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fandomsalive · 4 years ago

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So Listen Dear, Won’t You Meet Me Here While I’m Bringing in the New Year

So Listen Dear, Won’t You Meet Me Here While I’m Bringing in the New Year | Reddie | Teen and Up | 5,627 words

Summary: “Fuck you, I would have gotten it eventually,” Richie shoots back, even as he rushes to save the game quickly, and then tosses the controller to the side. “I’m bored," he declares loudly.

He stares resolutely at the TV the same way he’s been avoiding Eddie’s eyes most of the night, like he’s too nervous to meet Eddie’s gaze.

“You were the one who wanted to play video games all night,” Eddie grumbles, glaring at the side of his face. When we could be making out instead, he complains in his own head, but refuses to say aloud.

It’s New Years Eve, and Eddie’s just waiting for Richie to make a move already.

—

Title from "Bringing In A Brand New Year," by B.B. King. I was inspired by this (x) tik tok and I know it’s way too late for New Years but take this New Years fic anyway. This is also set 2016 but the boys are teens. Thanks to @imnotinclinedtomaturity for the beta I love you.

Ao3 Link

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Stan (10:16 PM)

so has he made a move on u yet?

Eddie (10:16 PM)

fuck you stan you know he hasnt

Stan (10:17 PM)

i told u ud have ot be the one to suck it up kaspbrak

Eddie (10:18 PM)

I hate you.

Stan (10:18 PM)

ur just mad i was right. i knew richie wouldnt have the balls to follow through on his plans to jump ur bones tonight

Eddie doesn’t dignify that with a response, instead choosing to toss his phone onto the edge of Richie’s bed with a huff. Richie, who up ‘til then had been blatantly (and perhaps a little desperately) trying to pretend he hadn’t noticed Eddie was on his phone, glances at the discarded phone with far too much interest.

“Who ya texting, Eds?” he asks, feigning indifference but missing by a mile. Eddie wants to roll his eyes at just how transparent his best friend is, but he really shouldn’t be surprised. Richie has been on edge all night, more often than not turning to Eddie to say something, and then changing his mind last minute, so of course the moment Eddie’s attention isn’t on him, he’d be concerned.

“Your mom,” Eddie snarks back, crossing his arms over his chest in irritation. Richie snickers, but his heart clearly isn’t in it. He keeps darting his eyes towards Eddie’s phone, and then back to the TV screen, where he’s been playing Kingdom Hearts for the last hour, as if he wants nothing more than to take Eddie’s phone and find out for himself.

Do it, Eddie begs him internally, eyes narrowed at the back of Richie’s head.

Richie doesn’t, but Eddie hadn’t really been expecting anything different. Richie hasn’t been picking up on anything Eddie has been hinting at recently. It’s starting to feel like nothing short of screaming his intentions from the rooftop will work to knock some sense into him.

In fact, he’s been sitting at the head of Richie’s bed for the last two hours, sprawled as invitingly as he could imagine in a pair of sleep shorts and one of Richie’s jackets. He looks good, he knows he looks good.

More than once he’s stretched himself towards Richie, pressing their thighs together and tossing his ankle over Richie’s, but rather than encouraging Richie to just do something already, it had only succeeded in Richie giggling nervously and, after the third rendition, retreating half way down the bed.

Richie has been sat cross legged down there for the last hour and a half, and Eddie doesn’t know what to do to salvage the damn night. He can’t exactly chase Richie, because so far drawing any attention to Richie’s weirdness, or Eddie’s blatant attempts to flirt, has only seemed to spook him, and any attempt to broach the subject — that subject being the fact that Eddie wanted to date him — only made Richie clam up more.

Eddie has been waiting the last couple of months for Richie to just… come out with it already, ever since Janice had asked Eddie to be her date to homecoming, and Richie had gone into such a fit he hadn’t spoken to Eddie for a week. Eddie had been so mad at him for being a dick and ignoring him, but every time Eddie’d tried to catch him on his own, Richie would disappear. For three days straight he’d been to all of Richie’s favorite hang out spots and hadn’t seen hide nor tail of him until the end of October when Eddie stumbled out the back of the Chemistry building and accidentally overheard a private conversation between Richie and Bev.

He hadn’t intended to eavesdrop but… Richie was his best friend, and more than anything else, Eddie had been hurt by the sudden refusal to speak to him. He hadn’t even understood at the time, hadn’t made the connection to Janice at all, until he’d heard Richie confessing to Bev, his voice hesitant, quiet… hurt.

“It’s only a matter of time before someone asks Eddie out and he says yes, Bev,” Richie had sniffled miserably. “What am I supposed to do then, because I sure as fuck can’t pretend to be happy for him? It’ll break my heart.”

Ever since then, Eddie has been trying to tell Richie that Eddie doesn’t want a girlfriend. In fact, Eddie isn’t interested in girls at all. He’s far more interested in his foulmouthed best friend, despite his better judgement.

Richie doesn’t seem to get it, though. The following Monday, Richie had started speaking to him again as if nothing had happened, and any time Eddie attempted to bring any of it up, Richie would say something so nonsensical and infuriating that Eddie couldn’t help raising to the bait.

Now it's been over two months and Richie is still pussy footing around despite the fact that Eddie has been flirting with him this entire time. He’s dropped so many hints about his own fucking feelings that now all of the Losers know he’s in love with Richie, and their sympathy is quickly waning.

“You need to just tell him outright, Eddie,” had been Bill’s sage advice after the millionth time Eddie had practically sat on Richie’s lap in the hammock and Richie had responded by jumping out of it. “He’s an idiot, and obviously terrified you’re going to reject him if he so much as breathes on you wrong. He’s not going to realize you like him back when you’re flirting with him the same way you’ve been flirting with him your entire friendship.”

Eddie had told Bill to fuck off, and hid in his room for the rest of the night, frustrated at his own inability to sack up, as Bev would put it.

And truthfully, Eddie doesn’t know why he hasn’t just blurted it all out yet, but every time he’s even come close, he’s felt almost faint with anxiety. It hasn’t helped that everytime Richie senses a serious conversation coming, he diverts the conversation as fast as he possibly can. Richie’s lack of desire to actually fucking talk about this isn’t exactly comforting, despite the fact that Eddie knows Richie likes him.

But it’s New Year’s Eve tonight, and Stan, sick of watching Richie and Eddie dance around each other, had confided in Eddie that Richie was planning on confessing his feelings tonight, if he could only convince Eddie it would be worth pissing off his mom to spend the night.

Spending any amount of time with Richie was worth it, but if it meant Richie was going to admit to how he felt, Eddie wasn’t going to miss his chance.

Except… so far, Stan’s assumption that Richie wouldn’t have the guts to tell Eddie the truth seems to be the most likely outcome. Eddie sighs at the thought, unsure what else he could possibly do to make it clear to Richie that he’s more than receptive to Richie’s feelings..

All Eddie can really think about just then, however, is how shit Richie is at Kingdom Hearts.

“You’re doing it wrong,” Eddie grouses loudly, as Richie makes another attempt to defeat Luxord, and the loud death animation plays out on the screen.

“Fuck you, no I’m not,” Richie shoots back, stubbornly clicking “restart” and beginning the fight all over again. Eddie sighs loudly. This is the fifth time he’s seen Richie attempt this fight tonight, and each time he’s fallen to the same fucking trap. It's probably thanks to the fact that Richie hasn’t actually been paying very much attention to his game at all, apparently too busy fidgeting in place and sending Eddie obvious, but nonetheless longing, looks.

“You just have to pay fucking attention,” Eddie grumbles and shifts onto his knees, crawling determindedly over to Richie. Richie looks over his shoulder at Eddie, a nervous look in his eye, tongue sticking out in concentration. Richie shifts with Eddie, leaning forward like he wants to get away. Eddie wants nothing more than to shove him off the bed already. “Look, see, when he turns into a card you just have to —”

At Richie’s side now, Eddie reaches for the controller in Richie’s hands, and jerks it into his own.

“Hey!” Richie complains loudly, but doesn’t fight it. Instead, he practically recoils, and moves over on the bed so that he’s on the edge, a large gap between him and Eddie’s knees. Eddie does everything he can to ignore it, and starts mashing buttons on the controller.

“See, look, if you just fuck with the camera you can tell which card he’s and then —” Eddie unleashes a combo attack on Luxord in the few seconds that he’s stunned, before Luxord changes tacks.

Eddie doesn’t bother handing Richie the controller back, because Richie doesn’t ask and Eddie is tired of sitting around looking tempting when it’s clear Richie isn’t going to fucking do anything about it. Irritated, Eddie unleashes his anger on the game instead. “And then when he does it again, you just —” Again, Eddie manipulates the camera until he knows exactly which card Luxord is in, locks on, and beats the shit out of him all over again.

“Alright, alright,” Richie grumbles, pouting and reaching up to throw his hoodie over his head, casting his face into shadow. Eddie rolls his eyes at the way Richie fiddles with the drawstrings there. Eddie recognizes it as one of Richie’s nervous ticks, and if he hadn’t known Richie was working himself up to confessing tonight, that would have been a good red flag that Richie wanted to do something.

Finally, after three more rounds of doing the same shit, Luxord dies, and Eddie thrusts the controller back into Richie’s hands. Richie takes it cautiously, sneaking a look at Eddie’s irritated face.

“There,” Eddie exclaims proudly. “I told you you were doing it wrong,” he adds smugly, and settles himself more firmly into the spot he’s taken up residence in. Richie will just have to deal with Eddie in his space, and if he wants to sit on the very edge of his bed with one foot pressed to the floor, only barely keeping him up, then so be it. Eddie’s tired of making this easy on him.

“Fuck you, I would have gotten it eventually,” Richie shoots back, even as he rushes to save the game quickly, and then tosses the controller to the side. “I’m bored,” he declares loudly, and drags the remaining leg he has on the bed up to his chest, wrapping his arm around it and resting his chin on his knee.

He stares resolutely at the TV the same way he’s been avoiding Eddie’s eyes most of the night, like he’s too nervous to meet Eddie’s gaze.

“Yeah, but you’re so much better at it,” Richie whines, and tosses himself backwards on the bed. His hood acts as a halo around his face, dark curls spilling out of it, as Eddie turns his body to stare down at him. Richie meets his eyes for half a second before his cheeks turn bright red and he looks away again. “Hey, I’ve got an idea!” he declares suddenly, and sits back up. He turns giddily to Eddie and declares, “Why don’t you play Dark Souls?”

Instantly, Eddie groans. “Fuck no!” he complains, “The last time I let you convince me to play Dark Souls, you spent the entire time making fun of me when I got my ass kicked. I’m not doing it again!” Eddie practically shouts at him.

Richie is cackling on the bed, grinning like an absolute lunatic at Eddie. It’s the first time all night things have seemed semi-normal between them. “That’s the best part, Edwardo!” Richie exclaims brightly. Eddie groans loudly at the nickname, but Richie steamrolls past him before he can say anything. “No one wants to watch someone being good at that game, it’s boooooring,” he sing-songs, dancing in place.

“No!” Eddie refuses, reaching out to shove at Richie’s shoulder. “I refuse! Pick something else!” he demands.

With a pout, Richie turns and drops back onto the bed. This time, his curls are what halo his face, and they’re so cute that Eddie wants to bury his fingers into them. Eddie has to fight a blush at the stupidly cheesy thought, and turns away.

“Fine,” Richie grumbles, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. “You pick something then,” he adds, still pouting.

Sighing, Eddie reaches out to pick up Richie’s controller, and exits out of Kingdom Hearts. He scrolls through Richie’s downloaded games in search of a different one — not Dark Souls.

The clock in the corner blinks 10:32 PM, inching closer and closer to midnight. Richie only has an hour and twenty-eight minutes left to follow through on his supposed plan (and, unknowinglingly, prove Stan wrong. Eddie’s not so certain he’s going to manage it).

“For someone who spends so much time on his PS4,” Eddie complains, “you don’t have very many games.”

“It’s not about quantity, Eds,” Richie snarks back, shifting to prop himself up on his elbows, “It’s about quality. Oh!” he exclaims as Eddie skips through his games, “Crash Bandicoot! Eds, Eddie, Edwardo, Eddie Spaghetti,” he rattles off, shooting off the bed and grabbing for the controller. “Come on, we have to play that!”

He’s so excited he doesn’t seem to notice the way his fingers cover Eddie’s for a moment, but Eddie sure does. It sends a spark of heat down his back and he swallows thickly, releasing the controller.

“Fuck you, that’s not my name,” Eddie complains automatically, frowning. Richie isn’t listening to him. Instead, he’s opening up Crash Bandicoot N. Sane Trilogy, and debating between the three options. “Wait, I thought I was choosing the game,” he adds as an afterthought, not really caring but arguing out of habit.

“You were but you took too long,” Richie shoots back, sticking his tongue out. Eddie rolls his eyes, but doesn’t bother arguing. It had been thirty seconds at the most. Richie is just impatient. “Besides,” Richie adds, eager as ever, “We can take turns defeating the levels,” he insists, and finally settles on Warped.

“Take turns my ass,” Eddie grumbles, but settles himself more comfortably on the bed regardless. He’s taking up the majority of the middle of the bed again, and Eddie isn’t surprised when Richie chooses to fit himself back against the very edge again, one leg propped on the floor to keep him stationary. His leg is bouncing nervously as he darts his gaze back and forth between the game and Eddie’s face. “I don’t think you know what take turns means,” Eddie adds, stubbornly ignoring Richie’s gaze.

“I do, too!” Richie claims, pouting. A smile twitches at Eddie’s lips, but he chooses to ignore it. “I’ll even prove it to you. You can go first!” Richie insists, and this time presses the controller into Eddie’s hands.

Rolling his eyes, Eddie takes it and starts the first level.

It turns out that Crash Bandicoot is one of the worst decisions Richie could have made, because they’re both disastrous at it. Within the first ten minutes, they’ve lost every single one of their lives, and they’re forced to start the level over from the beginning, rather than from the last checkpoint they’d hit. This only serves to make the game even harder, and Eddie isn’t the least bit surprised when he and Richie end up fighting over the controller.

“It’s my turn!” Richie screams in Eddie’s face, giggling as he wrestles him for the controller.

“No it isn’t! I haven’t beat the level yet!” Eddie argues back, struggling against Richie’s longer arms. As is par for the course for the two of them, their wrestling isn’t the least bit careful. In fact, Eddie’s fairly certain he’s going to have a bruise on his jaw tomorrow from where Richie had hit him with his elbow, but Eddie doesn’t mind. It’s always been satisfying to roughhouse with Richie.

“Yeah but you used our last life!” Richie shouts at him. “That’s pretty much the same thing! It’s your fault we had to start the level over!”

“Like you haven’t done it a million times already,” Eddie growls, finally shoving Richie off of him.

Richie goes careening off the bed, and hits the floor with a loud thump. Startled, Eddie drops the controller on the bed, and crawls across the sheets to stare down at where Richie has landed, eyes wide. Richie is staring up at him dazed, blinking rapidly as if trying to reorient himself. Eddie bites his bottom lip.

“Fuck,” he whispers, and leans down to grasp onto Richie’s wrist. “Are you okay?” he asks softly, waiting for Richie to grip onto his wrist in turn before dragging him up and into a sitting position. Eddie lets go of him, and Richie reaches up to press tentative fingers to the back of his head. Eddie winces when Richie winces.

“I’m fine,” Richie groans, and drops his hands to the floor on either side of him. He takes another moment to gather himself, before leveraging himself to his feet. Instinctively, Eddie leans backwards until he’s sat back on the bed and out of Richie’s personal space. “You pack quite a punch for such a little guy,” Richie comments playfully.

“Oh, fuck you!” Eddiee screams instantly, reaching for the pillows at the top of Richie’s bed. As soon as he’s got one in his grip, Eddie starts pummeling Richie’s face with it. “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!” Eddie shouts, as Richie laughs and bats futilely at the pillow. “See if I ever worry about you again!” Eddie complains, huffing loudly.

It takes another few smacks of the pillow to Richie’s laughing face before Eddie finally relents.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, sheesh,” Richie says, still laughing. “I didn’t mean to offend you,” he offers sweetly, using that stupid smile he always uses on grown ups to get out of trouble. Eddie huffs and crosses his arms over his chest.

“Yes you did,” Eddie argues darkly.

Richie laughs again. “Okay, yes I did,” he agrees, nudging at Eddie softly, and then shuffling onto the bed next to him, “But I only do it to rile you up,” he admits. The moment the words are out of his mouth, Richie starts blushing and looks away.

Eddie, shocked at the confession, can only stare at the side of Richie’s face, terrified of doing or saying anything in response that might scare Richie off.

They’re silent for a moment, nothing but the sound of their game echoing around the room. The sound is annoying, considering how many times they’ve died in such a short period of time, but Eddie can also hear his heart beating roughly in his chest while he waits anxiously to see what Richie will do next.

Finally, Richie clears his throat. “You know, Eds,” Richie starts, his voice soft and tentative, the way it has been on and off all night. Eddie’s eyes dart to Richie’s face, and he feels his heart clench up tight in his chest. Is this it? Is this the time? Is Richie actually going to tell him—

With a huff, Richie shakes his head and gets up off the bed. He doesn’t say anything else, wringing his hands at his sides again instead, and Eddie’s chest deflates.

“Come on,” Richie says, completely changing the subject, “Let’s see if we can get to the boss before midnight.”

With darting, anxious eyes, Richie looks for the controller he’d just been sitting on, and snatches it up quickly as soon as he locates it. Then he throws himself back onto the bed, this time pressed up against the headboard, curled into his small pile of pillows.

So, no. Not this time, no point in Eddie getting his hopes up again.

Freshly annoyed at Richie’s new positioning once again away from Eddie, Eddie reaches up and snatches the controller from Richie’s hands.

Richie lets it go without a fight, eyes wide and unsure.

“It’s still my turn,” Eddie explains tersely, and turns back to the TV screen, where he can see the time 11:12 PM sitting innocuously in the corner, mocking him.

Eddie doesn’t know why he thinks it, but somehow he feels as if Richie hasn’t confessed by midnight, Richie isn’t going to confess at all.

With a sigh, Eddie tries the level again. And again. And again.

They do make it to the boss, eventually.

Richie’s the one to beat level 5, though it takes him a good 50 times to do so, and only then because the fourth level had been pretty easy and Eddie had managed to farm more than a couple of lives. He’d gone so far as to play another round of keep away with Richie to play the level a second time, to which Richie had sat in his corner and pouted.

But now they’re on the first boss, and Richie has refused to hand the controller back over.

“You got two turns with level 4!” Richie argues defiantly, “We’ll take turns with the boss. Everytime one of us dies, we hand the controller off!”

Grumbling to himself, Eddie relents, and, starting to feel uncomfortable sitting in the middle of the bed, moves to the top to settle in next to Richie. Eddie leaves some space between them this time, unwilling to put himself through the depressing experience of Richie pulling away from him again.

Richie still shoots a terrified glance at him, and scoots over the tiniest bit. Eddie does everything he can in his power not to roll his eyes too obviously, and nods at the game instead. “What are you waiting for? Start it already, dumbass.”

So Richie does.

Shockingly, the boss is pretty easy to beat. He’s so easy, in fact, that Eddie doesn’t even get a go at it, and while Richie laughs and cheers for his own victory, Eddie swipes the controller from his hands and starts level 6.

It’s inching nearer and nearer to midnight. He can see the clock glaring 11:47 at him. The year is almost over, and Richie still hasn’t confessed to him. Eddie isn’t sure if he should even be expecting it anymore, given how many times Richie has stared at him and then clearly chickened out without saying anything. It’s disappointing, when Eddie had come over that night feeling so hopeful.

Stan had warned him to keep his expectations low. None of their friends seemed to have any confidence in Richie’s willingness to confess, regardless of whether or not Richie had said he was going to do it. Eddie had just been hoping…

Well, he’d been hoping that maybe, by midnight, they would have talked about their feelings and Richie might have kissed him. The longer the night goes on, though, the less and less likely it seems that Richie actually will.

Eddie is so deep in his own thoughts that he doesn’t even notice it when he runs out of lives on level 6. He sighs, frustrated, when the game starts back over outside the level, and he turns to hand the controller off to Richie.

Their eyes meet. Richie’s are wide and terrified. His hood is pulled up over his head again, hiding part of his face in shadow, and he’s playing with the strings again, tightening and untightening his hood over and over again. For a moment, the look on Richie’s face is so startling that even Eddie feels nervous.

And then Richie says, “It’s almost midnight,” with a tremble in his voice.

Eddie nods his head slowly, feeling that familiar quiver in his chest that tells him the hope is building.

This time? he wonders.

“Yeah, it is,” Eddie agrees after a moment, unsure.

He does his best not to make Richie feel any more uncomfortable than he already does, and stays as still as he dares. He wants to reach out and take Richie’s hand in his, wants to drag his fidgeting fingers away from the strings of his hoodie, wants to shift forward so their thighs are pressed alongside each others’, wants to lean his forehead against Richie’s and beg him to kiss him.

But he doesn’t.

He doesn’t, because he knows that Richie is scared, and he knows what it’s like to be scared. Eddie’s spent his whole life being scared. He’d grown up being told all the ways he could get sick if he wasn’t careful, being told that he had allergies he didn’t have, and illnesses that wouldn’t stick. There had been a time in Eddie’s life where he couldn’t go one hour without taking another set of medications, and his inhaler had been his best friend.

So he understands being scared, and maybe that’s the real reason he hasn’t pushed Richie on this. Eddie knows that forcing someone to get over their fears isn’t going to fix anything, not in the long run, anyway — they have to want to get over them themselves. And Eddie is willing to wait.

“Fuck,” Richie mutters to himself, fingers tangling tight in his hoodie strings. His hands look like they might be shaking, but Richie is fidgeting too much for Eddie to know for sure. “Fuck, uhm, Eddie?” Richie asks nervously, eyes darting all around Eddie’s face, avoiding his eyes completely.

“Mm?” Eddie replies, breathless, his own eyes wide and nervous. He flattens his hands down hard against his thighs, and begs himself not to touch, to not scare Richie, to not push him.

“I’m—” Richie starts, cuts himself off with a sharp inhale, then starts again, “I’m going to do something now, but if you hate it, just tell me, okay?” he babbles nervously, finally detangling his fingers from his hoodie strings, only to clench them deeply into his jeans.

Eddie’s breathing speeds up, and his hands are shaking now too.

“Richie,” Eddie whispers, aiming for encouraging and falling short. He can hear that his own voice is shaking.

Richie doesn’t seem to notice, barreling on, “I promise it’s fine if you don’t like it. I just want to — I just want to try…” Richie’s voice trails off as he gulps, eyes darting all over Eddie’s face. He opens his mouth to say something more, but hesitates, and then starts to retreat into himself, clearly losing his nerve.

Eddie panics.

Before Richie can try and back out of it once again, Eddie blurts,“Kiss me.”

The words are half garbled with breathlessness, almost a gasp between them, but Richie seems to catch on. His eyes go wide, and he inhales sharply, struck dumb. For a long moment, they just stare at each other, Eddie with his heart in his throat, and Richie absolutely stunned. Finally, Richie bursts into a flurry of giggles.

He releases the strings of his hoodie to instead press his fingers to his mouth, laughing loudly around them, and gasps, “oh my god.” Richie is trembling all over as he drags his hands away from his mouth and wheezes, “holy shit,” the shock more than a little apparent.

Unable to help it, Eddie starts smiling as well, fingers clenching tight into the fabric of his jeans. “Richie!” he demands, giggling. “Come on, asshole!”

The I’m waiting feels heavy between them.

“Dude!” Richie shoots back, absolutely beaming now, and without another moment of hesitation, he reaches out and threads his fingers through the hair at the back of Eddie’s neck.

Eddie will never forget the way it feels when Richie tugs him into their first kiss. The sensation is like a shot of electricity to his spine, and he gasps before their lips even touch. He can feel his heart in his throat, beating so hard he shakes with it, and then Richie’s mouth is on his, and the feeling is like fireworks going off in his head.

Eddie doesn’t mean to groan. The sound is just ripped out of him, shocked and needy. Richie’s lips are hot against his, and he despite all of his previous nervousness, he doesn’t seem nervous of this at all. Maybe it’s because the scariest part is over, or maybe it’s because Richie knows Eddie wants it too. Regardless, he doesn’t seem to be holding back now.

Richie is a shockingly good kisser, and he takes Eddie’s bottom lip between his instantly, sucking so softly and sweetly that it's more a tease than anything. When he introduces teeth, it's the tiniest nip, and it drives Eddie absolutely crazy.

The way Richie sighs against his lips makes Eddie shiver. It takes Eddie a moment to realize that he’s raised his own hands to fist his fingers into the back of Richie’s curls, knocking off his hood and holding on tight in an attempt to prevent Richie from pulling away even the tiniest bit. Richie’s other hand has found Eddie’s waist, and it’s only when Richie yanks Eddie in closer that Eddie realizes he’d begun to melt backwards into the bed.

Gasping at the feeling of being held tight, Eddie shoves himself further into Richie’s personal space, until the warmth of him is seeping into Eddie, and Eddie is practically in Richie’s lap.

Their mouths come together again, and again, and again, their breathing hot and heavy between them.

Eddie’s heart feels like it’s going to burst. HIs entire body feels like it’s on fire.

“Fucking finally, asshole,” Eddie groans into the kiss, pulling lightly on Richie’s hair in punishment. Shocked, Richie laughs, and kisses Eddie even more enthusiastically, the wet sound of their mouths loud in Eddie’s ears. It’s almost all that he can hear, the faint sound of Crash Bandicoot so far away it might as well be in another room.

It feels like they make out forever, making up for all the lost time they could have spent doing this. Richie’s fingers dig deep into Eddie’s hip, and Eddie tugs on Richie’s hair unapologetically. Richie’s tongue sends sparks down Eddie’s spine every time he drags it against his lips, against his own tongue, against the back of his teeth. It feels so good that Eddie never wants to stop kissing Richie.

With every shift of their mouths, Eddie shifts his body closer to Richie’s, until finally Eddie manages to knock Richie over and lands on top of him with a small oof.

“Holy fuck,” Richie gasps, shocked as their mouths pull apart. His eyes are hazy when they meet Eddie’s, his mouth wet and red.

Short of breath, Eddie can only manage to gasp back, “Holy fuck.”

For some reason, this makes Richie laugh. He slams his head back against the bedsheets with the force of it, and lets his eyes drift closed.

Hovering on top of him, Eddie releases Richie’s hair to instead prop himself up, unable to help the way he grins down at Riche.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for months,” Richie admits breathlessly, grinning as he finally opens his eyes again and looks up at Eddie. Eddie laughs and rolls his eyes, knocking his forehead gently into Richie’s.

“Yeah, I’m not an idiot, I could tell,” Eddie admits a little brashly, leaning in to peck Richie’s lips before Richie can tense up too much.

“You could?” Richie asks into the kiss, sounding shocked at the admission. Eddie nods, and kisses him again, and again, and again — soft little pecks that don’t turn into anything more.

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees, nuzzling their noses together. “I’ve been waiting for you to grow a pair and do it already,” Eddie adds teasingly, and drags his head away from Richie’s long enough to look him in the eye. “Seriously Richie, I’ve been waiting for months,” he complains good naturedly, some of the irritation gone now that it’s out there — now that Richie’s kissed him.

“Oh,” Richie replies, eyes furrowing until he’s frowning. Surprised at this change in demeanor, Eddie pulls back from Richie again and shoots him a worried look.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, panicked.

Richie glares at him. “What the fuck, you asshole!” he whines, scrabbling at Eddie’s back until Eddie falls fully on top of him. “You knew this whole time, and you didn’t say anything?” he groans, wrapping his arms tight around Eddie and squeezing the life out of him.

The hold makes Eddie giggle, and he shoves his face into Richie’s neck, breathing hot there. “I’ve been trying, fucknuts! You’re just too fucking stupid to notice when someone’s flirting with you!” Eddie argues back, giddy with it.

Richie shakes his head against Eddie’s neck and says, “You know, you could have kissed me, too.”

The words are softer than the rest, a little coy and shy. Eddie feels his heart melt at it, and he pulls away from Richie’s neck slowly.

“I guess,” he agrees quietly, but doesn’t explain himself. He doesn’t think he has to, with the way that Richie is looking at him. Despite Richie’s grumblings, he thinks that both of them know Richie had to be the one to kiss Eddie first.

Sure enough, it takes a moment, but eventually Richie rolls his eyes and says, “Alright fine.” Then he lifts one hand to press it into Eddie’s hair, and pulls him in close, “But did you know that I love you?” he whispers right up against Eddie’s lips.

Eddie shivers, and laughs softly, eliminating the last few inches of space between their mouths with a searing kiss, before whispering, “Yeah, and I love you too, dumbass.”

#reddie #reddie fanfic #Richie Tozier/Eddie Kaspbrak #it fanfiction

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