Ship; reddie

By trashmouthkid on Tumblr

This isn't fluff but it isn't angst or fluff either so uh-

Also Idk how to describe this either so sorry

~

"Wanna know what I think?"

Eddie already had his keys in his hand and a palm on the door, but Richie's voice had a way of always pulling him back. He paused, turned back towards the living room and gave Richie an amused smile.

"Do I want to know?"

The answer was probably not, seeing as Richie had a lot of thoughts, on a lot of things-not all of them kind, but none quite like the thoughts he had regarding Eddie's dating life. When it came to the handful of dates Eddie'd had since graduating college and coming out-like, out out-Richie had particular things to say about the men themselves. Eddie gracefully allowed them, as his best friend, as his roommate, and because sometimes it kind of made Richie seem jealous, which was new and interesting, and did all kinds of strange things to his chest, and lower belly, and the tips of his fingers.

Richie grinned from his spot sprawled out on the couch. "I think he laughs weird." He grabbed a pillow that'd been thrown aside and hugged it close to his chest as Eddie rolled his eyes.

"Richie, you laugh weird."

"And he eats weird," Richie went on. "Which brings me to the conclusion that he's a bad kisser. Is he a bad kisser, Eds?"

Eddie let out an involuntary huff of laughter. "I'm not answering that," he said, and turned back to the front door.

"As your husband, I feel like I have a right to know!" Richie called out, and oh, it had been a nice hour, hour and a half, of forgetting-the night of Bill and Mike's bachelor party. The tequila shots. The terrible decisions. The proof that he and Richie spent way, way too much time together.

"No," Eddie said sternly. "As my best friend, you have a right to know. As my husband, you have a right to fill out those annulment papers." He softened up and fixed Richie with a look. "They've been sitting on the counter for days, Rich."

He was running late now, but wasn't too bothered about it. The guy truly was a bad kisser. With a capital B, A, and D.

Richie tucked his hands behind his head, pillow still resting on his chest. "I will get right on them," he promised. His smile was unreadable, like maybe he would forget for another week, and Eddie was tired of feeling ashamed to admit that he hoped he would.

---------

All of Eddie's dates ended the same-sitting cross-legged on the couch next to Richie, the remains of his take-home dessert and two forks between them as reruns of family feud played on low volume and they laughed about how bad their nights were. This one was no different, even if Eddie had declined two fingers slipped under his shirt collar and a smooth invite inside on his date's front doorstep to get there.

Even the good dates were bad because...then he'd come home to everything he wanted.

"I just think the hand holding was overkill," he was saying around a mouthful of cheesecake. "It's like. The third date. You know?"

He could feel Richie's eyes on him, but instead chose to look straight ahead at the television. Richie's reply was sickeningly, mockingly sweet.

"Aw, he held your hand?"

Eddie grimaced and stabbed his fork through his cheesecake; it went through the foam take-out container. "All the way to his doorstep."

There was a pause, and Eddie tried not to think about the man's sweaty hand in his.

"Don't tell me Eddie Kaspbrak doesn't like hand-holding," Richie said, sounding mildly surprised.

"Mm," Eddie said thoughtfully, shrugging. "Maybe on like, date five?"

He looked over just as Richie was reaching across the couch-he pinched his cheek with a knuckle and the pad of his thumb.

"Cute," he said.

Eddie shrugged him off lightly, laughing. "Shut up," he mumbled, feeling suddenly queasy. "Can we talk about something else? What about you, what about-" he went for another bite of cheesecake, and his fork clashed against Richie's. He pulled it away quickly, biting down on the empty metal. "I mean, I haven't seen you go out since..."

He frowned as he realized, sliding his fork out from between his teeth and turning to Richie again, who was making a show of looking anywhere else in the room. "Richie."

But Richie didn't have to say anything-Eddie was already connecting the dots. The dots that said that, for the last month, while Eddie couldn't seem to stay in for the night, Richie had hardly left the apartment. He got dressed in the mornings, went to his meetings-sometimes Eddie would come home from work to a fully stocked fridge-but in the evenings Richie was always on the couch, with the remote and a bag of chips, and Eddie would leave and come back, and it would look like he hadn't moved.

And those papers for that annulment still sat untouched on the kitchen counter.

"Is this about-"

"-us getting married?"

"Don't say it like that," Eddie groaned, strained, because it hurt to hear.

"Well, it is," Richie said bluntly, and Eddie felt his insides go cold. "I hate that it happened."

Eddie frowned, pained and confused. "It's not a big deal," he tried to say, but Richie was shaking his head, glasses sliding off his nose.

"It's ruined everything, Eddie," he told him. "You know? Like I was never going make a move, but now I never can. I was never going to ask, but now I know. You know?" He closed the take-out box delicately and set it on the coffee table, which was fine by Eddie; he'd lost his appetite. "I mean, do you remember anything about that night?"

Eddie exhaled loudly. He was still hung up on the never going to make a move make a move make a move make a move, but he trusted Richie and composed himself as best he could. "Not really."

And that wasn't entirely true-it wasn't like he'd blacked out-but how could he explain the way he remembered how Richie's fingers felt between his own?

"I remember you telling me you loved me," Richie said softly. "Telling me this made sense to you. And I know, the drinking, we were compromised, and god, I would never hold any of that against you, Eddie. But now you're..." he waved his hand vaguely, like he couldn't find the right words for it. "Going out like you're trying to cleanse your pallet of me."

Eddie felt his chest tighten-felt anger bubble up and then subside-felt sorrow take its place. He was saying what he wanted, about how he felt, before he knew what he was doing.

"Richie, I can't get you out of my head," he said on an exhale. He could see Richie reacting, but couldn't see it. "This idea of us being together is out there now and I can't shake the fact that I wake up to you, and I can't shake the fact that I come home to you, I am..." he paused, digging the palm of his hands into his eyes so he didn't have to look at Richie. "I am just trying make sure I can survive when this is all over."

He could hear his heart pounding in the silence that followed, until warm hands came around his and gently tugged them away from his face. Richie was sitting sideways on the couch now, smiling at Eddie, a little on edge. He brought Eddie's hands to his chest.

"You too, huh?"

When Eddie nodded, Richie leaned forward-slow, slow, tilting his jaw at an angle like he was asking permission.

"Eddie," he whispered. "I may be out of order here, but would you maybe want to go out sometime?"

Eddie breathed a sigh of relief and let his hands come up to the back of Richie's head, curling his fingers into Richie's hair. "Please."

"Thank god," Richie said, with genuine relief, and then kissed him. And it was good, good, with a capital G, O, O, and D.