"You're taller, so you'd have to ... uh. Slouch andâstuff. You could get scoliosis."
WHAT: The Losers lock Eddie and Richie in a closet until they kiss. They manage to botch this very simple birthday demand. WHERE: Amicitia Manor. WHEN: Saturday, March 7. WARNINGS: Gay panic, some anxiety. STATUS:Complete!
Richie wasnât sure who did it. Mightâve been Stan. Mightâve been Bev. Maybe a combination of the two as they set the pair up for the ultimate betrayal. One second, they were all on the couch, playing stupid games and drinking ridiculous alcoholic concoctions and eating way too much birthday cake, and the next, he was stuck in a closet with Eddie.
Theyâd gotten shoved in there unceremoniously, and the door was locked behind them. Someone shouted âNo coming out until you make out!!â and then the laughter and voices got quieter.
Richie wanted to bang on the door and call them fucking traitors, but he was a little buzzed and more than a little pleased to have more alone time with Eddie. He found himself squinting through his glasses, trying to get a closer look at Eddie in the darkness. âMaaaaaybe mountain dew and vodka was a bad idea?â Heâd only had one, himself, but clearly everyone else was out of their damn minds.
"You realize we could die in here if we don't drink water, right? ESPECIALLY after alcohol consumption!!" Eddie banged on the door to try and get their friends' attention, but he knew even before their laughter faded away that it was no use. He wasn't actually worried about their chances of survival, though. That was easier to fixate on than just how close Richie's body was, and how he could hear every little shift he made in the quiet of the closet. The irony. "Assholes," Eddie muttered under his breath, grateful, at the very least, that it was dark in here and Richie couldn't see how badly he was blushing.
He made an annoyed sound at the mention of what they'd been drinking. "Maybe," he replied weakly, trying not to overthink the fact that maybe Bev and Stan had told the others how he felt and now everyone knew. Eddie was a little tipsy, but certainly not drunk. He almost wished he was. "Look, uh." Eddie cleared his throat, trying to push himself against the opposite wall to give his friend as much room as possible. "We don't have to do anything? We could just wait. They have to let us out eventually." Hopefully.
It was easy to grin in the darkness at Eddie. He was always grinning at Eddie in some capacity, and now he was a little tipsy and a lot warm, so the grin came even more naturally as Eddie yelled after them.
They could totally wait it out. Their friends would probably remember them and open the door after an hour or so. Probably. Richie hated waiting, though. Almost as much as he liked the idea of kissing Eddie.
âOr,â He started pointing a finger in Eddie's direction in the darkness. âWe could just, you know, do it. They're psychic fuckers, Ed. They might hold us to it.â His voice dropped down to a whisper, âOr worse, fall asleep.â
He'd forgotten two of their friends were basically psychic. Eddie's stomach dropped. "Oh, shit. You're right." What if they didn't let them out? It was totally plausible for their friends to fall asleep waiting, and then they'd be really fucked. Eddie shifted a little, wary, glancing at Richie until his eyes adjusted to the dark and he could see his friend grinning. Although it made him scowl instantly, that was really just a knee-jerk reaction. He wasn't angry, he was nervous.
And really, really excited. But that part of him could shut the hell up.
"Alright, so ..." Eddie trailed off, still not making any move to touch Richie. His heart was pounding. "What about your neck?" A beat. "Like. You're taller, so you'd have to ... uh. Slouch andâstuff. You could get scoliosis," Eddie added the last part in a voice that sounded distracted.
âWhat?â Richie didnât know what scoliosis had to do with anything except Eddie just finding reasons to ⌠you know, not make out. Or being very-Eddie, in that he worried about everything. Richie was used to being the one that got to tell him to stop freaking out, and in a way? It was comforting. But hilarious. âThatâs-- Okay thatâs dumb but what if-â
Reaching around in the darkness, he found some box or tub up against the wall, and yanked it out a little so he could sit on it. Not the most sturdy, but itâd hold him. It made him shorter than Eddie now, if his knees bumping against Eddieâs legs was any indication. He knew doing some kind creepy voice would ruin the chance to kiss Eddie entirely, so he went with something a little lower and more seductive. He hoped. Maybe. âWant to sit on my lap?â
Oh.
Okay.
Richie being slightly shorter than him was kind of doing it for Eddie. He hadn't expected that, or the way it felt like liquid heat sparked down his spine at the question. "I take it back," Eddie croaked. "You have some game after all." But lingering on something he'd teased Richie about in a text wasn't really on his agenda right now. He was far more interested in carefully climbing onto his friend's lap, testing his weight to make sure they didn't both go tumbling over. That wouldn't be very hot.
What was hot, though, was actually getting to straddle him. Not to mention loop his arms around Richie's neck, unable to resist the urge to play with the hair curling at the back of his friend's neck. He'd always been distracted by that. "This isn't weird at all," Eddie blurted out, feeling a little winded for no reason at all. "I mean, we sleep together. And we almost got killed twice. And, um. It's your birthday. I'm really fucking glad you're alive, you know? I don't think I say that enough." He was babbling. He couldn't stop. "It's great because ... because I don't know what I'd do without you. I mean, I do, because I didn't see you for like four months, but it was awful and I hated it andâ"
Eddie stopped abruptly, sucked in a sharp breath, and kissed Richie.
Oh fuck. In hindsight, it was a good thing Eddie kissed Richie when he did, because Richie was .01 seconds away from leaning in and making him shut up by doing it himself. Heâd already been distracted from Eddieâs rambling with Eddie climbing onto his lap, like. Actually doing it.
Richie was so used to talking out of his ass, he didnât know what to do when something actually panned out.
He also had never actually kissed anything that wasnât the back of his hand, when he was an even younger dumbass. So this was-- nice. Nice. Awkward. Wet. Eddie. Heâd dreamed of this scenario a hundred different times, and his hands tightened on Eddieâs hips with that reminder. It didnât take long for him to be arching into Eddieâs touch and reciprocating the kiss that he was pretty sure he never wanted to end.
Needless to say, Eddie also hadn't kissed anyone before. The angle was all wrong at first, and he might've bumped Richie's nose on accident, but then he titled his head and he was being kissed back and holy shit did it feel good. It was almost electric. He made a soft noise in the back of his throat and chased each press of those lips, barely giving himself any moment to breathe. Not that he was particularly interested in breathing right then. This was everything he'd imagined and more, those hands on his hips making him squirm.
"Fuck," Eddie hissed, but it was barely a word, barely a thought while his hand wandered up a little further, fingers sliding into Richie's hair. He'd thought about this, too, about how soft the curls might feel, and maybe he was getting a little too enthusiastic here, but it was kind of impossible not to be single-minded when you were kissing the love of your life for the first time. Just saying.
âLanguage, Eduardo.â Richie sounded hoarse with the joke, but immediately dove back in for another kiss. This time maybe a little less awkward, a little more to the side⌠A lot more distracting and holy shit, Richie was pretty sure he was losing his mind. Eddie was there, on his lap, willingly kissing him and not freaking the hell out.
They really were in an alternate universe. At least, Richie had kind of always figured it would take another world to do something like this, and shit had been turned on itâs side for weeks now. Theyâd probably kissed enough to satisfy their loser fucking friends, but Richie didnât give a fuck.
Richie was feeling smug as shit as his hands tightened around Eddieâs hips and he pushed in just a little closer--
Right as the box started making unpleasant noises below them, and went collapsing to the ground, dropping them both in a heap on the closet floor.
Eddie curled his fingers and gave Richie's hair a sharp, teasing little tug when he was admonished, but he was far too pleased to be kissed again to continue the argument in earnest. It was insane that this was actually happening. They'd been flirting more than usual lately, but he'd never dared to let himself hope it would actually lead to anythingâand certainly not something involving Richie kissing him with the same eager enthusiasm he had. With a little more practice, they could get really good at this, and just the thought of getting to do this again made Eddie shiver.
He was just about to make a crack about Richie getting handsy when they both went tumbling to the floor. It was such an absurd thing to happenâsuch a them thingâthat Eddie immediately burst out laughing, not even bothering to move when the closet door was flung open and two of their friends appeared to check on them. He just kept laughing, wheezing, until he finally managed to sit up and wipe the tears from his eyes.
"You okay?" He asked Richie in-between giggles. "Did you hit your head?" Okay, so he was never too amused to fuss.
Eddie laughing mightâve affected Richie more than the kissing did, in all honesty. He let his head fall back against the ground and he groaned. One hand came up to cover his face, the other staying on Eddie until Eddie sat up, and then it struggled a bit before finally dropping down. âThis part wasnât in my dreams.â He said it without realizing it, and groaned again.
Oh boy. This was-- It was a lot. He wanted to crack a joke, to do anything to pair with the humor that Eddie was feeling. Was he laughing because it was a terrible kiss or just because they fell or-- Oh shit, now Richie was the one overthinking things, and that just wouldnât fucking stand.
âYeah- No. Fuck.â He answered two questions with three answers, but somehow it worked in his brain. He was vaguely aware of the door having opened and Richie waved them away without so much as a glance. âLeave me to my embarrassment, you fuckers.â He reached out to Eddie again, with the hope that his closet-mate wouldnât think he was yelling at him.
It didn't really hit Eddie that Richie meant he'd been dreaming about him. He assumed his friend meant in the general sense, because Richie was obviously blossoming into a casanova now, and there were a lot of hot people around. Logic. Still, he didn't like the fact that his friend seemed upset, so he used an old tactic from when they were much youngerâsomething he'd done for so long now it was automatic. Eddie pushed off Richie's glasses in one smooth motion, flipping them off his face and onto the floor. (Thank you, Ronan, for dreaming indestructible ones.)
"I just kissed you. And it's your birthday. You're not allowed to mope," Eddie said matter-of-factly. He beamed when Richie kept a hand on him, which obviously meant he could stay despite his friend's desire for privacy. "Relax, alright? It was good." He leaned down and kissed Richie again to make the point, if only briefly, feeling strangely calm about all this now. After years and years of frantically dancing around each other, Eddie finally got the chance to do this. Even if it never happened again after they stepped foot outside of the closet (more irony), he'd never forget this moment: bright and imperfect and lovely.
Oh.
Holy shit. It didnât even matter that his glasses were on the floor now. Eddie had kissed him again, on his own choice, own volition, and with a clear head. Or, so Richie assumed. But maybe Eddie had actually hit his own head and was bleeding-- Richie had to cut off his line of thinking before it went straight down the rabbit hole.
âI mean, obviously it was good.â It was a clear indicator that he was back to himself as he pushed into a sitting position, sounding full of himself. On the inside, he was scared and unsure, but unable to process actually saying that. And a Richie that was unable to process stuff jumped straight to dismissive humor. âI have like, tons of practice.â Lies. âSo, you know, if you ever want to do it againâŚâ He trailed off and let his hand fumble around in the dark for wherever Eddie fucked his glasses off to. âWhat the fuck did you do with my glasses, ass?â
Eddie made room for Richie when he sat up, but he didn't go farâor stop touching him. He kept a hand on his friend's arm without thinking, listening to what he was really saying and frowning a little. Was Richie weirded out? Was he playing this off so he wouldn't hurt Eddie's feelings? And then he was offering to kiss him again later, which was even more confusing. "Yeah," Eddie replied instantly, his mouth completely bypassing his brainâand better judgment. He mentally kicked himself. "I mean, sure. If you don't mind showing me how it's done." There was a hint of teasing in his voice, but really, it was just warm fondness.
Grabbing Richie's glasses for him, Eddie slid them back on carefully, searching his friend's face a little as if half-expecting him to shout Syke! at any moment. Because kissing in a closet was one thing, but making plans to do it again for no reason seemed ... well. Too good to be true. And now Eddie felt insecure, but he tried to push it aside. "Ready to head back, nerf-herder?" He said instead. It was as close as he could get to asking without asking.
Richie had his glasses back and was looking at Eddie with what couldâve best been described as heart-eyes. âYeah,â he echoed softly, his eyes darting down to glance at Eddieâs lips before he snapped out of it and pushed himself off the ground. His yeah answered so many of the things Eddie had said. Showing him again? Yes please. Ready to head back? âŚ. No, but yeah, just to be chill about it, because if he didnât chill, he might do something rash, like kiss Eddie again.
Which he ruined by doing exactly that, risking scoliosis by leaning down and snagging a quick kiss before going to the doorway of the closet and standing there like a brazen king. Better to play it big for the Losers than to look unsure amongst the rest of them. So he stuck his chin up and acted smug as hell before he announced to the whole of the room, âRichie Tozier, coming out of the closet, motherfuckers.â