Reddie oneshots

long car ride and a short goodbye in a parking lot

Ao3: eventheoretically

It seems strangely appropriate that Richie is the last one he sees before he leaves Derry.
Richie's flight leaves last, but he's been at the airport all day anyway, seeing everybody off, it's- thoughtful, it makes Eddie wonder if he's always been thoughtful, just buried under a few layers of teenage boy grime, or maybe it's new, something he's learned as an adult.
They're sitting in the shitty uncomfortable airport chairs, Bill's flight left almost two hours ago and Eddie's flight won't be for an hour. So that just leaves him. Eddie and Richie. Richie and Eddie.
There's this little kid part of him that is fucking thrilled to have Richie's undivided attention. It's like when they were growing up and the others would have homework or dates or just better things to do, it would leave the two of them in the Clubhouse, crammed into a hammock built for one, talking about nothing and bickering about even less important things.
He never remembers being bored, he's still not, twenty-seven-odd years later.
Richies trying to convince him that Gossip Girl has artistic merit and it's fucking stupid and pointless and- he stretches his mind back as far as it can reach and he can't find a single memory where he enjoyed Myra's company one-tenth as much.
And then Richie's making some stupid ass fucking point about how "Okay, yes, the reveal didn't make sense but you need to consider-
'He saved my life' Eddie thinks, an almost hysterical laugh trying to make its way out of his throat. 'This fucking idiot twisted us out of the way of that claw and if he hadn't I would have died.'
"Rich."
And his tone must sound off for how quickly Richie stops in the middle of his argument, mouth hanging open. "Uh, yeah?"
"Thanks for not letting me die."
Something startled and pained flickers across Richie's face. "Oh. Uh, yeah? No problem."
Richie smiles, but it's tight, not quite reaching his eyes. "Thanks for not dying."
-
He watches Richie wave goodbye and he thinks, resigned. 'I guess I need to go back to real life.'
-
It turns out it's not that easy.
-
Things are different, and he'd known they would be, of course he'd known but-
No, things aren't different, things are the same, his life easily stepped back into with an explanation of a dead friend and some impulsive decision-making propelled by grief.
Things are exactly the same and it's him thats changed, Eddie who went back to Derry and found himself falling back into old patterns and well worn conversational groves, not even taking the time to notice how different he was being, there was so much going on, so much-
And now he's home. Back home with Myra, miserable but not nearly as resigned to it, and he can't just snap back into being the person he was for the last twenty-seven years.
Myra keeps screaming and sobbing that she 'doesn't know who he is anymore' and she's right, he's not that person anymore. Something's broken, some filter that kept him in line, kept his mouth shut and kept him passive, except now it doesn't fit anymore and he's scrambling, convinced if he can get it back on his life can recover.
People don't like that Eddie, not just Myra but the few friends he's made over the years, looking put off when he talks to them the way he remembers talking to his friends, his co-workers bristling whenever he doesn't hold back a snarky comment.
He needs to stop, needs to figure out some way to put the cap back on before he destroys the life he's built here.
There's a voice in his head, one that he'd barely been able to make out before all of this, one that says 'Maybe you should destroy it though?'
It's an admittedly good point.
-
The Losers are in a group chat now, stubbornly determined to keep in touch.
Eddie doesn't really use it to keep everyone updated on his life, like 'oh hey guys! Still incredibly unhappy! Also, everyone in my life hates the person I am and wants me to go back to being someone I'm not! Hope your lives are still going great!'
He doesn't want to be a bummer, so he mostly just comments on what the others post and he does want their lives to be going great, and he is happy to see them happy.
It's nice, seeing where Mikes adventuring, The Grand Canyon and Machu Pichu and Kuwait, pretending that in the one video he sent Bills laugh isn't clear as day, Bill who suspiciously hasn't sent them any updates on his life.
And getting updates on the goofy romantic shit Ben does for Bev, her posting pictures of him in an apron making her pancakes, or the flowers he bought her (And wrote down the meanings of, fucking sap).
He's happy for them. He is.
Richie never posts about his life in the group chat, not once, and Eddie wonders if maybe he's unhappy too.
Sometimes Richie texts him, just him, mostly the same types of shitty jokes and dumb memes he posts in the group chat, but sometimes it's shit like "I miss your stupid little dumb face" and Eddie will say something like "I don't miss your massive fucking forehead" and it shouldn't feel intimate but it does, and Eddie always deletes the messages after, unable to shake the sense that he's doing something wrong.
The worst is when Richie calls, when his fucking name pops up on Eddie's phone and his stomach flips and he says it's a call from work instead of saying it's from a friend, not wanting Myra to know about Richie, he doesn't fully know why but it makes shame curl in his chest.
Tonight it's two am and he only notices because he happens to be tossing and turning and sees it light up, phone set to silent for Richie's number.
He sneaks away quietly, feeling familiar guilt that never seems to stop him.
"Eddie," Richie says, sounding startled that he answered.
"Do you have any idea what time it is asshole?" Eddie whispers as he sneaks down the stairs, but he's smiling, no real heat behind it.
"Uhh... late?" Richie sounds a few steps away from sober, but a tired sort of drunk, mouth too close to the mic, Eddie would guess the phone is between his face and a pillow. "Sorry Eds, sorry, were you sleeping?"
Eddie hesitates, almost deciding to lie before he admits, "No, no I wasn't."
He goes out the front door and sits on his porch, knees curled up against his chest.
"Why not?"
"I don't know man, just- my heads busy. It gets like that sometimes."
"Do you want to talk about it?" And Richie doesn't sound like he's teasing, voice sweet with sleepiness and booze.
Eddie's heart clenches in his chest, he does, god he really fucking does, because Richies one of five people on earth that might actually kind of understand how he's feeling.
"Maybe."
"Then lay it on me Kaspbrak, I'm all ears." He hears him mutter, possibly turning towards the pillow. "And dick." Then he snickers. Fucking idiot.
"You're drunk."
"Drunk people are good listeners, who hasn't exchanged life stories with a bunch of drunk girls on the subway?"
"I think most people?"
"You're wrong, now please continue."
Eddie sort of wants to keep arguing, just kinda for the sake of it, but maybe- maybe he wants to tell Richie about what's going on in his life, wants to talk to him with that easy middle of the night honesty, like he used to when they were kids and Richie would sneak into his window.
"I think I'm a different person now." Eddie blurts out before he can stop himself.
"Course you are," Richie mumbles, stopping to yawn. "It's all the trauma."
"It's not just that," Eddie says, because as much as he wants that to be all it is, he knows it's not the whole story. "I'm- me, again? Y'know? I feel like I haven't been me in a really long time."
"Feels like we've just been sleepwalking." Richie supplies. "I know what you mean dude."
"None of my friends like me anymore," Eddie admits, letting out a shaky laugh. "It's like they met real Eddie and were like 'no thanks can we have the other one back? This ones way too intense about scrabble.'"
"And everything else," Richie says, but he sounds unmistakably fond. "But I like how intense you are."
"You do?" He had assumed Richie put up with it, that's what friends do, but not that he-
"What are you talking about dude? Of course I do? It's one of my favorite things about you."  He sounds genuinely incredulous.q
It's like Eddie's brain is screeching to a halt, all this is way too genuine and real and he's sitting on the porch of his house hoping to god his wife doesn't wake up and catch him.
"Really?" Eddie says, unable to hide the doubt in his voice.
"Come ooon man." Richie gives a drunken laugh. "You start lecturing and doing that pointy slashy thing with your hand and I'm just- fuckin' gone."
"Gone?" It sounds like, and it can't be and it isn't but it sounds like-
"Like- like- when cartoon characters eyes turn into hearts and bulge out of their head." Richie snickers, "When we were kids you had this long- fuckin' diatribe-"
Eddie's brain catches up long enough to be impressed at Richie -drunk off his ass- and still correctly using the word 'diatribe'. Sometimes he forgets Richies smart, that this dumbass never studied and still always sailed by him as Eddie struggled to keep up.
"-that you gave to the lunch lady about food hygiene and I was just watching you like you were the best thing on earth." Richie lets out a sound that is almost a laugh but way too sad. "Stan noticed, but he didn't say a word, just looked at me like I was a total dork and never mentioned it."
"He was the best," Eddie says, voice light and far away, trying to process what Richie's saying, what he might be implying-
"Yeah, he was." He yawns again, voice sounding even more half-there than before. "You are too Eddie, dunno why your dumb new friends don't get that, even little twelve-year-old Richie knew that and he could barely find his own dick."
"Rich." Eddie breathes, heart-thumping almost painfully in his chest. "I- uh, I gotta go."
"'Kay, night Spaghetti man."
"Night."
So Eddie decides to leave his wife.
-
Texts from Richie Tozier:
shit dude I called you at 2am??
how much did I embarrass myself??
also my bad, about ya know drunk calling you in the middle of the night
but also it says we talked for like 20 mins so how much incriminating dirt do you have on me now Kaspbrak
Text from Eddie Kaspbrak:
Loads. I'm thinking about writing a tell-all with all my exclusive Richie Tozier info.
Read at 9:15.
Eddie tries not to wonder what he said wrong.
-
The thing about leaving your wife is how much of it's actually about leaving, he realizes that after the third time she manages to talk him out of a divorce.
It's three weeks after the first time he says the words 'I want a divorce' that he manages to leave, packing a bag in a fit of late-night bravery, trying his best to ignore the way Myra shifts between berating and sobbing, how she screams as he gets in the cab and the driver says "oh I had me one of those" and Eddie feels weirdly vindicated.
He gets dropped off at the airport instead of a hotel and pretends to think about what he's going to do next, he could go stay at one of Ben's beach houses, he'd received an envelope a week after Stans letter, in it were two keys and a note that said 'if you ever need a place to go, no questions asked'. He doesn't know if the others got it or if Ben had seen something in his tight smile when he'd saw him last time.
He could stay there, it seems like the easy solution, but there's a part of him that's terrified that he won't make it more than a few days alone before he's crawling back to Myra.
He could stay with Bill, assuming he actually is where he says he is, Eddie's sure he'd take him in, wouldn't hesitate because that's just the kind of guy he is.
Maybe he could even join Mike for a little while on his expedition to see the world. Find out if maybe Bills tagging along too.
But of course in the end he calls Richie, he was always going to call Richie.
"Edwardo!" Richie crows. "Since when do you call me?"
"Since now," Eddie says, nerves bubbling toxic in his stomach.
He had practiced what he'd say, spent almost an hour sitting on the cold plastic airport seats and going through it all: 'Hey Richie, my wife and I are spending some time apart. Would it be cool if I came to stay with you for a little bit?'
Instead, he just says. "What's your address?"
"Uhh, why?"
"I'm coming to stay with you." And Eddie wants to shove his face into his special orthopedic pillow and scream, why is he like this? Why can't he just have some fucking manners? "I mean if-"
Richie laughs, sounding startled but not mad because of course he's not, he's Richie Tozier, he doesn't get to bitch about other people's manners. "Okay, when?"
"The earliest flight leaves in two hours."
"Oh. Shit, man I'm sorry I have a gig tonight and my manager will kill me if I miss another one-"
Of course, of course, because Richie has a life, has a career and Eddie can't just burst in and demand a spot in his life.
"Fuck, no I'm sorry, this is so short notice and I didn't even ask I just-"
"No! No Eddie I want you to come over, please come over, I just might not be there when you get in." Richie rushes to explain, genuine panic seeming to creep into his voice. "I'll leave a key under the mat on my doorstep, okay?"
"You don't need to- I can get a hotel." His face is burning, Eddie feels like he can't get any smaller- like he's a gnat on these disgusting airport floors waiting to get squished by any random passerby.
"Don't you dare Edward," Richie warns in a voice that is half teasing but half sincere, the Tozier special. "I expect to see you when I get home tonight, okay?"
"Okay." Eddie echoes, feeling something loosen in his chest. "I'll see you soon Rich."
"See you soon Spaghetti." And Eddie's fairly sure he can hear his smile through the phone and for the first time in ages he's warm with something other than shame.
He hangs up, leaning back and letting out a breath that feels like it's been settling heavy in his chest for weeks. He had braced himself for Richie to say no, had multiple backup plans, but now he realizes how dumb that was, finds himself wondering when the last time Richie actually said no to him was.
-
Richie's place is... weird.
Not weird in the numerous ways he had considered on the plane ride (What if he has a sex swing in the middle of his living room? Or- or like a fucking bearded dragon? What if the entire floor of his entire apartment is covered in dirty clothes and comic books like his bedroom had been as a kid? And okay if he does have a bearded dragon what if Eddie has to share a room with it? He's not at all on board for that).
It's weird because of how- normal it is, it's nice, very grown-up, he has a big vase on the floor with fake decorative plants in it, a few paintings that look mass-produced but still pretty fancy, a slouchy but expensive-looking black leather couch and chair set, with a really nice glass coffee table that is only kind of filthy.
The colors are warm toned and the curtains are a deep shade of brown, the whole things actually pretty cohesive.
He decides at that point that there's no fucking way Richie decorated this place, because yeah sure Richie has his talents, but putting colors together in a way that isn't as tacky as possible is entirely out of his skill range.
Did he hire someone? Myra had had most of the say in decorating their place, did Richie have- does Richie have-
He freezes, standing in the middle of Richies living room.
Richie doesn't really share anything about his personal life in the group chat, not the way the other Losers (himself excluded) do, the most he updates them on is what fancy latte he's experimenting with at Starbucks.
Could he be seeing someone? Had he been seeing someone? According to the internet, Richie Tozier has never been romantically linked to- anyone, but maybe he's just quiet about it.
He sits on the couch for fifteen minutes, fucking ramrod straight and miserable, before he decides he has to do something, and while Richies place isn't the sty he had imagined, it has enough to keep him busy.
-
He doesn't realize it's weird until the door opens and he's kneeling on Richies floor with a scrub brush.
He expects Richie to make a joke, some comment about Eddie being a housewife or a sexy maid or some shit, doesn't expect the way Richies mouth curls down at the edges. "Shit, sorry dude, I cleaned up a little before you got here but I know your-"
"It's your house." Eddie blurts out, gloved hands still dripping soapy water as he says it. "You don't have to clean it for me."
Richie makes a face. "Well yeah but-"
"I don't mind your mess." And it's mostly true, he remembers as a kid hating how much he loved Richies room, reading comic books surrounded by dirty clothes and wishing he felt dirty but mostly just feeling safe.
Richie snorts. "Not buying it Kaspbrak, 'specially when you're currently on your knees scrubbing my floor."
"I like to stay busy," Eddie says, voice a little less steady than he wants it to be.
Richie blinks. "Oh. Okay." He puts down his bag on the counter and turns to Eddie, clapping his hands together with a wide smile. "Let's order pizza."
Eddie rolls his eyes, taking off his rubber gloves and standing up like none of what's transpiring here is weird at all, like he didn't fly across state lines with barely a moments notice, like Richie didn't just walk in on him obsessively cleaning his house in the middle of the night. "It's almost two am."
"That's literally the best time for pizza," Richie says, brushing past Eddie, giant hand clapping down on his shoulder.
-
They sit and watch shitty tv and eat mediocre pizza, bickering the entire time, and Richie doesn't ask, doesn't say 'what are you doing here' or 'what about your wife' or 'why me why show up at my place'.
He just eats pizza and is Richie, and Eddie- Eddie feels lighter than he has in years, lighter even as the greasy pizza no doubt fills his aortic valves.
Finally Eddie says, after a commercial for a carpet cleaner and before the Simpsons rerun they're watching comes back on: "I left my wife."
Richie freezes, pizza halfway to his mouth, he puts it down and swallows, maybe nervously? Eddie's not as confident on how to read him as he used to be. "Oh, uh, Mozel-tov? Is that appropriate to say in this scenario?"
Eddie can't help but smile. "Nothing you say is ever appropriate, but you're pretty close with this one."
-
Eddie's barely focused on what's on the tv anymore, leaning back against the couch casually, glass of wine barely held in his hand, Myra would be livid, two hands Eddie two hands and if one drop gets on my carpet. But Richie has already spilled his twice and made no attempt to clean it, so Eddie's not particularly worried.
Richie was smart not to get carpet, really understood his own strengths there. Assuming Richie had even noticed that, hadn't just glanced around and signed the lease with a big stupid thumbs up.
Maybe he's not giving Richie enough credit, maybe Richie put a lot of care into this place, maybe he cares about how things look, it's not like Eddie really knows him any more.
The thought bugs him, the idea that he doesn't know Richie backwards and forwards like he used to, might not know every quirk and interest, that there might be someone out there who knows him better.
Someone who bought that vase and filled it with tacky fake flowers.
He knew Richie from seven to eighteen, that's... nine? That's nine right? Nine years? He's just gonna go with that. But they've been apart way longer than that, so that means someone else could have known him for- for... how many more years than nine? He shakes his head as he attempts to do basic fucking math, he needs to cool it on the wine.
"You good over there Spaghetti?"
Eddie curls his nose. "Just thinking about math."
"Ew, fuck math."
"You were always good at it."
Richie grins. "Smart but lazy baby, the Richie Kaspbrak special."
Eddie blinks, waiting for him to notice what he said.
Red tinges Richies cheeks. "What, was the baby too much?"
"No." Which seems to startle both of them, but he decides he means it. "No just, you said Richie Kaspbrak, you might remember that as being my last name."
"Oh!" It's rare seeing Richie embarrassed, but he's dancing on the edge of it right now, kinda makes Eddie want to turn the tables, tell him he's cute cute cute, pinch his cheeks. "Oh, yeah, sorry did I not tell you I'm taking your mom's last name? Non-traditional I know but-"
Eddie leans over and socks him lightly on the arm.
"Ah! I am wounded." He goes even more inclined, legs akimbo and head thrown back in an overdramatic death face, his long neck catches the light, adams apple silhouetted against the couch. Eddie feels his breath catch.
Richie blows out a breath, fully relaxing into his sprawled-out position in a way only the very drunk and/or exhausted can achieve. He grins up at the ceiling, expression unreadable in the half-dark room. "You know I used to write that on papers and shit."
"Write what?" Eddie frowns, trying to follow their conversation with alcohol thrumming through him and Richie finding all these weirdly artistic and distracting angles.
"Mr. Richie Kaspbrak." He snorts. "God that's so fucking gay I can't believe I admitted that."
"Why did you want my last name?" Eddie asks, feeling a hundred miles deep in this conversation, unable to find any purchase or concept of up and down.
Richie gives him a look, one that even -most of the way too drunk- Eddie knows is saying'are you serious? Are you a fucking idiot?'.Which, yeah, right now he obviously feels like one.
"No reason, just shits and giggles you know," Richie says sarcastically, he sounds tired.
-
Eddie lays in bed that night and feels distinctly like he's missed something.
-
The next morning Eddie considers the apartment again over a strong cup of coffee. "This place is so... normal."
Richie snorts. "I don't know how you managed to make that sound like an accusation."
"It's not! It's just-" Eddie curls his nose as he considers how to phrase it. "So not you."
"You saying I'm abnormal Eds?" He grins.
"Oh fucking absolutely, and tacky as fuck, this place, y'know, isn't? It's weird."
Richie shrugs. "My ex picked out most of the shit in here, the only thing I chose was the couch."
"Oh." That makes sense, the couch is slouchy and messy, valuing comfort over aesthetic, exactly what he would expect Richie to pick. But more importantly- "Your ex?"
Of course Richie has an ex, of course he lived an entire life when Eddie wasn't there, didn't just put himself on pause waiting to live until he saw him again, someone he didn't even remember. Of course he didn't pick out that fucking vase.
"Yep." Richie pops the p, looking at Eddie a little strangely over his coffee cup. "My ex."
"How- how long were you two together?" He asks, because they're friends and that's a normal thing to ask.
"Uhh, like two years? I think? We broke up a little over a year ago."
"Oh." He says again, feeling lost in this entire conversation, the whole thing awkward for reasons he doesn't fully understand. "I'm sorry?"
Richie snorts. "It was long overdue, I'm surprised it lasted as long as it did."
"Why did you break up?"
Richie coughs, looking away, it doesn't seem like he wants to answer, and Eddie almost steps in to reassure him that he doesn't have to before he starts speaking. "Apparently I 'struggle with intimacy'"
Eddie cringes sympathetically. "You couldn't get it up?"
Richie scoffs. "Fuck off dude, the sex was the only part of the relationship I didn't consistently screw up."
"What did you screw up?" If anyone else in Eddie's life was this uncomfortable with a conversation he would drop it, but it's Richie and he has to know.
"Well y'know, two years in I still hadn't said I love you, I don't blame him for bailing at that point."
Eddie blinks, stomach flipping nervously. "Him?"
Richie looks resolutely down at the table, nervously fiddling with the flaking paint on the outside of what looks like it used to be a teenage mutant ninja turtle mug. "Yep."
"Oh."
"Oh?"
"You never said, you never told me." Eddie feels a spark of annoyance. "I'm your best friend dude, what the fuck?"
A smile tugs at the corner of Richies lips. "You know when someone comes out to you you're supposed to say like 'thank you for trusting me with this' or some shit, you're kinda fucking this up Eds."
Eddie balks. "Sorry, but my best friend never told me something incredibly important about his life." Eddie hesitates. "Did you think I would like- be a dick about it?"
Richie shrugs. "I don't know man, you were so scared of aids and shit as kids, and your mom was-"
"Yeah- yeah you're right, I get it, dude." Eddie stands up a little and puts his hand on Richies shoulder, trying not to look as awkward as he feels. "Thank you for trusting me with this."
Richie laughs, sudden and loud and relieved. "Too late man, you already blew it."
Eddie bites back a smile, patting his shoulder once before pulling his hand back. "Should I make the obvious gay joke?"
"I'd be offended if you didn't."
Eddie grins, settling back down at the table and taking a bite of his cold toast. "The moments passed, but I'll get you next time"
Richie smiles down at his coffee. "Looking forward to it."
-
That night they end up sitting on the couch again, eating garbage food and watching tv, something that already feels familiar, like a routine he could easily see them falling into.
But not the way he's fallen into things before, like swimming against a riptide, fighting at first but it can't last and eventually he just goes limp, never realizing he could just go horizontal and escape.
This feels like sinking into a cozy bed and being like 'okay yeah I'd be cool with this forever.'
But not forever forever, they haven't discussed how long he's staying but he knows eventually he'll have to leave, that at some point he'll overstay his welcome, he's been trying not to think about it.
"What was your ex-boyfriend like?" He asks in the middle of an episode of Seinfeld he's already seen a hundred times, he's pretty sure Richie has too, has heard him snicker a few times before the jokes even been said.
He says ex 'boyfriend' specifically, trying to show Richie he's cool with it, isn't trying to avoid the concept.
Richie looks startled, eyes shifting from the tv to Eddie and back to the tv again. "He was, uh, I don't know, his name was David-"
A stupid name, Eddie decides.
"He was like five four and weighed nothing, but was so fucking fighty." Richie grins to himself, Eddie feels nauseous, wonders if it's latent homophobia or he can just tell that this guy was the worst. "And bossy, and stubborn. Very particular, about like- everything."
"He sounds... nice?"
Richie laughs. "He wasn't, but I liked that about him."
And Eddie doesn't want to ask, doesn't want to know any more about Richie and David, but the words come out anyway. "Why didn't you love him?"
Richie looks at him, a beat too long and a little bit too sad and Eddie regrets bringing it up, regrets a lot of things. "Come on dude."
"Sorry, fuck I shouldn't have asked that's so-"
"Do you want another drink?" Richie says, already standing.
"Uh, yeah? Yes please." He feels like he's on unsteady ground, like he's grabbing for any sort of foothold he can get.
When Richie comes back with the drinks they put on Parks and Rec and don't talk about it.
Which is confusing in its own way, how they can just fall back into their comfortable back and forth, how easy it feels to ignore the weird tension that's still hanging in the air. How denial can feel so familiar.
-
So, Richies gay.
It's not a big deal.
(It is a big deal, god why is it such a big deal?)
-
The next day Eddie walks into the kitchen to find Richie frowning at the fridge like it's wronged him. He turns at Eddie's footsteps. "Want to go grocery shopping with me?"
Eddie blinks. "I'll be a total pain in the ass."
Because he knows himself, knows he won't be able to hold back from criticizing Richies sugary cereal choices and reading the fat content out loud.
Richie laughs, patting him on the back and he walks past. "I wouldn't have you any other way Eds."
His stomach flips, he feels hot, unsteady. "Don't call me that." But he barely mutters it.
-
It's a fifteen-minute argument to decide which grocery store to go to, Richie arguing for fucking Walmart ("It's got everything Eds!" "Yeah except for produce that doesn't look like it's already gone through someone and meat that's actually fucking meat you dipshit.") while Eddie tries to push for Whole Foods ("Do they have Lucky Charms?" "No." "Then no.""That's not a fucking argument Richie!")
And Eddie can't help but realize how much funhe's having, that he doesn't feel like he usually does when he argues with Myra,  isn't a tightly wound coil about to snap, he's half-smiling, obnoxiously gesturing, feeling so- Eddie Kaspbrak, A concept he doesn't know how to explain even to himself.
And Richie is trying harder to fight a smile with literally every point he makes, looking at Eddie like he's top tier entertainment, like-
Like he's the best thing on earth.
"What about Ralph's?" Eddie says, immediately trying to stop his train of thought, even if it's at the cost of conceding a little bit. "You can get your trash food and I can get things that won't slowly poison my body."
"Sure, but I resent the implication that slowly poisoning my body is a bad thing, I plan to be fully toxic and giving off low-level radiation by the time I'm sixty."
"Okay ignoring the fact that you would be dead and not some wandering bioweapon-"
"Oh yeah according to the ~scientists~ funded by big Whole Foods-"
"Why would poison make you give off radiation-"
"That's what the post mortem will tell us!"
"That doesn't make any sense!"
"Exactly!"
Eddie breaks, finally snorting out a laugh, Richie grins, looking incredibly pleased with himself. "God, you're so fucking dumb."
"Yeah," Richie says fondly. "Now let's get to Ralph's, I need to be dumb somewhere I can snack on little free taste test cheeses."
-
Eddie stares ahead, back ramrod straight and lips pursed, hands at nine and three on the wheel. It had been going so good, he had been having fun grocery shopping. Then they'd run into one of Richies fans and all of a sudden the world had tilted.
"He thought we were..." Eddie feels sick, shakey, remembers the way his eyes had darted between him and Richie, flickering to the shared shopping cart, and back to them, a smile breaking across his face as he gushed about them giving him hope.
"Yep." Richie says, popping the 'p' with a casual shrug. He hadn't tried to correct the kid.
"He'll probably tell people." Eddie hadn't corrected him either, had felt his whole body go warm and his stomach flip and he hadn't said a single fucking word.
"Okay?"
"Does that not- like freak you out?" Eddie chews on his bottom lip, trying to focus on the cars around him, trying not to have a panic attack and crash Richies car before they even get out of the Ralphs parking lot.
God if he's dying in any parking lot it better be a fucking Whole Foods.
"No, does it freak you out?"
"No." Because it doesn't, not really at least, he doesn't give a shit if people think he's gay, that him and Richie are- whatever.
"Then why are you freaking out?"
"Because of your career dumbass!" His voice is nearing a decibel only dogs can hear. "Excuse me if I don't want you to get outed and it to fuck everything up for you."
Richie frowns, pulling his phone out and tapping at the screen.
"Oh wow fucking rude, we are literally in the middle of a conversation Tozier-"
"I just came out."
Eddie barely manages to avoid running a red light. He turns sharply to Richie. "Excuse me."
Richie holds up his phone and Eddie sees a tweet, it just says.
Richie Tozier @trashmouth:
"I'm gay 👍🏼"
Eddie stares at the phone, heartbeat pounding in his ears.
"Uhh Eds? Eyes on the road maybe?"
He shakes himself, turning just in time to see the light change to green.
Richies phone rings, in Eddie's periphery he sees him cringe. "Guess the news has reached my agent."
He declines the call.
"What the fuck dude." Eddie's not sure why he's so white-knuckled on the steering wheel. "Just like that? Like it's no big deal?"
Richie shrugs. "It was time, besides I already told the person I was the most scared to tell, after that telling the internet kinda feels like chump change y'know?"
Eddie hesitates. "Do you- you mean me right?"
Richie laughs, "Yeah Ed's I mean you."
"But come on, it's the whole world, Richie, it's your career." Eddie feels himself shake a little, how could all of that matter less to Richie than what fucking Eddie Kaspbrak thinks of him? How could what he's worked for his whole adult life be less important than some asshole he knew when he was a kid?
"Do you want to get Chinese food on the way home?" Richie hits decline on a third call, Eddie assumes his agent again.
'Home' not 'my house', home-like both of them live there, home like it's where they always go at the end of the day. Eddie feels himself relax a little, annoyed in the back of his mind that Richies distraction worked. "Let's get Vietnamese."
"Ooh Eddie Spaghetti's feeling adventurous huh?"
"What? You think I've never had Vietnamese food before?"
"Have you?"
"Once, on a work trip, it was not my choice and I was too scared to actually enjoy it, but I want to give it another shot."
"That's admirable, man."
"Shut up."
"I mean it."
"Oh."
Eddie feels warm, happy, like maybe for the first time in his life he's on the edge of something good.
-
"How long have you known?" Eddie asks, still curled up and poking thoughtfully at his Pho
"Gonna need a little more context, my man," Richie says, stretched out with his hand resting on his stomach, looking like a lion who just ate a gazelle, but like one of the scragglier lions, one Simba definitely wouldn't have been allowed to be friends with.
"That you're gay."
"Oh." Richie blinks, clearly trying to shift from his food-induced apathy to actually having a conversation. "I, uh, I guess I first suspected when I was like ten?"
"What did you realize you were lusting over Sears models or some shit?" Eddie asks, definitely not projecting or willing to consider that he might be.
Richie snorts. "What? No, I didn't jerk off to my mom's sears catalog till I was at least twelve."
Eddie doesn't relate to that at all. "Gross. So, what was it?"
"Do you remember when I wanted to parachute off Bill's roof?"
Eddie feels an old spark of genuine annoyance. "Of course I fucking do, you idiotswouldn't listen to Stan and I and our very reasonable concerns about you fucking dying-"
Richie grins. "I know I know I'm getting to that part. So what happened was you stomped over and took my face in your hands and said "if you do this you'll die and I'll be mad at you forever-"
"I don't know if that was my exact wording-" Eddie starts with a frown.
"It was!" Richie insists. "I know it was because it was so fucking dumb- like if I was dead why would it matter if you hated me, I'd be fucking dead."
"It still made you stop."
"Yeah it did, cause the idea of you hating me forever stopped me in my fucking tracks."
"I didn't say I would hate you." Eddie corrects, surprising himself with how gentle his voice sounds. "I said I'd be mad, I could never hate you."
Richies expression goes soft, he looks away. "Cool. Well, uh, that's when I first suspected, you were holding my face and staring at me so intense and my little gay heart was just losing it."
The Pho feels heavy in his stomach, he puts down his fork. "Because of me?"
Richie laughs, head leaning back, striking the same interesting angles. "It was always because of you Eds."
"Oh." Eddie doesn't know how to process that. "I didn't know."
But maybe he did.
Maybe it was just always so much easier not to know.
Richie doesn't look like he believes him, he laughs but it doesn't sound genuine. "I didn't think I was that subtle."
"You weren't, me not noticing doesn't mean you've ever been subtle Tozier, I was just fucking oblivious." He blows out a breath, pushing his hair away from where it's fallen in front of his eyes, he was supposed to get it cut a week ago, it feels like a weird sort of commitment to find a new barber in L.A.
"Stan knew."
Eddie swings fully towards him, faintly outraged. "Stan knew before I did?"
"Well yeah, dude." Richie rolls his eyes. "I couldn't whine about my big gay crush on you to you."
"Oh." Eddie feels his face warm, he tries to ignore it, clinging to his vague unjustified hurt. "I guess. It still feels weird that apparently Stan knew you so much better than I did."
"He didn't know me better dude, he just knew me different." Richie shrugs, turning his face completely away from Eddie. "I didn't crawl into his room at night."
"You better not have." And Eddie is startled at how his voice sounds, the weird note of jealousy.
Richie turns sharply towards him, face hard to read in the low light, looking at Eddie like he's trying to find something in his expression too.
"I mean that was kinda our thing, right?" Eddie says, heart racing, feeling like he's running but not entirely sure what from.
"Yeah." Richie seems pleased by that, but his expression still looks strange and thoughtful.
Eddie coughs, looking away from Richie. "So how did you tell Stan?"
"I didn't, he caught me staring at you one day and next time it was just us he said 'you know I have a gay uncle' and I said ' Oh yeah? Cool story' and he just looked at me in that- wayStan had, y'know? Where it felt like he could see right through you."
Eddie does know, remembers laying in the hammock tangled up with Richie, Stan's eyes on him feeling like fucking x-rays, Eddie trying not to let himself think about what Stan could find.
"And we stood there and he looked at me and I looked at him and he said, "It's okay Rich" and then-" Richie blows out a breath. "I just started bawling, like a fucking two-year-old, and Stan just- he just hugged me."
Richie sniffs, Eddie feels his heart constrict, sees the way the light off the tv reflects on his glassy eyes.
"Was it a good hug?" Eddie asks, knowing the answer.
"No, it was fucking terrible." Richie laughs, breath coming in uneven bursts. "Like being hugged by a robot accountant."
Eddie laughs, wiping at his eyes when he feels tears start to collect. "Yep, that's definitely Stan."
"But I felt so-" Richie brings up his t-shirt to scrub at his face. "So fucking loved y'know? He just let me pour all my big dumb emotions onto his fancy-looking shirt and he didn't even complain when I got snot on it."
Talking about Stan feels like poking at a fresh wound, but not talking about him feels like ignoring it, letting it fester. It also doesn't seem right, for Stan not to be in their lives somehow.
"I'm glad you didn't have to deal with everything alone," Eddie says, and there's no jab or subtext, just genuine happiness that his best friend had someone to cry to.
Richies face curls up before he covers it with his hands. "Fuck Eddie if you want me to cry so bad just put on Bambi, save yourself some effort."
-
So, Richies gay and growing up he was in love with Eddie.
It's kind of a big deal? Kind of feels like the earth has stopped spinning on its axis and everyone's just looking at him like "uhh well?" Like they're waiting for him to say something but every time he opens his mouth no words come out.
So, Richies gay and he was in love with Eddie, and now a thousand little moments have all these potential implications, questions he wants to ask, like- '
'Hey Rich, remember when we were sixteen and you brushed my hair away from my face and your thumb touched my cheek? Remember how you stopped and looked at me, your hand still warm against my skin and I couldn't read your expression but I also felt like I could if I really wanted to-
Did you love me then? Did you feel that weird charge too? Huh, Richie? What was that about?'
Eddie throws his arms across his face and remembers how his heart had raced that day, how when they heard Bill's voice in the distance and Richie pulled back Eddie had felt a faint sense of disappointment.
How he'd gone home that night and laid in bed with his arms thrown dramatically over his face, trying desperately not to think about Richie fucking Tozier.
-
"When should I leave?" Eddie asks one afternoon, Richies been bouncing ideas for his act off of him all day, it's annoyingly good.
Richies looks down at the paper in his hands, he shrugs. "You shouldn't."
Eddie feels his stomach twist, he'd hoped Richie would say that, but it had also seemed like too much to hope for, like he was greedy for even having the idea at all.
"Come on Rich," He says with a short forced laugh. "It's been a week, I need to know so I don't overstay my welcome."
"Well let me put your battered mind to rest my dear Edward because that is literally not possible." His eyes flicker between Eddie and the paper, like not looking and keeping eye contact are equally as difficult.
"Dude, I can't squat in your house forever."
He has to convince him, has to prove that Richie doesn't want him here, has to implode this life that isn't really his before it gets too comfortable, before he starts to think of this place, of Richie, as home.
"Then stand up." It's barely even a joke, but Eddie can see how tight Richies eyes are, how his hands keep clenching in the paper, so he decides not to make fun of him for it. Richie sighs, finally looking up for more than a few seconds and making solid eye contact. "Look Eds, if you want to leave then go just- don't leave because you think I don't want you here. I want you to stay for- for I don't know fucking forever."
Richie lets out a shaky laugh, he puts a hand over his face. "Fuck that sounded so gay."
"I've heard you say gayer." But his voice sounds far away, unsteady.
Richie snorts. "That's probably true."
There's a long moment of quiet tension, Eddie realizes Richies waiting for an answer.
"Well, I feel like I should at least pay rent."
Richies eyes light up, face breaking into a goofy smile. "You're staying?"
Eddie shrugs. "I didn't want to go-"
He wants to say "I never want to go" but the words seem like too much, too heavy and too overwhelming, so he ignores the impulse.
"-I just didn't want to take advantage of your hospitality."
Richie laughs, then gives an obnoxious wink. "You can take advantage of me anytime Eds."
Eddie feels his face going warm. "Was that supposed to be hot Tozier? You need to up your game."
Richie blinks, looking startled, then attempts to recover by smirking. "That a challenge Kaspbrak?"
Eddie's heart is racing, wonders when the mood in the room shifted in this subtle but noticeable way.
"Maybe," Eddie says, and he doesn't know why he says it but also he sort of does. Kind of knows exactly why.
Richies eyes are flickering across his face likes he's trying to read him but struggling. "Challenge accepted then."
-
Eddie lays in bed that night and tries to figure out what the fuck he's doing.
He's not stupid, he knows he and Richie have been- maybe- like- flirting? Or whatever? It's weird. It's confusing.
It's honestly not any different than how they've always acted.
Which is maybe the freakiest part of it all, like Eddie is suddenly able to see a new color and he realizes it's everywhere and it always has been and he's just been blind.
He's living with Richie and flirting with Richie, not to mention he left his wife and showed up on Richies doorstep after a late-night drunk phone call Richie might not even remember, one where he implied things that Eddie now knows for sure and-
Okay look those clearly aren't the actions of a straight man.
But that's a whole different tangled knot he needs to work through and he's forty, he can't be having a sexuality crisis at forty.
Eddie groans, this is a lot, this is way too much and he's never even kissed a guy and he's forty.
He can't be gay.
But he's also literally never been attracted to a woman and sometimes when Richies talking Eddie gets distracted by how good he looks and maybe that's not normal for straight men. Maybe he's been living a lie his entire adult life.
He sort of feels like he's waiting for someone to say "uh yeah, duh."
His last thought before he falls asleep is that he wishes he had Stan to talk to about all of this.
-
Nothing really changes the next day, maybe Richie flirts a little more, maybe when he walks by Eddie at the fridge his hand lingers a little on his back, or maybe his jokes are a tad more suggestive, or he calls him baby once or twice more often.
But maybe he's always done these things and Eddie's only now noticing it.
And noticing the way he plays into it, how when Richie is showing him something on his phone Eddie leans against him, bumps against his shoulder when they're walking down the street together.
It's not new, but the implications of it feel new.
-
That night he lays under the ceiling that's starting to get incredibly familiar during his late night panicking.
He huffs out a breath and wishes -ridiculously-that he could talk this through with Richie. And if not, Stan, who would probably call him an idiot but still help him sort it all out, figure out where his heads at. But he can't talk to either of them, Richie about this and Stan at all.
So he just stares at the ceiling and agonizes, picking apart every moment that could have been a signal, every hazy memory, every possible missed opportunity.
After an hour of this he realizes he has to spill his guts to someone, Ben probably has more experience with lingering teenage emotions, and Mike gives great advice, but Bev seems the least likely to make it weird so he goes with her.
Eddie Kaspbrak:
I left my wife and moved across the country to be with Richie
Beverly Marsh:
Oh my god
Omg fuck yes
I'm so happy for you two
Eddie Kaspbrak:
We're not dating
Okay I'm like 99% sure we're not dating
Beverly Marsh:
Not 100%?
Eddie Kaspbrak:
I don't know Bev!! I don't know!!! We haven't even kissed!!
Beverly Marsh:
Well maybe get on that then??
Eddie Kaspbrak:
What if I'm reading things wrong though Bev??
What if I fuck things up??
Beverly Marsh:
Eddie.
There's no universe where you kiss Richie Tozier and he doesn't kiss you back
He's been pining over you for like- ever?
Eddie Kaspbrak:
He told you???
Beverly Marsh:
Honey he really didn't have to
I've been rooting for you two for since we were kids
Eddie Kaspbrak:
Okay fine he liked me when we were kids
That doesn't mean he's into me now
Beverly Marsh:
If you're not sure just flirt with him a little, get a lay of the land
Eddie Kaspbrak:
We already flirt all the time! That won't tell me anything!!
Beverly Marsh:
...
...
You're reading what you're writing right?
Eddie Kaspbrak:
Maybe
Fuck
Beverly Marsh:
We're forty dude, it's time to shoot your shot
-
Eddie decides to shoot his shot.
Downing a glass of wine before they make their way to the couch for the evening.
Richies eyebrows raise. "Looking to get Wine mom crunk Eds?"
Maybe he's not in love with him, maybe he hates him.
Eddie rolls his eyes, holding back a smile. "What, am I not allowed to have fun?"
Richie flops on the couch arms spread across the back. "No babe you deserve it after a long day carpooling our youngsters around."
Babe. His heart skips, maybe it's the wine on his empty stomach that makes him brave, or maybe it's just time.
Eddie sits under Richies arm, scooting over so their sides press together, feeling like a teenager and not looking at Richie through the entire process.
His heart thuds against his ribs, a pounding drumbeat for what might be the scariest thing he's ever done.
Killer clowns can't look at you with pity because you misread their intentions. Or, like- they can but it probably won't have the same emotional impact.
Richie goes a little stiff and Eddie almost pulls away, almost completely aborts the mission, except then Richies putting his arm around him, warm and close.
His heart is in his throat and he's never been so warm. He should be half a step from a panic attack, should be reading his body signals as a warning for Bad Shit to come, but mostly he can't remember the last time he felt this safe.
He doesn't remember falling asleep but he knows he wakes up laying in a drool patch on Richies shirt.
He tries to muster up some embarrassment, but when he looks up he sees Richie watching him soft in the light of the t.v, and he can't find more then a twinge of it in his chest. "You make a pretty good pillow Tozier."
Richie grins. "I live to serve baby."
-
They're walking back from the fancy local coffee shop (Eddie had dragged them to) when Eddie sees his second opportunity.
Richies hand is just hanging there, all empty, prime hand holding territory.
So Eddie grabs it.
Richie stumbles a little, looks at him with an expression Eddie could probably read if he let himself look over, but he doesn't let go.
When they get back to the apartment Richie turns to him. "We need to talk."
He sounds serious, something that makes Eddie instinctively nervous. "About?"
Richie holds up their hands, still tightly wound together, he gestures at them with his other hand. "This?"
Eddie bristles. "You didn't have to hold it, you could have said no."
Richie groans. "I didn't want to say no, dipshit, I- of course I want to hold your fucking hand- it's just-"
Eddie feels cold, but neither of them have let go and it's his only lifeline right now. "Just what?"
"Just- what is this? You- are we flirting? Is this flirting?" Richie huffs, running his other hand through his hair. "I don't want to assume and I get you're going through a fucking divorce and it's a lot and you're probably confused and I don't- I just-"
Richie throws up a hand, looking at Eddie plaintively. "Eds, I need you to tell me what you're thinking?"
"I'm thinking-" he laughs, the sound a little hysterical. "I'm thinking about you like- all the time."
Richie makes a choked off noise at that.
Eddie let's out a breath, looking at anything but Richie. "I'm sorry, I have no fucking ideawhat I'm doing, but I do know that it's flirting and it's lame but-"
"Eds." Richie murmurs, he's close now, taking Eddie's face in his free hand. "Can I kiss you?"
"Oh my god please." And he wants to be embarrassed for how desperate he sounds, but mostly he just wants Richie to kiss him.
Richie surges forward, taking Eddies face in his big fucking hands, crashing their mouths together like middle schoolers, all enthusiasm and no skill.
It's not a good kiss, Eddies had almost no experience and even he knows it's not asoft good kiss, but it's Richie, warm against him, and he can barely think through the static haze in his mind.
He gasps into Richie's mouth and Richie nips at his bottom lip, wild smile breaking across his face, he kisses him again, and again and again, quick kisses along his cheeks and jaw. "Finally Ed's."
Eddie hears himself laughing, only just realizing his hands are tangled in Richies hair, he feels like he's in a haze, like the world has gone sepia toned and dreamlike without him noticing.
Eddie pulls him back into another kiss, not even bothering to take a breath first.
It must be noticable because Richie pulls back slightly, leaning his forehead against Eddies. "Breathe dude, we just got this shit figured out I don't want you to pass out and smash your skull on our linoleum."
Somehow that makes it through his brain soup. "Our linoleum?"
Richie's smile flickers, eyebrows creasing as he laughs a little nervously. "Well yeah, I mean you live here and I mean- of course- you know? Right?"
"I know what? What do I know? I don't know jack-shit Rich."
"He finally admits it " Richie grins, still looking nervous. "Only took thirty plus years."
"Shut up." Eddie says, unable to hide his own smile. "Tell me whats going on in that tiny brain in that massive head."
"My head isn't that big, its my forehead-"
"Richie."
"I want this to be your home." Richie finally admits voice rushed and quiet. "Not my place where you're staying or whatever, I want- it doesn't have to be this place but I just- I want to be your home."
Richie looks away, face a shade of red Eddie hasn't seen since they were kids. "God that's so dumb." Richie mumbles. "I sound so dumb-"
"You've always been my home Rich." Eddie has never been much of a romantic, never thought he would be either, but with Richie it doesn't feel like schmaltz, feels like the only thing that makes any sense.
Eddie kisses him, a few times on the lips and then peppered across the bridge of his nose, down his jaw, trying to get every inch he can reach and not stopping until Richie is smiling.
"Gay." Richie breathes out, smiling.
Eddie laughs. "So gay dude."
Richie pulls him into his arms, hugging him like they used to, like maybe they could become one person if they just tried hard enough. "Welcome home Eds."

Welcome home.