golden > reddie oneshots

Youre so patient (sick of waiting)

Besides, it's not like Eddie wants to keep it a secret. He's assured Richie of that over and over and over again. "I'd yell it from the rooftops, if I could," he said once, and had looked so astoundingly sincere that Richie couldn't even make a joke of it.

"I'm not changing my mind," Richie says and rolls over, half-squishing Eddie into the mattress, his face tucked against Eddie's throat. He feels the thrum of Eddie's heart, smells where he's clean and soft. "I just wish we could at least tell our friends."

Eddie sighs. He pulls his fingers through Richie's hair. It tugs a little, but Richie doesn't complain because having Eddie's hands on him is something he doesn't get nearly enough of. "I know," Eddie says. "I just don't think it's a good idea."

He's right. It isn't, not if they want to keep things quiet. But Richie has never, ever kept a secret from the Losers before, and sometimes it sits at the base of his throat, clawing to get out. He's managed not to say anything yet, but really, it's only a matter of time.

So it goes like this.

They're careful. They're so very careful. But sometimes, they slip. They're teenagers. They're in close proximity almost all the time. Shit happens.

So yeah, maybe sometimes they sit too close together. Or maybe sometimes Richie's hand lingers on Eddie's shoulder. Or maybe sometimes Eddie will jump onto Richie's back and the way he presses his face into Richie's hair is strangely intimate.

No one mentions it. It's just one of those things, you know? The Losers are used to it.

But sometimes...

It's a Thursday after school. Eddie has track practice, but it hasn't started yet. They're at the field, behind the bleachers — cliche, remember? They're kissing. No one's around. They've made sure.

No one catches them. No one ever catches them. They're good at this. They've boiled it down to a science. If they're the first out of their last period and they don't bother to stop by their lockers, they can make it to the field in time to make out for a good ten minutes before anyone else starts filtering out.

But this time, they're only about four minutes in when the bleachers above their heads rattle fiercely. They jump apart. Eddie wipes his mouth hurriedly, as if someone would be able to see the remnants of spit and identify it as Richie's. As if there's any hiding it. Their lips are red and kiss-bruised, and Richie's hair is fucked.

But when Beverly puts her head underneath the bleacher seats and stares down at them, she doesn't mention that. "Hey!" she says, sounding bright and surprised. Not at all suspicious. "What are you guys doing out here?"

Richie and Eddie very carefully do not look at each other.

"Waiting for practice to start," Eddie says. He shrugs a shoulder, looking incredibly stiff about it. "Richie walked me down here."

Richie grins. "What can I say? I'm a gentleman like that."

Bev smirks, looking rather sly about it. "Must be why Rita Benson's so into you."

Richie quite honestly has no idea who that is. He's never heard that name before. "What?"

"The new girl. She's in my second period." Bev's smirk widens and her voice lilts, going sing-songy and annoying. "She asked me about you."

Richie didn't even know there was a new girl.

"Please tell me you said I'm horrible and she should leave me alone," he says, hoping against hope.

"Nope," Bev says, popping the p, looking horribly smug. "I told her you're an idiot and a jackass and that you're totally, completely single."

"Practice is about to start," Eddie says suddenly. His shoulders are tight, and so is his smile. "I better go."