It was nice basking in it. It was like an upgrade, relationship-wise. At least that's what it felt like. It wasn't like Richie had a whole lot of experience with meaningful or lasting relationships, but. Well. It felt good and important and he figured that was what mattered. Well, beyond the whole just being with Eddie thing, anyway. That was the most important part. Richie hummed in agreement, nibbling at a cookie thoughtfully before sort of just cramming the whole thing in his mouth.
He shifted himself on the couch so that he was more leaned toward Bev than against the arm -- they'd end up just holding each other up eventually, no doubt.
"Domestic seems to be the way of this town," he said thoughtfully before making lazy, wiggly fingers at the joint. It was settling in now, the good kind of shit that didn't make him wait or sneak up on him when he wasn't expecting it. One of his first encounters with pot had involved him waiting and waiting and then having a crisis of anxiety over it when he realized he was super fucking high. It'd taken some practice, learning how to get to that mellow stage without all the nerves beforehand.
"Worried?" He asked, glancing over at Bev, all blue eyes and red, red hair. "That's -- why?" Not like he couldn't guess, but Richie was excellent at telling himself everything was good -- didn't care for the concept of nuanced layers where some things could be wonderful while other stuff was still just as bad as it'd ever been.