#riptozier*

richie talked too much. he always had.

at fourteen he was far less willing to admit it, but even then, eddie thought it was endearing. he liked hearing richie talk. he liked what the kid had to say. he was funny -- not that eddie ever told him that. not that eddie could even put words to what he felt when richie kept going and going on one of his soliloquies, his brain working so fast it made eddie feel fluttery and weak in the knees. not that he knew. what came out as 'shut up, richie,' again and again and again, was no more than a desperate plea, because -- dear god, every word made his chest feel all weird and tight.

at forty, eddie still didn't have the right words to express himself. he still didn't have the words to explain what richie made him feel when he went off like that, talking in circles, with that pretty mouth of his curving around vowels and splitting over consonants, showing off his equally pretty teeth (-- thanks, went) as he did. but it still made his chest feel all weird and tight, and it made his heart squeeze into his throat, and his mind go utterly blank.

he stared and tried to focus -- tried to process, tried to breathe -- but richie was five minutes in to his latest ramble, and eddie (fully grown eddie, with a fully functioning, forty year old brain) could no longer even manage a fucking 'shut up.' not even a singular 'beep.'

richie was a words man. eddie was all action.

so that's what happened. eddie took action.

he reached out his hands and grabbed on to richie's stubbly face, forcing it forward so his mouth was right where eddie could get it. he pulled the man down a few inches and mid-fucking-sentence pressed his own mouth to richie's, his words turning to mumbles -- then, thank fucking god, turning to nothing more than a happy little hum. happy. fucking. happy.

that's when his brain turned back on. that's when eddie realized what he'd done, what had happened. he'd pictured it so many times before, crafted fantasies with such intricate detail that, for a split second, he was convinced this was no more than a good dream -- but it was real. it was real, and he'd --

he was kissing richie. in real life. and richie was kissing him back. and it was good. it was good, and warm, and eddie could feel his heart hammering against his ribs, thumping pathetically hard against the hand richie spread over his back. he could taste richie's tongue, feel as the press of his lips grew more eager. eddie's fingers found hair and curled into it, slipping up over richie's scalp until he could get a good handful and keep the other tangled up in his hands. their bodies got close, the heat eddie felt now doubled.

and yeah -- yeah, it worked. yeah, richie stopped talking. but once they parted, once richie pulled back and eddie could see the dumbfounded expression on his face, all he wanted was for the man to talk again, for him to tell eddie that he hadn't just massively fucked up.

but for once, richie took his time. eddie's grip softened, hands slipping down the other's neck, then to his shoulders. he breathed heavy and hard, face flushed, lungs never getting enough to calm him. every second felt like an eternity, like his entire life was hanging in the balance, like maybe he aught to turn and run away, until -- thank fuck -- that stupid fucking dipshit finally opened his trashmouth and spoke.

NEITHER OF THEM WERE EXACTLY STRANGERS TO THIS, lying together under the warmth of richie's sheets , both of their bodies bare. the night was cool , a chilly breeze that wafted through the crack in his window making the hairs on richie's arm stand up. usually he'd be experiencing the familiar muscular spasms from the chill , but with eddie here , they wouldn't reach him tonight. especially not with the way the other got him , his face practically SMUSHED against the pillow as he trailed his lips along sensitive skin. richie was usually pretty shameless with eddie , and was loud in bed in general , so no time was wasted as soft whines fell from the man's throat. he shifted his hips , not realizing just how close eddie was until he felt his bare ass rub up against the other's erection. and it was an ERECTION , all right — not soft or flimsy against his cheek. he let out a soft gasp , pleasure tingling from head to toe at the combined sensation of eddie's lips and his length against his rear. ❝ gettin' me all excited , baby, ❞ he whined out , his face flushing hotly. ❝ you trying to take the reigns or something? ❞

eddie had missed him ... and missed him, and missed him, and missed him. he loved richie's job -- respected it, even, despite how he would've scoffed once upon a time -- but the distance, the travel, god -- sometimes it drove him crazy.

but richie was home now. richie was home, and richie was his, and eddie planned to catch up on all they'd missed over the past few weeks. he planned to kiss every inch of the man's skin, feel over every bit of his body. eddie wanted to smell him, to taste him, to get his fill of the other man in every possible sense of the word.

he let out a whining complain against the skin of richie's back, eddie's toes pressing into the curve of richie's calf muscle as he shifted himself upwards, lips landing between the comedian's shoulder blades.

"... i can't help indulging myself," eddie told him, mumbled between kisses. "i forgot how good you tasted."

"here we go again, huh?" most years, eddie felt dread once the ball had dropped and something new began. even once the countdown hit zero, it still felt like the clock was ticking, just for him. one second closer, one minute closer, one year closer -- to what, he never knew. he just knew he hated it, and always had. the countdown stopped after derry. maybe because he'd done what he needed to do. maybe because he'd found richie. eddie didn't know why, but it was nice. it was peaceful. he hadn't quite hit optimism, not yet -- he was eddie, after all, always apprehensive -- but at the very least, eddie felt safe. even safer when richie's arms wrapped around him, all that strength and softness grounding him instantly. it was better. it was good. it was exactly what eddie wanted, any time something changed. he tried not to spill his glass of champagne as he wrapped his arms around richie's neck, focusing on the moment at hand and nothing else. he was starting another year with his best friend, with the love of his fucking life. what could be better than that? "happy new year, baby," eddie said, his free hand tangling into richie's hair so he could pull him down and erase those few inches between them.

when he first spoke, eddie had to pull himself from a happy, sleepy trance, leaning his entire bodyweight on riche as the other man embraced him. he lifted his head in surprise, eyes somewhat heavy with sleep as he blinked his way to understanding, letting the cool air wake him up as he put a few inches of distance between them again.

"hmm?" he started, then quickly catching on. "oh --" eddie turned to glance at the clock across the room, letting out a bemused huff of laughter when he realized it was exactly midnight, just like richie had promised.

"present time, right?"

when he turned his attention back around, eddie --for a split second -- thought richie had disappeared. he was no longer standing there, all warm and welcoming. he was gone, eddie was certain about it, eyes darting back and forth until a bit of movement dragged his attention downwards.

" ... oh, holy shit."

richie was down on one knee. richie was proposing. with a real ring, in a real box, on his fucking birthday. it was all real, and his, and eddie felt so overwhelmed in that moment that every emotion he felt got all jumbled into a big ball stuck at the base of his throat, one that choked out his words and shoved tears in his eyes.

he'd pictured it a million times -- hell, he knew it was coming -- but it was happening, and it was real, and eddie was suddenly very, very awake, so awake that his whole body was shaking.

"it's fucking happening?" eddie asked him, voice squeezing its way out when he least expected it. "we're doing this?" he let out a breathless laugh, looking from the richie's face to the ring, and then back at richie again. "--we're really fucking doing this?"

without waiting for richie's answer, without giving his, eddie unceremoniously sank to his knees, one landing after the other, ignoring the ring completely to instead grab richie by the face and hold him tight, eddie's big, wet brown eyes burning into his.

eddie gasped, air forced out of his lungs when his chest hit the wall, his body unrelentingly stuck between its flat expanse and richie's wide, warm body behind him.

he wanted to reach behind him, feel over the man's sides, down his thighs, but eddie didn't have time to think ahead -- his hands were up on the wall, elbows bent and trapped that way, so long as richie kept his full weight against him.

not that eddie was complaining. he really, really liked richie's full weight. being up against him -- surrounded by him -- always brought a smile to eddie's face.

"welcome home," he said, pushing against the wall to force his body against richie's, his back against the other's chest, their legs pressed together, his ass rubbing up against richie's crotch.

"didn't think to call first? i could have picked you up from the airport," eddie teased.

he was -- he absolutely was -- but eddie stopped instantly, going silent at once. instead, he fervently rubbed at his eyes, trying to draw his sniffles back in silently. eddie took longer than he planned to compose himself, running through squares of toilet paper as he tried to dry his face and hide the evidence of his momentary breakdown.

because eddie didn't cry. he never fucking cried.

... not in front of anyone, at least. especially not richie tozier.

once he was ( somewhat ) calmed, eddie tried his voice.

'... no,' he answered, more meek and uncertain than intended. 'no, i'm uhm --'

he sounded congested. he sounded like he'd been crying.

'i'm throwing up. i'm uh -- yeah, i'm --' eddie's face contorted, eyes burning into the locked bathroom door. i'm throwing up? that was the best he could fucking do?

he took it back quickly. ' -- no, i'm fine. i'm -- just give me a second.'

eddie turned on the tap's cold water, letting it run over his hands before he pressed them against his face, over his eyes, bringing down the redness.

by the time he opened the door, eddie looked -- well, he looked slightly unhinged, but when did he not?

' what do you need?' he asked defensively, still unsure how to handle being so close to someone he had actual, genuine feelings for -- feelings he had no idea how to address, save for crying about it (it being it, and richie, and myra, and the whole fucking thing) in the townhouse bathroom.

eddie was minding his own business, standing at the kitchen counter with a wooden spoon deep in the tomato sauce he'd been trying to make all afternoon. it was his third attempt -- the first that hadn't burnt yet -- and he was starting to feel hopeful that maybe this batch wouldn't taste like rotten ass.

he was too focused to notice richie wander in. he didn't hear him sneak up, didn't know he was home at all until richie's fingers were poking into his sides.

the spoon went flying. sauce went everywhere. eddie yelped and shimmied and immediately began to push the hands away, suddenly exploding in uncontrollable laughter.

"richard!"