Chapter Text
Richie knew he wasn't a good person, okay? But he wasn't a bad person either. He was a totally regular guy, so why did the universe insist on torturing him at every single turn?
He and Eddie and the rest of the Losers had escaped Derry. They'd moved to New York and they were living free from the curses of that godforsaken town. What they weren't free from were bills.
Richie and Eddie were living together with Stan. The other four Losers lived down the hall in one of the bigger apartments.
Richie was working at a radio station as a disc jockey three nights a week, and at a pub from Monday to Friday. Stan was working at a museum downtown which he loved.
The only one who was struggling to find a job was Eddie. He had no previous work experience and it was turning into a bit of a problem.
When Eddie told them he'd finally managed to get a job, he'd been thrilled! He'd managed to get hired at Delilah’s, a retro sockhop-style restaurant that the Losers had started frequenting when they'd moved. It was owned by a 60something-year-old black woman who'd been more than happy to hire Eddie. Richie had been so excited to see Eddie in the dumb uniform they were made to wear.
Except.
Except the uniform was changed from the neon blue red and yellow striped matching pants and shirt set for a deep red, white trimmed shirt and short shorts paired with a white apron. It's wrapped up in a pretty bow with high white socks with red stripes and fucking.... Fucking rollerskates. Red roller skates with white laces.
Richie never even got to see him in the ugly uniform. It wasn't fucking fair.
"Staniel, this isn't fair!" Richie whined for the hundredth time. "He just walks around in his uniform and it's going to drive me insane! He looks so fucking--"
"Cute, delectable, mind-bogglingly sexy and unattainable all at once?" Stan responded monotone, flipping through his ornithology textbook.
"Yes!" Richie cried, throwing himself back onto his single mattress that he was longer than. "How am I supposed to keep living with him when my blood flow is constantly surging towards my dick instead of my brain? I'm having fainting spells!"
"I'm pretty sure you're just anemic, Rich," Stan responded, once again uninterested.
Richie rolled over and glared at Stan. “You are absolutely no fucking help, you know that? I come to you-- my closest friend, might I add-- with my woes, and you don’t even care!”
“Richie, I’ve been listening to your ‘woes’ about Eddie for years,” Stan sighs, setting his book down. “I’ve told you over and over again to just tell him. Either tell him or stop complaining about it.”
Richie grumbled at Stan, rolling back over onto his bed to face the wall, knowing Eddie would be home from work soon and he’d have to face him in his stupid uniform before he left for his shift at the station.
–
“Alrighty, folks! To close off today's show I have a song from Autoheart from their 2013 album, Punch. This is Sailor.”
Richie hit play on the file and sat back, letting the words wash over him. He was glad all the Losers were usually asleep during his shows because his song choices were getting more and more obvious. God, if Stan was complaining about his endless pining, how did he think Richie felt? He was the one who had to listen to those thoughts every single day because they were his thoughts. Thoughts like how the red of Eddie's uniform brought out the gold in his eyes, the same way his tiny red track shorts did. Speaking of shorts, how were those uniform shorts even, like, up to code with the health department?
Richie was so lost in his thoughts that he nearly missed his outro cue. He fumbled a bit with the mic, switching the output quickly, confident that there would only be a few seconds of dead air.
“And that was Sailor by Audioheart! Well, that’s all from me folks, I’ve been your ever gracious and attractive host, Richie Tozier, and I’ll catch you on the rewind.” He cut his feed, and hit play on a repeat show from earlier in the day.
Richie slowly packed up his bag, debating going home or just sleeping on the couch in the staff room until it was time for him to start his shift at the pub a mere two blocks away. He had just decided on going home when his phone lit up with a message from “Spagheddie 🍝"
Spagheddie 🍝: I liked the last song you played
Richie felt his heart catch in his throat, he quickly typed out a teasing message.
Me: Shouldn’t you be sleeping, Edward? Don’t you know the dangers of staying up at night!??!?!?!
Spagheddie 🍝: Asshole
Me: Love you too eds!
Spagheddie 🍝: 🖕🏻<3
Richie spent way too long staring at that stupid heart as he got as comfortable as he could on the radio station couch. He’s asleep not long after, the phone still clutched in his hand.
–
Since Delilah’s was just down the street from the Raven, Eddie decided to stop by before his shift. Richie hadn’t come home the night before, and Eddie couldn’t lie-- he’d been disappointed. He liked seeing a sleepy Richie bang around the apartment in the morning before his shift.
Humming under his breath, Eddie pushed the door to the Raven open and smiled when he saw Richie standing behind the bar. He was laughing with one of his new co-workers, Brandon. Now, Brandon is a totally fine guy! He was just…. Touchy. With Richie. In particular.
And it didn’t bother Eddie at all! He was just thinking about Richie's health. There were so many germs on people's hands and Richie’s immune system was already used to his and the rest of the Losers’ germs, but not this new guy's! This new guy could make Richie really sick, that's all!
“Hey, Rich!” Eddie called as he approached the bar. And- and Richie's face does something weird. He looks excited for a second before it morphs into something almost…. Distasteful before breaking out into his normal goofy grin.
“Edward, my good man! What’re you doing here on this fine Thursday morning?” He asks in the jaunty British accent.
“You never came home last night, wanted to make sure you weren’t dead,” Eddie says back, frowning when Brandon laughs a little too hard at Richie's shitty accent.
“Too busy getting laid, Rich?” Brandon teases. It grates on Eddie's nerves the way he says ‘Rich,’ like he knows Richie or something.
“He had a shift at the radio station.” Eddie pipes up, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s close by, so he sleeps there overnight sometimes when he doesn’t want to take the subway all the way back home.” He says haughtily.
“Oh, no shit?” Brandon asks, turning to face Richie again. “I live like a block from here, if you ever want an actual bed to crash on you can stay at mine between shifts.”
“No way, for real? Thanks, man!” Richie says, clapping Brandon on the shoulder.
“Well, I’ve got to head to my shift!” Eddie says a bit too loudly.
“I’ll pick you up after your shift?” Richie asks.
“You just want free fries,” Eddie grumbles as he turns to leave.
“That wasn’t a no!” Richie calls after him.
Eddie simply flipped him off and marched towards the diner, a sour taste in his mouth.
//
True to his word, Richie was at Delilah's at the end of his shift and was sitting at the countertop. He kept asking Eddie to get things from the opposite end of wherever he was just so he could tease Eddie as he skated around. Eddie eventually caught on to his little game and threw a creamer at Richie. Richie simply threw his head back and laughed. (And if Eddie thought that Richie looked gorgeous as he laughed, messy curls falling across his face as he brought his head back up to smile impishly at Eddie, that was between him and the pillow he screamed into at night.
“Spaghetti!” Richie whined, throwing his lanky body onto the counter dramatically. “When is your shift done? I’m sooooooo borrrrreeeeded.”
Eddie glared at him and crossed his arms. “Why don’t you go hang out with Brandon?” He grumbled, aggressively wiping down the counter that he had just cleaned.
To Eddie's dismay, Richie perked up. “That’s a good idea! I’ll be back at 12 to take the train home with you?”
“Don’t bother.” Eddie snapped. “I can get home by myself. Despite the rhetoric of my mother, I can actually look after myself, Tozier.”
He regretted his words as soon as he said them, seeing Richie’s face fall.
“You’re right,” Richie whispered. “Sorry, Eddie. I’ll uh… I’ll see you at home.” Richie slinked off his seat and out the door, sparing one last kicked puppy look Eddie’s way before leaving.
Delilah watched the interaction and tsked. “You keep pushing that boy away, you’re gonna lose him, Eddie.” She chastised, giving him a gentle pat on the shoulder as she walked past, back to fill coffee.
Eddie sighed and rolled away, knowing she was right, but knowing there was nothing he could really do about it without ruining his and Richie’s friendship.
Maybe they were just doomed from the beginning.
//
Eddie hated taking the subway without Richie for no other reason than Richie annoyed the hell out of him the whole time and kept him distracted from all the germs. By the time he got home, he felt like his skin was too small, he swore he could feel the germs crawling over his body. His mothers voice was in his ear, telling him how dirty he was. Her voice was like nails on a chalkboard, grating on his nerves, squeezing his lungs and depriving him of oxygen.
The apartment was quiet when he got home, but for once he resented it, missing the usual bustle of Richie and Stan arguing or watching trashy reality TV together.
He stripped out of his clothes in the entryway, shoving his clothes into a plastic bag and tying it closed-- he would wash them after his shower.
He grabbed the harshest soap he had, jumping into his shower. Richie and Stan shared the other bathroom, after Eddie had had a panic attack when Stan left his toothbrush in a cup on the sink counter.
He turned the water on almost all the way boiling, jumping in immediately, feeling his nerves settle a little as the water washed the grime from his body. He scrubbed roughly at his skin, relaxing further as his skin pinked under his ministrations.
After his shower, he changed into his favourite clothes, a pair of soft worn pants covered in spaghetti from Richie and Richie’s old Smashing Pumpkins sweater that hadn’t fit him since he was 14.
Once he was changed, he grabbed his rubber gloves and took his work clothes into the laundry room, tossing them in with his strongest detergent and putting them on the longest cycle.
He finally felt more grounded. He curled up onto the couch and pulled out his phone, sighing as he sees no new messages from Richie. There’s only one from Stan, saying that he was going to be out late that night with his girlfriend Patty.
Turning on the TV, he settled in to watch some Brooklyn 99 until Richie came home.
//
Richie crept into the apartment, and was shocked to see that the TV was still on it was almost 3 am. He peered over the couch to see Eddie curled up under his favourite blanket, Netflix’s “are you still watching” looming on the screen.
He felt bad about leaving Eddie to take the subway himself, but he felt worse that he’d made him feel like Sonia did. That he didn’t trust him, or thought he was somehow incapable of doing simple tasks on his own. Eddie was the strongest person he knew.
He sighed and scooped Eddie off the couch, smiling a bit when he saw what he was wearing. 14 year old Richie had nearly died when he’d seen Eddie wearing his favourite sweater. He’d lied and said it didn’t fit anymore, just so Eddie would claim it as his own and wear it more often.
He carried him to his bedroom, making sure to not let his clothes touch Eddie’s bed (he didn’t like outside clothes touching his bed). Laying Eddie down on the bed, he couldn’t stop himself from pressing a light kiss to his forehead.
“G’night Eds,” He whispered, quietly leaving the room, the door closing with a soft click.
//
Eddie didn’t remember getting into bed the night before, but he found himself in bed all the same. The TV was off and his blanket was folded a little sloppily on the edge of the couch where it always was. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he smiled a bit, seeing his favourite cherry danish sitting on the counter with a little note attached in Richie’s chicken-scratch penmanship.
“For Spageddies only!”
He snorted at the shitty drawing of a plate of spaghetti next to it. He pulled out his phone and sent a text to Richie.
Me: Thanks for the Danish, Rich
Richie: No problemo Eds!
Me: Take the subway home together tonight?
Eddie chewed on his thumb nail absently, awaiting Richies response.
Richie: (thumbs up)
Eddie frowned. That was it? No joke, no smiley face? Just a thumbs up?
Eddie debated asking him if he was okay, but his eyes caught the time and he cursed. He was going to be late for work. At least today Ben could drive him to work, so he wouldn’t have to take public transport or walk.
He hurried through his routine. He was just tying on his apron when Ben knocked on the door before letting himself in.
“Morning Eddie,” He said softly, smiling in that Ben Hascom way that made everything seem a little bit better.
“Hey Ben, I’m ready to go. I just need to grab my skates.”
Ben chuckled a bit. “Those skates are so over the top, I can’t believe Bev convinced her to add them to the uniform.”
Eddie frowned. “Bev convinced her? Why on earth would she do that?”
Ben shrugs. “Delilah wanted new fashionable uniforms so she asked Bev for help. I guess they do go with the theme, though. And I mean, they’re a hit with customers.”
“Bev owes me big time.” Eddie growled, grabbing his skates and his bag, double checking to make sure he had his keys and his dinner.
Ben just chuckled as he followed him out of the apartment building and towards Richie’s old truck.
“So what’s up?” Ben asked, once they were in the truck. “Stan said that Richie didn’t come home with you last night. You guys always take the subway home together.”
Eddie frowns. “I got kinda mad at him. He hung out with Brandon,” he sneered.
“Who’s Brandon?” Ben asked, pulling out onto the street.
“Richie’s stupid new co-worker. He’s always touching Richie like that isn’t so unsanitary, and then he offers to let Richie stay at his place when Richie has late shifts at the station and early ones the next morning at the Raven. And he calls him Rich, like he actually knows Richie or something!” Eddie ranted, huffing a bit and crossing his arms.
Ben gave him a knowing look.
“Eddie… Do you think that maybe that crush you had on Richie in high school never left?”
Eddie spun in his seat to look at Ben, eyes narrowed. “I told you, that was just the vodka talking! I never had a crush on Rich. I don’t like guys. Besides, what would that have to do with anything?”
Ben quickly raised his hands in a placating manner, quickly returning them to the steering wheel. “I’m just saying Eddie, you sound really jealous over this whole coworker thing.”
“Just because Richie likes guys doesn’t mean he likes Brandon.” Eddie grumbled. “What does Brandon even have? He’s not even hot. He wouldn’t understand Richie. He never survived a homicidal alien clown!”
“Eddie, there’s literally only six other people who have, so if that's your criteria for who should date Richie... besides, you don’t seem to have a problem with Stan dating Patty. Patty doesn’t even know about It.” Ben responded.
“Well… that’s different.” Eddie huffed.
“How is Stan different from Richie?”
Eddie slumped in his seat and turned on the radio, ignoring the smug looks Ben sent him the rest of the ride.
//
Richie’s shift was uneventful. He debated going to bother Eddie at work again, but thought better and instead sat in the bookstore near Delilah’s. He was lost in his thoughts when someone sat down across from him.
“Oh shit, hey Brandon,” Richie said, putting his book down.
“Hey Rich, I was wondering if you and your boyfriend wanted to go out with my girlfriend and I this weekend? I think he may have gotten the wrong impression yesterday.” Brandon said, smiling sheepishly.
“What? I don’t-- what boyfriend?” Richie asked, feeling beyond confused.
“Eddie? Little guy with angry eyebrows that works at Delilah’s?” Brandon responded slowly, raising an eyebrow at Richie.
“Oh! No-- Eds and I aren’t dating. He’s not gay.” Richie said quickly, arms flailing.
Brandon looked at Richie Incredulously. “You’re kidding, right?” At Richie’s confirmation that he was in fact, not kidding, he barked out a laugh, much to the disapproval of an old lady sitting nearby. “Dude, the guy is obviously super into you. Every time I touched you, he looked like he was trying to melt my hands with his mind.”
Riche shook his head. “It was probably just something about germs, Eddie doesn’t like me like that.”
“Alright, how about this. You and your friends all go to Delilah’s on Saturdays right?”
Richie nods. “Yeah, so?”
“Soooo,” Brandon drawled, “I come with you and pretend like I’m super into you. I’ll prove it to you.”
Richie throws up his hands in defeat. “Fine! If only to get you to leave me alone about this forever.”
“If I’m wrong, I’ll cover five shifts for you whenever you want.”
Richie laughed. “Be ready to lose, Brandon. Eddie’s my best friend, I know him better than anyone.”
//
“How was work?” Eddie asked, awkwardly.
Richie blinked owlishly at him through his coke bottle glasses. “Uh, it was alright I guess.” He said, his eyes looking at a spot somewhere above Eddie’s head.
Eddie frowned. “That’s it? It was alright I guess?” He mocked. “What is with you, Richie?”
“Nothing!” Richie responded quickly. “It was just nothing special, just a regular old shift.”
Eddie huffed but said nothing more, arms crossed as they waited for their subway.
“How was work for you?” Richie eventually asked, still not looking at Eddie.
“Peachy.” Eddie snipped back.
The rest of the ride was awkward. And Richie still wouldn’t look Eddie in the eyes, or at him at all. Whenever Richie would accidentally meet Eddie’s gaze, his face would contort into that weird disgust-shame-sadness he’d perfected in the last few weeks.
He was probably thinking about Brandon. He idly tried to imagine Brandon and Richie together, as a couple. Brandon coming over to the apartment, eating breakfast with all the Losers on Sundays. He imagined Richie’s eyes crinkling when he looked at Brandon, the way Richie would always be touching Brandon, because Richie was affectionate like that. He imagined Richie moving out, into a new apartment where he didn’t keep Lysol wipes at the door, because Brandon wasn’t terrified of germs. He imagined them adopting a dog together, maybe a cat too. He’d probably get an active dog, to go on runs with, maybe an Australian shepherd. Richie would like a scrappy brown cat, he thinks, because he’d always loved them the most at the shelter he’d volunteer at sometimes.
He imagined their wedding day, and how beautiful it would be. He imagined standing next to Richie, taking his hand in his, smiling up at his best friend as they exchange rings in front of their loved ones--
Eddie stopped. Somewhere along his fantasy, Brandon had disappeared, and Eddie had put himself in his place.
It was with a stunning realisation that Eddie hated Brandon because he had what he wanted. He had Richie, and there was nothing Eddie could think of that he wanted more, than being with Richie.
He realises that his plans of the future had never not included Richie. From the time he was twelve, he knew he wanted to leave Derry with his friends. He wanted to live with Richie, as disgusting and as messy as he was back then, because who wouldn’t want to have a permanent sleepover with their best friend?
He thinks of all the days they spent sharing the hammock, even when they had long outgrown it, forcing them to tangle their limbs together as they read comic books in the warm light of the summer sun.
“Fuck,” Eddie thought. “I’m in love with Richie fucking Tozier.”
And as he returned to the present, he observed Richie tapping on his phone furiously, the contact shining like a slap in the face.
Brandon.
Eddie slouched his seat, despondent.
He was in love with Richie Tozier and Richie didn’t love him back.
//
Richie’s leg shook with anxiety as he waited for Brandon to show up outside of Delilah’s. The rest of the Losers, plus Patty, were already inside-- and of course, Eddie was working in his stupid, sexy uniform.
“Hey!” Brandon called, jogging up the sidewalk. “Sorry I’m late, Andrew was late and I had to cover until he showed up.” He explained.
“It’s all good, man. Lets just get this over with so I can go back to wallowing in pity and jacking off to the thought of that stupid apron and those bullshit shorts.” Richie grumbled, leading the way in.
“Guys, this is Brandon, we work together. Brandon, this is Bev, Ben, Bill, Mike, Stan and Patty, and of course you already know Eddie.” Richie said quickly, introducing everyone before sliding into his seat next to Bev.
“Hi, Brandon,” Patty said warmly. “It’s nice to have a not-Lloser around for once.” She teases.
Brandon laughed, putting a hand on Richie’s shoulder, much to Eddie’s chagrin. “It’s nice to meet you Patty, hopefully I’ll be around more in the future.” He teased.
“Are you gonna order or are we just talking?” Eddie snapped, glaring daggers at the hand on Richie’s shoulder.
“Yeah, could I get the BLT on white with home fries, please?. And Rich will have--”
“Richie always gets a double cheeseburger with mayo and lettuce but no tomatoes, home fries and a strawberry milkshake.” Eddie responded. “He’s my best friend, I know his order, Brendon.”
“It’s actually Bran--”
“The usual for the rest of you?” Eddie said loudly, pointedly cutting Brandon off.
Everyone voiced their confirmation and Eddie attempted to skate away angrily, but it wasn’t exactly something one could do.
Richie wasn’t proud of the way his eyes followed Eddie’s ass as he rolled away.
“So.” Bev starts awkwardly. “You met Richie at work?”
Brandon nodded. “I’m not gonna lie, I’m just here trying to prove to Richie that Eddie has a thing for him. But I would actually love to hang out with you guys more, my girlfriend and I are pretty new in town.”
Stan squawked a laugh, quickly covering his mouth as the other patrons of the restaurant turned to look at him.
“I’m so sorry, but that is the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard.”
“That’s what I said!” Richie said, “Eddie obviously doesn’t--”
“No you idiot.” Stan cuts Richie off. “What’s absurd is that it’s come to this. The fact that even someone who is basically a stranger can tell that you and Eddie are into each other but somehow the two of you can’t, it’s so funny.”
“Staniel, c’mon,” Richie whined, looking incredibly embarrassed. “Eddie doesn’t like me, right guys?” He asked, looking to the other Losers for support but finding none.
“I honestly thought you guys were dating for three months when I started going out with Stan.” Patty said, shrugging apologetically at Richie’s betrayed look.
“Richie, the two of you somehow made the five of us feel like we were all third-wheeling with the two of you. And there’s only two of you.” Mike added, smirking as Ben groans, “God don’t remind me,” under his breath.
“C’mon Big Bill, you’ve gotta have my back here, right?” Riche asked desperately, only to get a laugh and a head shake back.
Richie threw his arms up in the air in defeat and slouched in his seat. “Bill, I’m taking your room when I inevitably have to move out of my apartment with Stan and Eddie--”
“You’re moving out?”
Eddie was standing behind him, holding a tray full of milkshakes, looking absolutely stricken.
“Eds, no, I’m not--”
“Whatever, Rich. I get it. New boyfriend. I’m-- I’m going to go take my break. Angela will bring you your food.” Eddie hurriedly set the tray down on a nearby vacant table, Richie’s strawberry milkshake spilling onto the floor as he clumsily skated away, almost tripping over a stool in the process.
“Richie!” Bev hissed, elbowing him in the side. “Go after him!”
Richie nodded dumbly and scrambled after Eddie, ignoring the ‘Employees Only’ sign.
In the back alley, Eddie was sitting on a milk crate with his head between his knees.
“Eddie?” Richie called softly, edging towards him.
“What do you want, Rich?” Eddie responded, quiet and dejected.
“I’m not moving out.” He responds. “Although I thought you’d be overjoyed if I did. I mean, I leave my sweaters all over the apartment.” He added, trying to add some levity.
“I don’t want you to move out.” Eddie grumbled miserably. “I like you living with me.” He paused, “and Stan.”
“I like living with you too.” Richie responded softly, sitting on the crate next to Eddie, his long legs folded up comically.
“But you’re gonna move out eventually. Your boyfriend will want to live with you eventually.” The way Eddie sneered ‘boyfriend’ left no debate on what he thought about Brandon.
Richie sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Brandon isn’t my boyfriend. He has a girlfriend, Eds.”
Eddie finally looked up, brows furrowed at Richie. “He was sure acting like your boyfriend.”
Richie flushed red, embarrassed, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Yeah, that was uh… kinda the point,” He admitted. “He thought we were dating, and I told him we weren’t, and he wanted to prove to me that you… had feelings for me, I guess.” He let out a sardonic laugh, “Pathetic, right?”
He finally met Eddie’s eyes for the first time in what felt like weeks (it had been). “That’s what I was saying about moving into Bill’s room. They were trying to convince me to tell you my feelings, and I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable--”
“Why would I have been uncomfortable?” Eddie cut in, his heart beating far too fast than what could be considered healthy.
“I mean, do you really want to live with your childhood best friend who’s been in love with you since he was ten years old?”
“Richie,” Eddie said softly. “You’re talking as if I haven’t been in love with you just as long.”
Richie’s eyes widened in shock. “Eddie… please. You can’t joke about this.” His voice is shaking, heavy with emotion already.
Eddie turned on his crate to face Richie, taking his face in his cold hands. Richie had never felt so warm.
“I would never lie to you,” Eddie whispered, his doe eyes begging for Richie to see his sincerity. “Not about this.”
Richie was distantly aware that there were tears running down his cheeks, but all he could focus on was Eddie.
Eddie’s brown eyes that were flecked with gold.
Eddie’s freckles that were fading now that the days were getting shorter. The little, barely-visible scar above his left eyebrow that he’d had for as long as Richie had known him.
There were so many things racing through his mind, so many things that he wanted to say, but all he could come out with was--
“I think I have a kink for that uniform.”
Eddie blinked.
“RICHARD!” Eddie yelled, pulling back from him, his cheeks going bright red.
“I’m sorry!” Richie exclaimed, trying not to laugh. “I’m sorry that’s all my brain could come up with!”
“I just confessed my love for you, jackass! And that’s all you could come up with?”
“I’m sorry!” Richie cackled again. “You don’t understand, I’ve been living in sexually frustrated hell ever since you started working here! Why do you think I’ve been acting like a maniac!?”
Eddie gaped. “That’s why you’ve been so weird? I thought it was because you had a boyfriend!”
Richie shook his head, still laughing a bit at the absurdity of the situation as he stood up, offering Eddie a hand up as well. Eddie took it and squeaked as Richie pulled him forward, his rollerskates making him glide into Richie’s arms.
“Hey,” Richie quipped. “I can almost kiss you without bending down like this!”
“Shut the fuck up, Richard.” Eddie whispered with no real heat as he leant forward to press a soft kiss to Richie’s lips.
Richie wasn’t proud of the whimper he let out at the first touch. His arms tightened around Eddie’s waist, humming happily when Eddie tangled his hands into Richie’s hair, giving it a quick tug when Richie nipped at his lips.
(He filed Richie’s reaction to the hair-pulling away for later.)
Just as they were getting a bit too heated, the back alley door opened with a bang, revealing Delilah.
They jumped apart, but Richie had to grab Eddie again to stabilize him as he started flailing on his skates. They both at least had the awareness to look a little ashamed.
“Eddie, c’mon, baby! You can do that after your shift, you’ve got food to run.”
“Yes! Sorry, Delilah, I’ll be right in.” Eddie said quickly, brushing his hands down his apron.
Delilah laughed. “Don’t take too long, honey.” She turned to leave, chuckling under her breath, “Ms. Marsh owes me 20$, I told her it would happen on the skates.”
Eddie turned to face Richie again, stretching to press a kiss on his cheek and whisper in his ear.
“If you sit next to Brandon again, you’ll never see this outfit outside of the restaurant.”
And then he skated back inside.
Richie is left there in stunned silence until his brain seemed to reboot. He took off after Eddie.
“Wait. Outside of the restaurant? What does that mean? Eddie? Eddie!”