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The whole day Eddie felt like he was vibrating. Energy had been flowing through him and he couldn't sit still no matter how hard he tried. Instead, he attempted to distract himself by cleaning the house, top to bottom, scrubbing the floors, dusting the top shelves —using a step stool he would never, under any circumstances, use when Richie was home, instead enlisting his husband to do it for him — and even re-grouting the tile in the bathroom. When he was done, he stood back, a thin sheen of sweat across his brow and a sense of pride and calm in him. And then he checked the time.
It wasn't even noon yet.
The thing was, Richie was supposed to get back from a six-week-long tour tonight, his flight landing around four in the afternoon. Eddie hadn't seen him in person that entire time, which was unusual for him as he normally found a way to come with him for at least a portion of the tours. This time, however, his work demanded him to stay in town the whole time to deal with other people's messes. Six weeks was a very long time for him to go without seeing his husband and saying he was just a touch wound up about it was the understatement of the century.
God, he missed Richie. He missed his huge fucking hands and his wide fucking shoulders and his broad fucking chest. He missed the way Richie could fully wrap himself around Eddie, enveloping him in the safety of his arms. He missed his thighs.
But above the physical he missed the way Richie made him laugh in a way no one else could, the way he would start the dumbest arguments just to see the way Eddie got wound up and ranting, a glint of happiness in his eyes.
He missed Richie.
With a frustrated groan, Eddie stomped off in the direction of the bathroom — the other bathroom, not the one that still smelled strongly of fresh grout — to take a cold shower. Thinking about Richie and his strong thighs and big hands had given him other problems that needed to be taken care of one way or another.
With the frigid water beating down his back, Eddie took himself in his hands and stroked himself off, imagining Richie's smile, the way his front teeth stuck out just a little, his left eye squinching up smaller than his right. And isn't that pathetic? He's at the point where he can get off to the memory of his husband's smile, rather than remembering the sex.
Feeling oddly ashamed, Eddie turned the water off and dried himself, getting dressed in some clean clothes.
He spent the rest of the afternoon trying and failing to occupy his time, flitting between watching Desperate Housewives, attempting to read a book, calling Bev before reaching her voicemail, until he finally gave up and just fucked around on his phone playing Candy Crush until the sound of a car pulling up out front had him leaping from his spot on the couch.
The sound of a high-pitched hyena cackle of a laugh had a wide smile spreading across his face as he caught sight of Richie standing next to an Uber, most likely laughing at his own joke as he grabbed his suitcase out of the trunk of the SUV.
Without thinking, Eddie ripped the front door open and charged down the path, launching himself bodily at Richie. He wrapped his arms tightly around his neck, tucking his face into Richie's collarbone, inhaling deeply despite the lingering airport smell. He felt Richie wind his own stupidly long arms around him instinctively, pulling him in tight.
They stayed there in silence for a few minutes — the Uber leaving at some point, Richie's bags on the side of the road — just wrapped around each other and it felt like something had clicked back into place within Eddie. The universe was back in order now that he had Richie back in his arms.
"Hiya, Eds," Richie murmured into the top of his head. Eddie smiled at the stupid nickname and nuzzled his face further into Richie's chest, feeling the way his heart beat under his shirt.
"Hey, Rich," he mumbled back. Finally, he lifted his head and smiled, his cheeks dimpling. He pressed up onto his toes just a little, just enough so that he could capture Richie's lips in a soft kiss, one hand cupping the back of his head to even out the height difference.
The kiss didn't stay chaste for very long, with Eddie's other hand sliding up to cup Richie's jaw as he bit Richie's bottom lip, using the automatic little gasp he let out to snake his tongue into Richie's mouth.
Richie gripped his hips tightly, bruising, and pulled him as close as possible, their hips pressed flush against one another's. Eddie ground into him on instinct, forgetting they were still outside and it was the middle of the afternoon and their neighbors could see them.
Richie was the one to pull away first, his breathing just a little heavier than normal. On instinct, Eddie chased his lips before opening his eyes and seeing Richie already looking at him. He rested their foreheads together.
"So, did you miss me?" Richie asked, a shit-eating grin on his face as he pressed his thigh against Eddie's crotch just slightly. Eddie's face burned.
"Shut the fuck up, asshole," he bit back before softening his tone. "Of course I did."
Richie pressed a soft kiss to his mouth. "I love you so much, you horny little gremlin." He cackled at the way Eddie squawked in indignance, slinging an arm across Eddie's shoulders and steering them inside. "Man, if it means I get jumped like that every time I come home, I should leave like that more often, don't you think?"
Eddie swatted at his chest. "Don't you fucking dare , dickbag. Those six weeks were fucking awful. If you ever leave like that again I will divorce you."
"Then I'll just marry you again!"
"That's not how it fucking works? You can't marry someone against their will, moron."
"You literally just said you can't last six weeks without me, so I don't think it would be against your will, babe. I think you'd be crawling back to me."
"Shut the fuck up, dingus. I hate you so much."
"You love me!"
Eddie smiled, looking up at him. "Yeah. I love you." Richie beamed right back at him. "Now, come on. I've been waiting six weeks to absolutely wreck you, so I'm full of ideas about what I want to do to you. Hurry up and take a shower so I can get started, okay?" Eddie gave him a firm pat on the ass, trying to urge him towards the bathroom, eager to get busy.
Richie let out a groan. "God, as incredible as that sounds, we actually have dinner with the Losers in like an hour, remember? Stan and Patty even made the drive down from San Francisco."
Eddie tipped his head back and let out a silent scream. Fuck! How could he have forgotten?! It was the biannual dinner they always had. They had planned for this for tonight specifically so that Richie would be back from tour to attend and before Mike and Bill left on a three-month backpacking tour through South America or something. Eddie wasn't entirely sure, he tended to space out when the two of them talked because he usually had no idea what they were talking about.
"Motherfucking shit balls!" He thunk ed his head back against Richie's shoulder. "And there's literally no way we can reschedule this?"
"Not unless you want Patty to chop your balls off and keep them as a souvenir."
Eddie went silent, contemplating.
"Dude, don't even think about it. I love your balls, she can't have them," Richie protested.
"I'm not gonna let her! I'm just debating if I can maybe take her in a fight, that's all. Or how much of a head start we'd need to run away before they caught us. I might need to leave you behind, you're kind of slow," Eddie thought out loud. Realizing there was no way out of this dinner, Eddie let out a groan. He reached down and grabbed a handful of Richie's ass, squeezing gently. "Fine, go take a shower so we can go to this dumb fucking dinner bullshit. Then when we get home I'll take you apart until you forget what your own name is." He bit Richie's ear before reluctantly separating from him to go find a suitable suit to wear to dinner, muttering angrily to himself the whole way to their bedroom.
Richie laughed loudly at him as he shut the door to the bathroom. The sound of the water starting did nothing to muffle the sound and Eddie found himself smiling to himself.
He loved that dumb fucking idiot.
When Richie got out of the shower ten minutes later, his hair dripping slightly onto his shoulders, just a towel slung loose around his waist, Eddie had to suppress a scream. It wasn’t fucking fair that Richie could just, could just go around looking like that and Eddie wasn’t allowed to jump him!! It’s not right!
Richie caught him staring — Eddie had bitten his lower lip to keep himself from making a noise at the sight of his husband — and smirked at him.
“Everything good over there, Eds?” Richie looked so fucking smug. Eddie wanted to kiss his stupid fucking smug face. Maybe drop to his knees right there.
“I’m fucking fine, Richard,” Eddie snapped back. He tracked the way a droplet of water trailed down Richie’s chest, over the swell of his tits and stomach. His mouth went dry. He might have whimpered a little. Who’s to say?
“Are you sure? You kind of look like a dehydrated man in a desert who’s just seen an oasis.” Richie was finding this too amusing. It was pissing Eddie off.
He couldn’t help it. Eddie strode forward and pressed a hand to Richie’s chest, feeling the warmth of his skin and the muscle and fat underneath it. He slid his hand across the breadth of his chest, feeling the coarse hair covering him and suppressed a shiver. He missed how fucking hairy Richie was.
He got lost tracing blank patterns across Richie’s skin. If he wasn’t allowed to fuck him, he should at least be allowed to touch him, god damnit. There was a birthmark on Richie’s left shoulder that Eddie loved so much. Seeing it now, after six long weeks, Eddie’s chest felt tight. It was shaped a little like a cat’s head and Richie loved pointing it out Eds look! I’ve got a dick and a pussy!
Eddie maintained that it looked more like a heart, thinking to himself privately that Richie has always worn his heart outside his body.
Leaning forward, Eddie pressed a soft kiss to that birthmark, tasting Richie’s freshly cleaned skin and their strawberry-scented body wash. He slid his hand up Richie’s shoulder and around the back of his neck to pull him down into a kiss. Soft. Slow.
“We should finish getting ready,” Eddie murmured against his lips. Richie hummed.
“Or, we could stay here and say fuck the Losers, we wanna bang?” Richie suggested, his hands kneading softly at Eddie’s hips.
Eddie bit back a smile. “You were the one who said we had to go like, twelve minutes ago, jackass!”
“A man can change his mind!”
A laugh bubbled out of Eddie’s mouth. “No, we’re going because we love our friends and we made a commitment to them.” Reluctantly, he pulled away to finish buttoning his cuffs. If he didn’t leave Richie’s embrace now, he was afraid he never would. And then Patty was going to chop his balls off, or whatever it was Richie said she would do.
Richie murmured something like well we made a commitment to each other, too and Eddie smiled fondly at his retreating form as he went back to their bedroom to get dressed.
This dinner could not be dragging any slower. Eddie found himself fidgeting the whole time; his leg was bouncing under the table, his hands tapping senseless rhythms on Richie's arms and legs. It was like the energy from that morning had returned, that even being in the same room at Richie wasn't tamping it down anymore.
He loved his friends, but god damnit he just wanted to go home and fuck his husband, was that too much to ask?
"Eddie hasn't even been listening this whole time, he's been off in another world." Eddie tuned back in to the conversation at the sound of his name, making eye contact across the table with Bev.
"Yeah. Rich, did you give him like forty shots of espresso before you came here or something?" Mike was asking, an amused glint in his eye. Eddie turned his glare towards him, flipping him off.
Stanley took a sip from his wine before cutting in with: "No, he's just irritated because he spent six weeks without him and now he's desperate to get him in bed like it wasn't his idea to schedule this dinner tonight instead of tomorrow." Eddie squawked again, his ears burning.
"I mean, I can't really blame him. Those two have been attached at the hip for twenty years. I still remember when Eddie came back the night they met and told me about how he met the love of his life in a coffee shop and slept with him the same day he met him," Ben piped in, a small, sheepish smile on his face.
"Oh man, I forgot they fucked like eight hours after meeting, holy shit," Bill was cackling into his drink.
"You can't fucking talk, man!" Eddie pointed an accusing finger at him. "You jumped Mike in a bar because he was the only person insane enough to understand your babbling!"
Bill shrugged. "I'm not ashamed of that."
"I don't think they've ever spent more than like two weeks apart in two decades," Bev said, a smirk on her face.
"That's true!" Richie said, slinging an arm around Eddie's shoulders and pulling him into his side. "Eddie is like a puppy with separation anxiety, it's the cutest thing. He sits by the window with his big sad eyes and just stares out like-" Richie opened his eyes as wide as possible in an exaggeration of Eddie's face, his glasses blowing his features up more as he pouted.
Eddie punched him in the thigh.
"I hate you all."
Later that night, when a copious amount of alcohol had been consumed between the eight of them and Eddie had finally gotten Richie home and under his hands, the two of them were tangled beneath the sheets, chests heaving. Richie tucked his head up under Eddie's chin, his sweaty hair tickling Eddie's mouth where it stuck up crazily.
"Do you think we're too codependent?" Eddie asked, staring up at the ceiling.
Richie hummed. "I think we're codependent, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. I like us how we are."
Eddie smiled slowly and kissed the top of his head.
"Me too."