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Richie Trashmouth Tozier (trashmouthloser) wrote in snapthread,

The Losers
"You're adorable, no matter what," Richie said, resisting the urge to ruffle Eddie's hair because he still wanted his hand and Eddie was a fucking feral maniac sometimes. Richie, of course, loved it. But he wasn't as stupid as he liked to pretend he was. "Normal amount of demanding or not, it's cute." And yes, he'd absolutely give Eddie props for stating it the way he had -- not a condition or a sickness, just a matter of bad upbringing and what Richie was starting to understand was the world's worst marriage.

"Old hotels use keys," he said, like it was obvious. "Like this one. Or maybe those motels that charge by the hour instead of by the night." Not that Eddie would have ever been to one of those, because even Richie was skeeved out by how dirty those places could be. But he went on listening to Eddie as he bitched about statistics and bitching out managers even as he watched the little indicator of the elevator rise, slowly getting to their level.

Richie didn't even pretend to listen: he really did listen. Maybe with a snide or amused comment here and there, but he was obviously listening. He'd remember these stupid details about keycards later -- and probably, at an inappropriate later date, stop to ask questions about it.

The elevator dinged and then the doors open. "Finally," Richie said, even though he wasn't really in any rush.

Or, well, he hadn't been, but when a set of twin girls greeted them on the elevator, smiles on their faces, Richie was the first to jerk back in recoil, his arm swinging out in front of Eddie like that'd protect him from children.