beverly & richie
"Right?" Richie asked, with a grin even as he put the box back in his pocket to let the burning resume there. "Richie, if you die out there, I'll fucking kill you. What the fuck's wrong with you?" Whatever. He'd been a man on a mission and hadn't been able to wait, no matter what horrors he'd run into beyond those doors before. Some things felt worth it. This had been one of those things.
Richie, obviously, had never been married before. Hadn't been able to get past his own self loathing to even really bother with dating before now. But here they were. And he thought he'd be pretty good at it. He wasn't out to change Eddie so much as he was to encourage him as best he could. And to get him into those obscene little shorts a bit more often, maybe. The point was, he'd never fucking hurt Eddie. He wasn't the sort for it and never had been.
"Jesus, Bev," he said, taking one last drag of his smoke before stomping it out with the heel of his shoe and exhaling -- smoke escaping from behind a near crazy grin. "Like there was ever gonna be anyone else? You'd rock a suit better than I ever will. And that's not even starting in on the party."