step, practically falling into the people around him in his rush to get away. He runs through different rooms that blend together and he’s not even sure where he’s going, just that he can’t stay where he was a second ago. Can’t look at Eddie, Eddie who just kissed him, for God’s sake – on the cheek, but still – and not blurt out his feelings.
Richie can still feel the white hot burn of Eddie’s lips against his jaw.
He ends up outside, eventually, though he’s not sure how he got there. Richie stumbles down the porch and trips to the edge of the lawn, hitting the ground on his knees. He can feel tears streaming down his face, when did he start crying?
He wipes his face with his sleeve but the tears keep falling, even when pushes his glasses up into his hair and rubs his eyes as hard as he can handle. The outside air is cold and it stings against his ears. He’s shivering.
Richie sits on the grass right next to the sidewalk, listening to the dim sound of the party going on inside and sniffling as his crying finally dies down. He just feels tired now. He wants to go home.
He doesn’t notice Eddie running up from behind him, also a little uneasy on his feet. He doesn’t notice him shouting his name over and over, getting more frantic each time. He doesn’t notice him at all, actually, until Eddie drops to his knees in front of Richie and practically throws himself on top of him, toppling them both over into the grass.
Richie’s whole body tenses and the alarms go off in his head again. He needs to get away. He’s just about to push Eddie off when he finally tunes into his voice.
“Richie, hey, oh thank God you’re still here, Richie are you alright?” Eddie’s speaking at a mile a minute, clutching at Richie with both hands.
Richie laughs and the empty sound echoes in the silent street. He shoves at Eddie’s shoulders until he falls off of him, rolling onto the lawn beside him. He sits up and turns away. “Am I alright, gee, what a fucking stellar question, Eddie. A real doozy, that one.”
Eddie’s silent for a moment. “Richie, I… I’m not sure what to say.” He chews on his lip for a moment, then tilts his head curiously. “You didn’t leave.”
It’s a remark, not a question. Eddie’s not asking Richie why he didn’t leave, he’s simply observing that he didn’t, and Richie’s face burns with shame. Words echo in his head from a conversation that feels like it happened years ago by now. “Don’t go anywhere without me, okay? Stay put.” Jesus H. Christ. Did he really stick around like some kicked dog just because of that? He feels like a trained mutt. He feels pathetic.
“No, I didn’t.”
Richie hears Eddie take a deep breath. Here we go. “Y’know, Rich, I really feel like I oughta tell you something. Listen, about what happened while we were dancing, I…” He trails off again.
Richie shakes his head. “Eddie, I really don’t want to hear it right now.”
Eddie chokes. “Huh?”
Richie stumbles to his feet and glances back at him. “I’d just rather forget about it, okay? You had your fun, you played your little games, the joke’s over.”
“Richie, what the fuck are you talking about?”
He laughs bitterly, head tilting back to face the sky. Here come the waterworks, again. “The fucking- everything, Eddie! I don’t know how you expected me to react, if you thought I’d find it funny, but I really don’t.” He looks at Eddie. Suddenly the sadness, the ache in his body, makes way for anger. Suddenly he’s pissed at his best friend, and he needs him to know it. “You’re a real asshole, you know that?”
Eddie’s face drops. “Huh?” He repeats.
“Yeah, Eddie, you’re an asshole. Grade A jerk. But you got a real kick out of it, didn’t you?” His voice is getting louder, he’s practically shouting, but he’s far too drunk to care. “Kind of hoped my best friend would be better than this, but I guess not.”
Eddie stands up and takes a step towards him. “Richie, you really need to tell me what the fuck you’re talking about right now.”
Richie glares at him. “I’m talking about your little game, Edward. Thought it’d be fun to mess with the town fairy? ‘Oh, my best friend loves cock and everyone knows it, bet he won’t mind at all! Bet he’ll be drooling for it even!’ Well fuck you, Eddie, fuck you. You don’t just get to- to fucking- toy with me!” He’s heaving the words out, shaking on his feet. Eddie looks positively rattled, his eyes wide and his mouth ajar.
“Richie-”
“No, Eddie, I don’t want to hear it, leave me the fuck alone-”
“Richie, shut the fuck up!” Richie goes silent. He’s heard Eddie yell at him a million times before in a hundred different ways, but never like that. He sounded upset in a way he never has before. Stupidly, Richie’s heart drops and his first thought is to make sure he’s okay, and he hits himself internally for it.
“I didn’t do that to mess with you, you fucking idiot, I did it because I wanted to!” Eddie takes another step forward, pulling his hat off his head and running a hand through his hair. His speech is slurred. “I wanted to dance with you, and I wanted to look at you, and if you would shut your stupid trashmouth for one goddamn second I would tell you that I wanted to kiss you, too.”
Richie stares. And stares, and stares. His brain won’t do anything, can’t process what Eddie just said, so he shakes his head. “No, no, you don’t- you don’t do that.”
Eddie gapes at him in disbelief. “I don’t do that?”
Richie nods. “You don’t like guys.”
Eddie laughs incredulously. “You’re so fucking stupid,” he mutters. He looks up at Richie and Richie is floored by the intensity of his gaze. Eddie sets his jaw, reaches forward and grabs the collar of Richie’s shirt, and launches himself forward into Richie’s space. Their lips crash into each other in a bruising kiss and Richie burns.
It’s anything but pleasant, all teeth and anger and messy drunkenness. Richie’s heart is racing but his mind is silent. He moves on autopilot, pressing in harder, grabbing at Eddie’s waist. Then Eddie tilts his head to the side and his mouth slides open and oh. Oh my God.
Richie’s only ever kissed two people before, and one of them was Beverly on a dare in tenth grade so it doesn’t really count. Basically, he doesn’t have much experience, and neither does Eddie, but Richie can confidently say Eddie has ruined kissing for him forever.
The kiss is sloppy, with open lips and tongue and an ache that consumes Richie’s entire being. He can feel Eddie’s breath against his cheek where he’s breathing through his nose and can see Eddie’s eyes squeezed shut as he realizes his are still wide open in shock. He can’t believe he’s kissing Eddie Kaspbrak, the only person he’s ever wanted to kiss since he first learned what kissing was. He’s imagined this so many different times before, in so many ways. Sometimes in his daydreams he finally gathers up the courage to ask him on a date and they kiss at the door to Eddie’s dorm, gentle and sweet. Sometimes he imagines Eddie patching him up after he manages to scrape his knee tripping over nothing and Richie makes some stupid joke about kissing it better and Eddie just- does. Sometimes it’s quiet, and sometimes it’s loud, or sad, or happy, and sometimes in Richie’s worst nightmare it means nothing at all.
But in all of his thoughts it’s never been like this, full of desperation and lust. It’s dirty, it’s filthy, but it still feels so Eddie at the same time. He’s not sure how he’s never considered it like this before.
Eddie kisses like he lives, with a need to control the situation and a penchant for coming on way too strong. He’s still got a hold on Richie’s shirt and seems to be using it to put Richie exactly where he wants him, something Richie is definitely not complaining about. Eddie’s shorter by a decent amount, but he’s probably stronger than Richie is, especially ever since they hit college and Eddie started exercising.
As it is, Richie is barely stable where he stands, so he appreciates the added support in keeping him upright, even if it’s only so Eddie can keep licking into his mouth with a fervor (again, not complaining). Richie presses in harder and meets Eddie’s tongue with his own, letting out a choked noise when he feels Eddie shift in closer and-
Eddie is hard.
Eddie Kaspbrak is hard and he’s pressing himself against Richie’s tall body and he’s sliding a hand up to Richie’s hair and pulling, sending a shudder and another moan through Richie. Eddie pulls back and looks at Richie with a burning intensity.
“Take me home, Rich.”
Richie gulps. “Right away, partner.” He slips into his Southern Voice. Eddie just rolls his eyes and begins dragging Richie by the hand away from the party.
~~~
The walk to the dorms feels even longer than it did at the beginning of the night somehow, and it probably doesn’t help that both of them are more than a little drunk. Or that Eddie keeps stopping every couple minutes to kiss Richie’s breath away again. Eventually though, they do make it, fumbling up the stairs and speaking in hushed whispers as Eddie tries and fails to get his key in the door. When he finally does, he throws the door open and shoves Richie inside, and as soon as the door is closed and locked Richie is being slammed against it and held in place by Eddie’s arms.
Richie isn’t given any time to catch his breath because Eddie reconnects their mouths immediately and this time he’s the one who moans into Richie’s mouth. The sound alone – holy shit have I dreamed of that sound – makes Richie’s legs shake and he grabs onto any part of Eddie he can reach.
“Eddie, Eds, please, tell me what you want,” Richie breathes out when their lips disconnect. Eddie beams that beautiful smile again.
“You’re gonna take such good care of me, aren’t you Richie? Go get on the bed for me.” Richie wastes no time stumbling over to the bed, mind racing with possibilities of what Eddie could want him to do. Maybe he’ll let Richie suck his dick. Or maybe he’d want to fuck into Richie’s mouth instead, use his throat until he’s satisfied. Maybe, just maybe, if Richie is the luckiest guy in the world, Eddie will even let Richie fuck him. A thrill runs through him at the thought.
Richie pushes himself up against the headboard as Eddie climbs onto the bed after him, crawling towards him with an unbothered pace. He settles himself comfortably on Richie’s lap, thighs parted over Richie’s, and places his arms on either side of Richie’s head. The light in the room is dim, with only one lamp on in the corner, but there’s just enough visibility for Richie to know he’s completely surrounded by Eddie. He swallows hard and looks up at him. Eddie looks ravenous.
Eddie licks his lips then surges down, kissing Richie dizzy. Their lips break apart and Eddie starts trailing kisses down Richie’s cheek, each one searing hot. When he gets to Richie’s jaw he bites again, same as last time, and Richie keens. His legs twitch involuntarily and he grabs at Eddie’s shirt.
“Fuck, Eds, please,” Richie stammers out. Eddie keeps pressing kisses down Richie’s neck. When he gets to the base of his neck he leans back up, licking into Richie’s open mouth.
“I’m going to take your shirt off now, ‘kay?” Richie nods. Eddie hums, unimpressed. “You can do better than that. Words, Richie.”
Richie groans, nodding again. “Please- yes, just- do anything you want.” Eddie raises an eyebrow.
“Anything?” It’s a loaded question. Richie stares at Eddie. Whatever expression is on Richie’s face seems to make Eddie falter for a moment.
“Anything.” Eddie takes a shuddering breath and responds with a kiss, then yanks Richie’s head back by the hair and bites into his neck. Richie moans, loud, hips twitching up. Eddie presses himself down harder in Richie’s lap.
“Stay.” He mutters into Richie’s neck and proceeds to suck a bruise right where he bit him, staying there until he’s satisfied. He pulls back to check his work and hums, moving to another spot and repeating the process. Richie grips the sheets, head thrown back, trying to keep his hips still. Should’ve known Eddie would be bossy in bed.
Eddie releases Richie after his third mark, making quick work of untying Richie’s bowtie and unbuttoning Richie’s shirt. He moves to slide Richie’s shirt off but stops himself and instead hooks a finger under his suspenders, pulling it back and watching it snap onto Richie’s chest. He pins Richie down with a weighted stare.
“Richie?”
Richie breathes out, “Yeah?”
“Did you like that girl?” Huh? What girl? Eddie pulls on Richie’s suspenders again, and- oh.
Richie shakes his head quickly. “No, no, I didn't like her.” Eddie’s mouth is pressed into a flat line, tongue poking into his cheek.
“Really? ‘Cause she was touching you an awful lot, and it seemed to me like you were enjoying it.” He raises an eyebrow.
Richie reaches out and clutches Eddie’s hands, pulling them in towards himself. He feels frantic. “No, Eddie, no, I didn’t care about her. Didn’t want her, just wanted-” He cuts himself off, flushing. Eddie gives him a long look.
“Just wanted what, Richie?”
Richie closes his eyes. He can’t say this while looking at Eddie. “Just wanted you.” It comes out barely more than a whisper. He hears Eddie exhale through his nose and when he peeks an eye open Eddie is grinning.
“Good.”
He reseals their lips in a kiss, tugging on his lower lip with his teeth and resuming his goal of removing Richie’s shirt. The moment it’s off Eddie has his hands on Richie’s chest, giving an appreciative squeeze and moaning into his mouth. Richie presses up into Eddie’s touch, seeking out anything he’ll give him.
“Eddie, baby, can I take your shirt off please please let me take your shirt off, I wanna see you so bad,” Richie can’t help it, can’t stop his hips from twitching up again, searching for any kind of relief. Eddie presses down, a silent reminder. Stay.
“You wanna take my shirt off, Rich? Do you think you’ve earned it?” Eddie tilts his head to the side.
Richie stifles a groan. Truthfully, he doesn’t think so, but he’s too desperate to care. “Please,” he says again, looking up into Eddie’s eyes.
Eddie smiles. “Alright, Richie, go ahead. Because you’ve been listening so well,” Richie wastes no time in reaching for Eddie’s vest, yanking it down off his arms and moving onto his shirt. Eddie slides a hand into Richie’s hair while he works and gives it a light tug that has Richie’s hands stuttering. “You really did listen so well today, Rich. I wasn’t sure if you’d behave, but you did. So well trained.”
Richie can’t hide his reaction in time, the way his head drops to Eddie’s chest and he lets out a high whine in his throat. He tries to bury his face in Eddie’s shirt but Eddie won’t let him get far, pulling on his hair until he tilts his head back and makes eye contact. “You like that, huh, Rich? You like being my little pet, being trained to follow my commands?” Richie doesn’t answer but his eyes say everything. “Y’know you looked just like a dog tonight, waiting right where I left you, doing such a good job.” Richie squeezes his eyes shut and lets out a small noise. “I could feel you watching me, so eager to have me back. So pretty, my little puppy.” Richie can’t take it.
He grips Eddie’s half unbuttoned shirt and yanks, tearing the last couple buttons right off. He doesn’t even register the sound of them hitting the floor, his whole body thrumming with need.
Eddie gasps. “Richie!”
Richie pays him no mind, using his hold on the ruined shirt to pull Eddie forward until Richie can attach his lips to Eddie’s collarbone. He presses a hot, open mouthed kiss to his flushed skin and bites, sucking a mark of his own onto Eddie’s tan skin. It blooms a beautiful red under his lips. Richie would stare at it forever if he could.
Richie’s not sure how long he spends there, creating mark after mark on Eddie’s chest, laving his tongue over each one to soothe the sting. It can’t have been long, though, because soon enough he feels Eddie tug on his hair again, muttering, “Richie.” Richie follows his voice, brain shorting out at the firm pull on his hair.
Richie looks up and swallows, hard. Eddie is a sight to behold, propped just a bit above him where he’s sitting on Richie’s lap. His cheeks are red and his skin is shining with sweat. Richie’s reminded of earlier, at the party, wanting to lick the sweat off Eddie, so he does, moaning at the salty taste. Above him he hears Eddie tsk, pulling his head back once more. “Hey, pup, listen to me.”
Richie whines. His head feels empty, all he knows is he wants to keep tasting Eddie, feeling him everywhere he possibly can. He tries to lurch forward again but is held in place by Eddie’s hand. “Please,” Richie’s eyes slip shut. “Want you.”
“Aww, I’m sorry angel, did you want to continue?” Eddie looks down at him, and although his tone is demeaning he swipes a gentle thumb against Richie’s cheek. Richie nods. He can’t think, can’t feel anything except for where Eddie is touching him. Angel. He’s going to kill me. “I thought you were gonna take care of me, hmm?” Richie perks up just a bit. “I want you on your knees, Rich.”
Richie’s dick throbs, precum soaking a small patch into his boxers. “Aye aye, cap’n” he mumbles. Eddie rolls his eyes affectionately but says nothing, pressing a kiss to Richie’s lips before climbing off of him so he can move. Richie wastes no time dropping to the floor at the edge of the bed, looking up at him. His mouth is full of saliva, drooling with the thought of what’s to come. Holy shit, I’m actually going to suck Eddie Kaspbrak’s dick.
Eddie sits at the edge of the bed, untucking his belt and pulling it from the belt loops in one smooth motion that makes Richie squeeze his thighs together. Eddie moves to unbutton his jeans but Richie stops him with a quick hand.
“Please, Eddie, please, can I?” He gives him a long stare from the floor. Eddie smiles and ruffles his hair.
“Go ahead, Rich. But don’t do anything until I tell you to, alright?” Richie nods, shuffling closer. He leans forward to press a daring kiss to the tent in Eddie’s jeans, tongue poking out to give it a quick lick. He hears Eddie take in a sharp breath and feels him tilt his hips up minutely, chasing Richie’s tongue. Fuck. Eddie’s going to ruin him.
He zips the zipper down, pulling just a bit on the jeans until Eddie gets the hint and lifts his hips up. Richie pulls them down his legs (with a bit of help from Eddie, they are very tight after all) until Eddie’s left in nothing but his boxers and his ripped shirt. There’s a dark patch on Eddie’s underwear and Richie salivates. He wants to touch so, so badly, but he needs to wait. Eddie will tell him what to do.
So Richie waits. And waits. His eyes don’t move from the outline of Eddie’s dick and he can see it twitch through the fabric. Richie lets out a low noise, scooting forward even more, but not touching yet. Not until Eddie tells him.
It feels like it’s been an eternity, Richie’s brain is screaming at him to just take, to rip Eddie’s boxers off and swallow him whole, to make him feel good the way he wants to. Richie finally glances up at Eddie. He’s staring at Richie with an eyebrow raised, as if waiting for something. Richie lets out another soft noise. Please, his eyes shine with desperation, please let me touch. Let me taste you. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. Will you let me make you feel good?
Richie feels like a dog being tested, his treat being held just barely away from him until he breaks and disobeys. But Richie doesn’t want to disobey, though, Eddie said he likes when Richie does what he’s told. Which is good, because Richie would do anything Eddie told him to.
They stare at each other for a long moment and then Eddie breaks out into a smile. Happiness floods through Richie, the situation momentarily forgotten, because there’s his favorite person in the world and he’s smiling at Richie.
“Go ahead, Richie.” He blinks, the words not processing. Eddie laughs a bit, reaching down to cradle Richie’s cheek, to guide his face down towards his crotch again. “Go ahead,” he repeats, “Make me feel good. I know you can, baby.”
Jesus fuck. Baby.
Richie nods, pressing a kiss to Eddie’s palm before pulling down Eddie’s boxers, finally freeing his cock. Richie has never been more turned on in his life. This has to be a dream, he thinks deliriously. There’s no way Eddie’s dick, hard and flushed, is actually in front of him. And better yet, he gets to have that cock in his mouth.
No more encouragement needed, Richie opens his mouth and sinks down onto it, taking almost all of it in one go. Richie’s never sucked a real dick before, but he has toys, and maybe he’s practiced before, pretending it was Eddie’s dick he was sucking. If only Richie from then could see me now.
Eddie moans, loud, hips canting up into Richie’s warm mouth. He pulls back to just the head, tonguing over the slit before taking him in his mouth again. He sucks his cheeks in and bobs up and down, creating a steady pace, guided on by the sounds of Eddie above him. He can feel saliva dripping out from the seal his lips have created on his dick and he chases after it, eyes fluttering shut in euphoria.
Richie had no idea sucking dick could feel this good, although it probably also has something to do with whose dick he’s sucking. He wants to press a hand down onto his own dick, relieve some tension, but he has a feeling Eddie wouldn’t want him to do that. He’s too focused on Eddie anyway, his brain nothing more than a looping sentence of need to make Eddie feel good.
He pulls back again, this time releasing Eddie’s cock fully from his mouth and taking it into his hand, pumping it with the aid of his spit. He licks around the shaft and presses a hot kiss to the side of it, feeling the thick vein at the bottom against his lips. He looks up at Eddie as he does so and Eddie lets out a punched out noise.
Eddie’s looking at him with a hunger in his gaze, flushed down to his chest. Richie swallows. “You look so fucking good down there Richie, like it’s where you’re supposed to be.”
Richie moans, slipping Eddie’s cock into his mouth. He sinks down, down, down, until he feels Eddie hit the back of his throat. Tears spring to his eyes and he forces back a gag, pushing through it until his nose is buried in the neat hairs at the base of Eddie’s dick. Eddie positively screams, hand clenching into Richie’s hair. “Oh, fuck, Richie, baby, oh my God you feel so good. So good down there, taking me so well, holy fuck.” The words fall from his loose lips, head thrown back in ecstasy. Richie bobs up and down experimentally and Eddie shudders. Richie takes it as a good sign and does it again, setting a new, faster rhythm. Eddie’s so loud he has to be waking the people in the dorms next door but he doesn’t seem to care, and there’s no world where Richie would tell Eddie to quiet down.
Right as Richie’s jaw starts to ache he feels Eddie’s hips twitch up again, and again, thrusting into the heat of Richie’s mouth. He pulls back with a sudden urge and looks up at Eddie with wild eyes, “Eds, fuck my mouth, please, will ya, I want you to so bad, want you to-” he cuts himself off. Eddie frowns, gripping Richie’s chin and yanking it up.
“What’d I say, pup? Use your words.” Richie flushes.
“Fuck, please Eddie baby, want you to use me.” The sentence ends in a high whine. He feels humiliated, and more turned on than he’s ever been. All Eddie does is groan, hooking his thumb into Richie’s mouth.
“Yeah, angel? You want me to use your throat, facefuck you like the dumb slut you are, hmm?” He shoves two fingers past Richie’s open lips, pressing down on his tongue. Richie closes his mouth around them with a hum, swirling his tongue around the digits. Eddie tuts. “Open up, Richie.”
Richie’s mouth snaps open. He sticks his tongue out in anticipation as Eddie grips his own cock, giving it a couple tugs. He guides it into Richie’s mouth, one hand sliding into his hair and holding tight. Richie sighs, content. “Now tell me if you need me to stop, okay puppy? Two taps.” He taps on his own thigh to demonstrate, and Richie nods. “Good boy.” And with that he lifts his hips up, pulling Richie’s head down. Richie focuses on keeping his throat open, feeling Eddie’s cock fill his mouth over and over, sliding in and out at a quick pace. He moans, eyes rolling back, the taste and smell of sex overwhelming him. Eddie has a brutal grip on his hair, sending shocks to his system and bringing tears to his eyes, but he doesn’t even think about stopping. This is better than anything he’s ever imagined, an actual come to life dream.
Eddie moans, letting out quiet “uhh, uhh” noises as he fucks into Richie’s mouth. Pretty soon he’s muttering, “fuck, gonna come, oh fuck Richie-” and pulling out quickly, gripping the base of his cock.
Richie whines. “Why’d you stop, I wanna taste you, please, Eddie don’t you wanna come in my mouth-” Eddie slaps a hand over his mouth, shutting him up.
“Richie, if you don’t shut the fuck up I’m going to come right now, and that’s not happening until your dick is in me, understand?” Richie moans, muffled by Eddie’s hand.
What the fuck he wants me to fuck him oh my God this can’t be real.
He gently pries Eddie’s hand off his mouth. “Really?”
Eddie’s expression shifts, and he seems to look almost nervous for a moment. “Yeah, if you- if you want, I mean. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want-” This time Richie covers Eddie’s mouth with his own hand.
“Eddie, baby, trust me. I want to. Trust me.” He gives him a meaningful look. Don’t want to say too much now. Eddie nods in understanding. His expression goes back to what it was before, slipping back into the character of it all.
“Good. Back on the bed, baby, you need to prep me. Lube and condoms in the nightstand.” His voice is firm, authoritative, and Richie scrambles to obey. Quickly finding what Eddie told him to, he settles himself back onto the bed. Eddie slides off the rest of his shirt, muttering a quiet “Stupid boy, ruining my shirt, couldn’t wait,” as he sighs at the heap of torn fabric on the ground. He doesn’t sound all too beaten up about it. Eddie joins Richie on the bed, and Richie feels far too clothed, still in his pants, suspenders hanging from his hips. He wants to finally take his pants off, his dick feels so tight in them, but Eddie hasn’t told him to yet.
Speaking of Eddie, he’s currently sitting in front of Richie, legs spread open. Richie’s mouth goes dry. Fuck, does he want. Eddie motions him forward and Richie follows, like a moth to a flame, accepting the sloppy kiss he gets when he leans in. It’s filthy and slick and it makes Richie’s head spin, and he’s amazed Eddie is even kissing him after he’s had his dick in Richie’s mouth, and Richie is thanking his lucky stars for it.
“Want me to do it, or do you want to?” Eddie’s voice tilts in questioning.
“Oh my God, Eddie, let me do it, let me do it, please let me do it, I wanna so bad-” Eddie chuckles, shushing him gently.
“Okay angel, go ahead.” There’s an unspoken follow my lead that Richie knows, given that’s been the rule all night. Not that he’s complaining, Eddie being bossy has always done it for him in a major way.
He uncaps the lube with a soft click, squirting some onto his fingers. He rubs them together, warming it up first, wanting only the best that he can offer to Eddie. Especially if this is a one time thing, his mind supplies. He shoves that thought away for now.
Once the lube is warmed up properly he circles Eddie’s hole gently, a featherlight touch against the rim that has Eddie’s throat bobbing. Richie leans forward to bite at his adam's apple. He can feel Eddie’s resounding moan vibrate. It sends a pulse down Richie’s body.
He feels Eddie give a nod and slips a finger inside, his head dropping to Eddie’s shoulder. He’s so tight. He pumps his finger in and out a few times, getting used to the feeling. He wiggles it around while pressing light kisses to Eddie’s neck. Eddie huffs out a sound and presses down against Richie’s finger; Richie in turn gasps and bites down right in the middle of Eddie’s neck. It’s sure to leave a mark that can’t be hidden, but a feral, possessive, part of Richie wants it to. He wants everyone to know he had sex with Eddie Kaspbrak, that for even one night, Eddie wanted him back.
Soon Richie is adding a second finger, scissoring them outwards, trying his best to remain gentle while also going as fast as possible. He’s getting antsy, and desperate, grateful as he is that this is even happening at all. He presses words into Eddie’s neck, phrases like “you feel so good, Eds” and “fuck, Eddie baby, you’re so damn tight”.
When he adds the third finger he crooks them upwards and Eddie keens, hips lifting off the mattress and body shaking. He moans, loud and unashamed, shuddering out “Right there Richie oh my fucking God” and gripping Richie’s arm so tight his knuckles go white. Richie smiles, proud of himself, and presses harder into that spot, rubbing the bundle of nerves until Eddie is quivering beneath his touch.
I’m doing it, I’m making him feel good, I hope I’m doing a good job, his brain rambles while his eyes stay trained on Eddie. On the way his chest heaves, splotchy redness spreading all the way from his face to his stomach. On his eyes squeezed shut, and his mouth dropped open in a silent moan.
“Richie- fuck, baby, puppy, hold on a sec-” Eddie forces out, thighs squeezing around Richie’s wrist where it’s tucked against his body. Richie pauses immediately.
“Yeah, Eddie my lo- uhm, Eddie baby?” Fuck, reel it in Tozier. Too close.
“Just- fuck- didn’t want to come before you’re inside me.” Richie nods, letting out a soft “ah.”
“Do you think you’re ready?” Please be ready, I want you so bad Eddie, you have no idea how long I’ve dreamed of this, how badly I’ve longed for you, waited after you. This is all I’ve wanted to do for so long now.
Eddie simply nods, fire returning to his eyes. “Pants. Off. Now.” He demands. Fucking finally.
Richie makes quick work of his pants, forcing them down with a speed he didn’t know he was capable of. Left in just his boxers, he waits for Eddie to make the next move.
Eddie’s staring at him like he’s a feast to be devoured, eyes trailing up and down his frame. Richie wants to cover his body, suddenly awkward under the heated stare, but just barely refrains. He doesn’t think he’s much to look at, especially not to sex god Eddie Kaspbrak, who’s all toned skin and lean muscle from running track. He looks fantastic, and Richie looks, well, average at best. He doesn’t keep very good care of himself, evident in how he’s too skinny in some places and too chubby in others. But being stared at like that by Eddie? It’s more than he’s ever dreamed of, and definitely more than he thinks he deserves, but he can say it’s helping just a little in the self confidence department.
Richie clears his throat awkwardly. Eddie’s eyes snap up to meet his. “Boxers.” One word is all he needs to say for Richie to obey, sliding them off his hips and down his legs until he’s completely naked in front of the boy who’s been the subject of every fantasy he’s had since he discovered what jerking off was.
“Fuck, Richie, you look so fucking good.” Eddie’s voice wavers, like he’s tripping over the words. He sounds exactly like Richie did not ten minutes ago, murmuring devotions into Eddie’s neck while he opens him up. Richie’s not sure how to handle it. “Fuck, you’re so big, why the fuck did you not tell me?” Richie’s above average to be sure (not that he’s measured or anything) and he knows it, it’s one of the main things he’s got going for him in his own opinion. He opens his mouth with a wide grin to make a comment when Eddie continues. “No, Richie, jokes about having a huge cock do not count. I’m just pissed you weren’t lying.” Eddie huffs. “I need you inside me now. Okay?” All he can do is nod. Richie picks up the condom with shaky hands, tearing the packaging open and rolling it on. He slicks it up with some more lube, and all of a sudden it hits him all at once.
Eddie Kaspbrak is sitting in front of him, prepped by Richie’s own hand, waiting for Richie to fuck him. He’s going to put his dick inside of Eddie, and (hopefully) make Eddie come on his cock. Holy shit.
Eddie must sense some hesitation in Richie because he’s placing a comforting hand on Richie’s shoulder. “Richie, hey, you with me? We don’t have to if you don’t want to, serious.” His stare is warm and open, and Richie immediately feels better looking at him.
Richie shakes his head. “I do, trust me Eds, just- nervous. You know I’ve never- y’know, before. I just want it to be good for you.” I want to be good enough for you, he doesn’t say.
Eddie presses a kiss to Richie’s temple. “You’ll do great, I promise. You’ve already made me feel so good.”
Richie lets out a shaky laugh. Words won’t come out, but Eddie can read his expression better than anyone and it’s clear Richie’s worries have subsided for now.
“You good?” Richie nods. Eddie’s tone shifts, going darker, more urgent. “Good. Lay down, mutt.” Richie’s cock twitches in the condom and Richie falls backwards, landing flat and looking up at Eddie. He looks like an angel. Ha, funny.
Eddie swings a leg over Richie, bracketing him with his thighs. He places a warm hand on Richie’s chest, right over his heart, and Richie prays to any god he can think of that Eddie can’t feel how hard his heart is beating. Eddie lifts himself up until he’s positioned directly above Richie’s cock, and takes into his hand. He pumps it a few times, experimentally, until Richie lets out a soft noise and turns his head to the side.
Eddie makes a small click with his tongue and Richie’s eyes lock onto him immediately. Eddie smiles and exhales through his nose. “Aww, is something wrong?” He lowers himself by a few inches, until Richie’s cock is pressed against his hole, just enough to feel the pressure of it. “You want something, Rich?” Richie nods in response, not trusting his own voice. Eddie, for his part, just looks at Richie with a red hot stare. “If you want something you’re gonna have to use your words, baby.”
Richie flushes all the way from his ears to his chest. He squeezes his eyes shut, not sure if he can handle saying this while looking at Eddie. “Please,” he mutters, so quiet it’s barely more than mouthing the word.
Eddie tuts. “What was that?”
“Please,” he says, slightly louder this time, eyes still closed.
“Hmm, you can do better, can’t you?” His voice is smooth and Richie can hear how condescending he sounds. It sends a thrill through him, and he barely manages to not thrust up into Eddie’s grip. He feels like he’s being played like a damn fiddle, Eddie somehow knowing exactly how to make him burn all over. “C’mon. Beg for me.”
Richie is shaking. He cracks his eyes open, sees Eddie and his half lidded stare, mouth slightly open, lips tilted upwards, and Richie is keening. He has a high flush on his face and his body is shiny with sweat and Richie’s spit. He’s the hottest thing Richie has ever seen, hotter than anything he’s ever imagined before. He thinks Eddie might have ruined sex with anyone else forever (not that he’s had any) and he hasn’t even fucked him yet. Richie is definitely not making it out of this night alive and sane.
Richie’s mouth drops open on a pant, tongue pushing forward in his mouth, and when he feels Eddie press down just a bit more on his dick his mind goes blank and he loses all sense of shame. Words begin pouring out of him faster than he can process them, like a floodgate has just been opened. “Eddie, please, I want to put my dick inside you so bad, c’mon Eds I’ll make you feel so good, wanna be good please just lemme fuck you pleaseEddiebaby need to feel you around me- fuck- I’ll do anything you wa- ohhhfuckbabyyesss-”
Eddie sinks down onto his cock in one smooth motion, legs shaking as he bottoms out. He lets out a punched out noise but it’s drowned out by Richie, who moans so loud he thinks for a delirious moment that they must be able to hear it in the entire dorm building.
Richie’s hands fly to Eddie’s hips, gripping them tightly to find some kind of leverage to stabilize himself on. His vision is swimming, a combination of the fading remnants of the drinks he’s had and the exhilaration of having his biggest fantasy of all time come true. It’s made all the more intense when Eddie shifts forward, then back, rocking gently on Richie’s cock. He tightens his grip, unable to do anything else, not with how much feeling is flowing through his veins.
“Richie, angel, you feel so goddamn good,” Eddie grunts out, forehead creasing slightly.
“Eddie, fuck, you feel so tight, holyshit baby,” Richie responds, trying his best to make eye contact.
Eddie hums, then lifts himself up, pausing for a moment before dropping back down onto Richie’s cock. Richie moans again, loud and shameless, and Eddie grins. He repeats the movement, tracking Richie’s reactions with a keen eye, and sets a steady pace. He’s making little noises, grunts and moans that sound like music to Richie’s ears.
Richie slides his hands from Eddie’s hips to his thighs, feeling the muscle tense as Eddie bounces up and down. He feels his head rush. “Please, Eds, need more,” he says, voice tight. Eddie huffs, throwing him another condescending look.
“You want more?” Richie nods. Eddie smirks. “Too bad. You’ll take what I give you, isn’t that right, puppy?” Richie’s brow furrows, but he nods. He can’t think very much right now, head too empty, nothing on his mind except for the feeling of Eddie’s hole clenching around his dick and the need to make Eddie feel good.
Despite himself, he reaches up, trying to get a hand around Eddie’s dick. Eddie slaps his hand away and huffs. “What did I just say?” Richie just moans. “Patient, angel. Be good for me.” Richie’s dick twitches, buried inside Eddie, and Eddie moans. “Hands above your head for me.”
Richie’s hands fly up faster than he can think in his rush to obey, gripping the headboard until his knuckles turn white. Eddie smiles sweetly, still fucking himself on Richie. “Good boy.” He leans down and plants a biting kiss on Richie’s lips, trailing to the side and sucking a mark onto Richie’s jaw.
“Eddie, want you to feel good, do anything for you, feels so good,” Richie mumbles. He feels like a mess, sweaty and flushed, taking anything Eddie gives him with a desperate hunger. The thought burns through Richie that it’s as if Eddie is using him like a toy, stealing his own pleasure from Richie. He feels hot at the thought. If Eddie asked he would live his entire life on his dorm bed, waiting on his every command. God, he wishes Eddie would ask him to.
His thoughts are interrupted by two fingers pressing onto his tongue, holding it down. Richie’s mouth closes around them on instinct, eyes fluttering shut as he sucks on them. “There you go, sweetheart, needed something in your mouth, huh?” Richie nods and laves his tongue around the digits, sinking his mouth as far down on them as he can reach. He hears Eddie suck in a breath and feels his hips stutter as he bounces up and down.
“Good boy,” he mutters, “look so fucking good like this Richie, you look just like I thought you would.”
Richie’s eyes fly open. He stares at Eddie inquisitively but Eddie’s already moved on, head dropping back and sucking in a breath as he grinds down, slow and deep, against Richie. Richie releases the suction he has on his fingers and groans.
He feels wild, mind whirring. His dick is harder than it’s ever been before. “Eddie, Eddie baby please lemme cum fuck I’m so close baby, Eds can I please cum please please pleasecanIcum-” he says, stumbling over his own words, tossing his head to the side. Above him he can hear Eddie’s breaths get more labored, and feels his rhythm start to falter.
“Not yet sweetheart, just a little longer, yeah?” Eddie asks him.
Richie whines, high in his throat. “Fuck- not sure- can’t last, please, need to cum, please-”
Eddie huffs and pins him down with a glare. “I said not yet. I know you’re easy, but you’ll do what I say or you won't cum at all, understand, mutt?”
Richie’s head spins. “Y-yeah, fuckohmygod okay-” He shuts his eyes, trying to distract himself, anything he can think of to hold off his quickly approaching orgasm. He really really doesn’t want to come without permission, he needs to be good.
“Good. Now just a bit longer, almost there, just- you feel so good inside me Rich, you know that?”
Richie moans. “Want to make you feel good.” His voice shakes. “Want to feel you cum on my cock so bad baby, you don’t understand, thought about it so many times-” He cuts himself off but it’s too late.
Eddie pants out, “Yeah? What have you thought about?”
Richie’s mouth is moving before he can stop himself. “Thought about fucking you so many times Eddie I- I’ve wanted you so badly for so long, I can’t- can’t believe it’s actually- nngh ohhh fuck holyshit oh my goddd gonna cum gonna cum-”
Eddie’s thighs tremble around Richie’s hips. He pistons himself on Richie’s cock once, twice, letting out wanton moans and digging his nails into Richie’s chest. “Gonna cum Rich, fuck, c’mon baby, want you to cum with me- go ahead, cum for me Richie-”
Eddie’s dick twitches, then he starts to come, shaking on top of Richie with a noise that would make a grown woman clutch her pearls. He’s a sight to behold, and the most beautiful thing Richie has ever seen before, and that’s all it takes for Richie to tip right over the edge.
“Holy shit Eds you look so fucking hot- fuck you’re so beautiful, gonna cum baby, holy fuck I’m so lucky Eddie fuck I love you so much-” He’s barely aware he’s even talking, head thrown back, hips fucking up into Eddie as he spills into the condom. He can see through hazy eyes – is he crying? – Eddie shakes harder, the aftershocks of his orgasm rippling through him, and Richie aches to touch him so badly it hurts. But he keeps his hands where they are, obedient as he can possibly be, until Eddie tells him he can move them.
The room feels oddly silent in the aftermath, and it rings in Richie’s ears. His head feels stuffed full of cotton. He can’t process much and his eyes feel wet, fogging up his glasses so much he can barely see anything. He feels Eddie lift off of him, gently grab his hands and return them to his sides, and climb off of the bed. An alarm blares in Richie’s head, the need to take care of Eddie returning with full force, and he starts to push himself up off the bed to follow him, make him lay down and let Richie handle the cleanup. He only gets as far as wiping his face off and sitting up before Eddie is back in his vision, a damp washcloth in hand.
“Eds- lay down, want to take care of you-” Eddie shushes him gently.
“It’s okay, Richie,” he offers a sweet smile, eyes shining with care. “You did so good, let me handle it, alright?” Richie’s forehead creases and he frowns, clearly unhappy, but does as Eddie says. He’s wiped down, so gentle it aches, removing and tying off the condom, and Richie receives an equally gentle kiss to the forehead when Eddie is done. He walks off for a moment again, and this time Richie can see enough to know he’s going into the bathroom. He hears the faucet running and his eyes slip closed, exhaustion starting to take over.
Richie isn’t sure how much time passes but he’s barely awake by the time he feels the bed dip beside him and a body curl around his own. He opens his eyes just enough to see Eddie, staring at him with the same weighted gaze as before, at the party. Eddie offers a small smile, private and happy. Richie grins back, wrapping an arm around him just before he slips into unconsciousness.
~~~
Richie wakes up to sunlight hitting his face through the blinds of a window. He groans, covering his eyes with an arm, huffing when he feels his glasses press into his face. Guess I never took those off. Dumbass.
He slowly opens his eyes, letting them adjust, staring at the blank ceiling above him, standard issue to every dorm on campus. Then he turns to the side and nearly falls out of bed.
Eddie is lying next to him, sleeping soundly, completely naked. The covers are pulled over his lower half but his chest is on full display. Richie can see dark bruises sucked into his chest and his hands begin to shake. What the fuck happened last night. His stomach lurches heavily. Oh fuck.
He gets up, tripping over the sheet tangled around his legs, and stumbles to the bathroom just in time to drop to his knees and hurl into the toilet. He definitely had way too much to drink last night.
He presses his forehead against the cool ceramic of the seat, squeezing his eyes shut. Genuinely, what the fuck happened last night. There has to be a logical explanation for this.
He stands up on uneasy legs and goes to pull his pants down so he can piss, only just realizing he’s also naked. He lets out a single delirious laugh.
As he pees, his mind wanders back to the night before. He can’t remember much after finding Bev at the party, too distracted by the way his head is pounding. He finishes up and washes his hands, rinsing his mouth out while he’s at it, and shuffles back into the other room. He sighs, staring at Eddie, still sleeping peacefully on the bed. The sun is hitting his face just right, making his skin glow with golden light. Richie’s heart throbs.
Right as he’s about to figure out a plan he hears a small “Richie…” come from Eddie as he flips around in bed and settles back down. All at once memories come flooding back from the night before. Eddie and Richie dancing, Eddie and him kissing outside the party, coming back to Eddie’s dorm, leaving mark after mark on Eddie as they undress each other. He remembers Eddie teasing him, commanding him around, and he remembers following every command like it’s the only thing he was made for. He remembers Eddie riding him, pushing his fingers into his mouth, calling him mutt and edging Richie until he could barely think. Richie remembers seeing Eddie come, and he remembers saying a lot of things as he came himself, and oh fuck.
One distinct moment flashes through Richie’s mind, his eyes burning as he recalls looking up at Eddie, calling him beautiful, and telling him he’s in love with him.
His face goes pale. The room spins.
He needs to get out of here right fucking now.
Richie grabs his clothes as fast as he can, barely giving himself enough time to slip into his shirt and pants before he’s out the door, shoes in hand. He lives in the same dorm building, which normally is a blessing because it means he gets to see Eddie whenever he wants, but right now he would give anything for their living spaces to be farther away. It feels antithetical to himself, but being just a few floors away from Eddie is freaking him out.
He doesn’t even wait for the elevator, instead taking the steps two at a time as he speeds up the two floors to his own room. He shoves his key into the lock and yanks the door open, slamming it shut behind him and locking it again. He catches a glance at the time. 8:46. Eddie is normally awake by now, and Richie’s surprised he woke up first, but he’s counting it as a small blessing. At least there’s one silver lining to all this.
Distantly, Richie is aware running away is kind of a dick thing to do. He feels bad about it, in some small regard, but really this is all for the better. If Eddie wakes up alone he might not remember what happened, and then Richie won’t have to face Eddie and the crushing conversation that’s sure to come if Eddie remembers what Richie said, and Richie can just go back to wallowing in lonely pining and shamefully jerking himself off to the memory of the best (and likely only) sex Richie has ever had. It’s a win-win situation. Well, more like a win-lose, because there’s really no world where Richie wins here, but it’s fine. He’s used to it, that’s for sure. He’s been playing this game of unrequited love for fifteen years already, he knew he was going to be doing this for the rest of his life, nothing’s really changed. Sure, he now knows what it looks like when Eddie’s on top of him, and he knows what Eddie sounds like when he-
He can totally handle this for the rest of his life. Easy-peasy. Piece of cake.
Right? Right.
Richie shoves his glasses up into his hair, rubbing his face over with his hand. His clothes are rumpled and they smell of sex and sweat. Richie kind of wants to never wash them ever again.
God, Eddie would probably find that disgusting. And then he’d lecture me on the importance of wearing clean clothes, especially after sex, because of bacteria and whatnot. Richie’s heart aches in his chest. Okay, no more thinking about Eddie.
Richie feels restless. He’s really not sure what to do with himself now, and he needs to figure out how he’s going to behave to not give anything away the next time he sees Eddie. He looks at himself in the mirror and sighs. Definitely time for a shower.
He turns the water on as hot as he can make it go in the shitty dorm bathroom and lets it run over his body, washing away the events of the night. The steam loosens up the tense muscles in his back and he sighs, resting his head against the wall.
It feels like every part of himself he washes is accompanied with a memory of Eddie, either a caress or a kiss or a bite with a mark to prove it all wasn’t some fucked up, beautiful, devastating dream. He almost wishes it were, at least then it’d remain in his fantasy.
A small part of him wants to hope. Eddie definitely seemed very enthusiastic the night before, egging Richie on and initiating touch after touch, but he can’t get himself to hope for more than a few moments. Eddie didn’t show any signs that this was more than sex to him, and he definitely didn’t say anything blatantly revealing like Richie did. Hell, he didn’t even acknowledge Richie’s confession, and that can’t be good. He definitely would have said something if he reciprocated, right?
A chill runs through Richie despite the hot water all around him. Eddie was probably way drunker than Richie. The alcohol had pretty much fully left his system by the time they got to Eddie’s dorm, but Eddie could have had way more to drink than he did. Oh God, was Eddie drunk? Richie feels like he’s going to vomit again.
He quickly finishes up his shower and wraps himself in a towel, walking over to his closet. He grabs the largest, softest sweatshirt he has right now, and some sweatpants to go with it. It’s really his second softest sweatshirt, because his main one was conveniently stolen by Eddie just last week. He brought it over to movie night and left it there, and Eddie’s forgotten to give it back every time they’ve seen each other. Which is every single day, given that they live two floors away from each other and have very similar schedules. Richie may or may not have made sure his classes get out at the same time as Eddie’s so they could grab food together and hang out after class, he’s a boy in love, sue him. He tries and fails to not think about Eddie wearing his sweatshirt, how big it’d look on his smaller frame, how it’d smell like him. Richie shakes the thought away.
All dressed now, he scrubs his wet hair with the towel and drops it on the floor. Another thing Eddie would be on my ass about. He climbs into bed and pulls the blanket up to his chin, mourning how this one doesn’t smell like Eddie and his peach shampoo. He ignores the small tear escaping from the corner of his eye and drifts off back to sleep.
~~~
“Richie! Open this goddamn door right now!”
Richie startles awake for the second time today to the sound of banging on his door. His headache is gone, thank god, but his blood runs cold at the sound of the voice right outside.
Eddie.
Oh, fuck.
“Richie Tozier if you don’t let me in this fucking second I’m going to break down your door!”
Richie takes a gasp for air, sitting up in bed. Eddie can’t get inside, right? If Richie is quiet enough he might think he’s asleep and leave. That sounds like a solid plan.
“Richard Wentworth Tozier do not test me right now I know you’re in there!” Stay quiet, Richie. Don’t move a muscle.
“Okay, that’s it, dipshit. I’m giving you to the count of three. One-” Fuck, Eddie sounds really mad, maybe this was a bad idea-
“Two-” Should Richie run? Maybe he can crawl out the dorm window, wouldn’t be his first time scaling walls-
“Three!”
Silence.
Then the sound of the lock clicking, and the door handle jiggling.
Fuck. How the fuck did he-?
The door swings wide open and Eddie bursts in, eyes wide and furious and staring directly at Richie, who’s still sitting up in his bed.
Richie squeaks. “Oh- hey Eds, what’s up? Didn’t see you there, nice weather we’re having-”
Eddie cuts him off as he slams the door shut behind him, storming into the room and marching right up to the bed.
“What the fuck was that, Richie?”
Richie’s mouth remains open but he goes silent, gaping at Eddie like a fish out of water. Eddie’s gaze burns. “Not sure what you’re talking about.” He lies.
Eddie huffs. “Don’t play dumb with me Tozier, you know damn well what I’m talking about. What the fuck was all that?”
Richie looks away. “I really don’t know what you mean. How did you get into my room?”
Eddie groans. “God, you’re really the fucking worst,” he mutters. Richie shuts his eyes. Ouch. “You gave me a key, idiot. Remember? And don’t ignore my question. Last night! And this morning! What was all that?” He sounds frazzled. Richie can relate.
“Look, Spaghetti-”
“Don’t fucking call me that right now-”
“I really don’t know what you want me to say. It was- it was nothing.” Richie’s whole face is on fire. He can tell he’s panicking, grasping at straws, at anything that’ll make things go back to how they were before. When he doesn’t get a response, he cracks an eye open. Eddie’s face has dropped, all the anger gone all at once.
“You really mean that?” His voice sounds so much smaller. Richie aches.
He forces out a laugh. “Yeah, Eddie, it was nothing. Just a- an accident, right? Nothing to worry about, won’t happen again.” His voice breaks on the last word. Richie looks up at Eddie and his heart stops in his chest.
Eddie’s eyes are red, rimmed with tears about to spill over. His lip is shaking. He looks like he used to look when he was thirteen, scared beyond measure and reaching for an inhaler he didn’t need. He takes a step back, nodding firmly once.
“An accident. Right. Well, if you’ll excuse me-” He turns away and his shoulders begin to shake. He lifts an arm up to his face and Richie can hear muffled sobs. Wait, fuck, what’s happening why is he crying, isn’t this what he wanted?
“Eddie, wait, hold on-”
Eddie whirls around. Sure enough, tears are streaming down his face. He looks mad again. “No, Richie, can you just shut the hell up? You said what you needed to, now I know, so if you don’t mind I’m going to go back to my dorm now.”
Richie’s mind is spinning. “But- I thought this was what you wanted…” He trails off, confused and unsure.
Eddie laughs, hollow. “Really? Are you fucking kidding me? After all-” He huffs, running a hand through his already messed up hair. He stares Richie down. “Did you mean anything you said last night?”
Richie stills. He really, really doesn’t want to tell Eddie the truth, but he can’t stand to see him like this. Eddie deserves more. Alright Tozier, time to be honest. Time to be brave.
Eddie must take Richie’s silence for an answer because he nods. “Okay. Fine. I’ll see you later Richie-” He turns to leave. Richie panics.
“I meant everything I said.” Eddie stops. He turns around slowly. Richie gulps. His face is on fire. He looks away, he can’t look at Eddie like this. “I didn’t say anything I didn’t mean. You- you have to know that.” Richie shuts his eyes and drops his head.
All he hears is Eddie, letting out a short laugh. His body burns. He snaps his head up. “Really, Eddie? I tell you I’m in love with you and all you do is laugh? What the fuck, dude-”
Eddie’s beaming, his eyes shining. “You’re so dumb, Rich.”
Richie’s eyes burn and tears begin to roll down his cheeks. “-I mean I knew you didn’t feel the same but that’s really fucked up, if you don’t like me you could at least not be a jerk about it-”
“I love you too, Richie.”
“-it’s not like I’ve been in love with you for fifteen years or anythi- wait, what the fuck did you just say?”
Eddie laughs again, a beautiful sound. Richie’s heart rolls in his chest. “I love you, Trashmouth. I’m in love with you.”
Richie stares. And stares. And stares. And Eddie smiles at him, patient and loving, waiting for his brain to catch up.
“You-”
“Yeah.”
“You really- holy shit-”
“Yes, Richie, I really. Cross my heart.”
Richie starts to cry again, fat tears streaming down. Eddie’s eyes widen and he rushes over, landing next to Richie and pulling him in. “Hey, wait no I’m sorry Rich, shit are you okay?”
Richie nods, clutching Eddie’s sweatshirt – holy shit wait he’s wearing my sweatshirt – and pressing his face into the fabric. “I just didn’t think you’d ever, y’know…”
Eddie huffs. “What, love you?” Richie nods again. “Of course I love you, dumbass. I literally spend all my time with you. I do everything with you.”
Richie shrugs. Eddie presses a soft kiss to his hair and he cries a little bit harder.
Muffled into the sweatshirt, Richie mutters, “I love you, Eds.”
Richie can hear the smile in Eddie’s responding voice. “I love you too, Rich.”
They stay like that for a moment longer, then Eddie goes, “Can I please kiss you now?”
Richie’s head shoots up. “Really?”
Eddie rolls his eyes. “Yes, really. Now come here.” He guides Richie’s head up and presses their lips together, gentle and sweet and full of adoration. Richie smiles into the kiss, and Eddie does the same, until they’re barely kissing at all. It’s perfect.
They break apart and breathlessly, Richie says, “Be my boyfriend?”
Eddie kisses him once more. “You don’t even have to ask.”