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Richie sighs. He looks down at the bright orange tulips in his lap. The bouquet shakes ever so slightly as the subway train makes it’s way through the underground. He shifts in his seat.
They’re pretty, he thinks, but he isn’t quite sure why he bought them. Roses would have been too intimate, so he had picked up some tulips. By the time he was handing over the cash, it was too late to reconsider. The old lady had thanked him with a sweet smile, and he was out the door.
He likes Eddie a lot, but they’ve only been on four dates. He doesn’t want to come on too strong, although that has always been his forte. This time is different. Eddie is different.
The subway stops at yet another station. People get off. More people get on. Richie reaches into his pocket and fishes out his phone. He quickly scrolls through his recent calls, thumb pressing down on Beverly’s name. He holds the device up to his ear and leans his head back against the wall.
“Go for Marsh.”
“Hey, Bev.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be on a date right about now?”
He can hear the smirk in her voice. He rolls his eyes. “I’m late.”
“Okay. And?”
“And what?”
“I can only assume there’s a reason you’re calling.”
Richie sighs again, running a hand through his curls. “I haven’t told him yet,” he admits quietly and bites down on his lower lip.
“You gotta tell him. The sooner the better, right?”
“Yeah, I know,” he mumbles. “I just don’t know how to bring it up okay? Like, hey, baby what’s your favorite movie? Mine’s Jurassic Park. By the way I’m trans. Do you like Spielberg?”
Beverly barks out a laugh. “Yeah, maybe not.”
“I really like him, Bev. Like, a lot. I bought him fuckin’ flowers.”
“Oh, honey.”
“I don’t want him to dump me.”
“He’s not gonna dump you, Rich.”
He gnaws on his lower lip. Eddie has invited him over to his apartment, and in Richie’s experience, that’s definitely code for I wanna bone.
“I’ve gotta go,” She sighs softly, and Richie can hear the faint sound of Ben’s voice over the line.
“Alright.”
“Don’t worry, okay? Everything will be just fine.”
He arrives at his stop as Bev disconnects the call. He pockets his phone and leaves the train station. He pulls the hood of his jacket up in a half-assed attempt to keep his hair dry in the rain.
“Hey, Eddie, there’s something really important I need to tell you-” he mumbles under his breath as he walks. He shakes his head slightly and stops at a crosswalk. “Too serious.”
Heavy drops of water splash down on the pavement, the lights of the city reflecting on the shiny surface.
“Eds, boy, do I have a surprise for you! You won’t believe this!” he tries in a mumble, doing a camp gesture with his hands, waving the flowers around. The woman next to him gives him an odd look, but he simply returns it.
By the time he gets to what he hopes is the right building, his glasses are foggy and dripping wet. He squints at the names listed by the door, and sighs in relief when he sees that Edward Kaspbrak indeed does live here. He rings the bell.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Eds,” Richie smiles and cradles the tulips closer to his chest. “It’s Richie. Mind buzzing me in?”
He barely makes it up to find Eddie standing in a doorway on the sixth floor, dressed in a plain mint colored button-up and a pair of jeans. A judgmental eyebrow rises over his big eyes, his arms crossing. “You’re late, asshole.”
“Uh, yeah… Sorry about that… Hey,” Richie pants, leaning sideways on the wall for support. He inhales deeply. “Why is there no elevator in this building? It’s like three hundred stories.”
“There is,” Eddie is quick to correct, an evil smile forming on his lips. He points down the hall, and sure enough, there is an elevator. “Over there.”
Richie stares at him for a moment, still trying to catch his breath. “Oh, fuck you,” he says, a breathy chuckle escaping his lips. This fucking guy.
He shoves the tulips to Eddie’s chest, forcing him to take them. “I got you flowers and everything, and this is how you repay me? You don’t even tell me about the secret elevator?”
Eddie’s smirk softens ever so slightly then, but he still rolls his eyes. “They’re nice,” he hums. Richie watches closely with a fond smile as Eddie leans down to smell the bouquet for a second. He catches Richie’s gaze and quickly pulls his face away. “Pick out a dumb Hawaiian shirt faster next time,” he huffs and disappears into the apartment.
Richie laughs.
Eddie’s different from people he has dated in the past. The man is a five-foot-something firecracker with a sharp tongue. Richie loves that about him, although he’s not ready to use that word in the same sentence as ‘Eddie’ any time soon.
However, Eddie is a cis guy – a gay cis guy. And he has no idea Richie isn’t packing nine inches – or any at all. (Well, he is packing silicone, but that’s a whole other conversation.)
You see; Richie has a rule about always disclosing the fact that he’s trans on the first date, or even before meeting someone. And he was going to do exactly that when he and Eddie had coffee together a month ago. He really was. But then he got so caught up in talking to Eddie, and laughing with Eddie, and staring at Eddie. And maybe Eddie made him a little nervous for some reason, but he’d never admit that.
Eddie pulls him in for a kiss when the door shuts behind him, offering a silent ‘thank you’ for the flowers. Eddie is warm and inviting against Richie’s cold figure. Eddie’s lips linger for a second or two longer than usual, and his touch on Richie’s waist feels a little more daring. He pulls away slowly, as if he doesn’t want it to end. “Better get you out of this,” he hums, tugging at the damp fabric of his jacket.
Richie swallows nervously. This date is definitely code for I wanna bone.
“Yep. Don’t wanna catch a cold,” he agrees quickly and takes two steps back. He shrugs the jacket off before finding a free hook to hang it on.
His brain is scanning the apartment for possible escape routes. He would catapult himself out of the window if need be, but that probably wouldn’t end very well.
Eddie has disappeared into the kitchen. “I ordered us some Italian. I mean… it’s cold now, but I can reheat it.”
“Let it go, dude,” Richie calls after him and chucks off his shoes. He sighs quietly and enters the living room.
A soft piano tune is playing – Queen, he notices. Eddie must’ve remembered that he likes them. The lights are dimmed, and the dining table is decorated with candles and two bottles of liquor. Richie’s heart thuds against his ribcage.
“It shouldn’t take too long,” Eddie informs him as he comes into the room, carrying the tulips in a white vase. He sets them down on the table, turning it until he’s satisfied with them. He smiles and pulls out a chair for Richie. “Make yourself at home.”
“How sweet of you to remember that I love Sex On The Beach,” Richie grins as he takes a swig from his third bottle. They’ve moved to the couch by now, dinner eaten and plates empty.
“Yes, it’s kind of hard to forget that an adult man loves bottled Sex On The Beach. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate a good cocktail, but that's just trashy,” Eddie scrunches his face up as he speaks. He gestures to his own bottle. “What’s wrong with beer?”
“It tastes like ass.”
Eddie looks as if he's been personally offended. “It does not!”
“Yuh huh,” Richie bobs his head gently.
Eddie glares at him with his big brown eyes and takes a big gulp of his beer. “Does not.”
“It does, Eds, don’t fight me on this-“
“Fucking taste mine!” The shorter man demands, shoving the beer towards Richie.
“Fine,” he sighs. He cringes as goes to grab it, already dreading what he’s about to put his taste buds through. But as he takes the bottle in his hands, a sense of relief comes over him. “It’s empty.”
Eddie rolls his eyes and removes both bottles from Richie’s grasp. He sets them down on the table by the couch, before he shuffles a little closer to his date. Their knees knock together. “C’mere then,” he says, reaching over and sliding his fingers to the nape of Richie’s neck, gently tugging at his hair.
Eddie kisses him.
Richie will stand by every bad thing he has ever said about beer, but he can’t deny it tastes pretty amazing on Eddie’s lips. He hums in appreciation and allows his hand to slide down Eddie’s side. They kiss lazily, lips parting and tongues meeting.
It doesn’t take long for Eddie’s hands to get more adventurous, sneaking up under Richie’s dumb Hawaiian shirt and gently pressing against his warm skin. The taller man shivers.
As his hands explore new territory, so do his lips. They shift their attention from Richie’s lips to his throat. They’ve never gone this far before – this intimate.
“Eds. God, that feels nice. Super nice. Perfect. You’re- you’re perfect,” Richie mumbles mindlessly, ever the talker. He lets himself be pushed down against the seats of the sofa, and watches as Eddie stretches out over him, pressing him further into the soft fabric below.
Eddie chuckles softly at his tipsy rambling. He leans down to let his lips brush over the shell of his ear. “How does it taste now?” Eddie murmurs. Richie feels blood rush south.
“Still gross.”
“Oh, my God, Rich, just admit it’s not that bad!” The man exclaims in his trademark loud manner.
Richie grins. “Guess I need more convincing.”
Their lips collide again. Eddie is on a warpath to prove that he’s right.
Richie moans softly, hands immediately going to rest on Eddie’s hips. His mint shirt rises with the action, revealing a strip of soft skin for him to touch. This encourages Eddie to start fiddling with the buttons of said shirt.
The shirt is soon open, and Eddie pulls away to remove it completely. “Is this okay?” He asks as he pulls it off, revealing his chest and a small trail of hair on his belly. Richie gives him the green light wordlessly, caught up in the heat of the moment.
Eddie throws the shirt on the floor and swoops back down. He presses his body closer, a gentle moan making its way out of his throat. A strong hand finds itself circling Richie’s belt buckle, tracing the brown leather with intrigue. “Rich,” he breathes. “I want you to fuck me.”
With what, motherfucker?
He stares up at Eddie. He looks flustered, his cheeks red and lips swollen. “Eddie, I’m-“ He sighs heavily, shutting his eyes. That way he can’t see the disappointment on his face. Okay… here we go. “I’m trans.”
The room is quiet.
Shit. He might have to go through with catapulting himself out of the window.
“Do you-“
“Don’t ask me if I have a dick,” Richie cuts him off, opening his eyes again. “Cause I’ve got plenty of dick, alright? Come over sometime, you can pick your favorite. I’ve got big ones, small ones, thick, thin, it’s all up to you, man. Gentleman’s choice.”
He sits up a bit, putting some distance between them.
“I am a whole sexual being, you know,” He continues, heart racing. “I’m not ‘missing’ anything. A cis body is not my goal, okay? Do I wish I had one sometimes? Of course I do. But this is my fucking body, my trans body. And it is complete and functional in the way I need it to be-”
Eddie cuts him off by pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, taking him by surprise. He pulls back.
“What I was going to say, Rich, was do you not know that your denim jacket has a trans flag patch on it? On the back?” he finishes his original sentence, gesturing loosely to his own back. “You wore it the first time we met.”
Richie thinks for a moment. “Holy shit,” he whispers to himself. He shakes his head in disbelief. “So... you’ve known this whole fucking time?”
“Yeah.”
Richie stares blankly.
Eddie has an amused smile dancing on his lips. He waves a hand in front of the other man’s face. “Rich?”
“Shit, sorry,” he mumbles, trying to clear his head. “You don’t… mind?”
“Of course not! Why else do you think I invited you over here? This was clearly code for I think you’re awesome, let’s bone,” Eddie gnaws on his bottom lip. “I thought you’d catch on and, uh… come prepared, you know?”
“… I’m so dumb.”
“That's the smartest thing you've said all night,” Eddie agrees with a nod, earning a light smack on the chest.
“So we could’ve been getting down and dirty right now, if I weren't such a fucking idiot?”
The shorter man smiles, almost lovingly, if you were to ask Richie. “If you not being an idiot is the criteria, then we might as well join a celibacy club right now.”
That earns him another smack.