#anyways i was raised on canned pasta sauce that tasted like metal and tomatoes there's no way i'd slap down that much on sauce

[amandragora]

man some of these pasta sauce brands are crazy....7-8 dollars for a jar of pasta sauce? that's fucking insane.

[80srichie]

just a bet, part 9

30 days remaining

Richie woke up to his phone ringing with a start. It was Eddie calling him. He missed the answer button a few times since he wasn’t wearing his glasses. “Hello?”

“Richie! Good morning.” Eddie was talking cheerfully.

“What time is it?” Richie asked, rolling over on his bed to grab his glasses off his nightstand.

“11 A.M.” Eddie replied, then paused. “Did I wake you?”

Richie snickered a little. “Yes.”

“Well, good, you should be up anyway. I was wondering if you wanted to hang out today? My mom is visiting her sister.”

Richie paused for a moment, stretching out his arms and legs. “Well, toots, I’d be delighted.”

Eddie laughed a little. “Okay, well, get over here after you shower and all that. Please brush your teeth, Rich.”

Richie pouted, even though Eddie couldn’t see him. “Are you implying my breath stinks?”

Eddie laughed again. “Yes. See you soon.”

Richie heard the telltale beeps of an ended call and he put his phone down. He stretched again, finally standing up out of bed. He grabbed a new pair of boxers and headed into the bathroom to shower. Richie more than thoroughly washed his body, purely for the sake of Eddie, and brushed his teeth afterward. He threw on a shirt and some pants, not bothering to make his hair look presentable. He was out the door within the hour Eddie called him.

When Richie arrived, Eddie had already opened the door and was ushering him inside. Eddie seemed very upbeat and excited. “What’s going on with you, huh? Excited to see me or something?” Richie teased.

Eddie smiled. “You could say that. I was making lunch and I got a perfect idea and you get to taste test it!”

Richie raised his eyebrows. “Oh, really? You can’t taste it yourself?”

Eddie frowned a little. “I can! I just want another opinion, asshole.”

Richie smiled, nudging him with his shoulder and bringing him close to him. “I will try anything you make for me, Eds.” He paused, “even your.. bodily fluids…”

Eddie shoved Richie off of him. “You are disgusting and I hate you. I thought you were being sweet.”

Richie scoffed, feigning hurt. “I was Eddie Spaghetti. That was endearing.”

Eddie made a face. “Your definition of endearing is very wrong.” He turned back to the stove, grabbing a wooden spoon and stirring something in a metal pot. “Anyway, come here. I want you to try this.”

Richie leaned over Eddie to peer into the pot, a red sauce lightly simmering. Richie took the wooden spoon from him and sipped a little sauce off the utensil. It was a sweet and spicy tomato sauce. “That’s good, Eds! What is it for?”

Eddie smiled and took the lid and placed it back on the pot, turning the heat on the stovetop down. “Ironically, spaghetti. Unless you’d rather have a rotini or penne pasta, that’s an option too. I didn’t know what pasta shape you liked but thinking about it now, it probably would be something like a bowtie.”

Richie chuckled. “I appreciate the consideration you took into my pasta shape preference, but honestly, I’ll eat anything.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “I know that Richie, you eat everything. I just want you to actually like it.” He put another pot on the stove with water in it, turning on the other stovetop to boil the water.

Richie smiled, feeling his heart swell with affection. “You’re going to be the death of me.” He paused for a few moments, before continuing. “Of food poisoning, of course.”

Eddie groaned as he put the box of spaghetti noodles on the counter to await the other pot to boil. “You can’t just compliment me normally, can you?” He turned, staring at Richie with a small grin on his lips. “You’re the worst.”

Richie smiled widely, reaching forward and pulling Eddie towards him by his hips. Their height difference was clearer this way and it was Richie’s favorite. Being able to look down on Eddie and see his innocent brown eyes stare back up at him - it was heavenly. “Eddie…” He started, wetting his strangely dry lips. “Can I kiss you?”

Eddie bit his bottom lip to cry and contain the smile that yeared to appear. “Depends, did you brush your teeth as I asked?”

Richie chuckled, already leaning down to meet Eddie halfway, mumbling out a yes that was muffled by their lips connecting. They fit together seamlessly. Both of them had wordlessly learned each other’s favorite ways to kiss and it never ceased to amaze Richie just how easily their lips fit together. Their first kiss was messy and off-kilter, but every one after that continued to get better and better.

Eddie pulled back after a moment, staring up into Richie’s eyes before taking his hand and sliding it up the back of his neck. Eddie’s hand tangled into Richie’s unruly curls and gently tugged, pulling him back down for a deeper kiss. Eddie had gotten increasingly more forward as time went on and as they both got more comfortable with each other. Richie loved it.

The two of them spent a good few minutes kissing before Eddie, lips a bit swollen, pulled back and detached himself from Richie. “I have to put the pasta in the water.”

Richie made a noise of dissatisfaction but let him go, watching as he dumped the entire box of noodles into the now boiling water. The meal itself was done not soon after, two bowls of perfectly sauced and portioned spaghetti sitting in front of the both of them. They ate in comfortable silence before Richie spoke up. “Hey, Eds, I have a game tomorrow. You’re coming, right?”

Eddie smiled softly, wiping off his mouth with his napkin and setting his fork in his empty bowl. “If you’d like me to.”

Richie nodded. “Of course, I love seeing you in the stands. I always play better knowing a hot guy is watching me.”

Eddie narrowed his eyes and stood, picking up his bowl and taking Richie’s as well.

“Hey! I wasn’t done.” Richie protested.

Eddie laughed a bit. “I know, dickhead. I’ll put the leftovers in a container but my Mom will be home soon, so…” He trailed off, letting Richie fill in the rest on his own. He watched as Eddie put the extra spaghetti in a Tupperware and closed the lid, handing it back when he was done.

Richie took it from him with a smile. “You’re practically my perfect housewife. House… husband?”

Eddie blinked at him, intentionally not playing into his joke. “Uh-huh... Okay, bye, Rich.” He ushered him to the front door and left him outside with a peck to his lips. Once Richie got home, he checked his phone for the first time since that morning and noticed he had multiple texts from Stan, as well as a missed call. He pushed Stan’s number and held it up to his ear. It only rang a few times before Stan picked up with a sigh. “Why didn’t you answer my texts?”

Richie shrugged, laying down on his back on his bed. “I was with Eddie. Why? What’s going on?”

Stan paused for a few seconds. “I wanted to talk about Eddie, actually.”

Richie sat up, looking at the ground in confusion. “Why?” He could hear Stan talking to someone in the background, as well as some shuffling before Stan spoke again.

“I think this has gone too far. The bet.”

Richie scoffed. “I did try to say that like, a month ago, Stan. Why are you bringing it up now?”

Stan sighed again. “You’re going to hurt him if you continue with this and you know it. It’s not fair to him, or you, for that matter.”

Richie took a moment to process what Stan was saying. “Stan, I don’t know if I haven’t made it clear enough, but I like him for real. Like, seriously, genuinely have feelings for him.” The line was uncomfortably silent. “Stan?”

“Okay. How are you going to tell him why you went after him in the first place?”

Richie frowned. “I don’t fuckin’ know! Unless you have an idea, I have no intention of telling him until it’s on my deathbed.”

Stan exhaled dejectedly. “You have to at some point.” He pointed out.

“I know,” Richie groaned. “I know and I will, so, just let me deal with it. Why did you call me anyway?”

Stan clicked his tongue against the back of his teeth. “No reason, I suppose. Is he going to be at the game tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” Stan said and took a few beats before continuing. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” Without another word, Stan hung up the phone, the line going to dead static on Richie’s end. He pulled the phone back from his ear and stared at the screen, frowning.

-

The night of Richie’s soccer game was uncharacteristically chilly, most patrons wearing hoodies or light jackets to cover themselves from the cold. It was nearing the end of Fall and the Fall soccer season, so Eddie came prepared. He stood among the rest of the audience in the stands, his hands balled up inside the sleeves of his hoodie and tucked into the front pocket to keep warm. He was rocking back and forth on his heels, watching the soccer game in front of him. Since he had started dating Richie, the rules of soccer started to make more sense. He could easily name the different positions and even knew some of the penalties and why they were called. Half-time had just been called when he felt someone tap him on his shoulder. Eddie turned, a bit startled. “Oh, sorry, hi, Bill. You scared me.”

Bill offered him a friendly smile. “H-Hey, Eddie, can we talk real quick?” He jutted his thumb over his shoulder to a grassy area beside the bleachers that was mostly empty, apart from a man and his dog.

Eddie glanced back at the game and nodded. “Yeah, sure, I just wanna get back before the game starts back up.”

Bill nodded in agreement, leading Eddie down to the area he had pointed to, the man and his dog moved on from the area, leaving the two of them alone. “So, um, what’s up?” Eddie asked, bouncing on his feet to keep himself warm.

Bill wrung his hands together anxiously and Eddie waited patiently with a confused smile on his face. “You okay?” He eventually asked.

Bill nodded. “Yeah, I juh-just don’t know how to p-phrase it.” He let out a long sigh before talking again. “I… I like you, E-Eddie.”

Eddie’s friendly smile dropped from his face, hating the way his stomach clenched uncomfortably. “Um…”

Bill continued before Eddie had the chance to talk. ��I h-have for a good wh-while, too.”

Eddie managed to crack an uneasy grin. “Uh, Bill…” He laughed awkwardly. “You... Why are you telling me this?”

Bill frowned. “Because I wa-wanted you to know, a-and I think y-you deserve better than Richie.”

It was Eddie’s turn to frown now. “I don’t think you have a say in that.” He mumbled, taking a step back towards the stands. “If that’s all, I’m going to-”

“Wait!” Bill reached out, grabbing Eddie’s arm.

Eddie gently pulled back from his touch. “Sorry, Bill, I have to get back to wa-”

Bill grimaced. “No! There’s something you need to know.” When Eddie made no move to leave, Bill sighed and spoke. “Richie never liked you.”

Eddie laughed. “Okay, Bill, seriously? We have been together for a good few weeks, I would know if-”

“He’s dating you because of a bet, Eddie!” Bill exploded. “It was Beverly’s idea and Stan knows about it too - He hasn’t told you yet because you guys haven’t slept together and that was part of the deal.”

Eddie’s movements faltered, his body growing colder as Bill spoke. “What?” He asked, shaking his head. “No, you’re making that up. He told me the bet Beverly was talking about had to-”

“-do with Stan. He lied. She was talking about you, Eddie, she always was. Richie’s been lying.”

Eddie let out a shaky breath, turning his back to Bill and facing the field. He could see Richie jogging towards them and he felt like he couldn’t breathe. “No… You have to be lying.”

Richie approached them, smiling at Eddie. His smile faltered, though, when he saw the look on his face. “Eds? Bill? What’s going on?”

Eddie felt his tears prick with tears. “Tell me he’s lying, Richie. Tell me right now.”

Richie was alarmed. “Lying about what?” He turned to Bill. “What did you tell him?” He demanded.

Bill stood his ground. “The truth.”

Eddie was staring at Richie, his eyes burning from oncoming tears. “Did you date me… Are you dating me, for a fucking bet, Richie? You told me Beverly was talking about you and Stan.”

Richie’s face fell, his heart twisting painfully in his chest. “Eds-”

“Tell me!” Eddie cried, reaching out and grabbing a fistful of Richie’s jersey and shaking him a bit. “Tell me right now.”

Richie could feel his entire life fading in front of him. “You have to let me explain.”

Eddie abruptly dropped his hold on Richie’s jersey and took a step back, tears finally finding their way out of Eddie’s eyes and rolling down his cheeks. “You promised me, Richie.”

Richie tried to close the gap between them, but Eddie pushed him away. “Don’t!”

Richie couldn’t breathe, his world was spinning anxiously around him. He felt like he could get sick right here. “Eddie, please, let me explain. It will make sense, I promise, none of this was fake!”

Eddie scoffed, using his sleeve to wipe away the tears pilling under his eyelashes. “You’re so full of shit. I can’t believe I trusted you, you stupid fucking asshole.” Eddie’s voice was laced with malice and regret; It made Richie’s heart hurt more. Bill made a move towards Eddie, and he backed up from him as well. “I don’t want to fucking talk to you, either.” He threatened, sniffing and glaring at Richie. “If it wasn’t clear, do not ever fucking call me, text me, speak to me again.” With that, Eddie was gone, disappearing around the backside of the bleachers and into the poorly lit school parking lot.

Richie stood there, shocked and heartbroken, before turning to Bill. “What the fuck did you do?” He asked angrily, moving towards him.

“I-I told him the truth!” Bill said, backing up a bit. “He d-deserves better than you, R-Richie, and you know it!”

Richie pushed Bill harshly by his shoulders. It all clicked. “Oh, and you’re much better?” He pushed him again, Bill falling into the wired fence behind him. “You are a selfish fucking prick, Denbrough, and I’ll make sure everyone fucking knows.”

Bill stood there, leaning against the fence. “Everyone already thinks you are, Richie.” He said, pushing past him to leave, heading the same way Eddie had gone.

Richie stood alone in the grassy area, attempting to calm his rapid thoughts of anger. Bill told Eddie and Eddie believed him and now he was gone. Richie knew he needed to tell Eddie himself but he couldn’t find any time that would have gone better.

Someone approached Richie from behind, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Richie?” It was Stan.

Richie pulled away from his touch. “It was your idea, wasn’t it?”

Stan blinked in surprise. “What?”

“Bill telling Eddie! It was you, wasn’t it? You put the thought in Bill’s head so he would end this stupid bet!”

Stan frowned. “Bill did what? Eddie knows?”

“Yes!” Richie cried. “Eddie fucking knows! Do you see him here, Stan, huh?”

Stan grimaced at Richie’s yelling. “I didn’t tell Bill to do anything. He had a crush on Eddie-”

“Isn’t that fucking sweet,” Richie mumbled, moving past Stan to chase after Eddie. He was going to make things right, he was going to explain himself.

“What about the game?” Stan asked and Richie nearly exploded.

“I don’t give a fuck about anything but Eddie right now, Stan! Isn’t that obvious?”

Stan nodded his head. “Just tell the truth. Tell him how you’ve always felt, Richie, he needs words.”

Richie stared at him for a few beats, before turning to walk away without another word.

30 days remaining

Richie woke up to his phone ringing with a start. It was Eddie calling him. He missed the answer button a few times since he wasn’t wearing his glasses. “Hello?”

“Richie! Good morning.” Eddie was talking cheerfully.

“What time is it?” Richie asked, rolling over on his bed to grab his glasses off his nightstand.

“11 A.M.” Eddie replied, then paused. “Did I wake you?”

Richie snickered a little. “Yes.”

“Well, good, you should be up anyway. I was wondering if you wanted to hang out today? My mom is visiting her sister.”

Richie paused for a moment, stretching out his arms and legs. “Well, toots, I’d be delighted.”

Eddie laughed a little. “Okay, well, get over here after you shower and all that. Please brush your teeth, Rich.”

Richie pouted, even though Eddie couldn’t see him. “Are you implying my breath stinks?”

Eddie laughed again. “Yes. See you soon.” 

Richie heard the telltale beeps of an ended call and he put his phone down. He stretched again, finally standing up out of bed. He grabbed a new pair of boxers and headed into the bathroom to shower. Richie more than thoroughly washed his body, purely for the sake of Eddie, and brushed his teeth afterwards. He threw on a shirt and some pants, not bothering to make his hair look presentable. He was out the door within the hour Eddie called him.

When Richie arrived, Eddie had already opened the door and was ushering him inside. Eddie seemed very up-beat and excited. “What’s going on with you, huh? Excited to see me or something?” Richie teased.

Eddie smiled. “You could say that. I was making lunch and I got the perfect idea and you get to taste test it!”

Richie raised his eyebrows. “Oh, really? You can’t taste it yourself?”

Eddie frowned a little. “I can! I just want another opinion, asshole.”

Richie smiled, nudging him with his shoulder and bringing him close to him. “I will try anything you make for me, Eds.” He paused, “even your.. bodily fluids…”

Eddie shoved Richie off of him. “You are disgusting and I hate you. I thought you were being sweet.”

Richie scoffed, feigning hurt. “I was Eddie Spaghetti. That was endearing.”

Eddie made a face. “Your definition of endearing is very wrong.” He turned back to the stove, grabbing a wooden spoon and stirring something in a metal pot. “Anyway, come here. I want you to try this.”

Richie leaned over Eddie to peer into the pot, a red sauce lightly simmering. Richie took the wooden spoon from him and sipped a little sauce off the utensil. It was a sweet and spicy tomato sauce. “That’s good, Eds! What is it for?”

Eddie smiled and took the lid and placed it back on the pot, turning the heat on the stovetop down. “Ironically, spaghetti. Unless you’d rather have a rotini or penne pasta, that’s an option too. I didn’t know what pasta shape you liked, but thinking about it now, it probably would be something like a bowtie.”

Richie chuckled. “I appreciate the consideration you took into my pasta shape preference, but honestly, I’ll eat anything.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “I know that, Richie, you eat everything. I just want you to actually like it.” He put another pot on the stove with water in it, turning on the other stovetop to boil the water. 

Richie smiled, feeling his heart swell with affection. “You’re going to be the death of me.” He paused for a few moments, before continuing. “Of food poisoning, of course.”

Eddie groaned as he put the box of spaghetti noodles on the counter to await the other pot to boil. “You can’t just compliment me normally, can you?” He turned, staring at Richie with a small grin on his lips. “You’re the worst.”

Richie smiled widely, reaching forward and pulling Eddie towards him by his hips. Their height difference was clearer this way and it was Richie’s favorite. Being able to look down on Eddie and see his innocent brown eyes stare back up at him - it was heavenly. “Eddie…” He started, wetting his strangely dry lips. “Can I kiss you?”

Eddie bit his bottom lip to cry and contain the smile that yeared to appear. “Depends, did you brush your teeth like I asked?”

Richie chuckled, already leaning down to meet Eddie halfway, mumbling out a yes that was muffled by their lips connecting. They fit together seamlessly. Both of them had wordlessly learned each other’s favorite ways to kiss and it never ceased to amaze Richie just how easily their lips fit together. Their first kiss was messy and off-kilter, but every one after that continued to get better and better.

Eddie pulled back after a moment, staring up into Richie’s eyes before taking his hand and sliding it up the back of his neck. Eddie’s hand tangled into Richie’s unruly curls and gently tugged, pulling him back down for a deeper kiss. Eddie had gotten increasingly more forward as time went on and as they both got more comfortable with each other. Richie loved it.

The two of them spent a good few minutes kissing before Eddie, lips a bit swollen, pulled back and detached himself from Richie. “I have to put the pasta in the water.” 

Richie made a noise of dissatisfaction but let him go, watching as he dumped the entire box of noodles into the now boiling water. The meal itself was done not soon after, two bowls of perfectly sauced and portioned spaghetti sitting in front of the both of them. They ate in a comfortable silence, before Richie spoke up. “Hey, Eds, I have a game tomorrow. You’re coming, right?”

Eddie smiled softly, wiping off his mouth with his napkin and setting his fork in his empty bowl. “If you’d like me to.”

Richie nodded. “Of course, I love seeing you in the stands. I always play better knowing a hot guy is watching me.”

Eddie narrowed his eyes and stood, picking up his bowl and taking Richie’s as well.

“Hey! I wasn’t done.” Richie protested.

Eddie laughed a bit. “I know, dickhead. I’ll put the leftovers in a container but my Mom will be home soon, so…” He trailed off, letting Richie fill in the rest on his own. He watched as Eddie put the extra spaghetti in a Tupperware and closed the lid, handing it back when he was done.

Richie took it from him with a smile. “You’re practically my perfect housewife. House… husband?”

Eddie blinked at him, intentionally not playing into his joke. “Uh huh.. Okay, bye, Rich.” He ushered him to the front door and left him outside with a peck to his lips. Once Richie got home, he checked his phone for the first time since that morning and noticed he had multiple texts from Stan, as well as a missed call. He pushed Stan’s number and held it up to his ear. It only rang a few times before Stan picked up with a sigh. “Why didn’t you answer my texts?”

Richie shrugged, laying down on his back on his bed. “I was with Eddie. Why? What’s going on?”

Stan paused for a few seconds. “I wanted to talk about Eddie, actually.”

Richie sat up, looking at the ground in confusion. “Why?” He could hear Stan talking to someone in the background, as well as some shuffling, before Stan spoke again.

“I think this has gone too far. The bet.”

Richie scoffed. “I did try to say that like, a month ago, Stan. Why are you bringing it up now?”

Stan sighed again. “You’re going to hurt him if you continue with this and you know it. It’s not fair to him, or you, for that matter.”

Richie took a moment to process what Stan was saying. “Stan, I don’t know if I haven’t made it clear enough, but I like him for real. Like, seriously, genuinely have feelings for him.” The line was uncomfortably silent. “Stan?”

“Okay. How are you going to tell him why you went after him in the first place?”

Richie frowned. “I don’t fuckin’ know! Unless you have an idea, I have no intention of telling him until it’s on my deathbed.”

Stan exhaled dejectedly. “You have to at some point.” He pointed out.

“I know,” Richie groaned. “I know and I will, so, just let me deal with it. Why did you call me anyways?”

Stan clicked his tongue against the back of his teeth. “No reason, I suppose. Is he going to be at the game tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Stan said and took a few beats before continuing. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” Without another word, Stan hung up the phone, the line going to dead static on Richie’s end. He pulled the phone back from his ear and stared at the screen, frowning. 

-

The night of Richie’s soccer game was uncharacteristically chilly, most patrons wearing hoodies or light jackets to cover themselves from the cold. It was nearing the end of Fall and the Fall soccer season, so Eddie came prepared. He stood among the rest of the audience in the stands, his hands balled up inside the sleeves of his hoodie and tucked into the front pocket to keep warm. He was rocking back and forth on his heels, watching the soccer game in front of him. Since he had started dating Richie, the rules of soccer started to make more sense. He could easily name the different positions and even knew some of the penalties and why they were called. Half-time had just been called when he felt someone tap him on his shoulder. Eddie turned, a bit startled. “Oh, sorry, hi, Bill. You scared me.”

Bill offered him a friendly smile. “H-Hey, Eddie, can we talk really quick?” He jutted his thumb over his shoulder to a grassy area beside the bleachers that was mostly empty, apart from a man and his dog. 

Eddie glanced back at the game and nodded. “Yeah, sure, I just wanna get back before the game starts back up.”

Bill nodded in agreement, leading Eddie down to the area he had pointed to, the man and his dog moved on from the area, leaving the two of them alone. “So, um, what’s up?” Eddie asked, bouncing on his feet to keep himself warm.

Bill wrung his hands together anxiously and Eddie waited patiently with a confused smile on his face. “You okay?” He eventually asked.

Bill nodded. “Yeah, I juh-just don’t know how to p-phrase it.” He let out a long sigh before talking again. “I… I like you, E-Eddie.”

Eddie’s friendly smile dropped from his face, hating the way his stomach clenched uncomfortably. “Um…”

Bill continued before Eddie had the chance to talk. “I h-have for a good wh-while, too.”

Eddie managed to crack an uneasy grin. “Uh, Bill…” He laughed awkwardly. “You.. Why are you telling me this?”

Bill frowned. “Because I wa-wanted you to know, a-and I think y-you deserve better than Richie.”

It was Eddie’s turn to frown now. “I don’t think you have a say in that.” He mumbled, taking a step back towards the stands. “If that’s all, I’m going to-”

“Wait!” Bill reached out, grabbing Eddie’s arm. 

Eddie gently pulled back from his touch. “Sorry, Bill, I have to get back to wa-”

Bill grimaced. “No! There’s something you need to know.” When Eddie made no move to leave, Bill sighed and spoke. “Richie never liked you.”

Eddie laughed. “Okay, Bill, seriously? We have been together for a good few weeks, I would know if-”

“He’s dating you because of a bet, Eddie!” Bill exploded. “It was Beverly’s idea and Stan knows about it too - He hasn’t told you yet because you guys haven’t slept together and that was part of the deal.”

Eddie’s movements faltered, his body growing colder as Bill spoke. “What?” He asked, shaking his head. “No, you’re making that up. He told me the bet Beverly was talking about had to-”

“-do with Stan. He lied. She was talking about you, Eddie, she always was. Richie’s been lying.”

Eddie let out a shaky breath, turning his back to Bill and facing the field. He could see Richie jogging towards them and he felt like he couldn’t breathe. “No… You have to be lying.” 

Richie approached them, smiling at Eddie. His smile faltered, though, when he saw the look on his face. “Eds? Bill? What’s going on?”

Eddie felt his tears prick with tears. “Tell me he’s lying, Richie. Tell me right now.”

Richie was alarmed. “Lying about what?” He turned to Bill. “What did you tell him?” He demanded.

Bill stood his ground. “The truth.”

Eddie was staring at Richie, his eyes burning from oncoming tears. “Did you date me… Are you dating me, for a fucking bet, Richie? You told me Beverly was talking about you and Stan.”

Richie’s face fell, his heart twisting painfully in his chest. “Eds-”

“Tell me!” Eddie cried, reaching out and grabbing a fistful of Richie’s jersey and shaking him a bit. “Tell me right now.”

Richie could feel his entire life fading in front of him. “You have to let me explain.” 

Eddie abruptly dropped his hold on Richie’s jersey and took a step back, tears finally finding their way out of Eddie’s eyes and rolling down his cheeks. “You promised me, Richie.”

Richie tried to close the gap between them, but Eddie pushed him away. “Don’t!”

Richie couldn’t breathe, his world was spinning anxiously around him. He felt like he could get sick right here. “Eddie, please, let me explain. It will make sense, I promise, none of this was fake!”

Eddie scoffed, using his sleeve to wipe away the tears pilling under his eyelashes. “You’re so full of shit. I can’t believe I trusted you, you stupid fucking asshole.” Eddie’s voice was laced with malice and regret; It made Richie’s heart hurt more. Bill made a move towards Eddie, and he backed up from him as well. “I don’t want to fucking talk to you, either.” He threatened, sniffing and glaring at Richie. “If it wasn’t clear, do not ever fucking call me, text me, speak to me again.” With that, Eddie was gone, disappearing around the backside of the bleachers and into the poorly lit school parking lot. 

Richie stood there, shocked and heart-broken, before turning to Bill. “What the fuck did you do?” He asked angrily, moving towards him.

“I-I told him the truth!” Bill said, backing up a bit. “He d-deserves better than you, R-Richie, and you know it!”

Richie pushed Bill harshly by his shoulders. It all clicked. “Oh, and you’re much better?” He pushed him again, Bill falling into the wired fence behind him. “You are a selfish fucking prick, Denbrough, and I’ll make sure everyone fucking knows.”

Bill stood there, leaning against the fence. “Everyone already thinks you are, Richie.” He said, pushing past him to leave, heading the same way Eddie had gone.

Richie stood alone in the grassy area, attempting to calm his rapid thoughts of anger. Bill told Eddie and Eddie believed him and now he was gone. Richie knew he needed to tell Eddie himself but he couldn’t find any time that would have gone better.

Someone approached Richie from behind, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Richie?” It was Stan.

Richie pulled away from his touch. “It was your idea, wasn’t it?”

Stan blinked in surprise. “What?”

“Bill telling Eddie! It was you, wasn’t it? You put the thought in Bill’s head so he would end this stupid bet!”

Stan frowned. “Bill did what? Eddie knows?”

“Yes!” Richie cried. “Eddie fucking knows! Do you see him here, Stan, huh?”

Stan grimaced at Richie’s yelling. “I didn’t tell Bill to do anything. He had a crush on Eddie-”

“Isn’t that fucking sweet.” Richie mumbled, moving past Stan to chase after Eddie. He was going to make things right, he was going to explain himself.

“What about the game?” Stan asked and Richie nearly exploded.

“I don’t give a fuck about anything but Eddie right now, Stan! Isn’t that obvious?”

Stan nodded his head. “Just tell the truth. Tell him how you’ve always felt, Richie, he needs words.”

Richie stared at him for a few beats, before turning to walk away without another word. 

-

hi all!

I'm not dead and i clearly have been rusty with writing reddie specifically, is it as obvious as it feels?

I do intend to finish this fic at some point in the near future. writing this chapter was not as bad as I imagined it would be. i was terribly afraid of how out of my element with these characters I was - but I went back and watched the movie and re-read some of the previous chapters and felt like I could give it a go. i hope to be able to wrap this monster up in one more chapter, so be on the lookout for that. for those of you who have stuck around and are reading this - I love you. thank you for your continued support. this fic was my baby and I intend to have a finished product that I'm at least happy with the last 20% of it. also, if any of you are into anime, I have a separate ao3 account under the name kenmqs so be sure to visit me there.

<3

[the-wiresmarvelau]

T.H.E. W.I.R.E.S.

Chapter 1 Chapter 5

Chapter 6: Arival 1

The first thing he noticed as he slowly regained consciousness, was how soft everything was.

A warm cloud-like texture enveloped his upper body, while what covered his legs was a little cooler, smother and he seemed to sink into the ground underneath him.

His whole body ached, but the pain had lost the sharp edge that he had almost grown accustomed to.

Thinking was too much of an effort right now, so he didn’t. Instead savouring the feeling of cotton in his brain and pulsing in his limbs.

With time though, he got more and more aware of his surroundings.

The air was cooler than what he had had to endure in the dungeons, but he smelled steam and salt waving over, as well as a smell he couldn’t quite place.

Light trickled through his closed eyelids, not very bright but enough to be a little uncomfortable.

He couldn’t quite place what all of that meant though and he made sure not to move or make a sound until the fog in his head cleared enough to know what to do.

Because he sure as hell wasn't alone. Rustling clothes and after a while the clinking of porcelain and metal against each other made it clear that someone was in the same room as him.

Metal….

Only now did he realise that his hands weren't cuffed anymore.

Curious.

It took him a few seconds more until he remembered.

Frigga had broken him out. She had gotten him out of the dungeon and brought him to Midgard.

At least that had been the plan.

Peter had spent hours reading, before he got too hungry to concentrate and decided that cold eggs on toast, wouldn’t be his choice for the first meal after what was probably years of torture.

So, he ate them while thinking of what to do next.

When he saw a slight twitch on the face of the unconscious form, he took that to mean that he would soon be waking up, or at least had gone from being out cold to just sleeping.

Taking into account that the teen really wasn't the best of cooks, he decided to just make some pasta with tomato sauce.

Better something simple then something burned.

About half way in, he noticed a hitch in the god’s breathing as well as a change in his heartrate.

Satisfied that he had been right, he turned his attention to the stove again.

A little more rest surely wouldn’t hurt and he didn’t want to rush the other.

Only when the table was set and the food all done did he speak up.

“Can you move enough to eat at the table or do you want to eat in bed?”

Just as he wanted to raise his eyes, to look at Loki, the bowl Frigga had left caught his eyes again.

About a dozen small vials lay in it now as well as a letter with the God’s name on it.

That could wait until later though.

As he looked over to the bed, he saw its occupant, struggling to turn enough to see him.

With a smile half sad, half relived on his face he went over to help the god into a sitting position.

Exhaustion was written all over his face but one corner of his mouth was slightly turned upwards.

“It worked” he whispered almost deliriously. “You kept your word.”

The brunette nodded and brought over their food, so they could eat together.

Savouring the taste of his first real meal in what felt like forever, the Jotun took his time.

Minutes went by in a strange sort of silence. Peter wanted to make sure he wouldn’t cross any lines or make his company uncomfortable while almost bursting with curiosity.

Loki on the other hand was still out of it. His hands shook and thinking was a chore with how hard it was to grasp anything that was going on.

But he was safe; that much he knew.

When they were finished eating, Peter introduced Loki to the AI, living with him.

It was obvious that the god tried to pay attention but struggled, so the teen soon decided to let him rest for a while longer.

At least the vigilante felt like he could leave the room for a bit without worrying his guest might die while he was out.

He helped the god lay back down and put the fancy bowl with the vials in it into the small, elevated crevasse at the back corner of the bed; since it was meant as a sort of nightstand anyway.

Then he went up to his room to get ready for a patrol.

On his way he made sure, Manuel knew to try and not spook the Asgardian too much and tell him when the hero would be back.

The moment he put on his suit and therefore connected with KAREN she tried to find out why he went out of his way to have Manuel out on his watch, even though he also was in the walls there.

It almost sounded like she was jealous- even though that shouldn’t be possible- giving Peter an opening to evade her question by teasing her, to come up with a lie.

Somehow, he managed to convince her to split the time spent with the AIs along the same lines, he split his life into Spiderman and Peter Parker.

While swinging towards New York City he was finally able to relax and collect himself again.

Knowing the god was safe in his room and nobody suspected a thing, was a huge weight off his chest.

After all, FRIDAY was due to be uploaded tomorrow and the chances of him wandering outside without his suit on were slim enough that it seemed almost miraculous to him that the goddess had caught him in a perfect moment like that.

Luck seemed for once to be on his side, making it impossible to wipe the smile from his face, as he arrived in his normal territory; Not that he wanted to.

High spirited as he was, he followed an instinct, telling him to swing a little farther than usual in the hopes of meeting that devil fella again.

He still hadn't gotten a clear read of this guy.

But he seemed nice enough, and if the spider wasn't completely wrong, the other had a few questions for him.

Right now, he just really wanted to talk to somebody so he hoped that Red would be fine with this.

The next time he heard the tell-tale *whip* again, which gave away the spider themed Vigilante, was when he was just on his way home from a night out with Foggy and Karen.

Matt Murdock had always been hell set on being independent.

Just because he was blind didn't mean that he needed help with everything.

Then again; He had also never been above using his disability and others' helpfulness to his advantage.

So, dropping his cane, he made a show out of cursing and tapping around the ground in the completely false direction to get spiderman's attention.

Last time they spoke, almost everything about the other had been puzzling to him.

While they had been fighting, his reflexes had been unnaturally accurate, and at times it had seemed like electric shocks cursed suddenly through his body, eliciting a little jerk of his head as if startled.

But the strangest thing was that, technically, a heart rate as fast as his resting one, should have him hyperventilating.

This irritated him to no end, because it meant that he couldn’t accurately figure out if he was being lied to like he could with others.

Especially when taking into account that his heartrate had been actually slower while he was fighting, then when afterwards, instead of the other way round.

As he listened closely for the other vigilante’s heartbeat right now, it was the same. Much too fast to be normal, even factoring in the adrenalin from his method of transportation.

Careful to keep his act up, he flinched back at the sound of feet hitting the ground right beside him.

“Excuse me, sir. It’s Spider-Man, ‘you want me to help you?” the masked man asked in a chipper tone.

“Yeah, uhm” He cleared his throat while shakily standing up. A bit worried if he was exaggerating a little too much “That would be great.”

While the other bent down to pick up the cane, Daredevil thought of what to say. How straightforward could he be about this?

“What brings you to Hell’s kitchen, if you don’t mind me asking? As far as I know the Devil is pretty territorial.” Way to go Murdock; Not at all suspicious.

“Well, that’s not at all concerning.” He raised an eyebrow at the choice of words, coupled with how nonchalantly they were spoken.

How young was this guy?

A subtle touch of the handle against the back of his hand alerted the blind man of his cane’s position.

”But I was only here to talk anyways. You haven’t by chance .. uh… heard?.. Of any sightings today?” There it was. The awkwardness around the topic of his vision.

At least he tried.

“I didn’t...” His head leaned to one side, angled up a bit; his hands both resting on his cane in typical Murdock fashion. “I also never heard you guys were buddy’s”

That’s what people did, wasn’t it? Jump to conclusions? Hopefully it would keep him talking.

“It’s not like we meet each Wednesday for a picnic on the rooftops or anything. And even if we knew each other that good it’s safer for us the less people know anything about that sort of thing.”

Clever of him.

He didn’t really reveal any clear information. Everything could mean one thing or it’s opposite without him having to tell a lie.

“I guess so, after all, if you knew him that good, you would know that he isn't out at this time of day. He goes around in the evening or the night, mostly.”

The vigilante coked his head to the side inquisitively. “Is that so? Good to know.”

Luckily, it didn't seem to damp his mood that much.

“You wouldn't mind escorting me home, would you?” The blind man asked, after a moment of hesitation.

“Sure, why not?” Daredevil wasn't anxious about being found out by this younger hero.

He knew surprisingly little about his alter ego. And for some reason, he trusted that the other wouldn't rat him out. Having his own secret identity.

So they chatted on their way back to Matt’s flat before Spider-man took off in the direction of queens again.

The rest of patrol consisted of the usual: a few muggings, a few cats in trees and old women to be helped over the street.

He broke up one thing that looked like an attempted rape and escorted the frightened girl to the police station.

As his curfew grew nearer, the closer he stayed to the tower. He had to let himself be seen there, soon Mr. Stark would assume something that happened to him.

When he decided that he was out long enough, he stuck to the side of the building and asked Karen to contact Friday to open a window for him.

She opened the window to the former Avengers common room.

It didn't get used much now that the rogues were on the run, and Tony preferred to use the common rooms in his own penthouse.

Since Friday had opened the window there, Peter was pretty sure that Mr. Stark was in the labs, which he wasn't allowed to climb into from the outside.

On his way to the kitchen area, he got rid of his mask.

Nobody who didn't already know his secret Identity had enough clearance to come up here anyway, not since the rogues hadn't been pardoned yet.

That was also what he didn't already panic when he heard the elevator come up to his level and people talking inside.

Tony had probably been notified of his arrival and came up from the lab, talking probably to Friday or Pepper.

As the elevator opened, however, he didn't recognize the footsteps next to the mechanic, and it was definitely not Pepper speaking up.

“That... was a lot. Though I can't say that I'm really surprised; you too always had this… quarrel going between you two.”

Panicked Peter Scrambled for his mask, glad about a super hearing, which was the only thing giving him enough time to put it on before the two men stepped into the room enough to see him.

He carried on ruffling through the pantries, as if he hadn't just had a heart nearly had a heart attack.

He may have just eaten a few hours ago, but he had had exercise and his super metabolism demanded sustenance.

“Yes, well then it will surprise you even more, that I am the one who is trying to mend the accords so everyone can agree to sign them.” The much more familiar voice of Tony came from the door; then: “oh. Hey Spidey”.

“Morning, Mr. Stark.” The addressee answered, head still in a pantry, searching for his favourite flavoured pop tarts.

That seemed to startle the unknown man, for he gave out a little squeak, as if surprised that somebody else was present.

“Well, you didn't say that Spider-Man would be here.” He led out just as Peter found what he was searching for, and pulled the box out along with a bag of Doritos.

“That's because I wasn't until two minutes ago.” He quipped as an answer while turning around and promptly almost dropping everything he had in his arms to the floor.

At the entrance to the kitchen area stood, no none other than Bruce freaking Banner, seven PhDs, a master of science and most renowned researcher of gamma radiation with a sheer endless number of articles published under his name.

The youngest had read all of them, soaked up every single world, in the hopes of finding out more about what had happened with a spider bite.

After Tony Stark, Banner was this greatest idol in science - not to speaker of the scientific miracle that was the Hulk.

But at this first reaction, Banner’s face dropped.

He really shouldn't be surprised, every time he got recognized for who he was, people reacted in fear; if they even recognized him.

But the very next second he was proven wrong.

The vigilante came over in a few long strides  and began to excitedly chat at a near inhuman speed.

“Oohmygooodd.It’syouIt’sBruceBanner. I’msuchagreatfanofyourworkwithgammaradiation. And how you managed to trace the energy signature of the sceptre?!? It’ssoocooltomeetyou!!”

As he looked to his mentor with stars in his eyes, all he could do was break out laughing.

Tony knew that his protégé was excitable but right now that trait had reached an all-time high.

When he had himself under control again, he looked up at the others; almost losing it once more at the furious blush spreading over Bruce’s faces and the comically large eyes of the mask Peter was wearing.

Upon seeing that Peter pouted.

Even without seeing his face Tony seemed to pick up on that, as he put an arm over his shoulder in the way he always did when trying to console the boy.

“Breath, kid. Or I might get the impression that you like him better than me.”

“Oh, don't worry, Mr. Stark. You will always be my favourite, but this is Bruce Freaking Banner we’re talking about. You cannot tell me that his work on the effects of radiation on electronics isn't credible?!”

The billionaire just laughed as an answer. While the aforementioned scientist, blushed furiously.

“That was ages ago. You really read all of those papers?”

“Of course, Dr. Banner. I read every single paper you have published.”

“He isn't joking either,” Mr. Stark added ”I’ve quizzed him once because I couldn't believe it, but he really did read every single one.”

“I'm flattered,” Bruce muttered, for lack of better words.

Peter flushed a tooth to grin which couldn't be seen by the other two, but he knew Mr. Stark would catch up on that; he had become good at interpreting his body language.

That theory was promptly proven right by Mr. Stark saying, “wipe that grin off your face, it makes me jealous.”

“Alright, your right. Mr. Stuck.” Peter answered. “But for the much better question, not to be rude or anything, but where were you? You were like untraceable for several years now. It must be so weird to come back after all this time.”

The concern was audible in his voice, and it made the man beside him chuckle.

“The kid has a point. Care to explain Brucey-bear?”

“Well, you know how the hulk kind of got his hands on one of Tony’s quinjets?” Bruce asked. Still a little shy.

Peter nodded in confirmation.

“Well, somehow it got us out of earth’s atmosphere and onto an unknown planet. It was some kind of post-apocalyptic hellhole... all full of ruins, not a living soul. And the big guy didn't let me have a turn in the body to go and fix a jet.

“He had his fun on the planet for over a year at which point I kind of manage to take advantage of the times you slept to take a look at the quinjet and try to repair it. Considering the limited supply of materials and tools I had, it took quite some time.

“But I managed as you see, and I somehow found a way back here. Once in the small shuttle, it was much easier to convince the big guy to stay down, and let me take control.” While Bruce had been speaking, they had all sat down on the table while Peter had gathered all he had dropped.

“That is so cool, Dr. Banner. But what made it so hard to change back on the other planet? Could it have been a difference in gravity and atmosphere, which made it harder to get control for yourself.

“Maybe the other planet had a different form of radiation level. Which would have killed a human, which would have been dangerous for a human, so the Hulk stayed?

“Mr. Stark once told me that he is able to take control if you’re in dangerous situations; to keep you to your life.” The boy had become noticeably more hesitant towards the end and Bruce appreciated the consideration of a mental state, though he couldn’t help wondering just how much Stark had told the kid.

“It could be. I can't be sure since I wasn't able to measure anything. As I said, limited access to tools.”

The boy just nodded and his mentor could see the millions of theories floating around the boy's head from the way his fingers seemed to pluck on visible strings in mid-air. While his palms dragged over, his suit over and over again.

He had witnessed the sort of movement quite often from his protégé. It seemed to help him think or calm down after a nightmare.

“I think that is enough about the big guy for now.” The engineer interrupted. “But now that Bruce will be living with us again: How far you with a compound kid?”

Peter only reacted with a slow turning of his head.

His mind still a million miles away. So, I took him a few seconds to come back in the real world.

“Yeah, I'm finished with most rooms by now.. I think. If you're coming soon there. But your room is finished already.” He said, distractedly at first, before shaking his head and coming to his senses.

“We only have to install Friday and we're good to go. Well, as I said, a few rooms need a little bit of touching up, but I get that done in the next few days.” Peter reported truthfully.

“Sounds lovely. We're going to come over tomorrow some time.” Tony said, shooting a questioning glance at the other scientist. “That is if his lab is ready.” He finished. And Peter shook his head.

“I still have to install a thing or two, but I should be done sometime in the afternoon.”

“I'm not planning to be awake any time before noon anyway. And I assume Bruce over here can deal with a little bit of sleeping in, too.” He just got a nod in response from the two.

“You're going to say in for the night?” Tony asked the teen beside him.

“No, I'll get back to the compound and make sure I haven't forgotten anything. Still have to finish the lab tomorrow. And I don't want to stand up too early either.”

With that, he stuffed a pop-tart in his mouth and went to the next window, which Friday already opened for him, once she noticed what he was about to do.

“See around” he said, flinging himself out of the window, prompting a groan from his mentor and a frightened squeak from the other scientist in the room.

“Jesus. This kid! The bane of my existence - and the cause for all of my grey hair.” Tony commented before showing his guest to the room he’d be sleeping in for the night.

Chapter 1  Chapter 5 Chapter 7

[fnaficsfordays]

Long Days Are Better Spent Together

AO3 Link

Word Count: 2074

No warnings!

----------

Michael dropped the duffel bag onto the floor with a resounding thump, the items inside clattering. With a groan, he tossed off his cap, the stiff felt material landing next to a large glass terrarium. Eyes trailing over the creature inside, his irritation drifted away, face perking up into a light smile at the sight of the shell inside.

“Hey, Bonbon.” He muttered with a tired sigh, reaching a hand in and stroking the smooth spiral about the size of his fist. There was no response, but calm slowly began to wash over him as he retracted his fingers. “Not feelin’ active today either, huh?”

A quiet series of crackling clicks further down the hall turned Michael’s attention away, regaining his pace through the rest of the house. As he approached the kitchen, floor hardening into tiles beneath his feet, a light hum began to float through the air, soft and cautious. It was as if they were afraid of extending their vocal chords to anyone beyond themself- but the thought only made a prickle of warmth come to his chest.

He turned the corner, smile widening at the person standing in front of the stove, fiddling with the heat knobs and placing down a large pan. The slight frown of concentration was clear on their face, spikes of blond hair standing upright on their head. Their eyes stayed fixed on the marble countertop even as he neared, steps barely audible over their humming.

At the last possible second, Michael brushed a hand over the tips of their hair, watching them stiffen. Their gaze snapped towards him, panic flaring up for a split second before dissipating with a sharp exhale. A snicker escaped him as they rolled their eyes, stifling a curse.

“Fucking- I tell you not to sneak up on me.” Scott pinched the bridge of his nose, despite his glare falling short. His smirk only grew as he stood next to him, glancing at the ingredients on the table.

“Sure you do. What’s cooking?” Their shoulders brushed, hand drifting back up to his hair. “Or have you not decided yet?”

“...No.”

“Give it time, something’ll show up.” He shrugged. “It’s not like I’m too hungry yet anyways. Less the others are.”

“They’ll be hungry by the time this is done. It’s nearing dusk.” Scott bit his lip, barely seeming to notice his fingers running through the light tufts. “And no, we’re not doing takeout again. Vincent gets sick of chinese way too easily.”

“Wasn’t suggesting it, calm down.” He chuckled. Leaning in closer, Michael pressed his lips against his cheek for a split second, pulling away with a glimmer in his eyes. “Could ask Jeremy if he’s willing to help, he always sees ideas online.”

“And they always need ingredients we don’t have.” He murmured. But he could see the faint dusting of pink across his face, coloring his tan skin.

“I’m sure he’ll have something. Just go on, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. As long as Vince doesn’t tag along as well, the kitchen’ll stay intact.”

That got a smile at the corner of his mouth. “Believe me, I think we all know that too well.”

“It never happened again!” The sudden call carried through another hallway, indignant yet sparkling with amusement. A different giggle, soft and shy, followed it.

“Doesn’t mean we still don’t have a broken cabinet now!” Scott yelled back, rolling his eyes with a huff. “Christ.”

“I’ll go ask them what they want. Take a second or two.” Michael let his arm fall back down to his side, warmth still prickling inside as he walked towards the rest of the house. He pushed open a door, eyebrows raising as he glanced inside. "And you know that that's not entirely true."

"It was the only time it left lasting damage! Sue me." Vincent threw up his hands from where he lay on the bed, silver eyes gleaming. "It's not like it wasn't a natural course of action, anyways."

"Barely."

"The point still stands."

Another giggle alerted him to the other person in the room, their head nested in the crook of his neck, curly hair flat against the pillow. Their arm was hugging him tightly, smile wide on their cheeks. "It was only a natural course of action because you got startled by the oven timer and dropped the knife."

"Hey! Could've been one of us instead of the countertop. I call it lucky." He threw his signature grin, pulling Jeremy closer. "Tables can't feel pain."

"I'm sure the table's glad to hear how little you appreciate its dutiful existence."

“Hush it.” He tossed a pillow at him, which he caught easily. “How was the shift?”

“Surprisingly menial. They only moved from the stage twice.” Michael sat down next to them on the bed, sinking down into the sheets with a sigh. “Mainly just had to deal with Foxy being twitchy, but not much.”

“How lovely it is to have just a single deranged furry animatronic chasing your boyfriend instead of several.” Vincent snorted.

“‘Chase’ would imply that I moved at all from the office.” He flicked his ear with a smirk. “And Jere, Scott’s starting dinner right now if you feel like giving suggestions.”

“Already?” He perked up from the mattress. “Ooh, did he have anything already planned?”

“If he did then I wouldn’t have told you.”

“Yeah, yeah… Oh! I could go ahead and show him the pasta bake I found!” Jeremy was already standing up, gaze glittering as he walked towards the doorway. “All it needs is some tomatoes, spinach, chicken…”

“Well, hopefully that one works out for once.” Vincent stared fondly after him, grin fading into something more relaxed. “One of these days we’ve gotta surprise him by getting all the ingredients for one of the super complicated ones.”

“Bold of you to assume Scott hasn’t thought of that already.” Michael leaned gladly into his caressing hand. “He definitely feels guilty that he’s only been able to do a few. Just you wait.”

“Jeremy can make anyone feel guilty. Don’t you say that you can resist.”

“Never did.”

-----

“You’re sure that’s all the things we need.”

He crossed his arms up at him, dark brown eyes in a pouting glare. “I just checked the fridge! That’s it, and we have it all right here. Cheese, mayo, chicken, spinach, tomatoes, sauce, and dried pasta. They’re even the same shape!”

Scott hefted a sigh, feeling his face lift into a smile. “I guess for once we can make it.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying this entire time.” He whined, swinging the refrigerator door shut. “Come on. It’s gonna take a little while.”

“Starting by boiling water?”

“You get water. I’m going to start frying the chicken.” Jeremy took out salt and pepper as well, letting the pantry swing shut with a foot. His fingers slid around neatly and nimbly, the seasonings speckling the meat. The fading sunlight fell across the cutting board, rays slicing on and around his arm as he worked, lips parted in a light concentration. “Make sure to add some salt to it too.”

He blinked, realizing the empty pot was still in his hands. Face flushing, Scott moved to fill it up, water pouring from the faucet.

Though he was more often than not in the kitchen for the others, he’d never felt completely comfortable with it. Never made anything completely from scratch, definitely, unless pancakes counted- but there wasn’t anything complex to that. Watching Jeremy’s swift movements in the orange glow from the window always got him too distracted on the rare occasions that they had everything necessary for a recipe- if either of the others were here right now, they’d have called it out without a second chance.

Scott suddenly stiffened as he began to pour in the salt, other hand freezing on the heat knob. Jeremy had leaned his head against his shoulder, still watching the chicken as it began to brown. He swallowed, forcing his hands to pick up the wooden spoon and start stirring. Neither moved at all.

Interesting, he thought that being in so many relationships was supposed to make him better at not getting embarrassed.

“Water’s boiling.” His voice gently interrupted his thoughts.

“Ah.” He reached across the stove, scooping up the box. The pale yellow noodles began to pour into the water, dropping in with the slightest noise. But as he continued to stir, his mind drifted off again.

The feeling of his soft mess of hair leaving Scott’s shoulder brought him back again. Now he was cutting up the chicken and tomatoes, the metal blade flashing silver with each slice. “Pasta should be cooked by now, I think.”

“It looks like it.” He drained away the boiling water, blinking at the steam that rose up in the sink. Before he could do anything, another set of fingers were wounding around the handles for him, prying the curled pasta away and sliding them out into a glass dish.

Scott didn’t fight it, only watching Jeremy mix everything together. He flowed so smoothly on his own, wooden spoon folding around the streaks of white and red. It all swirled into a creamy sauce, coating around the individual pieces. At last, he put it in the oven, pushing the door shut as the timer started to beep quietly.

With a satisfied smile, Jeremy stood back, tasting the leftover sauce still coating the spoon. “Tastes as good as it looks.”

“Well, I don’t doubt it.”

“Wanna try?”

“I… sure-?”

Before Scott could say anything else, he set down the spoon, suddenly facing him fully. His chin tilted up just a tad, eyes closing as he leaned closer-

And his lips pressed against his own.

He pulled away only a moment later, letting out a small giggle at his stunned face. “So, how’s it taste?”

His mouth was dry, swallowing roughly at his glowing expression. “I-I…” A shaky breath. “G-Good. It… It was good.”

His small fingers wrapped around his arm, head nuzzling into his shoulder. “You smell like coconut.”

“T-Tried a different shampoo.” Why did they always make it so hard to stop stuttering? “...You still smell like vanilla.”

“Mhm, I’m glad. Which smells sweeter?”

“Whichever one you’re using.”

“Aw.” He pressed against him more, skin warm. “I would’ve liked to say the other way around, but I guess we’ll never know.”

Before he could respond with another flustered retort, the oven timer suddenly rang out. Jeremy stepped away, opening up the oven and sliding the baking dish out. “Looks delicious. Come on, let’s go get the others.”

“I- Wait, we’re bringing it with us-?”

“‘Course we are. Come on!”

With a resigned sigh, Scott picked up the dish, the warm stream wafting through the air. Jeremy was nearly skipping as walking towards the hallway, smile still wide. Just as they reached the room, it faded into a slight smirk, leaning into the doorway. “Really?”

“I just got home, give me a break.” Michael barely lifted his head up from where he lay on the bed, arms wrapped around Vincent. His eyes were still half shut. “M’ tired.”

“Well, dinner’s ready, so better scoot over.” Jeremy slipped underneath the sheets as well, curling up besides Michael. “You’re warm.”

“So are you.” Vincent ruffled his hair. His gaze flicked up towards where Scott was still standing, eyebrows raising. “Get over here and love us.”

“...I’m carrying a baking dish full of pasta.”

“Your point?”

“It’s unhygienic.”

“Oh, come on, just set it down. We can eat right here.” Michael waved him over, starting to sit up on the mattress. “Not moving from this bed anyways.”

Rolling his eyes, he cleared away a relatively flat area, carefully placing it down. “Happy?”

“Almost.” Before he could move away, Vincent reached out a hand, fingers suddenly grasping around his tie and tugging him down. With an undignified yelp, he crashed onto the bed with them, barely aware of their laughter.

“Well, it’s not the first time we’ve gotten you into bed by the tie-”

“Shut it.” Scott flushed, crossing his arms. “Did we even bring utensils?”

“Right here.” Jeremy held up a couple of forks, grinning as he passed them out. “Come on. You love us.”

“You haven’t moved out yet.” Michael added, with a chuckle.

“Hmph… Maybe just a little.” But as he began to dig in, the warmth spread from his cheeks into his chest. Or maybe a lot.