#wvattoleff

Stan just rolled his eyes and stretched his calves - not wanting to cramp up. Stan had been running the longest - ever since they all moved out of Derry to a rural town some thirty miles on the far side of Bangor. Richie and Eddie had found jobs straight away - well, Richie worked from home on his sketches and ghostwriting for other comedians and Eddie got transferred from his office in Derry to one in Bangor without any issues - but Stan had struggled for months to get a job, the only positions available being entry-level accounting that was laughably below his pay grade.He grew agitated quickly, being stuck inside the house all day. Finally one morning after one of his lengthy rants, Eddie had walked out of the kitchen - leaving his coffee and oatmeal to go cold - and came back some twenty minutes later with a pair of black runners.

“Go for a run.”

“I haven’t ran since we did Track in High School - besides, I don’t know this town - where am I supposed to run?”

“Stan, I love you - but I don’t see you walking out of the front door in the next ten minutes I’m going to shoot myself.” 

So Stan had driven around for a large portion of the morning in a pair of sweatpants and a Nike Sports top that Ben had bought him for his Birthday some years prior. It hadn’t been worn.  Some three miles out of town he found a hidden gem - just off of a small country lane bracketed by heavy trees; a lake in the midst of a lush and emerald wood. The only signage being a weathered wood with Antrim Lake etched into it. The air was clean and in the entire year of Stan going for his morning run, he had yet to come across another soul. 

Some three months afterwards, he and Eddie had been fooling around. A tough week for Eddie with work and an equally tough week for Stan - the two fucked their frustrations out into each other. Just as Stan pulled off his shirt and slipped out of his work slacks - Eddie’s jaw dropped and he eyed Stan up like he was inches away from devouring him.

“When the fuck did you get abs?” 

Stan looked down - sure, he’d noticed he had lost weight (he had put on a layer of pudge while he was unemployed, not that it had bothered him much), but sure enough - there was some definition. Not Ben Hanscom level abs, like a Greek God - but shadows of four of his abdominal muscles from the overhead light. 

“It must be all the running and my warm-ups,” Stan simply said - moving down to resume the business they were attending. 

Eddie pulled him in for a fast and rough kiss, “I’m coming with you tomorrow, then.” 

“Are you going to don those little red shorts? I’m sure they would still fit.” 

“Fuck you.” 

Eddie joined him then. Only a couple mornings a week but Stan found himself looking forward to those days when he would wake up at six and see Eddie waiting for him in a pair of track shorts and a recycled tee with two cups of coffee on the table. And Eddie found himself looking forward to their shower afterwards - because who doesn’t love shower sex - and who doesn’t love Richie’s grumbled features complaining that they woke him up fuckin’ like a bunch of horny teenagers - we’re in our fuckin’ thirties, I’m surprised one of you grandpas hasn’t broken a hip in there.

Richie grew jealous of being left out and even though Richie couldn’t run for shit - he had stolen a pair of Eddie’s track shorts (which hugged him worryingly) and one of his too-big sweatshirts and waited with an eager smile and a bottle of Gatorade. 

The smile long gone and the Gatorade long swallowed between heavy gasps. Richie rolled onto his back on the pier and splayed his arms out like he was catching some rays.

“Stanley, carry me.” 

“You’re the one who bitched about wanting to come, carry yourself,” Despite his words, Stan stopped stretching and moved to sit down beside Richie on the pier - wrinkling his nose at the bits of moss growing over it.

“I just wanted to spend time with my second favourite boys,” Richie smiled, squinting up at Eddie when he made a huffing noise.

“Second favourite?”

“Mhm.”

“Who’s your favourite, then?” Eddie crouched down beside them in a squat, but didn’t fancy sitting on the pier - the splintering wood didn’t look stable enough to carry his weight too.

“Georgie.” 

Stan snorted at that, “You’re only saying that because he gave you the spare key to Bill’s house so you could pull that stupid April Fool’s prank on him.”

“It wasn’t stupid! It was genius.” 

“Yeah, Rich,” Eddie said, “I’m sure no one’s ever thought about ripping all the labels off of the cans in someone’s pantry before. It’s almost as original as your material.” 

“Fuck you! You love my bits-” He paused, “But you love Stan’s bits more, isn’t that right?”

Eddie looked at him without humour “What are you talking about?”

Richie didn’t answer and just waved it off. Stan knew all too well. Stan could read Richie like a book, as much as Richie tried to make himself seem complex - Stan had known him well enough to give Eddie a sly smile, “Eddie - I think Richie’s jealous.” 

Eddie’s face brightened and he looked down at Richie - who just groaned and flopped back over so he was face down, “Trashmouth… are you jealous that me and Stan are having sex without you?” 

“NO,” Richie said, defensively.

It clicked in Stan’s head and he couldn’t help himself when he burst into laughter - a rare enough occasion that made Richie sit up and share a confused look with Eddie, “What the hell’s tickling his pubes?” 

“Richie… did-did you come running with us just so you could-” Another fit of laughter, “-join us in the shower?”

Eddie laughed too then,  and Richie stumbled over his words, Eddie just waved his hand to cut him off, “Wait wait wait - are you fuckin’ serious? You were gonna go full fuckin’ Rocky on us just to get your rocks off?” 

“Well…. I- STOP LAUGHING.” Richie punched Eddie lightly in the arm, “It proves my undying love for you.”

“It proves your undying horniness, you mean.” 

“Oh, fuck off Stanley.” 

Stan let his laughter fade out and he moved forward to press a soft kiss to the side of Richie’s mouth, “Three more laps.”