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Bev grinned mischievously up at Richie, red curls licking her ears like flames. “Well? Spin the bottle.”
Richie gulped, leaning into the middle of the circle to spin the empty beer bottle. To Richie’s hazy mind, it seemed to spin for hours, finally landing on Eddie. Landing on Eddie. Shit. Not only was Eddie his gay crush in a homophobic little town, but he was his best friend, and he really didn’t know if kissing him over a game of spin the bottle was the best idea. He looked up at Eds who had a deep shade of blush infusing his cheeks, nose so dark you almost couldn’t see his freckles. Richie grinned in spite of himself. “What? To chicken to kiss the lips that have kissed your mom Eds?”
“Not my name,” Eddie mumbled automatically, “and gross.”
He squinched his nose in that adorable way that made Richie want to kiss it, but Richie licked his lips, resisting the urge. “C’mon, one little smoochie?” Richie leaned across the circle of the Losers, ready to get this over with.
Eddie just rolled his eyes, scooting forward to meet him halfway there. His hands cupped Richie’s face and he kissed him, deeply enough that Richie’s eyes popped open to take in the concentrated look on his face. Richie was the one to pull away, avoiding the searching look in Eddie’s eyes. “Whoa there Eds, don’t be so enthusiastic to make me a homewrecker.”
Eddie scoffs, shoving Richie hard enough that he topples backwards, thumping to the ground. When he gets back up, he does his best to ignore the confused, or, in Bev and Stan’s case, knowing, looks that are thrown at him and Eddie. Maybe he had kissed him a little too long, but it’s not like Eddie was trying to pull away, right? Richie mentally scolded himself, Eddie isn’t gay. Stop it. Richie felt kinda pervy, and he spent the rest of the night doing everything in his power not to interact with his best friend, missing the hurt and resigned look that spilled across Eddie’s features.
Once they were done playing Spin the Bottle, they settled down to watch some movies, mostly romantic comedies, and something that had a bit of action. It had been Ben’s turn to pick. After everyone started drifting off, they pulled out sleeping bags and raided one of the Denbrough’s closets for extra pillows. Richie was about to doze off when Eddie’s voice screeched through the living room, “Are you guys seriously not going to brush your teeth? That’s disgusting! What if your teeth rot and then they all fall out? What are you going to do then?”
Richie groaned, unzipping the sleeping bag and padding over to the bathroom, knowing Eddie would be upset with him if he didn’t. “Fine you gremlin.” Eddie practically growled at him. Brushing his teeth with the toothbrush that was permanently reserved for him at the Denbrough household (he didn’t have the greatest home life), Richie saw Eddie approach him from behind in the mirror. Moving over, he watched as Eddie got out his adorable little bath bag and fished out a toothbrush of his own. He stood next to Richie, scrubbing viciously, and Richie suddenly felt pity for the poor plaque on his teeth. He bumped Eddie with his shoulder, “Where’s the fire?”
Eddie slowed his brushing, taking a few moments before he spat the toothpaste in the sink after Richie. “Fuck off,” he grumbled, no heat behind it as he nudged Richie back.
Richie put his toothbrush back in the drawer and turned to leave, surprised to see Stan blocking the doorway. “What are you-”
“You two need to get your shit together,” he hissed, crossing his arms and widening his stance. “Neither of you are leaving here until you do.”
Eddie and Richie swapped confused looks, “What are you talking about?” Eddie asked, moving towards the exit, “Get out of my way!”
“No,” Stan said firmly, planting his feet. “You two need to get over yourselves, and tell each other how you feel.” Richie blanched, and Eddie seemed to pale as well. “The rest of us are suffering over here!”
“So what,” Richie tried to hold his composure, “they voted you to be their delegate?”
Stan scoffed, “I volunteered.” He snagged the door handle, “I’ll be in the living room if you need me to knock your thick skulls together repeatedly.” The door shut with a click.
“Sooo…” Richie began rubbing the back of his neck.
Eddie’s sharp voice made him jerk his head up, “What was he talking about? About how you feel?”
Richie suddenly felt nauseous, “Oh, that? That’s nothing, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. That’s just silly willy nilly.” What? He rambles when he panics.
“Rich,” Eddie took a step towards him, close enough that they were sharing air. Richie’s brain basically short circuited. “I- I really like you.”
Richie almost choked, “You- I- Uhhh,” he stumbled, his thoughts whirring at million miles a minute, his heart even faster. “Me too?” he finally squeaked out. Eddie rolled his eyes and Richie cleared his throat, hardly believing that Eddie might like him back, that he might not hate Richie. Wait. But wouldn’t that mean… “Are you gay?”
Eddie wringed his hands nervously, “No. I mean, kinda. I mean, I like boys too. I’m-” he sucked in a deep, calming, breath and said more clearly, “I’m bisexual.”
Richie’s eyebrows jumped up. “Oh, yeah, that’s cool. I’m gay, so uhh.” God, this was the most awkward thing ever. He always imagined that if he ever told Eddie he liked him, not that he had ever planned on doing so, it'd be very suave. He definitely never imagined it happening in Denbrough’s bathroom of all places, especially with their friends just down the hall. Talk about expectation versus reality. He was kind of surprised that his friends hadnt’t come bursting in, waving rainbow flags- they obviously had been conspiring to get the two boys together. Speaking of which… He turned and whipped open the door, unsurprised when Bev and Bill stumbled in an effort not to trip over their own feet, faces pictures of shock. “Scram,” he spat, watching them giggle as they stumbled their way back down the hall. He sighed, turning back to Eddie, the door closing behind him. “Guess it’s not really a secret, huh.” He chuckled, “Seems like we’re the last ones to know, at least.”
With no warning, Eddie was suddenly on his tiptoes in front of him, pushing his lips against Richie’s. Richie was too startled to respond, arms hanging limply by his sides, eyes wide. Eddie pulled back, slightly horrified. “I’m sorry, I didn’t- I just thought that because Stan-” he wheezed, no longer able to form words. He was beginning to hyperventilate, the way he did when he was on the verge of an anxiety attack.
“Hey.” He grabbed Eddie’s shoulders, pulling him down to the ground with him so that they could be eye level. “Eddie, it’s okay, calm down.” Eddie just sniffled in response. “It’s okay,” he put a hand on Eddie’s chin, lifting it to look directly into his deep brown doe eyes. “I really like you too.” He pulled the smaller boy in, kissing him properly, pulling him forward so that he was straddling his lap, and sliding his hands down to his waist. Eddie kissed back enthusiastically, arms draping over his shoulders.
After a short time, Richie felt Eddie’s tongue lick his bottom lip, silently asking for permission. Obediently, Richie’s draw dropped open, and Eddie licked hungrily into his mouth, humming. One of Eddie’s hands brushed against the back of Richie’s neck, curling a bit of his hair at the nape of his neck around his finger, tugging sharply. Richie’s eyes rolled back into his head and he moaned, rather loudly. The other Losers could definitely hear them, but Richie couldn’t find it in himself to care- making out with Eddie had been his dream since he got his first public boner to him at age thirteen. Making out with him… and other things.
A sharp knock rattled him out of his thoughts and Eddie pulled away, a small string of saliva following him, connecting their lips together. It had no right to be hot, but it was. Richie chased his mouth, but Eddie put a gentle hand on his chest, rolling his eyes before wiping off his mouth and standing up. Richie followed suit just as Stan barked, “I’m coming in there, and I swear, if you two are grinding on each other like a bunch of hormonal middle schoolers, it’ll be your heads on a spike!”
Richie turned to Eddie, waggling his eyebrows in a seductive fashion, “Hey baby, wanna get impaled and be displayed in Stan’s room with me?”
Eddie groaned and scrunched his face adorably, but it didn’t hide the blush creeping up his face, “Shut up, Trashmouth.”
Stan scoffed, walking in, “You think you’d be in my room? No, you guys are going right on the front lawn. That way people can throw rotten tomatoes or some shit at your decapitated heads as they pass.” He stood aside, holding the door open for them. “As much as we are all very happy for you, Bill said he would appreciate not having to bleach the fuck out of his bathroom.”
Richie grinned, linking arms with Eddie. “Hear that Eds? We’re needed elsewhere.”
Then, they walked back down the hall, both turning equally red when Bev started to clap and Bill gave a wolf whistle. That night, or very early morning really, they fell asleep, entangled in one another’s arms.