Forgiveness didn't have to take a long time. Richie wasn't the sort of person to make people wait or to make them work for it in undue sorts of ways. Eddie had shown up. He'd apologized. And so Richie forgave him. What more need be done?
Richie kind of was that blind. But blurs of color and the touch of a nearly naked thigh on top of Eddie advertising the things meant Richie knew what was up without even needing to see. But seeing was better. A lot better, in fact. Those shorts. Those fucking shorts. They were murderous in only the best kind of way. It didn't matter what Eddie had been thinking about as a kid when he'd worn the things (they were more in fashion then, his mother had bought them? Who cared?) it mattered what he was thinking now. And sure, he was a little embarrassed, but he'd worn them trying to be romantic. Which was -- slightly off the mark on what Richie thought about the shorts, but the fact that he'd done in in the attempt at romance sort of just made it romantic, didn't it?
"No, it's -- you're good. At that. This. Fucking perfect," Richie promised, tone firm in his own belief. "You're so fucking cute right now. Sexy as hell." It wasn't the same as combed hair and a tie to try to impress, no, but it was sexy. Richie wanted to encourage it. "Honest to god, I'm getting all riled up. I wanna --" He settled his hands, both of them, a little more firmly on the top of Eddie's thighs. "...I wanna do a lot of things," he admitted, slightly sheepish.