Work Text:
Everything in Eddie Kaspbrack’s DNA said he should be panicking. He should be preparing for the end of times, right? His entire life he’d been chastised and warned about disease and now, the world was in the throes of something major. Something dire . Reading it online for the first time, he already had an inkling of how this would play out. Whole countries were in a state of panic. America was going to get it at some point, regardless of how well those affected ones got their shit together. Not to mention, the USA was not at all equipped for this at the moment.
But this wasn’t the same Eddie Kaspbrack Sonia had sunk her teeth into. His last name wasn’t even Kaspbrack anymore. It was Tozier. As he was reading the trending tweets for the very first time, familiarizing himself with the concept as his chest vaguely ached, Richie was downstairs feeding their cat. After that, they’d go for Thai as a mini-date night that they had every Friday that the Losers weren’t involved in. Therefore, Eddie clicked off his phone and started down the carpeted steps to the main living area. Sure, it would be on his mind all night, but it didn’t have to be on Richie’s.
They had a great time that ended with Eddie curled against his husband, both sweaty and content with the life they’d built together. It came to mind as Richie sprawled out over top of him but Eddie ignored it. He could do that nowadays. It only took four years to get there. He could wrap his arms around Richie and bury his face into the man’s shoulder and not worry . There was something bad looming on the horizon, he knew that, but between the head scrambling thirty minutes they’d just shared and the deep comfort settling in his ribcage, it could wait. Eddie Tozier could close his eyes and press up against Richie with a soft smile until it finally fell when he dropped into a dreamless sleep.
So all in all, Eddie handled day one of ‘iminent doom’ with the grace of a man unaffected. It was slightly uncharacteristic and he couldn’t help feeling a little proud of himself. That being said, it was time to face the reality of the situation. The current state of the world was a rubber band just waiting to snap with the ever increasing threat mounting on the horizon (or at least Eddie’s anxiety was utterly convinced that this was the case) and everything was bound to get fucked up in the process. It wasn’t a pleasant thought for Eddie’s brain to unhelpfully wake him up with at 3 AM, but since when has his brain ever let him sleep for a full 8 hours without at least one interruption? Thank god Richie slept like an immovable lump every night considering Eddie’s usual departure from the warmth of the bed for a glass of water or whatever else his antsy brain decided it needed for sleep to occur. You don’t get the level of dark circles around your eyes that Eddie had without his levels of restlessness. Some things never change.
He decided to start his pseudo-morning without a phone in hand, opting for the quick shower he’d forgone the night before. As always, he wanted nothing more than to knock back out with Richie by his side, but he knew that wasn’t an option from previous stubborn attempts. Instead, his toes curled against the cold bathroom tile as he flipped the oddly severe light on, bathing in the glow of the bright white LEDs above the sink.
Eddie still carried the scars from Derry, clear as day, but he was no longer bothered by them. He’d spent too many nights having Richie’s hands coast over them reverently or having small kisses pressed to his once perforated cheek for insecurities to hollow him out like they used to. While Eddie could never truly love his body for all its faults and betrayals, he could respect them. He could get hit with his own appearance at painful detail, no warning besides the flip of a light switch, and not feel a knife chip away at his self esteem.
Hair swooped down across his forehead as the water started. Eddie needed a haircut pretty badly. He made a mental note to schedule one.
Having just woken up, there was the seemingly insurmountable challenge of unscrambling the tangle of his thoughts. What had woken him up? Which ones were legitimate concerns? What was the best way to move past them in order to fall back asleep. It took a good half an hour under scalding hot water for him to circle back around on the trending twitter topic. He’d literally watched a man collapse on video! How had he not been more bothered at the time?!
It wouldn’t help the situation obviously but he opened his phone as soon as he’d pulled on some semblance of pajamas and slipped back into their bedroom. As a kid, being silent as a mouse was a survival tactic. Now it was just a courtesy he employed when the clock still read an outrageous number.
Sure enough, the topic had actually risen since he’d last opened the app. The only new information was that it was respiratory (oh great), highly contagious (fucking great), and surprisingly lethal (absolutely fucking awesome ). Eddie nearly chucked his phone back on the nightstand out of a weird amalgamation of anger and nervous energy. The thunk woke Richie up and embarrassment burned in Eddie’s chest.
“Sorry,” he hissed quietly. He was seated lightly on his side of the bed, one that Richie often invaded thanks to his penchant for cuddling. Rather than chastising him after blearly peaking at the clock through squinted eyes and haphazardly held glasses, Richie merely grabbed at Eddie’s hips to pull him back under the covers. With a soft laugh, Eddie complied. Snug against Richie’s broad torso, curled in the comforter, Eddie found his eyelids heavy enough to lull himself back to sleep by the sound of Richie’s steady semi-snore.
“We’re about to get hit with a plague,” Eddie said matter of factly. Richie gave a snort of disbelief and turned away from the stove, eggs sizzling somewhat violently in front of him.
“Good morning to you too, sunshine.” Eddie scowled and made his way over to the kitchen area, if only to slide his hands over Richie’s sides and press against him. Richie smiled with soft tranquility, swaying his hips a little just to mess with his husband behind him. Eddie noted how frizzy Richie’s hair was but that was thanks to the humidity, not the straight up damage it had endured until Eddie cast his three-in-one to the fiery pits of hell.
“Some respiratory thing. I have a really bad feeling about this one.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine, Eds. Where’d you even pick this up?”
“Twitter. Read the shit they’re posting. This isn’t a false alarm.” Richie nodded amicably and scooted them both to the right where he could reach the plates. “I haven’t WebMD-ed jackshit, Richie. This is serious.”
“I never said you did. You also haven’t been wigged out about something like this for ages. I trust you.” Eddie squinted at him with suspicion.
“Are you still trying that decaf coffee on the weekend thing?” Richie laughed and nodded. “Ah hah! That’s why you’re so fuzzy brained right now!”
“I’d still trust you even if I wasn’t!” Richie whined back.
“I’m a hypochondriac warning you of a plague! This is prime material here!”
“So you want me to bully you?!”
“No! Yes! Shut up,” Eddie replied, that last bit muffled by Richie’s shoulder blade as he broke into a grin. He loved feeling Richie’s laughter reverberate against his nose.
“Sucker for punishment. Masochist .”
“Funny coming for you, Mr. Step-On-Me.”
“It’s an expression, Eddie. I was expressing.” Eddie poked his head over Richie’s shoulder (with effort that he’d never admit to) and kissed somewhere vaguely in his cheekbone or jawline area. Richie hummed with approval and leaned into it. Making breakfast like this almost made up for waking up without bringing Eddie with him.
“You should express more often. Last night was fun.”
“I’m going to have bruises for a week.”
“Nice. The tabloids will either get concerned that you should file charges again or get the gist that you’re mine. Both are equally fun to fuck around with online.”
“I’m suprised that your social media presence alone hasn’t cost me my job, Edsmerelda.” Eddie slipped away to grab a cup of coffee, Richie absentmindedly swaying to follow until he’d drifted out of reach of the eggs and had to step back.
“Mm, I think we’ve made enough not to worry about that.”
“That so?”
“Yup.”
“Cha-ching! Time to retire in my forties.”
“The concept of you quitting comedy is either laughable or terrifying.” Richie stopped and thought for a moment. Eddie revelled in the way the kitchen was sunlit and bright. He felt warm.
“Laughable. We all know stage shows are my coping mechanism for the domestic shit we’ve got going on here.” Eddie made sure to squeeze Richie’s ass as he swept by, mug in hand reading ‘force to be reckoned with’ on a banner between lightsabers.
“More like bragging for two hours straight but I can agree that it's therapeutic.” As he took a seat at the island, Richie gave an exaggerated gasp.
“Oh my god. I just realized. I think I actually have an ego! Not even a fake one!”
“Took you long enough,” Eddie said with a smile peaking over his coffee before he took a sip and clicked his phone open. The Losers groupchat had gotten chatty that morning so he thumbed lazily past the notifications in favor of swiping through the chat itself. The topic of conversation nearly made him choke on his coffee.
“Eds? You good?” Eddie glanced up at Richie who’d probably noticed his expression sour so violently.
“Ben agrees that COVID is definitely a thing .” Richie turned the stove off and leaned over the counter to look at Eddie’s phone.
“Shit, really? So we’re not dealing with a fucked up flu season, are we?” With a huff, Eddie shook his head.
“I read up on it last night and the symptoms aren’t great.” Richie gave Eddie’s hand a squeeze and moved back to plating breakfast.
“Where’s your head at with this?”
“I don’t think it’s set in yet? It’s- You know I grew up with my mother constantly saying I was sick or going to be sick so this is… normal. It feels normal in a really twisted way. I’m more worried about our friends honestly.” Richie nodded.
“Kind of like how you could totally clock me right now but if Bev punched Ben they’d have a complete fucking meltdown.” Eddie snorted.
“Exactly. Plus, unlike you, Ben doesn’t deserve to get punched.”
“I do need to get vibe checked sometimes,” Richie replied with a wiggle of his eyebrows. Eddie groaned.
“Please no. You’re not hip with the kids.”
“I’m totally hip with the kids. Have you seen me with kids? They love me.” Richie passed him a plate and leaned over his own rather than sitting down.
“Nuh uh. Nope. Stop fucking up your back you old man,” Eddie said, tugging Richie’s over next to his. Richie rolled his eyes but clearly didn’t mind swapping places, especially as it gave him the ability to drape his arm over Eddie’s shoulder. “Ugh, clingy.”
“You know you love me.”
“Unfortunately,” Eddie grunted, contrary to the way he was beaming.
Saturdays were always best for loafing around the house in the Tozier household. Granted, it was still Richie and Eddie, so there was a lot less loafing and far more havoc wreaking than either would like to admit, but it was relaxing nonetheless. Many couples would get restless and want some form of entertainment besides each other but these two? It was a nice break to sit back and razz each other for a while. Or, in this case, chuck one another fully clothed into the pool after the misguided attempt to garden that had ended in a dead flower bush.
Yeah, the likelihood of Richie dying via drowning went up at least 20%.
Still, the resulting swimming without said clothes was enjoyable. After four years of being married to a man who would get overheated and strip continually when he was console gaming, it wasn’t so much racy as slightly suggestive. For Eddie anyway. Richie was absolutely dying but trying not to show it as Eddie would much rather sweat a little then have his shirt off for no fucking reason besides too much in game spinning.
“I feel like we should do this more often,” Richie said with a particular glint in his eye. He was wading in the deep end while Eddie sat at the steps, Kindle in hand reading some book series Mike had sent them in the wake of Bill’s newest book. He raised an eyebrow and glanced over the device unimpressed.
“What? Soak our clothes so they smell like chlorine for a year and a half?”
“Skinny dip! It’s our pool, no one’s stopping us!”
“Wow, you just had this revelation? I’m impressed that going buck ass naked in your backyard wasn’t the entire reason you wanted this house so badly.”
“Nah, I like all the glass. So the neighbors can see said nakedness from the street,” he added as an afterthought before taking a deep inhale and dropping underwater. A slight grin tugged at the corner of Eddie’s mouth as he crossed his legs. Sure enough, he felt hands at his thighs before Richie bubbled out of the water in front of him, droplets rolling down his glasses as he rubbed it out of his eyes. “No fair!”
Eddie set his Kindle aside and wrapped his arms around Richie’s shoulders now smiling unrestrained. Pretending he wasn’t having fun with this was a lost cause anyway.
“Trying to cop a feel here, Tozier?”
“Nah, I felt like grabbing your dick for no reason whatsoever.” Eddie snorted and Richie lit up at the reaction.
“You’re such a mess. We’re not fucking in the pool.”
“What’s the difference between the pool and the bathtub? That one was fine!” Eddie put a hand over his cry of outrage and nodded to the next door neighbors.
“Shush you maniac!” he whisper-yelled. “We have neighbors!” He knew it was coming obviously. In fact, an argument could be made that he’d baited Richie into it.
“My husband won’t let me fuck him in our pool!” Richie called out as loudly as he could manage. Eddie dissolved into laughter, dropping his head onto Richie’s shoulder. “You hear me?! This is tyranny!”
“Yeah, I hear you, buddy!” Leslie called from next door to both their shock. Neither knew she was there, causing Richie to practically howl while Eddie froze in shock, face red with embarrassment.
“Sorry, Ms. Vanderbelt! He’s a handful!” Eddie cried back, splashing Richie as forcefully as possible.
“Oh, I’m well aware, you two!” she called back over the fence. At least she sounded amused. Eddie was still going to kill him. Well, until he actually did cop a feel. Then Eddie decided on killing him in an entirely different manner.
“Fuck!” Eddie slammed the front door behind him. He wasn’t angry so much as very very stressed and yelling cuss words loudly as he walked in after work was cathartic. Richie peered over the back of the couch, eyebrows raised.
“All the way at level ‘fuck’? You’ve been at ‘assholes’ all week. They need to cut you some slack,” Richie said lightly before dropping back behind the couch cushions.
“I’m working from home after tomorrow.” Richie perked back up again.
“For real?”
“Yes for real. And we’re getting hair cuts and groceries today before shit starts shutting down. It should’ve last week.” Richie dropped his IPad on the sofa and wandered over with his hands in his jean pockets.
“This is really happening, isn’t it?” Eddie gave a terse nod and tossed his keys aside.
“I feel like I’m losing my fucking mind. Is that normal? Because for once, I’m fairly sure that’s normal.”
“Completely,” Richie replied, starting at Eddie’s tie. “It’s not everyday that you get caught in a plague, dear.” Eddie gave a grumbly sigh and hung his jacket on the peg nearby.
“I have to pick up all my shit tomorrow. I don’t want to go back. It’s starting to really get to me. Six feet apart is fucking insane when your workplace doesn’t know how to stick particle board between cubicles for an ‘open floor plan’ or whatever the fuck. I’m so glad I have an office now. Those cubicles have to be a fucking nightmare. If I’d been stuck in one, I would’ve left a whole lot sooner. Maybe I should have anyway.” Richie cupped Eddie’s jaw in his hands and kissed his forehead, stopping the rolling trainwreck of thought.
“You’re doing good so far. One more day.” Eddie pulled him into a hug and tried to drop the tightness of his shoulders.
“Yeah. One more day. Then I’m out of there.”
“Then you’re stuck with me!” Richie said in a weird little girl’s impression.
“Fuck.”
This was the best kind of morning. Waking up with Richie laying on top of him like a mattress substitute with glowing daylight streaming through the open curtains was always a wonderful start. Eddie stretched his back a little, catching his bearings of where their legs were tangled at the base of the bed and Richie’s arms curled around his torso. It was warm having a human heater draped over him but not uncomfortable. It made his chest do that funny thing like when the Losers would go through old pictures together or the cat would curl up against him whenever he sat still long enough; A weird mix of nostalgia and adoration that he never could truly put to words. With a smile, he ran his fingers through Richie’s not-quite curls that were far softer than in his 3-in-1 shampoo days that nearly caused Eddie to pop a vein four years ago. There was also a little grey peeking through but not at all comparable to the white streaks Eddie was letting take over. At least Bill had a salt and pepper phase. Eddie’s was just a white line from his roots of ‘congrats, you’ve made it to old’.
Eddie pressed a kiss to Richie’s temple before carefully beginning the excavation process. Theoretically, it would be fine if Eddie woke him up, but something about how peaceful Richie looked said otherwise. Besides, after years of close sleepovers followed by a clingy husband a few decades later, Eddie had become a bit of an expert at this game. Always start with the legs and don’t brush the bottom of Richie’s feet or it’s game over.
He wound up almost sitting on the cat in the middle of this process, but in the end, Eddie did reign victorious. Richie was still out cold as he slipped into the hall bathroom.
First was coffee. Eddie reveled in the feeling of the cool tile beneath his feet. Between his old penchant for anxiety-inspired slippers and the surprisingly temporary loss of feeling in his legs post Derry, the sharp chill against his toes was welcome. It was AC cold as the window revealed nothing but summer heat reflecting from uncut green grass and cracked but sealed white pavement. There was a chalk drawing from the neighbor’s daughter down by the mailbox. Distantly, Eddie noted that they should check the mail before the next rainstorm, even if only out of mild curiosity.
The coffee machine gave a soft ping once it was done. Eddie dropped a spoonful of sugar in his mug and stirred it exactly three times out of a habit he’d picked up while making fun of Stan a few years back. It was a welcome irony. Richie always liked his coffee black so it took Beverly’s insistence for Eddie to try anything otherwise.
Part two and arguably the final part of his plan was to grab the book Patty sent him on his way back to bed, tucking it under one of his arms so he could still carry the two coffees safely. He remembered Mike with a coffee mug handle looped around almost every finger last time they’d all been together. Eddie did not have that kind of coordination.
He made sure Richie’s cup was sat on the nightstand closest to him before shoving a few of their extra pillows against the wall and making a relatively comfy chair to sit on while he read. As always, Richie steadily managed to curl up against him. Honestly, Eddie was fairly impressed by sleeping Richie’s dedication to the craft, even in unconsciousness.
About two chapters in, Eddie felt the mass next to him stir.
“...What th’ fuck‘r you reading?” Eddie snorted. As signs of life went, that was about right.
“Blind much?” Eddie snarked back, tone far nicer than his words as usual. “I can’t reach your glasses so good luck with that.” Richie grinned.
“Asshole.”
“Yeah, good morning to you too, Rich.”
Eddie had an idea.
After a long six hours of emails and attempting various online meeting softwares (to no avail, mind you), Eddie found Richie sprawled on the patio attempting to fix his cargo shorts tanline from having swam three times in the past week. AKA hairy thighs were ablazing and from this angle, Eddie couldn’t even tell if the man had anything covering his nuts. Eddie grinned to himself and set about digging through the garage, hoping Richie would stay put for a little while longer. Thank fuck he never put the Christmas decorations in the back like Eddie had asked him too. Eddie was totally going to bitch at him for it but it was a nice surprise regardless.
When Richie finally came in, Eddie had nearly finished making dinner.
“Eds, dude. You were at work all day. I can cook if you need a break.” Richie leaned up against the fridge right as the pan stopped sizzling.
“Stir fry’s easy. You looked peaceful. I may have stared a little.” Richie snorted.
“Glad my blocky physique could be of use to you.” Richie pressed a kiss to Eddie’s temple and moved past him for the plates. “I have the greatest timing. This is epic.”
“Maybe for you it is. I was going to snark at least three quarters of this masterpiece but now I have to share.” Richie laughed and passed him a plate.
Dinner was nice. Really nice actually. They didn’t normally have the TV on when they ate but Eddie had relented on a fairly horrendous romantic comedy for the purpose of roasting it alone. They both got invested regardless. Never would either tell another soul.
When Richie hiked his hands up Eddie’s shirt while he was busy with the dishes, Eddie grinned.
“Heading to bed early tonight?” Eddie asked lightly.
“Depends. In the mood for a tussle?” Eddie turned and pressed a soft kiss to Richie’s mouth, contrary to the fact that he was wiping his wet hands on Richie’s shirt. Richie giggled and pulled back.
“You rat.” Eddie stuck his tongue out and started pushing Richie towards the bedroom. Soft orange light peaked out from the cracks in the closed doorway, catching Richie’s eye. “What did you do?” Richie asked suspiciously. Eddie settled his hands on Richie’s hips and nudged him on.
The room was lit entirely. Christmas lights were strung from the ceiling and candles lined various corners of the room. The real kind too. Richie was silent as he took it in with Eddie smiling and hugging him from behind. It took a long time to be this comfortable with such an openly sappy move.
“Am I missing that it’s our anniversary or something…?” Richie asked quietly.
“Nah. Just felt like doing something special. Then your dumbass decided to pick a romcom so this seems way more thoughtful than an impulse decision.” Richie gave a shaky laugh and pressed back against Eddie, eyes crinkled with joy at their surrounding.
“You funky little man. I can’t tell whether I want to rail you or vice versa.”
“Well, I have given some thought to those thighs of yours. How about we start there?”
“We’re going for a run.”
“I’m sorry, we?” Richie looked up from his phone at Eddie. Eddie who had his arms crossed in the doorway. Eddie with the ‘don’t fuck with me expression’ that meant Richie was definitely about to get dragged out on a run.
“Yup. We.” Eddie spun on his heels for the bedroom as Richie sputtered and got to his feet.
“Hold up. I’ve swam and shit so this absolutely cannot be about getting sun.” Eddie tossed him his only pair of running shorts as he entered the room. Richie didn’t bother arguing against running itself so he started changing his clothes too.
“That is true, yes,” Eddie replied tersely.
“So why- Hold up, you haven’t been running since quarantine started,” Richie said as it dawned on him. Eddie paused to glare at him before going back to throwing on his own shorts that were significantly shorter. “Gonna elaborate, Eds?”
“I don’t plan on it,” Eddie bit out. Luckily, Richie already had a basic grasp on the situation. Eddie was scared. It made sense but at the same time, Richie couldn’t wrap his head around what of . Plus, wouldn’t having Richie there increase the chance of someone approaching them? That part was confusing.
“You know I’m going to slow you down, right?”
“Well at least that’s something!” Eddie snapped.
Oh. Eddie couldn’t convince himself to go. Richie was back up to make him commit to it.
Eddie stopped and frowned at himself. Luckily, Richie knew he wasn’t the one being yelled at necessarily. It had been a long while since Eddie had done this sort of thing, across the room and stuck in his thoughts. It wasn’t a backslide into old habits, just a bad day.
“Fair enough,” Richie replied, completely ignoring Eddie’s earlier tone. That was his way of conveying that he was well aware of the situation. Eddie gave a resolute nod and pulled on his last sock. “I still have the right to complain the whole way.” A small smile tugged at the corner of Eddie’s mouth.
“Counting on it.”
“Why hello, you schmexy schmexy man,” Richie drawled from the doorway as Eddie finished chopping some celery. It was a particularly warm evening thanks to the stove and summer heat so Richie’s button up hung open, fluttering about here and there from the ceiling fan. Eddie personally opted for a sleeveless tank that always garnered numerous comments from basically anyone he ran into, including his husband.
“We’ve been married for three years, Rich,” he replied, waving the unnecessarily large knife about indiscriminately. “Aren’t you supposed to be tired of my face by now?” Richie threw his hands in the air and backed away.
“Okay, first of all, you are very cavalier with a knife for someone who got stabbed twice-” Eddie snorted and shook his head, setting the knife aside to start peeling carrots. Richie found an empty spot on the counter to sit on. “And I still like you for some reason so deal with it.”
“You’ve got some wires crossed,” Eddie replied.
One of the better parts of quarantine was Eddie’s attempts to actually cook here and there. After so many years of being orthorexic to an unhealthy extent, the idea of getting hands on with it was intimidating at first. Hell, the first year post-Derry, Eddie mainly relied on Richie to figure out food options because if he started asking questions, he spiralled too quickly. Now? He covered 3-4 meals a week! He was learning that cooking was quite relaxing when other anxieties weren’t peaking through.
“I think I’ve actually trained the pigeons outside to show up at five every night.” Eddie paused.
“You- Why are you so invested in the pigeons? They are literally sky rats. Stan said so himself.”
“They’ve got some chonk to ‘em, yeah, but I don’t discriminate,” Richie replied, snatching a celery stick. He bit down and cringed. It was common knowledge that he didn’t like raw celery. “Birdism.”
“Don’t start on that,” Eddie replied with a glare. Richie raised his hands.
“Alright, alright. It’d be a good bit though.”
“Mm, I doubt it. By the way, I got an email from Linda yesterday-”
“Glinda the good or the one that made you break a mug last week?” Richie interjected with an easy grin. Eddie snorted and sat aside the carrots, leaning up against the counter.
“The one that doesn’t suck. She asked me for- get this- relationship advice .” Richie’s eyes went wide.
“You?!” Eddie nodded, looking pleased with himself. Richie stared. “When the fuck did we become the gold standard?!”
“Sometime around last Christmas party? Maybe at Marly’s cookout? How the fuck should I know?” Eddie let his own shock peak through. “We’re doing good right now, but what the fuck?”
“They clearly don’t know about the mom-wife then, huh?” Richie got clocked with the base of a carrot stem.
“Fuck you. And wrong, the Linda who came to me actually mentioned my divorce thank you very much. She wasn’t asking for advice from me specifically.”
“Oh my,” Richie replied, donning a Southern Belle accent that sounded exactly like Blanche from the Golden Girls. He even placed a hand against his chest for emphasis. “Is someone finally tapping my well of knowledge on how to woo men?”
“More like my knowledge of how to deal with your attempts at wooing,” Eddie quipped back, smirking too hard to make it a convinced blow. “Apparently people in the office regard us as the functional couple for some reason.” Richie blew air out of his nose and stared blankly onwards.
“It’s official. We’re in the Matrix.” Richie raised his bitten celery and grabbed an unpeeled/cut carrot, presenting them like Morpheus. “ Orange carrot or green carrot. ” Eddie smiled at him deviously.
“Pink carrot.”
“What th-” as the light bulb turned on Richie nearly fell off the counter with an undignified snort. “You better not bite it like a carrot. That could end poorly Mr. Lecter.”
“And that’s two for Lawrence Fishburne.”
(Sticky notes inspired by Jerry Seinfeld)
Richie always starts with sticky notes. One by one little anecdotes and punchlines would fill whatever surface he deemed his workplace for his next tour, all categorized under nonsensical captions that when performed would weave each and every line into something far greater than a few throwaway quips. In 2016, Eddie watched as Richie’s first personal show was built off of a box of notes beneath his bed, dusty and waiting for their time to shine on the big stage. The most heart wrenching part was how few needed to be added. It was all arrangement and cutting unnecessary jokes that didn’t fit the narrative that he’d already been crafting for years.
Back then, if one fell from the cupboard Richie had elected to cover, Eddie couldn’t pick it up. It had been a rough time for the both of them.
This time around though, Eddie was pleased to leave the home office and find a corner of the kitchen island absolutely hidden beneath at least fifty scraps of yellow, pink, and blue paper with little black or red scrawls across them in chicken scratch. Richie was sprawled out on the nearby couch scrolling through Twitter, likely aiming to find a new topic of interest to rip into the second he could have a stage again. There was a pen between his teeth.
“You’ve been busy,” Eddie remarked. Richie gave a hum and continued to scan the trending page. After a few seconds of attempting to read the notes, Richie let the pen fall to his chest.
“I’m debating whether or not I should mention Twitter’s weird cake shit for my intro.” Eddie raised an eyebrow.
“Depends. Are you going ‘political warrior’ or ‘everybody’s depressed’?”
“Not sure yet. It’s still in the amalgamation of stuff and things stage.” Eddie nodded and glanced down at his husband. Richie’s hair had taken on official beehive status thanks to his tendency to run his hands through his hair when he thought real hard. Between that and the lack of pants with a stark white T-Shirt, it wasn’t hard to imagine that he’d killed a man.
Eddie kissed his forehead and wandered into the kitchen for lunch.
“You’ve had that one bit about Netflix primed for a while. Still interested?” Eddie asked. He didn’t personally care but half the time, asking questions helped Richie be more decisive about things. Plus it gave him a chance to be a little less abrasive without notice.
“Nah, I think I’m gonna debut that one in a live stream and get it over with. Not a fan anymore. Hey, do you think Stan would kill me if I dug at his sudoku addiction? Patty dropped me some insider information yesterday.” Eddie snorted.
“Your funeral, bud. I’m making Ramen.”
“Oh, fuck yes. Chicken please.”
“Bold of you to assume I’m making you some too,” Eddie replied with a grin, pulling two packets from the pantry. Richie was already deep in thought again, completely losing him on the response.
“I always pegged you as a ‘how dare you’ but ‘bold of you’ could work too I suppose…” Richie trailed off. Eddie could tell a rare moment of focus when he saw one and chose not to kick off their dog and pony show for the time being. Instead, he busied himself with the water heater and stole a glance here and there of Richie’s thinking face. It wasn’t at all sexy but it was Richie so Eddie looked anyway. They had a lot of time to do that nowadays.
“Something on my face?” Richie said slowly with a shit eating grin. Eddie rolled his eyes.
“Nope. You’re just ugly.” Richie closed his IPad case and re-situated to have his forearms crossed on the back of the couch, setting his chin between them so his smile could be hidden.
“That so?”
“Yup,” Eddie replied with an amiable nod. “It’s like looking at a shitty painting. Picasso maybe.” Richie chuckled, cheeks a little red. He didn’t have a degradation kink or anything, just Eddie’s rapt attention after all these years. That was the real kink.
“You’re a sweet talker. Phenomenal foreplay.” Eddie turned the water off.
“Thanks, I try.” Richie’s phone buzzed on the counter, giving Richie a great excuse to get up and drape himself over Eddie’s shoulders while he checked it. He garnered no complaints, only a sharp nose poking into his collarbone and some hands moving at his hips.
“Ooo, Ben and Bev are planning a camping trip.”
“Nice,” Eddie replied, completely muffled.
“Why are you kneading at me like a cat?” Richie asked with a snort. Eddie shrugged.
“Squishy.”
“Weirdo.”
“I didn’t mean to say it though! I swear I didn’t mean it!” Bev yelled angrily. She was a tear covered mess over FaceTime and Eddie really didn’t know how to help that but by god he was trying.
“Say what? You haven’t explained what’s going on,” Eddie replied, eyebrows furrowed in sympathy. Bev shook her head frantically.
“I told him to go away! I told him to go away and I think I hurt him!”
“Like physically?” Eddie squeaked.
“No! I would never!” Bev yelled with offense. Eddie raised his hands.
“That’s what I thought! Okay, so you said something to Ben I’m assuming?” Beverly nodded and buried her face in her hands. Richie peaked out from the nearby kitchen to see what all the ruckus was about. Eddie shrugged at him helplessly. “Um. Well, I mean, it’s Ben so I’m sure he won’t be too petty about it-”
“He should be! He cares so much and I just- I can’t believe I lashed out like that!” Bev exclaimed. Eddie nodded slowly.
“Have you talked to him since?” he asked.
“No, it’s been ten minutes at most but I haven’t heard from him and he went to the store but he forgot his mask so I don’t know if he’s still going to go in or should I bring him a mask? I don’t know, Eddie! He- I was such an idiot!” As Beverly spoke, Richie crept around the corner and gestured at the spot next to Eddie on the sofa. Eddie gave a nod and scooted over.
“Is it okay if Richie is here?” Bev nodded helplessly. Richie didn’t even make a show of entering the frame like he always did. Instead, he calmly sat down with a wave and threw an arm over Eddie’s shoulders.
“Hey, Bevster. Was this a fight or…?” Beverly nodded and scrubbed at her left eye for a moment.
“It started over Cheerios! What the fuck?!”
“That is impressive,” Richie said with an airy nod. Eddie elbowed him but considering their usual interaction intensity levels, this was tame.
“Did it escalate normally or was this a build up of something?” Eddie asked. Richie gave him a glance of surprised admiration.
“No! Yes! I guess it was! He was- he kept asking if I was okay and how I was doing and I- He was being so nice and I snapped at him! And he raised his voice which, you know Ben! He doesn’t do that! And who in their right fucking mind hurts Ben Hanscom of all people!?”
“Ben Marsh,” Richie reminded her. “You two have been together for how long without a blowout? Four years? I mean, Jesus, Eddie and I have tossed pans at each other twice in a week!” Granted the second one was a lightsaber-with-cookware battle and the first one wasn’t even an actual fight but it was believable enough to calm Beverly down a little.
“Plus, he probably feels a little guilty right now too. Quarantine has everyone tense,” Eddie offered. Beverly took a deep shaky breath and looked at the ceiling.
“Right. Right, okay.”
“My advice,” Richie said. “He was probably just doing his Ben thing and probably needed someone to ask him that back? Talk it out. If you feel like something is too much, tell him! It’s okay to be a little peeved with each other!” Beverly nodded.
“Okay… fuck. I’m going to- I’m going to go do that. God. Thank you guys. You sound like my fucking therapist.” Eddie could tell there was a joke there but Richie left it.
“Love you bunches, Bevward. Good luck retrieving your man from Safeway,” Richie said with a wink. Eddie lifted the little finger and thumb heart signal that Mike had taught him.
“Bye Bev.” Beverly gave a final water smile and said goodbye before hanging up. Eddie’s shoulders visibly relaxed. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more stressed on a call with a Loser,” he practically wheezed, leaning against Richie’s side properly. Richie chuckled.
“I fucking noticed, man. I haven’t seen that much fear in your eyes for a while,” he replied.
“I just- We don’t fight! How am I supposed to help somebody who’s in tears after an argument when we haven’t done that since high school?”
“We really have been married for a lot longer than three years,” Richie pondered.
“Exactly! The closest thing we got to that was the damn dishwasher incident!”
“Eh. My mistake. My conscience is clear.” Eddie cut the air with his hand to punctuate.
“We. Are not. Normal,” he declared.
“What can I say?” Richie replied with a shrug, dropping a kiss on Eddie’s forehead. “Codependency has it’s perks.”